Lyric Poems Made in Imitation of the Italians. Of which, many are Translations From other Languages ... By Philip Ayres |
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The Innocent Magician; or, A Charm against LOVE.
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 | Lyric Poems |  |
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The Innocent Magician; or, A Charm against LOVE.
A great, but Harmless Conjurer am I,
That can Love's Captives set at Liberty;
Hearts led astray by his deluding Flame,
I to their peaceful Dwellings can reclaim;
Love's Wings I clip, and take from him his Arms,
By the sole Virtue of my Sacred Charms;
That can Love's Captives set at Liberty;
Hearts led astray by his deluding Flame,
I to their peaceful Dwellings can reclaim;
Love's Wings I clip, and take from him his Arms,
By the sole Virtue of my Sacred Charms;
His Empire shakes when I appear in Sight,
My Words the Wing'd and Quiver'd Boys affright;
Their close Retreats my boundless Power invades,
Nor can they hide them in their Myrtle Shades.
Their Sun's bright Rays, they now eclips'd shall find,
Whose fancy'd Light strikes giddy Lovers blind,
My Words the Wing'd and Quiver'd Boys affright;
Their close Retreats my boundless Power invades,
Nor can they hide them in their Myrtle Shades.
Their Sun's bright Rays, they now eclips'd shall find,
Whose fancy'd Light strikes giddy Lovers blind,
Rays of fair Eyes, which they proclaim Divine,
And boast they can Sol's dazling Beams out-shine.
The Storms of Sighs, and Rivers of their Eyes,
My Skill allays, and their large Current dryes.
Hearts that are dead, I from their Graves retrieve,
And by my Magick-Spell can make them live.
And boast they can Sol's dazling Beams out-shine.
The Storms of Sighs, and Rivers of their Eyes,
My Skill allays, and their large Current dryes.
Hearts that are dead, I from their Graves retrieve,
And by my Magick-Spell can make them live.
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For know, they're only Tricks, and subtil Arts,
With which the Tyrant Love ensnares our Hearts;
This Traytor plants his Toils to gain his Prize,
In Curls of Flaxen Hair, and Sparkling Eyes:
In each soft Look, and Smile, he sets a Gin,
White Hands, or Snowy Breasts can tempt us in.
With which the Tyrant Love ensnares our Hearts;
This Traytor plants his Toils to gain his Prize,
In Curls of Flaxen Hair, and Sparkling Eyes:
In each soft Look, and Smile, he sets a Gin,
White Hands, or Snowy Breasts can tempt us in.
Wholly on Mischief is his Mind employ'd,
His fairest Shows do greatest Dangers hide;
With Charming Sounds his Vot'ryes he beguiles,
Till he destroys them by his Syren's Wiles;
His Cunning Circes ev'ry where deceive,
And Men of Souls and Humane Shape bereave.
His fairest Shows do greatest Dangers hide;
With Charming Sounds his Vot'ryes he beguiles,
Till he destroys them by his Syren's Wiles;
His Cunning Circes ev'ry where deceive,
And Men of Souls and Humane Shape bereave.
A thousand other Arts this Treach'rous Boy,
To heedless Lovers Ruine does employ.
Be watchful then, and his Allurements shun,
So ends my Charm. Run to your Freedom, Run.
To heedless Lovers Ruine does employ.
Be watchful then, and his Allurements shun,
So ends my Charm. Run to your Freedom, Run.
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