 | Philomela |  |
THE REPLY.
No: I'm unmov'd; nor can thy charming Muse,One tender Thought into my Breast infuse.
I am from all those sensual Motions free;
And you, in vain, speak pretty things to Me:
For thro' the splendid Gallantries of Love,
Untouch'd, and careless, now I wildy rove,
From all th' Attacks of those proud Darts secure,
Whose trifling Force too tamely you endure;
102
My nicer Spirit, and exact my Love:
Even Theron's lovely and inticing Eyes,
Tho' arm'd with Flames, I can at last despise;
With all the genuine Charms and courtly Arts,
By which your treach'rous Sex invade our Hearts:
No more those little Things contract my Breast,
By a Diviner Excellence possest;
And, should I yield again, it dear must cost
My Victor, e'er he shall the Conquest boast;
For the mad Venom's quite expell'd my Veins,
And calmer Reason now triumphant reigns:
No more the dearest Object of my Sight
Can move a soft Sensation of Delight:
Or force my ling'ring Blood a swifter Pace,
Or paint new Smiles and Blushes on my Face.
I've rent the charming Idol from my Heart,
And banish'd All from thence, that took his Part.
No more the smiling Beaus shall tempt me on
To gaze, and sigh, and think myself undone;
103
Breaks in, o'er spreads, and swallows up my Mind;
And with its black ungrateful Streams controul
All the Diviner Rays within my Soul.
Ah! no: no more, will ever I admire,
Or urge the Sparks of the now dormant Fire:
Or for a wild fantastic Extasy,
Change the dear Joys of this blest Liberty;
Free as a wand'ring Zephir, thro' the Air,
Methinks I range, and hate my former Sphere.
I meet the noblest Forms, yet scorn to pay
A fond Devotion to well-moulded Clay:
Nor would I ev'n for my late splendid Chain
Forgo this charming Liberty again;
Which with so sweet a Calmness fills my Breast,
As cannot be in Words, no not in Thine exprest.
| Philomela | |