Poems By the most deservedly Admired Mrs Katherine Philips: The matchless Orinda. To which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace Tragedies. With several other Translations out of French |
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Against Pleasure. Set by Dr. Coleman.
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Against Pleasure. Set by Dr. Coleman.
1
There's no such thing as Pleasure here,'Tis all a perfect Cheat,
67
Whose Charm is but Deceit:
The empty bribe of yielding Souls,
Which first betrays, and then controuls.
2
'Tis true, it looks at distance fair;But if we do approch,
The fruit of Sodom will impair,
And perish at a touch:
In Being than in Fancy less,
And we expect more than possess.
3
For by our Pleasures we are cloy'd,And so Desire is done;
Or else, like Rivers, they make wide
The Channel where they run:
And either way true bliss destroys,
Making Us narrow, or our Joys.
4
We covet Pleasure easily,But it not so possess;
For many things must make it be,
But one may make it less.
Nay, were our state as we could chuse it,
'Twould be consum'd by fear to lose it.
5
What art thou then, thou winged Air,More weak and swift than Fame?
Whose next successor is Despair,
And its attendant Shame.
68
Who said of Pleasure, It is mad.
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