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Loving one first because she could love Nobody, afterwards loving her with Desire.
WHAT new-found witchcraft was in thee,
With thine own cold to kindle me?
Strange art! like him that should devise
To make a burning-glass of ice :
When winter so, the plants would harm,
Her snow itself does keep them warm.
Fool that I was who, having found
A rich and sunny diamond,
Admir'd the hardness of the stone,
But not the light with which it shone:
Your brave and haughty scorn of all
Was stately and monarchical.
All gentleness, with that esteem’d,
A dull and slavish virtue seem'd ;
Shouldst thou have yielded then to me,
Thou ’dst lost what I most lov’d in thee;
For who would serve one, whom he sees
That he could conquer if he please ?
It far'd with me, as if a slave
In triumph led, that does perceive
With what a gay majestick pride
His conqueror through the streets does ride,
Should be contented with his woe,
Which makes up such a comely show.
I sought not from thee a return,
But without hopes or fears did burn;
My covetous passion did approve
The hoarding-up, not use, of love.
My love a kind of dream was grown,
A foolish, but a pleasant one:
From which I’m waken'd now; but, oh!
Prisoners to die are waken'd so ;
For now th’ effects of loving are
Nothing but longings, with despair:
Despair, whose torments no men, sure, *
But lovers and the damn'd, endure.
Her scorn I doted once upon,
Ill object for affection;
But since, alas ! too much "t is prov’d,
That yet’t was something that I lov'd ;
Now my desires are worse, and fly
At an impossibility:
Desires which, whilst so high they soar,
Are proud as that I lov’d before.
What lover can like me complain,
Who first lov’d vainly, next in vain!
IF mine eyes do e'er declare
They’ve seen a second thing that’s fair;
Or ears, that they have musick found,
Besides thy voice, in any sound;
If my taste do ever meet,
After thy kiss, with aught that’s sweet;
If my abused touch allow
Aught to be smooth, or soft, but you;
If what seasonable springs,
Or the Eastern summer, brings,
Do my smell persuade at all
Aught perfume, but thy breath, to call;
If all my senses' objects be
Not contracted into thee,
And so through thee more powerful pass,
As beams do through a burning-glass;
If all things that in nature are
Either soft, or sweet, or fair,
Be not in thee so’ epitomis'd, -
That nought material's not compris'd;
May I as worthless seem to thee
As all, but thou, appears to me !
If I ever anger know, *.
Till some wrong be done to you;
If Gods or Kings my envy move,
Without their crowns crown'd by thy love . . . .
If ever I an hope admit,
Without thy image stamp'd on it;
Or any fear, till I begin
To find that you’re concern'd therein;
If a joy e'er come to me,
That tastes of any thing but thee;
If any sorrow touch my mind,
Whilst you are well, and not unkind;
If I a minute's space debate,
Whether I shall curse and hate
The things beneath thy hatred fall,
Though all the world, myself and all;
And for love—if ever I
Approach to it again so nigh,
As to allow a toleration
To the least glimmering inclination:
If thou alone dost not controul
All those tyrants of my soul,
And to thy beauties ty'st them so,
That constant they as habits grow ;
If any passion of my heart,
By any force, or any art,
Be brought to move one step from thee,
Mayst thou no passion have for me !
If my busy’Imagination
Do not thee in all things fashion,
So that all fair species be
Hieroglyphick marksopf thee;
If when she her sports does keep
(Thelower soul being all asleep)
She play one dream, with all her art,
Where thou hast not the longest part;
If aught get place in my remembrance,
Without some badge of thy resemblance—
So that thy parts become to me
A kind of art of memory;-
If my Understanding do
Seek any knowledge but of you;
If she do near thy body prize
Her bodies of philosophies;
If she to the Will do shew
Aught desirable but you;
Or, if that would not rebel,
Should she another doctrine tell ;
If my Will do not resign
All her liberty to thine;
If she would not follow thee,
Though Fate and thou should disagree;
And if (for I a curse will give,
Such as shall force thee to believe)
My soul be not entirely thine;
May thy dear body ne'er be mine !
FROM Hate, Fear, Hope, Anger, and Envy, free And all the passions else that be, In vain I boast of liberty,