The Land of Love | ||
Inquietude.
A neighb'ring Village, which derives its NameFrom a rude, sullen, cross, ill-natur'd Dame;
A Woman of a strange deform'd Aspect,
Peevishly pensive, fond of her Neglect;
Never does in one Posture long remain,
Now leans, lies down, then on her Feet again;
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And sometimes runs like Furies in a Chace;
Seldom she sets her watchful Eyes to Sleep,
Which pale and languid does her Visage keep;
Her loose neglected Hair disorder'd grows,
Which undesign'd her Fingers discompose;
Still out of Humour, and depriv'd of Sense,
And contradictive as Impertinence;
Distrustful as false Statesmen, and as nice
In Plots, Intrigues, Intelligence, and Spies,
To her we did our Duty pay; but she
Made no Return to our Civility.
Thence to my Bed, where Rest in vain I sought,
For Love intruding, still engag'd my Thought,
And to my Mind a thousand Fancies brought.
Aminta's Name, and powerful Attractions,
Drew on these pleasing, painful, soft Reflections.
The Land of Love | ||