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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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I.

TO SYLVIUS, ON HIS AMASIA.

I.

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II.

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THE MISTRESS of LOVE.

To Amasia, on her drawing her own Picture.

To Amasia, holding a drawn Sword in her Hand.

To Amasia, tickling a Gentleman.

To Amasia, playing with a Clouded Fan.

To Amasia asking me if I slept well, after so tempestuous a Night as the last was, when we parted, and desiring me to describe it.

To Amasia speaking an Extempore Verse.

To Amasia, still promising to Sing, but never performing.

Meeting Amasia at a Young Lady's Funeral.

To Amasia, on her Recovery from a fall.

To Amasia, holding a Burning-Glass in her Hand.

To Amasia, looking, at me, thro' a Multiplying-Glass.

To Amasia, Singing, and sticking Pins in a Red Silk Pincushion.

To Amasia, on her correcting a line of Mr. Waller's, as she read it.

To Amasia, troubled with a redness in her Eyes, on her saying, she would Charm me with them.

To Amasia, on the falling of her Terras-Walks.

The Dream, beginning with the Description of Night.

To Amasia, who, while I awfully admir'd her at her Window, withdrew, and sent a Black in her place.

To Amasia, Dancing before a Looking-Glass.

To Amasia, on the burning of her Flower'd Musling-Nightraile, which took fire, while she was asleep, and yet she was her self unhurt.

To Amasia, who having prick'd me with a Pin, for a Subject to write on, accidentally scratch'd her self with it, when in my hand afterwards.

Instructions to a Painter to draw Amasia, with some reflections on the Artist's skill, resolving to describe her, my self, much better with my Pen.

III.

II.

III.

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To Amasia, who having prick'd me with a Pin, for a Subject to write on, accidentally scratch'd her self with it, when in my hand afterwards.

Why, Cruel fair one, did you wound me so?
Too well o'er me your mighty Power you know.
Thus sure you thought not to have Conquer'd more,
Whom your Pin enter'd, your Eyes pierc'd before.
Perhaps, you did it with design to see
How small a touch of you prevails on me.
Your harmless Weapon has your wonders shown,
You wound our Sex with what adorns your own.
This little Blood without a wrong you drew,
For all I have I would expend for you.
Yet here by chance, a full Revenge is found,
And thus at least, you feel a Mutual wound.
The Juster Spear against its Mistress turns,
And points revenge for which the Actor mourns.
Your Finger blushes for the wound it gave,
Far deeper that which made me first your Slave.

69

Your precious Blood with mine is justly paid,
For my Heart bleeds for what my hands have made.