 | Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique |  |
SONG LXIV. A Mock.
[Fear not (my Genius) to unfold]
1.
Fear not (my Genius) to unfoldMy silent Thoughts by these;
Let Women, born, to be contrould,
Receive them, as they please,
Their long Usurped Monarchy,
Hath made me, hate, their Tyranny.
102
Tremble (Ill Nature!) to betray,
In idle Words, thy thought,
That Women, who, our Passions, sway
Should be Contrould, as Naught:
Their long continued Hierarchy
Hath made me Love, their Soveraignty.
2.
Let them, and their Magnetique Charms,As Harbingers before 'um,
Possess themselves of Cupits Arms,
As Baytes, for to Adore 'um.
I'le ne're commit Idolatry,
To Subjects, born, as well as I.
Let some one, whose detracting Toung
Is Usher, to his Witt,
Their Beauties and his Judgement wronge,
Whil'st I, admireing sit.
It cannot be Idolatry,
To Worship, such Divinity.
3.
Their Diety, with them, must fade,It cannot be deny'd,
Then since, the Pretty things, were made,
Out of Old Adams side:
Lets Love them still, but know't 'tis thus
We'le Do't, because Th'are part of Us.
103
To say, we Love them, as our selves.
Their Diety can ne're Decay,
'Twere Sin to say, it should,
Then since th'are Forms not Cast in Clay
But of a finer Mould:
We'le Love them still, with all our Hearts,
Because, they are our Better parts:
And let this satisfie poor Men,
To purchase thus their Ribb agen.
| Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique | |