If ever I an hope admit, Without thy image stamp'd on it; To find that you're concern'd therein; That tastes of any thing but thee; To the least glimmering inclination: And to thy beauties ty'st them so, 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, She play one dream, with all her art, Seek any knowledge but of you; 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! THE PASSIONS. FROM Hate, Fear, Hope, Anger, and Envy, free, And all the passions else that be, In vain I boast of liberty, In vain this state a freedom call; Since I have Love, and Love is all: So in a zeal the sons of Israel Sometimes upon their idols fell, All this imperfect piety did no good, Fondly I boast, that I have drest my vine Love ev'n the taste of nectar changes so, Fear, Anger, Hope, all passions else that be, And practise all your tyranny! The change of ills some good will do: Being slaves by the great Spanish monarch made, WISDOM. 'T IS mighty wise that you would now be thought, With tedious repetitions too you'ave ta’en Things which, I take it, friend, you'd ne'er recite, "Come at night." The wisest king refus'd all pleasures quite, Pleasures he chose, and plac'd them all in love. queen: She came not, like a good old wife, to know 387 THE DESPAIR. BENEATH this gloomy shade, By Nature only for my sorrows made, So Lust, of old, the Deluge punished. "Ah, wretched youth!" said I ; Ah, wretched youth!" twice did I sadly cry; "Ah, wretched youth!" the fields and floods reply. When thoughts of Love I entertain, Imeet no words but "Never," and "In vain." "Never," alas! that dreadful name Which fuels the internal flame: "Never" my time to come must waste; "In vain, in vain!" twice did I sadly cry; No more shall fields or floods do so; For I to shades more dark and silent go: All this world's noise appears to me A dull, ill-acted comedy: No comfort to my wounded sight, In the sun's busy and impertinent light. |