Philomela Or, Poems By Mrs. Elizabeth Singer, [Now Rowe,] ... The Second Edition |
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Verses to the Author, Known only by REPORT, and by Her POEMS. |
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 | Philomela |  |
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Verses to the Author, Known only by REPORT, and by Her POEMS.
No—'tis in vain—attempt not to persuade!
They were not, cou'd not be by Woman made:
Each Thought so strong, so finish'd every Line,
All o'er we see so rich a Genius shine;
O more than Man, we cry, O Workmanship Divine!
Courtly thy stile as Waller's! clear, and neat,
Not Cowley's Sense more beautiful, or great:
Num'rous the Verse, as Dryden's flowing Strain,
Smooth as the Thames, yet Copious as the Main.
They were not, cou'd not be by Woman made:
Each Thought so strong, so finish'd every Line,
All o'er we see so rich a Genius shine;
O more than Man, we cry, O Workmanship Divine!
Courtly thy stile as Waller's! clear, and neat,
Not Cowley's Sense more beautiful, or great:
Num'rous the Verse, as Dryden's flowing Strain,
Smooth as the Thames, yet Copious as the Main.
xi
But when the Author Royal
Mary mourns,
Or in soft Fires for gay Orestes burns,
Again, our Sex's Pride is undeceiv'd:
A Soul so soft in Man yet never liv'd.
In vain, alas! in vain our Fate we shun;
We Read, and Sigh, and Love, and are Undone:
Circean Charms, and Female Arts we prove,
Transported all to some new World of Love.
Now our Ears tingle, and each thick-drawn Breath
Comes hard, as in the Agonies of Death:
Back to the panting Heart the purple Rivers flow,
Our swimming Eyes to see, our Feet unlearn to go:
In ev'ry trembling Nerve, a short-liv'd Palsy reigns,
Strange Fevers boil our Blood, yet shudder thro' our Veins.
Tyrannous Charmer hold! our Sense, our Souls restore!
Monopolize not Love, nor make the World adore!
Or in soft Fires for gay Orestes burns,
Again, our Sex's Pride is undeceiv'd:
A Soul so soft in Man yet never liv'd.
In vain, alas! in vain our Fate we shun;
We Read, and Sigh, and Love, and are Undone:
Circean Charms, and Female Arts we prove,
Transported all to some new World of Love.
Now our Ears tingle, and each thick-drawn Breath
Comes hard, as in the Agonies of Death:
Back to the panting Heart the purple Rivers flow,
Our swimming Eyes to see, our Feet unlearn to go:
In ev'ry trembling Nerve, a short-liv'd Palsy reigns,
Strange Fevers boil our Blood, yet shudder thro' our Veins.
Tyrannous Charmer hold! our Sense, our Souls restore!
Monopolize not Love, nor make the World adore!
Can heav'nly Minds be Angry! can she frown?
What Thunders has one eager Thought pull'd down?
Diana thus by the bold Hunter found,
Instead of Darts, shot angry Blushes round.
O Goddess spare—all white as Cypria's Dove
Is thy untarnish'd Soul, and Loves as Angels Love;
Honour and Virtue each wild Wish repell,
And doubly sink 'em to their native Hell.
Saints may by Thee, their holiest Thoughts refine,
And Vestal Virgins dress their Souls by Thine.
Sure none but Thee such Passion can restrain;
None ever lov'd like Thee, and lov'd in vain.
What Age can equal, what Historian find
Such Tenderness, with so much Duty join'd?
Sapho and Behn reform'd, in Thee revive,
In Thee we see the chaste Orinda live.
Thy Works express thy Soul, we read Thee there,
Not thine own Pencil draws more like, or fair.
As Flowers steal unobserv'd from Nature's Bed,
And silent Sweets around profusely shed,
So You in secret Shades unknown, unseen
Commence at once a Muse, and Heroine.
Yet You're in vain Unknown, in vain wou'd shroud
That Sun, which shines too Bright t'endure a Cloud.
What Thunders has one eager Thought pull'd down?
xii
Instead of Darts, shot angry Blushes round.
O Goddess spare—all white as Cypria's Dove
Is thy untarnish'd Soul, and Loves as Angels Love;
Honour and Virtue each wild Wish repell,
And doubly sink 'em to their native Hell.
Saints may by Thee, their holiest Thoughts refine,
And Vestal Virgins dress their Souls by Thine.
Sure none but Thee such Passion can restrain;
None ever lov'd like Thee, and lov'd in vain.
What Age can equal, what Historian find
Such Tenderness, with so much Duty join'd?
Sapho and Behn reform'd, in Thee revive,
In Thee we see the chaste Orinda live.
Thy Works express thy Soul, we read Thee there,
Not thine own Pencil draws more like, or fair.
As Flowers steal unobserv'd from Nature's Bed,
And silent Sweets around profusely shed,
xiii
Commence at once a Muse, and Heroine.
Yet You're in vain Unknown, in vain wou'd shroud
That Sun, which shines too Bright t'endure a Cloud.
Prepare then for that Fame which You despise!
But when You're seen, still hide, O hide your Eyes!
Love Virtue, and adorn it! still let's see
Such Wit and Beauty join'd with Piety.
Let Heav'n and Heav'n's Vicegerent always share
Your noblest Thoughts, and your most duteous Care.
NASSAU's a Name, you're fated to Record,
No Pen but Yours can match the Hero's Sword.
If You Associate too, You'll guard Him more
Than all the loyal Myriads gone before.
Let harden'd Traitors know what 'tis t'abuse
The Patience of a King, and of thy Muse.
Let 'em no more a Monarch's Justice dare,
Draw on his Side, at once, and end the War!
These just, tho' poor Acknowledgments I send,
From distant Shades, to Heav'ns and Cæsar's Friend.
Those but debase, who weakly strive to raise,
You'll ne'er grow vain with [Gwinnett's] humble Praise.
But when You're seen, still hide, O hide your Eyes!
Love Virtue, and adorn it! still let's see
Such Wit and Beauty join'd with Piety.
Let Heav'n and Heav'n's Vicegerent always share
Your noblest Thoughts, and your most duteous Care.
NASSAU's a Name, you're fated to Record,
No Pen but Yours can match the Hero's Sword.
If You Associate too, You'll guard Him more
Than all the loyal Myriads gone before.
Let harden'd Traitors know what 'tis t'abuse
The Patience of a King, and of thy Muse.
Let 'em no more a Monarch's Justice dare,
Draw on his Side, at once, and end the War!
These just, tho' poor Acknowledgments I send,
From distant Shades, to Heav'ns and Cæsar's Friend.
xiv
You'll ne'er grow vain with [Gwinnett's] humble Praise.
| Philomela | |