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On Reading Mr. Waller's Poems. Nhunan Sachariffa. not to love
The Man whose Verse would Rocks to pity move: E’er since Amphion sung, they Sense retain, And Verse may soften all Things but Disdain. As hin the pointed Lightning of your Eyes, Me the bright Beauties of his Wit surprize; In vain like him I sigh, in vain I mourn, For Waller's Muse has Sacharifa's Scorn.
Written in a Lady's Waller.
W Aller, whose happy Genius could improve
The various Arts of Praise and Power of Love;
Who tender Thoughts cou'd in soft Verse declare,
Soft as the Words of parting Lovers are;
Easy, yet strong, as the delightful Chain
By which Clarinda does my Soul detair.
Be kind thou matchless Poet, and inspire
Still as fhe reads, her Breast with equal Fire
Warm her to Love, to pity her incline,
And fit the Motions of her Soul to mine.
Show her how Scorn her Beauty will deface,
Weaken her Charms, and blemish every Grace.
Show her how bright kind Amoret is, how fair,
So much her Mind does influence her Air:
Then tell her how I love, and tell her so,
That she may feel the Pains I undergo.
Fecling niay Pity, pitying may restore,
And call her Goodness in, against her Power,
Could mighty Poet thy successful Art,
Could it prevail o're her obdurate Heart,
And work Confent, I'd strait thy Glory raise,
And worship pay, where now I only praise.
This. were a Conquest worthy more Renown,
Than had you haughty Sacharifa-won:
Hear kind Clarinda, what I bid him do;
But rather let me owe your Love to you ;
Forgive me that I him my Agent made;
And for believing you unkind; upbraid.
FAir, that you may truly know
What you unto Thirfis owe;
I will tell you how I do
Sachariffa love, and you.
Joy falutes me, when I set
My bleft Eyes on Amoret :
But with wonder I am struck,
While I on the other Look.
If sweet Amoret complains,
I have sense of all her pains ;
But for Sacharisa I
Do not only grieve, but die.
All that of my self is mine,
Lovely Amoret, is thine;
S.acharisa's Captive fain
Would untie his Iron Chain;
And those scorching Beams to fhun,
To thy gentle Shadow run.
If the Soul had free Election,
To dispose of her Affection,
I wou'd not thus long have born
Haughty Sacharissa's Šcorn:
But 'tis sure some Pow'r above,
Which controuls our Wills in Love ;
If not Love, a strong Desire
To create and spread that Fire,
In my Breast, Sollicites nie,
Beauteous Amoret, for thee.
'Tis Amazement more than Love, Which her radiant Eyes do move; If less Splendor wait on thine, Yet they fo benignly shine, I wou'd turn my dazled Sight To behold their milder Light.
But as hard 'tis to destroy
That high Flame, as to enjoy ;
Which, how eas’ly I may do,
Heav'n (as eas'ly scald) does know.
Amoretis as sweet and good,
As the most delicious Food,
Which but tasted, does impart
Life and Gladness to the fieart:
Sacharissais Beauty's Wine,
Which to Madness doth incline;
Such a Liquor as no Brain
That is Mortal, can sustain.
Scarce can I to Heav'n excuse
The Devotion which I use
Unto that adored Dame;
For 'tis not unlike the fanie,
Which I thither ought to send;
So that if it could take end,
'Twou'd to Heav'n it self be due,
To succeed her, and not you,
Who already have of me
All that's not Idolatry;
Which, tho' not fo fierce a Flame,
Is longer like to be the fame.
Then smile on me, and I will prove
Wonder is shorter liv'd, than Love.
Or the Friendship betwixt two Ladies.
TELL me, lovely loving Pair,
Why so kind, and so fevere?
Why so careless of our Care,
Only to your felves so dear?
By this cunning, change of Hearts,
You the Power of Love controul;
While the Boy's deluded Darts
Can arrive at neither Soul.
For in vain to either Breast,
Still beguiled Love does come;
Where he finds a foreign Gueft,
Neither of your Hearts at home.
Debtors thus with like Design,
When they never mean to pay ;
That they may the Law declire,
To fome Friend make all away,
Not the Silver Doves that fly,
Yoak’, iri Citharea's Car;
Not the Wings that lift so high,
And convey her Son so far,
Are so lovely, sweet, and fair,
Or do more ennoble Love;
Are fo choicely match'd a Pair,
Or with more. Consent do move. .
IN allher Mazes, Natures Face they view'd,
And as she disappear'd, their Search pursu’d.
Wrapt in the Shades of Night, the Goddess lics,
Yet to the Learnd uriveils her dirk Disguise,
But shuns the gross Access of vulgar Eyes.
Now the unfolds the faint, and dawning Strife
Of Infant-Atons kindling into Life,
How ductile Matter new Meanders takes,
And slender Trains of twisting Fibres makes :
And how the viscous seeks a closer Tone,
By just Degrees to harden into Bone;
While the more loose flow from the vital Urn;
And in full Tides of purple Streams return;
How lambent Flames froin Life's bright Lamparise,
And dart in Emanations thro' the Eyes ;
How from each Sluice a gentle Torrent pours,
To lake a feav'rish Heat with anbient Show'rs.
Whence, their Mechanick Pow'rs, the Spirits claim,
How great their Force, how delicate their Frant:
How the same Nerves are fashion'd to sustain
The greatest Pleasure, and the greatest Pain.