 | Miscellany Poems |  |
Advice to a Virgin.
Fair blooming Beauty, left without defence,
Nothing to guard Thee, but thine Innocence!
Whose unexperienc'd Mind no ill doth know,
But Judges all things good, 'cause Thou art so.
Little thou think'st, what Dangers Thee surround,
What Plots and Stratagems laid under ground;
Which the fond Lovers, in thy Rays that play,
Against thy Innocent Designs do lay:
And thô they crouch beneath your sparkling Eyes,
Each boldly hopes, that You will be his Prize.
'Tis all great Fortunes and great Beauties get,
The One to buy th' Other to invite, Deceit.
For barren Countries none will ever fight,
'Tis the rich Soil the Conquest doth invite.
To gather common Stones no labour strives,
'Tis for rich Gems the Sun-burnt Negro dives.
Where Plenty springs, or where rich Mines abound,
The Victory with due Rewards is Crown'd;
To Birds and Beasts is left the Barren ground.
Nothing to guard Thee, but thine Innocence!
Whose unexperienc'd Mind no ill doth know,
But Judges all things good, 'cause Thou art so.
Little thou think'st, what Dangers Thee surround,
What Plots and Stratagems laid under ground;
Which the fond Lovers, in thy Rays that play,
Against thy Innocent Designs do lay:
And thô they crouch beneath your sparkling Eyes,
Each boldly hopes, that You will be his Prize.
'Tis all great Fortunes and great Beauties get,
The One to buy th' Other to invite, Deceit.
For barren Countries none will ever fight,
'Tis the rich Soil the Conquest doth invite.
To gather common Stones no labour strives,
'Tis for rich Gems the Sun-burnt Negro dives.
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The Victory with due Rewards is Crown'd;
To Birds and Beasts is left the Barren ground.
Guard then your Beauty; 'tis a Dangerous Store,
A Fatal Treasure, that hath Ruin'd more,
Than e're were Wretched made by being poor.
Expect then often Storms; all are your Foes,
What e're their Countenance, or Behaviour shows,
That would possess those Treasures, You disclose.
Let Vertue Rule, and Prudence be your Guide,
All Vice and the Suspicion of't avoid.
Be Vertuous and be thought so; Few there be,
That dare attempt upon Your Chastity,
If no unwary Action did precede,
By which they gather'd hopes, they might Succeed.
“Fame's quickly lost and ne're to be retriev'd,
“And Rumour, true or false, blasts, if believ'd.
You're Angels, while You do admit no Stain;
But when You fall, You Mortals are again.
A Fatal Treasure, that hath Ruin'd more,
Than e're were Wretched made by being poor.
Expect then often Storms; all are your Foes,
What e're their Countenance, or Behaviour shows,
That would possess those Treasures, You disclose.
Let Vertue Rule, and Prudence be your Guide,
All Vice and the Suspicion of't avoid.
Be Vertuous and be thought so; Few there be,
That dare attempt upon Your Chastity,
If no unwary Action did precede,
By which they gather'd hopes, they might Succeed.
“Fame's quickly lost and ne're to be retriev'd,
“And Rumour, true or false, blasts, if believ'd.
You're Angels, while You do admit no Stain;
But when You fall, You Mortals are again.
See that fair Flower, the Glory of the Field,
That did enchanting Joy and Pleasure yield,
By some rude Hand crop'd in its height of Pride;
How, all its Beauty fled, it withering died.
See but the Snow; like You, 'tis Starry bright,
While no warm touch doth taint its Native White:
But if ought doth its Virgin-Beauty stain,
Not all Earth's Treasures can restore't again.
That did enchanting Joy and Pleasure yield,
By some rude Hand crop'd in its height of Pride;
How, all its Beauty fled, it withering died.
See but the Snow; like You, 'tis Starry bright,
While no warm touch doth taint its Native White:
But if ought doth its Virgin-Beauty stain,
Not all Earth's Treasures can restore't again.
Nor let (fair Piece of Nature) Your young Years
Be drawn away with Lovers vows and tears.
Love every Passion, it doth see, can Ape,
The changing Proteus puts on every shape.
Whom Love doth seize, he strait grows Eloquent,
And Streams of Words flow from desire and want:
Mind not the Trifles, on Mens lips that grow;
'Tis Scum, that from their botling Breasts doth flow;
Free of their Oaths, but in performance slow.
Impunity renders the Traytors safe,
Even Jove at Lovers perjuries doth laugh.
Be drawn away with Lovers vows and tears.
Love every Passion, it doth see, can Ape,
The changing Proteus puts on every shape.
Whom Love doth seize, he strait grows Eloquent,
And Streams of Words flow from desire and want:
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'Tis Scum, that from their botling Breasts doth flow;
Free of their Oaths, but in performance slow.
Impunity renders the Traytors safe,
Even Jove at Lovers perjuries doth laugh.
Your Yielding Mind let not vain presents bend,
Beware of Gifts an Enemy doth send:
They are the price they'd buy You at, and when
You are their own, the Gifts are theirs again.
Be deaf to Flattery; it deludes the Mind,
And oft, when all Arts fail, doth entrance find.
But then's most Danger, we should to 't resign.
When't meets with that Arch-Flatterer within.
Ne're dream, that Constancy in Man resides,
Who less i'th' Prize, then in the Conquest Prides.
In Love and in Ambition what Men have,
They slight, and for what they possess not, rave.
One Conquest got, another fills the Mind,
Nor can the greatest Treasures keep't confind.
Of Thoughts and of Desires no bounds are known,
Nor can the brightest Beauty fix Love down.
Nor will Preëminence more be You allow'd,
Once got, you're lost among the Common Crowd.
No greater Privilege will Your Beauty gain,
But in the Mass of things will Scorn'd remain,
Nor but for change be visited again.
The tasting Bee doth search the secret Bowers,
And rifles all the Beds of silver flowers:
Nor Rose, nor Lilly, can inforce his stay;
Fresh sweets the winged Chymist call away.
Untouch'd You'll th' object of their Worship be;
Yielding You do at their Discretion ly,
And when the Thief hath robb'd, he'll hate and fly.
Beware of Gifts an Enemy doth send:
They are the price they'd buy You at, and when
You are their own, the Gifts are theirs again.
Be deaf to Flattery; it deludes the Mind,
And oft, when all Arts fail, doth entrance find.
But then's most Danger, we should to 't resign.
When't meets with that Arch-Flatterer within.
Ne're dream, that Constancy in Man resides,
Who less i'th' Prize, then in the Conquest Prides.
In Love and in Ambition what Men have,
They slight, and for what they possess not, rave.
One Conquest got, another fills the Mind,
Nor can the greatest Treasures keep't confind.
Of Thoughts and of Desires no bounds are known,
Nor can the brightest Beauty fix Love down.
Nor will Preëminence more be You allow'd,
Once got, you're lost among the Common Crowd.
No greater Privilege will Your Beauty gain,
But in the Mass of things will Scorn'd remain,
Nor but for change be visited again.
The tasting Bee doth search the secret Bowers,
And rifles all the Beds of silver flowers:
Nor Rose, nor Lilly, can inforce his stay;
Fresh sweets the winged Chymist call away.
Untouch'd You'll th' object of their Worship be;
Yielding You do at their Discretion ly,
And when the Thief hath robb'd, he'll hate and fly.
See! The throat-parched Wretch, whom Thirst doth fire,
Approaches the cool Fount with hot desire.
He bows his Head, and kneels upon the brink,
And freely o'th' transparent Waves doth drink.
Refresh'd, he careless doth pursue his way,
No thanks to th' charitable Nymph doth pay,
Nor her once-rav'shing Charms can beg his stay:
Rises and slights what he did late adore;
Turns his ungratefull Back, never to see her more.—
Approaches the cool Fount with hot desire.
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And freely o'th' transparent Waves doth drink.
Refresh'd, he careless doth pursue his way,
No thanks to th' charitable Nymph doth pay,
Nor her once-rav'shing Charms can beg his stay:
Rises and slights what he did late adore;
Turns his ungratefull Back, never to see her more.—
Thus sang my Friend—But did Fair Martha know
The Truth and Love, that in my Soul do flow;
Her Virgin-Sweets She'd to my Arms resign,
Bless Me, and bless Her Self in being Mine.
The Truth and Love, that in my Soul do flow;
Her Virgin-Sweets She'd to my Arms resign,
Bless Me, and bless Her Self in being Mine.
No Goddess e're deserv'd so well as She!
And no True Lover e're exceeded Me.
And no True Lover e're exceeded Me.
| Miscellany Poems | |