 | The Land of Love |  |
The Reflection.
I.
What diff'rent Passions from what now I felt,My yielding Heart does melt!
And all my Blood as in a Fever burns,
Yet shiv'ring Cold by Turns;
What new Variety of Hopes and Fears!
What sudden Fits of Smiles and Tears!
Hope, why dost thou sometimes my Soul employ
With Prospects of approaching Joy?
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And quite forget last Minute's Pain?
What Sleep would calm, Aminta keeps awake,
And I all Night soft Vows and Wishes make.
When to the Gods I would my Prayers address,
And sue to be forgiven,
Aminta's Name I still express,
And Love is all that I confess;
Love and Aminta still out-rival Heaven.
II.
Books give me no Content at all,Unless soft Cowly entertain my Mind;
Then ev'ry Pair in Love I find;
Lysander him, Aminta her I call:
Till the bewitching Fuel raise the Fire,
Which was design'd but to divert;
Then to cool Shades I ragingly retire,
To ease my hopeless panting Heart;
Yet there too ev'ry Thing begets Desire;
Each flow'ry Bed, and ev'ry loanly Grove,
Inspires new Wishes, new impatient Love.
Thus all the Night in vain I sought Repose.
And early with the Sun next Day I rose;
Still more impatient grew my new Desires,
To see again the Author of my Fires.
Love leads me forth, to Little Cares we pass,
Where Love instructed me Aminta was.
Far from Inquietude this Village stands,
And for its Pleasure all the rest commands;
In all the Land of Love, not one appears
So ravishingly gay as Little Cares.
And early with the Sun next Day I rose;
Still more impatient grew my new Desires,
To see again the Author of my Fires.
Love leads me forth, to Little Cares we pass,
Where Love instructed me Aminta was.
Far from Inquietude this Village stands,
And for its Pleasure all the rest commands;
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So ravishingly gay as Little Cares.
| The Land of Love | |