The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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To Cinthia; coying it.
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| III, IV. |
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 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
113
To Cinthia; coying it.
Noe longer Cinthia! have I spent
My time, but for a Complement?
Have I read all
The Solemne Dictates of a noble Love?
Taught all the Misterie which doth behove
A naturall
Pure fflame to exercise?
And you in Heresies
Yet wander! noe more vexe
Your Selfe, in the Stale Error of your Sex.
My time, but for a Complement?
Have I read all
The Solemne Dictates of a noble Love?
Taught all the Misterie which doth behove
A naturall
Pure fflame to exercise?
And you in Heresies
Yet wander! noe more vexe
Your Selfe, in the Stale Error of your Sex.
Not any doctrine, in our Schoole,
Tends to the ruine of a Soule.
You may be bold
To follow all our Precepts, and observe
A Stricter Modestie then those who sterve
Love, in the old
Mantles of Mother witt;
They doe not know the fitt
Freedome of Nature, in
That Passion of the Soule, without a Sin.
Tends to the ruine of a Soule.
You may be bold
To follow all our Precepts, and observe
114
Love, in the old
Mantles of Mother witt;
They doe not know the fitt
Freedome of Nature, in
That Passion of the Soule, without a Sin.
Come, let me gather a new Flame
From thy bright Eyes; the old is lame;
And I forget
The better Principles, while I dispute
You into Faith. Come, 'tis a modest Suite,
And might be writt,
A vestall Canon. Fye,
'Tis meere Simplicitie
To hinder your owne blisse!
Would you Assent, there were noe ioy to this.
From thy bright Eyes; the old is lame;
And I forget
The better Principles, while I dispute
You into Faith. Come, 'tis a modest Suite,
And might be writt,
A vestall Canon. Fye,
'Tis meere Simplicitie
To hinder your owne blisse!
Would you Assent, there were noe ioy to this.
The bruitish Passions of Lust,
Wee doe not know; nor the vniust
Power of the will.
Our blood is Calme and Cold; and all the root
Of Nature is Corrected; here, noe doubt
Can move that Ill,
Your Ignorance suggests:
Wee have more open brests,
And thinke but what we say;
And doe the Same, in the same free cleare way.
Wee doe not know; nor the vniust
Power of the will.
Our blood is Calme and Cold; and all the root
Of Nature is Corrected; here, noe doubt
Can move that Ill,
Your Ignorance suggests:
Wee have more open brests,
And thinke but what we say;
And doe the Same, in the same free cleare way.
115
May I not yet enioy the free
Possession of my Selfe, in Thee?
Let Men Suspect
By their owne gvilt, our Sin; it shall not move
Our Innocence. Daigne yet an Equall Love;
Prize noe respect,
To that Beautitude,
Wise Mortalls have pursu'd,
With Free and Chast desires;
Warmed with the best (now called) Platonicke fires.
Possession of my Selfe, in Thee?
Let Men Suspect
By their owne gvilt, our Sin; it shall not move
Our Innocence. Daigne yet an Equall Love;
Prize noe respect,
To that Beautitude,
Wise Mortalls have pursu'd,
With Free and Chast desires;
Warmed with the best (now called) Platonicke fires.
| The poems of George Daniel | |