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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.

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I.

TO THE GOD of LOVE.

ELYZIUM, OR, THE KINGDOM of LOVE.

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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.

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III.

THE ADDRESS of LOVE.

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Female Epistles OF LOVE.

I.

Deidamia to Achilles.

II.

A Lady to her Lover.

III.

Scylla to Minos.

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II.

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I.

HERO, Priestess of Venus.

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II.

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THE FOREST of LOVE.

To Amasia, who made me a present of a Studying-Cap, variously Beautified with Trees and Flow'rs of Needle-Work.

To Amasia, on her filling a Glass with Water, whereon she had Painted Stags, and Birds, and Trees.

To Amasia, invested with a Muslin-Nightraile, variously Beautified with Birds, and Beasts of Needle-Work.

To Amasia, wearing a Muslin-Apron, wrought with Trees and Beasts of Needle-Work.

To Amasia, on her Beautifying the Lining of her Gown, with Trees, and Groves in Needle-Work.

To Amasia, sticking Gardens cut in Paper, on a large Glass.

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POEMS ON Several Occasions.

To Three Ladies who presented me their Verses Written in praise of one another, and in return for my Judgment, told my Fortune.

On a Fly, that flew into a Lady's Eye, and there lay buried in a Tear.

To a Lady, desiring a Visit.

Seeing a fair Young Lady, just a dying.

A Dialogue between a living Nymph, and a Youth who was drown'd. Written thus at the Request of a Lady.

To Amasia, who Commanded me to avoid her presence, whenever she appear'd.

The Description of the Palace of the Sun, and Conflagration of the World, partly imitated from Ovid.

To the Lord Sy***ney, Created Lieutenant of Ireland, about the time his Majesty went to Flanders.

To a Lady Lamenting her Lover, who was Drown'd.

On a Bee inclos'd in Amber.

On a China Cup fill'd with Water, round the sides of which were painted Trees, and at the bottom, a Naked Woman Weeping.

The Description of a Tempest, and a Fight at Sea.

To a Lady, who presented me an Orange.

To a Lady, presenting her a Box of Patches.

To the same Lady, having found a Silver Penny, the first thing she toucht, among the Patches, I presented her.

To Amasia, off'ring me a branch of Gilded Laurel.

To a very Charming Lady, with an unpleasing Name.

To a Lady, whose Maid, having given her a Manuscript, I sent her, and being ask'd from whom, she receiv'd it, reply'd—from the Conjurer himself, she thought.

To a Lady, saying she knew I Lov'd her.

To a Lady, who, (while endeavouring to tye up some Linen, with a Ribbond, a little of the shortest.) being ask'd how she would manage, if she Lov'd a Gentleman without a Fortune, reply'd, I'll show you—(and so, drawing harder, made the ends meet.)

To a Lady, Singing frequently these Words,—Youth and Beauty.

To a Lady, who, with a Charming Air of Negligence, frequently, when spoken to reply'd—Yes, Sir

To Amasia, having dreamt of me.

To Amasia, on the Accidental falling of her loose Garments, which discover'd to my view her Breasts.

To the Admir'd Mrs. Cr---fts.

To a Lady having lost three Kisses on a Wager with me, and refusing to pay them.

Reflections on the Picture of Cupid, Imitated from Propertius.

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III.

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LETTERS of LOVE.

Written to Amasia.

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III.

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I.

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THE Metamorphosis of Love.

Vertumnus and Pomona.

Venus and Adonis.

Perseus and Andromeda.

Picus and Canens.

Jupiter and Europa.

Boreas and Orythia.

Iphis and Janthe.

Tereus and Philomela.

Pluto and Proserpina.

Alphæus and Arethusa.

Jupiter and Calisto.

Pigmalion and his Iv'ry Statue.

Salmacis and Hermaphroditus.

Cephalus and Procris.

Phæbus and Leucothoe.

Hippomenes and Atalanta.

Pan and Syrinx.

Jupiter and Semele.

Glaucus and Scylla.

Diana and Actæon.

Coronis and Neptune.

Orpheus and Eurydice.

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II.

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THE MISCELLANY of LOVE.

On Flowers in Amasia's Bosom. In Imitation of Anacreon.

To a Lady asking me a Thousand impertinent Questions, which she would have Answer'd.

To the Lady above-mention'd, saying I gave her a very senseless, impudent Answer.

To the same Lady, saying she would give me a Kiss, if I would tell her what she ask'd me.

To the Lady aforesaid, striking me on the Face with her Fan, for my former Answers.

To a Lady, who ask'd me why I writ on such trifling Occasions.

To a Lady, saying I ought to Marry her, because she Lov'd me.

To the same Loving Lady, telling me, abuse was an ill requital for soft Passion, but she thank'd her Stars, she was but in Jest.

To a Lady asking my Opinion concerning the Writings of the Ancients and Moderns.

To a Lady, making her a present of Straw-Work.

To the Bookseller desiring my Sculpture before my Book.

To a certain Gentleman, you must know, very Censorious on me, for assenting to my Bookseller's desire.

To a Lady, telling me I should Court applause, if I expected to gain it.

To a Lady, saying with a smile, she fear'd I would not perform my Promise.

To a Lady, telling me I writ too fast.

To the same Lady saying—Sure, I never thought, and Commanding me to write on a Feather.

To a Lady saying she imagin'd Poets were all on Fire when they wrote.

To Amasia putting a Paper of my Verses in her Bosom.

To a Lady with a very Charming Dimple in her Chin, occasion'd by a scar, which, she said, an unaccountable distemper had left there.

To a Lady Dancing at a Ball.

To a Lady saying she would Hate me, if I should write Satyr.

To a Gentleman, whose Life was indanger'd by his Endeavouring to aderss a Lady in a Sphere above him.

NEW-YEAR's-DAY, 1699.

Seeing a Lady at a Play call'd A Trip to the Jubilee.

To a Lady, under the Name of Philomela.

To a Lady, who seeing me in a Languishing Sickness, call'd me—Poor Shadow of Love.

To a Lady making me a second present of a Lock of her Hair, after I had in an humour return'd the first.

To a Lady Singing.

To a Lady, holding her Picture in my Hand, and looking on her Face.

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POEMS ON Several Occasions.

To a Lady, my Friend's ingrateful Mistress.

To a Lady, asking me why I did not apply to Dr. Gibbons to be Cur'd of my Love too.

The Vision of the MUSE.

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III.

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THE FRIENDSHIP of LOVE.

MARTIN, THE FRIEND.

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To Amasia, on her filling a Glass with Water, whereon she had Painted Stags, and Birds, and Trees.

By this, you prove your Pow'r is truly great,
You Kill at Pleasure, and you here Create.
Some of the Herd, which you so lively drew,
Neglect all Food, and Joy to gaze at you.

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While others bow to Drink, and bend so near,
We wonder still to see the Water there.
Actæon chang'd, had not been here pursu'd,
He had escap'd, secure among the Crowd;
In a fair Spring, by chance, he once descry'd
A Heav'nly Beauty, and transform'd, he dy'd.
And in this place, he might with wonder view
As bright a Goddess, and as fatal too;
In his own shape, he must have dy'd for you.
Your stately Stags rear high their lofty Heads,
Tall as the Trees, in thick, and fruitful Shades,
And a vast Grove above each Forehead spreads.
They, and your Forests, with each other vie,
Nor can I tell which seems more proudly high.
The Trees, fresh Life, from your late Bounty, drew,
As from the Fountain, which you pour'd, they grew,
Became more Green, and Flourish'd all anew.
One Phænix lives, and that is sprung from Fire,
But many seem to rise from Water here.
Whilst all your sporting Birds prepare to fly,
And cut with gawdy Wings, a strange, unusual Sky.