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University of Virginia Library

Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses

A Collection of Poems. In Three Volumes. By Mr John Hopkins

Hopkins, John

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THE MISCELLANY of LOVE.

On Flowers in Amasia's Bosom. In Imitation of Anacreon.

To a Lady asking me a Thousand impertinent Questions, which she would have Answer'd.

To the Lady above-mention'd, saying I gave her a very senseless, impudent Answer.

To the same Lady, saying she would give me a Kiss, if I would tell her what she ask'd me.

To the Lady aforesaid, striking me on the Face with her Fan, for my former Answers.

To a Lady, who ask'd me why I writ on such trifling Occasions.

To a Lady, saying I ought to Marry her, because she Lov'd me.

To the same Loving Lady, telling me, abuse was an ill requital for soft Passion, but she thank'd her Stars, she was but in Jest.

To a Lady asking my Opinion concerning the Writings of the Ancients and Moderns.

To a Lady, making her a present of Straw-Work.

To the Bookseller desiring my Sculpture before my Book.

To a certain Gentleman, you must know, very Censorious on me, for assenting to my Bookseller's desire.

To a Lady, telling me I should Court applause, if I expected to gain it.

To a Lady, saying with a smile, she fear'd I would not perform my Promise.

To a Lady, telling me I writ too fast.

To the same Lady saying—Sure, I never thought, and Commanding me to write on a Feather.

To a Lady saying she imagin'd Poets were all on Fire when they wrote.

To Amasia putting a Paper of my Verses in her Bosom.

To a Lady with a very Charming Dimple in her Chin, occasion'd by a scar, which, she said, an unaccountable distemper had left there.

To a Lady Dancing at a Ball.

To a Lady saying she would Hate me, if I should write Satyr.

To a Gentleman, whose Life was indanger'd by his Endeavouring to aderss a Lady in a Sphere above him.

NEW-YEAR's-DAY, 1699.

Seeing a Lady at a Play call'd A Trip to the Jubilee.

To a Lady, under the Name of Philomela.

To a Lady, who seeing me in a Languishing Sickness, call'd me—Poor Shadow of Love.

To a Lady making me a second present of a Lock of her Hair, after I had in an humour return'd the first.

To a Lady Singing.

To a Lady, holding her Picture in my Hand, and looking on her Face.

POEMS ON Several Occasions.

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To the Bookseller desiring my Sculpture before my Book.

Take it, the Wretched, lifeless Figure take;
'Tis only giv'n for my Amasia's sake.
With Charms, too bright to be repell'd, you move;
Yet, not thro' vanity I yield, but Love.
Amasia's Name does my Book's Title Crown,
Amasia's Name, which gives my Book Renown.
Hence 'tis I grant, with pleasure, your demand;
Shall I not, Join'd with my Amasia, stand?
Let, with a scoff, the World my form disdain,
The Cens'ring World, unknowing Lovers pain;
On this account, I'm proud of being vain.
My self I gave to the bright Maid before;
How in a Picture can I give her more?
Let the World talk, and rail, and rave aloud;
I never yet for sordid praise have Bow'd;
I'll call Fools envious, while they call me proud.