 | Lucasta |  |
ODE.
[You are deceiv'd; I sooner may dull fair]
1
You are deceiv'd; I sooner may dull fair,Seat a dark Moor in Cassiopea's chair,
Or on the Glow-worms uselesse Light
Bestow the watching flames of Night,
Or give the Roses breath
To executed Death,
Ere the bright hiew
Of Verse to you
30
And we alass! its Triumphs but proclaim.
2
What chains but are too light for me, should ISay that Lucasta, in strange Arms could lie;
Or, that Castara were impure,
Or Saccarisa's faith unsure:
That Chloris Love as hair,
Embrac'd each En'mies air:
That all their good
Ran in their blood;
'Tis the same wrong th'unworthy to inthrone,
As from her proper sphere t' have vertue thrown.
3
That strange force on the ignoble hath renown,As Aurum Fulminans, it blows Vice down;
'Twere better (heavy one) to crawl
Forgot, then raised trod on, fall:
All your defections now
Are not writ on your brow.
Odes to faults give
A shame, must live.
When a fat mist we view, we coughing run;
But that once Meteor drawn, all cry, undone.
4
How bright the fair Paulina did appear,When hid in Jewels she did seem a Star:
But who could soberly behold
A wicked Owl in Cloath of Gold?
Or the ridiculous Ape,
In sacred Vesta's Shape?
31
Just Praise with thee;
For since thy birth gave thee no beauty, know
No Poets pencil must or can do so.
| Lucasta | |