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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. 
 II. 
 III. 
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To the Admir'd Mrs. Cr---fts.
  
  
  
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To the Admir'd Mrs. Cr---fts.

Let other Poets other Subjects choose,
And Sing some Name proportion'd to their Muse.
But be you mine, be you my Charming Theme,
Proclaiming yours, I gain my self a Fame.
Beauty, and Wit are by each other fir'd,
Each raising that, which makes it self admir'd,
Thus shall you spread thro' me, me, whom your Charms inspir'd.
To such vast heights your Tow'ring Fame has flown,
It can't grow more, than 'tis already grown.
Such are your Merits, they transcend our Praise,
But that's a Fog still drawn by Beauty's rays.

83

No shining Off'ring, worthy you, can rise,
For Mortals incense but obscures the Skies.
Where'er you pass, while Youths around you Crowd,
Your Eyes Flash light'nings thro' the yielding Cloud.
The Swains, enamour'd with your Glances, press,
And, urging theirs, deny the rest access,
Your Charms might more be known, if noted less.
We, when grown fond to view your Beauties, run,
But find the nearer Clouds hide from our sight the Sun.
Thus, since your Eyes first blest Hibernia's shore,
Your Triumphs hinder you to Conquer more.
So, while the vanquish'd scorn a mean retreat,
You might be greater, were you not so great.
To you, fair Goddess, Victims daily fall,
All would adore you, were you known to all.
The Beauteous Warren, long unrivall'd, Charm'd,
No Mortal Breast against her Darts was Arm'd.
She still Triumphant, thro' her Conquests, rode,
For she has Charms which might o'ercome a God.
But you, to share her Empire, hither came,
To share an Empire setled long by Fame.
To you this right, as you deserve it, fell,
So much her equal, you almost excel.

84

Such are your outward Beauties, all must own,
All those to whom your Wit, and humour's known,
That Face was made but for that Soul alone.
Of what can Paphos, or Cythera boast,
Alas! the fame of those Lov'd Isles is lost,
Venus is now ador'd on blest Hibernia's Coast.
Hear then, thou Beauteous, Celebrated fair,
Exert your Pity, and receive this Pray'r,
Whatever Youths shall be subdu'd by thee,
(And all must be so, who have Eyes to see)
Command them live at least, and mildly prove,
(Tho' in your Empire uncontroul'd you move,)
The Queen of Mercy, as the Queen of Love.