On Reading Mr. Waller's Poems.
Nhuman Sachariffa! not to love
The Man, whose Verse would Rocks to pity move: E'er fince Amphion sung, they Sense retain, And Verse may soften all Things but Difdain. As him the pointed Lightning of your Eyes, Me the bright Beauties of his Wit furprize; In vain like him I sigh, in vain I mourn, For Waller's Muse has Sacharissa's Scorn.
Written in a Lady's Waller.
WAller, 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; Eafy, yet strong, as the delightful Chain By which Clarinda does my Soul detair. Be kind thou matchless Poet, and inspire Still as the 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.
Feeling may Pity, pitying may restore, And call her Goodness in, against her Power, Could mighty Poet thy fuccessful Art, Could it prevail o're her obdurate Heart, And work Consent, I'd strait thy Glory raise, And worship pay, where now I only praife. This were a Conquest worthy more Renown, Than hadjyou haughty Sacharissa 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.
Air, 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 fet My blest Eyes on Amoret: But with wonder I am ftruck, While I on the other Look.
If sweet Amoret complains, I have sense of all her pains; But for Sachariffa I Do not only grieve, but die.
All that of my self is mine, Lovely Amoret, is thine;
Sachariffa'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 Scorn: But 'tis fure some Pow'r above, Which controuls our Wills in Love; If not Love, a strong Defire To create and spread that Fire, In my Breaft, Sollicites me, Beauteous Amoret, for thee.
'Tis Amazement more than Love, Which her radiant Eyes do move; If less Splendor wait on thine, Yet they so 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 scal'd) does know.
Amoretis as sweet and good, As the most delicious Food, Which but tafted, does impart Life and Gladness to the Heart: Sacharifsais Beauty's Wine, Which to Madness doth incline; Such a Liquor as no Brain That is Mortal, can fustain.
Scarce can I to Heav'n excufe The Devotion which I use Unto that adored Dame; For 'tis not unlike the fame, Which I thither ought to send; So that if it could take end, "Twou'd to Heav'n it self be due, To fucceed 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.
On the Friendship betwixt two Ladies.
TELL me, lovely loving Pair, 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 Breaft, 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 decline, To some Friend make all away.
Why fo kind, and fo fevere ?
Not the Silver Doves that fly, Yoak'd in 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 so choicely match'd a Paír, Or with more Confent do move..
IN all her Mazes, Natures Face they view'd, And as the disappear'd, their Search purfu'd. Wrapt in the Shades of Night, the Goddess lies, Yet to the Learn'd unveils her dark Difquife, But shuns the gross Access of vulgar Eyes. Now the unfolds the faint, and dawning Strife Of Infant-Atoms 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 juft 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 from Life's bright Lamparise, And dart in Emanations thro' the Eyes; How from each Sluice a gentle Torrent pours, To flake a feav'rish Heat with ambient Show'rs. Whence, their Mechanick Pow'rs, the Spirits claim, How great their Force, how delicate their Frante:: How the fame Nerves are fashion'd to sustain
The greatest Pleasure, and the greatest Pain.
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