The Gazers.
1
Come let's go on, where Love and Youth does call;
I've seen too much, if this be all.
Alas, how far more wealthy might I be
With a contented Ign'orant Povertie?
To shew such stores, and nothing grant,
Is to enrage and vex my want.
For Love to Dye an Infant's lesser ill,
Than to live long, yet live in Child-hood still.
2
We'have both sate gazing only hitherto,
As Man and Wife in Picture do.
The richest crop of Joy is still behind,
And He who only Sees, in Love is Blind.
So at first Pigmalion lov'd.
But th'Amour at last improv'd:
The Statue'it self at last a woman grew,
And so at last, my Dear, should you do too.
3
Beauty to man the greatest Torture is,
Unless it lead to farther bliss
Beyond the tyran'ous pleasures of the Eye.
It grows too serious a Crueltie,
Unless it Heal, as well as strike;
I would not, Salamander-like,
In scortching heats always to Live desire,
But like a Martyr, pass to Heav'en through Fire.
4
Mark how the lusty Sun salutes the Spring,
And gently kisses every thing.
His loving Beams unlock each maiden flower,
Search all the Treasures, all the Sweets devour:
Then on the earth with Bridegroom-Heat,
He does still new Flowers beget.
The Sun himself, although all Eye he be,
Can find in Love more Pleasure than to see.
