Poetical Exercises Written Upon Several Occasions Presented and Dedicated to Her Royal Highness, Mary Princess of Orange [by John Cutts] |
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The Tyranny of PHILLIS
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 | Poetical Exercises Written Upon Several Occasions |  |
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The Tyranny of PHILLIS
Written to a Lady.
Hear, gentle Nymph, and by Example kno'
What those who mock Love's Pow'r must undergo.
What those who mock Love's Pow'r must undergo.
This Heart of mine, now wreck'd upon despair,
Was once as free and careless as the Air;
In th' early Morning of my tender years,
E're I was sensible of Hopes and Fears,
It floated in a Sea of Mirth and Ease,
And thought the World was only made to please;
No adverse Wind had ever stopp'd its Course,
Nor had it felt great Love's tempestuous Force,
(That Storm that swells the Tydes of Human Care,
And makes black Waves come rolling from afar,)
'Till too much Freedom made it grow secure,
As if the Sunshine always would endure;
And I, with haughty and disdainful Pride,
Mock'd the blind God, and all his Force defy'd.
At this enrag'd, the injur'd Deity
Chose out the best of his Artillery,
And in a blooming Virgin's Dove-like Eyes
He planted his Victorious Batteries;
(Phillis her Name, the best of Woman-kind,
Could Love have gain'd the Empire of her Mind)
These shot so furiously against my Heart,
That Nature's strength, tho' much improv'd by Art,
With Groans gave way to each resistless stroak,
As when the Thunder rends some sturdy Oak.
The wing'd Battalions from her lovely face
Flew to the Breach, and, rushing in apace,
Did quickly make her Mistress of the place.
Was once as free and careless as the Air;
In th' early Morning of my tender years,
E're I was sensible of Hopes and Fears,
It floated in a Sea of Mirth and Ease,
And thought the World was only made to please;
No adverse Wind had ever stopp'd its Course,
Nor had it felt great Love's tempestuous Force,
(That Storm that swells the Tydes of Human Care,
And makes black Waves come rolling from afar,)
'Till too much Freedom made it grow secure,
As if the Sunshine always would endure;
11
Mock'd the blind God, and all his Force defy'd.
At this enrag'd, the injur'd Deity
Chose out the best of his Artillery,
And in a blooming Virgin's Dove-like Eyes
He planted his Victorious Batteries;
(Phillis her Name, the best of Woman-kind,
Could Love have gain'd the Empire of her Mind)
These shot so furiously against my Heart,
That Nature's strength, tho' much improv'd by Art,
With Groans gave way to each resistless stroak,
As when the Thunder rends some sturdy Oak.
The wing'd Battalions from her lovely face
Flew to the Breach, and, rushing in apace,
Did quickly make her Mistress of the place.
As Love's Vice-gerent I her Laws obey'd,
It must be so where Conquerours invade.
But when she saw how pow'rful she was grown,
Made chief Commandress of the vanquish'd Town,
She would no more Love's just Decrees obey,
But sett up for an Arbitrary Sway:
And when her Tyranny was grown so great,
That ev'ry humble Sigh provok'd her Hate,
Reason, an active States-man, Wise, and Stout,
Heading the injur'd Native, turn'd her out.
It must be so where Conquerours invade.
12
Made chief Commandress of the vanquish'd Town,
She would no more Love's just Decrees obey,
But sett up for an Arbitrary Sway:
And when her Tyranny was grown so great,
That ev'ry humble Sigh provok'd her Hate,
Reason, an active States-man, Wise, and Stout,
Heading the injur'd Native, turn'd her out.
The God of Love will find some gentle Fair
To govern in her room; but let her swear
To hold a merciful and equal Sway,
And all his old Imperial Laws obey.
To govern in her room; but let her swear
To hold a merciful and equal Sway,
And all his old Imperial Laws obey.
Till she appears, no Charms can Strephon move,
Unless it be the gen'ral Thoughts of Love;
That thin Camelion-Dyet of the Air,
Fancy's Idea of an Unknown Fair.
For where, or what she is, Heav'n only knows,
'Till Time and Fate the Secret shall disclose.
Unless it be the gen'ral Thoughts of Love;
That thin Camelion-Dyet of the Air,
Fancy's Idea of an Unknown Fair.
For where, or what she is, Heav'n only knows,
'Till Time and Fate the Secret shall disclose.
13
But there's so strange a Magick force in Love,
The talking on't sometimes may fatal prove;
And therefore, gentle Nymph, let's have a care,
And tell no more such Stories now, for fear,
Like Children, after talking of a Spright,
The fancy on't should make us dream at night.
The talking on't sometimes may fatal prove;
And therefore, gentle Nymph, let's have a care,
And tell no more such Stories now, for fear,
Like Children, after talking of a Spright,
The fancy on't should make us dream at night.
| Poetical Exercises Written Upon Several Occasions | |