 | Poems upon several occasions |  |
414
A SONG.
[After the fiercest Pangs of hot Desire]
I
After the fiercest Pangs of hot Desire,Between Panthea's rising Breasts,
His bending Breast Philander rests:
Though vanquish'd, yet unknowing to retire;
Close hugs the Charmer, and asham'd to yield,
Tho' he has lost the Day, yet keeps the Field.
II
When, with a Sigh, the Fair Panthæa said,What Pity 'tis, ye Gods, that all
The noblest Warriors soonest fall:
Then with a Kiss she gently rear'd his Head;
Arm'd him again to fight, for nobly she
More lov'd the Combat than the Victory.
415
III
But more enrag'd, for being beat before,With all his Strength he does prepare
More fiercely to renew the War;
Nor ceas'd he 'till the noble Prize he bore:
Ev'n her such wond'rous Courage did surprize,
She hugs the Dart that wounded her, and dies.
| Poems upon several occasions | |