 | Miscellanies in Verse and Prose |  |
137
From the same.
[Sweet Gypsy, Preciosa fair]
Sweet Gypsy, Preciosa fair,
The precious Stones less precious are;
Yet as thy Name implies with Art,
Hard, tho' a Jewel, is thy Heart.
This Truth confirm'd in thee we find,
That Scorn is still with Beauty join'd.
If as you open to the Sight,
With ripen'd Rays of fuller Light,
You practise this severe Disdain,
Ah! what will be thy rigid Reign!
While Basilisks are in thy Eyes,
At which the fond Beholder dies.
If the mean Cottage or the Field
You'd Birth to such bright Graces yield,
And near our humble River's Bed
Thy radiant Infancy was bred,
Mançanares shall vye in Fame
With ample Tagus' Golden Stream,
Of this distinguish'd Honour proud;
And equal Ganges' wealthy Flood.
Fair Fortunes, good as they desire,
You promise any who enquire;
Yet cruel cause the worst of Ills,
While your relentless Beauty kills.
Your strolling Tribe, as Rumour tells,
Are skill'd in Sorceries and Spells;
But sure the Charms employ'd by you,
Are more prevailing, and are true.
If in the spritely Dance you move,
Our Wonder kindles into Love;
One Glance deprives us of our Breath,
And thy soft Siren Voice is Death:
For whatsoe'er to thee belongs,
Thy Silence, Speech, thy Looks, thy Songs,
Approach, Withdrawing, give Desire,
And fiercely blow the fatal Fire.
Submitted to thy pow'rful Sway,
The haughtiest Hearts thy Rule obey,
As mine, rejoycing in its Chain,
Dear Preciosa, owns thy Reign.
The precious Stones less precious are;
Yet as thy Name implies with Art,
Hard, tho' a Jewel, is thy Heart.
This Truth confirm'd in thee we find,
That Scorn is still with Beauty join'd.
If as you open to the Sight,
With ripen'd Rays of fuller Light,
You practise this severe Disdain,
Ah! what will be thy rigid Reign!
While Basilisks are in thy Eyes,
At which the fond Beholder dies.
If the mean Cottage or the Field
You'd Birth to such bright Graces yield,
And near our humble River's Bed
Thy radiant Infancy was bred,
Mançanares shall vye in Fame
With ample Tagus' Golden Stream,
Of this distinguish'd Honour proud;
And equal Ganges' wealthy Flood.
Fair Fortunes, good as they desire,
You promise any who enquire;
Yet cruel cause the worst of Ills,
While your relentless Beauty kills.
138
Are skill'd in Sorceries and Spells;
But sure the Charms employ'd by you,
Are more prevailing, and are true.
If in the spritely Dance you move,
Our Wonder kindles into Love;
One Glance deprives us of our Breath,
And thy soft Siren Voice is Death:
For whatsoe'er to thee belongs,
Thy Silence, Speech, thy Looks, thy Songs,
Approach, Withdrawing, give Desire,
And fiercely blow the fatal Fire.
Submitted to thy pow'rful Sway,
The haughtiest Hearts thy Rule obey,
As mine, rejoycing in its Chain,
Dear Preciosa, owns thy Reign.
Thus, as his secret Soul indites,
Thy poor and wretched Lover writes.
Thy poor and wretched Lover writes.
| Miscellanies in Verse and Prose | |