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Amasia, or, The Works of the Muses

A Collection of Poems. In Three Volumes. By Mr John Hopkins

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 I. 
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To Amasia.
  
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140

To Amasia.

[Too much, too much you Tyrannize, proud Maid!]

Too much, too much you Tyrannize, proud Maid!
More than you ought, you do my sense invade,
Whilst the Commands of Heaven are less than yours Obey'd.
Ev'n when I go to offer up my Pray'rs,
And beg the Gods to ease my Mortal cares,
My Heart is thine, my Words are only theirs.
Where am I safe from this thy Charming Skill,
Thy Eyes, thy Conquering Eyes can at the Altar Kill
In vain to Shrines for refuge I repair,
For I can find no kind Assylum there.
Where shall I fly to shun thee, tell me, where?
Like mine, Leander's Am'rous Passion came,
He saw—admir'd the Maid—
And as she Offer'd incense, Catch'd the Flame.
Like him, to Venus Fairest Maid, I sue,
And as you Pray to Heav'n, I Pray to you.
Your Fan, Love's ensign, painted Flow'rs displays;
Behind that Shrine the Lov'd Amasia Prays.

141

Hide not thy Face, no paint can be so Fair,
There Roses bloom, and every Sweet dwells there.
O I Conjure thee, by the Pow'rs above,
By those you Pray to, by the Pow'r of Love,
By all that's Dear and Sacred, by thy Charms,
Receive thy ravish'd Sylvius to thy Arms.
So, may thy Beauties have Eternal springs,
Love hov'ring o'er thee with Extatick Wings.
So shall thy Husband still thy Lover be,
And none shall ever Love and Live as we.
But if thy Pride bids thee low Fortunes shun,
May you at last to loath'd Embraces run,
And dully Marry with Consent—
Some Country Booby's awkward, senseless Son.