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Though constant and consistent now it be,
You may in vulgar loves find always this;
THEN like some wealthy island thou shalt lie,
But I'll embrace thee gentlier far than so;
Such heat and vigour shall our kisses bear,
No bound nor rule my pleasures shall endure,
In love there's none too much an Epicure:
Nought shall my hands or lips control; I'll kiss thee through, I'll kiss thy very soul.
Yet nothing but the night our sports shall know ;
Men, out of wisdom; women, out of pride,
IN vain, thou drowsy God! I thee invoke;
Yet how do tears but from some vapours rise ?
Thou, who dost men (as nights to colours do)
Then never more shalt thou be’ invoked by me;
BEAUTY! thou wild fantastic ape, Who dost in every country change thy shape! Here black, there brown, here tawny, and there
Thou flatterer! which comply'st with every sight!
Thou Babel, which confound'st the eye With unintelligible variety
Who hast no certain What, nor Where; But vary'st still, and dost thyself declare Inconstant, as thy she-professors are.
Beauty Love's scene and masquerade, So gay by well-placed lights and distance made 1 False coin, with which the impostor cheats us still; The stamp and colour good, but metal ill ! Which light or base we find, when we Weigh by enjoyment, and examine thee!
For, though thy being be but show, 'Tis chiefly night which men to thee allow: And choose to enjoy thee, when thouleastart Thou.
Beauty' thou active, passive ill !
Beauty! whose flames but meteors are, Short-lived and low, though thou wouldst seem a
Who darest not thine own home descry, [star; Pretending to dwell richly in the eye, When thou, alas! dost in the fancy lie.
Beauty' whose conquests still are made O'er hearts by cowards kept, or else betray'd; Weak victor! who thyself destroy’d must be When Sickness storms, or Time besieges thee!
Thou' unwholesome thaw to frozen age 1 Thou strong wine, which youth's fever dostenrage!
Thou tyrant, which leavest no man free! Thou subtle thief, from whom nought safe can be! Thou murderer, which hast kill'd, and devil, which
wouldst damn me !
As men in Greenland left beheld the sun
Of cold and darkness they must suffer there:
Sö on my parting mistress did I look;
Ah, those bless'd lands to which bright Thou dost
In vain the men of learning comfort me,
"Tis beyond eighty' at least, if you're not here.
It is, it is ; I tremble with the frost,
I find to be but bears or foxes all.
Return, return, gay planet of mine East,
More fair and fresh rise up from thence to me!
Thou, who in many a propriety,
And let me and my sun beget a man |
HERE, take my likeness with you, whilst 'tis so;
Will swear next day my face he never saw.
I really believe, within a while,
This will the substance, I the shadow, be.