University of Virginia Library

To Mr ---

[As two dear Friends, who, by some fate unkind]

As two dear Friends, who, by some fate unkind,
Wreck'd by the Seas, and by the faithless Wind,
Had liv'd a tedious, Melancholy while
In some dark, barren, unfrequented Isle,
Together still, 'till one, unfit to bear
Unpractis'd Hunger, and so bleak an Air.
Urg'd by Prophetick Dreams of Feasts to come,
With Weepings parts, and round the Isle does roam.
Both for the suff'rings of each other Mourn,
And he that stay'd, prays for his Friend's return.
So, you and I, from the World's noise remov'd,
A Fate like theirs, have in some Measure prov'd,
Alone we Liv'd, and so alone we Lov'd.
Whilst busy Slaves, yet, an unthinking herd,
Past Salvage by, and like meer Brutes appear'd.
'Till diff'rent Thoughts, and some designs that please,
Urg'd me from you, to follow purpos'd ways.
As Famish'd Men, who long had Dreamt of Meats,
Of fancy'd Dainties, in delightful Seats,
Yet still, not they, but their starv'd fancy Eats.
And between slumbers, with regret they find
It was meer Hunger, that had fed their Mind.
'Till some kind hand spreads Spatious Tables o'er,
With choicer Banquets, and with greater store,
Than what were furnish'd by their sleep before.
So, what the Muses did in Visions shew,
Of Love, and Friendship Daphnis proves is true,
For he's at once a Friend, and Mistress too.
The richest Feasts of fondness he prepares,
And fills my Soul with the most pleasing Ayres.
My Thoughs for him rise up to such excess,
As to Amasia in a dear Address,
Her I Love more, yet him esteem not less.
And now, Adonis, since that Name you choose,
And Cytherea, for your Mistress use;
The softest Titles, for the softest Muse.
I wish success, but that I need not do,
For it attends, and waits to fly to you.
Among the rest, two Charming Beauties shine,
Painting, and Poetry intirely thine.
Scarce can I tell, both are so well exprest,
Which takes me most, or draws an image best.
Nature to you those Charming Arts procures,
I Court them most, yet they the most are yours.
Fortune has giv'n you all, to make you great,
All she could give you, but a large Estate.
And had you that, the rest would useless prove,
For that alone can gain a Virgin's Love.
Then Cytherea, that proud fair, would sue,
And beg her self, to be belov'd by you.
But she deserves not the fond Name you give,
If she's like Venus, fair, she should like Venus live.
But you indeed your Title Justly claim,
Soft as Adonis, and as full of Flame.
Your Breast, pierc'd deeper than his Thigh is found,
For Love's the Salvage, that gave you your Wound.
Yours, and my Mistress are almost alike,
With equal Pow'r on both our Hearts they strike.
She with Amasia may for scorn compare,
Amasia is like Cytherea fair.
I, tho' despis'd, for want of Pomp, and show,
Am pleas'd as you are, when my self I know
Above those Slaves, who think me much below.
Alike our Souls, alike our wishes move,
The same our Friendship, and the same our Love.
I never yet to Honour'd Fools have Bow'd,
Born to be slighted, and to slight the proud.
And you I know, as well as I, can boast,
That, where despis'd, you can despise the most.
Yet Cytherea still exempted stands,
Spight of her Pride, she your fond Heart Commands.
So I Amasia Love, but Love in vain,
Tho' she too, proudly Triumphs in my pain.
Believe me, Friend, I have a Miser's Mind,
For, tho' I here my best Lov'd Treasure find,
I want my other store, you, whom I left behind.