Poems upon several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Long have I born,—Perfidious Love depart;
I'm tir'd with thy ill Usage of my Heart.
Enlarg'd at last, I redden with Disdain,
To think how long I've dragg'd the servile Chain.
Thanks to my Stars, I'm Conqueror, tho' late,
My boiling Passions sink, my Flames abate,
And now I triumph in a safe Retreat.
To part alas! I great Reluctance find;
Yet I'll pursue the Purpose of my Mind,
For tho' to lose the faithless Fair I mourn,
My Griefs will after to Advantage turn.

Thus bitter Med'cines often give us Ease,
Remove the Pains, and baffle the Disease.
And am I slighted thus—and have I born
The killing Vengeance of your haughty Scorn?
Have I your humble Slave been forc'd to wait,
And whole Nights danc'd Attendance at your Gate,
While to some Fool You gave up all your Charms,
And hugg'd the senseless Coxcomb in your Arms?
I saw him, when with Loss of Blood he reel'd,
In Service spent, come stagg'ring from the Field:
—'Twas I first made your private Beauty known,
And recogniz'd it thro' th' admiring Town;
My Songs invited all the World to gaze,
Gave Lustre to your Eyes, and Glory to your Face.
'Tis needless to repeat your Jilting Lies,
Deluding Falsehoods, frequent Perjuries,
The secret Hints, lewd Glances,—the dumb Cant
That pass'd between You, and your New Gallant;

The speaking Nods, mute Dialogues You made,
Which the loose Wishes of your Souls betray'd.
I lately sent my Boy (fond doating Sot)
To know if I might visit You, or not;
Your Woman had her Cue,—“Says she, Pray tell
“Your Master, Child, my Lady is not well.
Wild with my Fears I ran, the Truth to see,
I found You sick indeed—but 'twas of Me;
My Rival soon knew how to sooth your Pain,
One Healing Kiss recover'd You again.
This and much more I've born—Get some dull Beast,
A passive Beau, some Woman's Fool at least,
Good Faith I can no longer brook the Jest.
Over Love's Shrine my Vessel hangs at last,
In Glad Remembrance of the Shipwrack past,
And safely landed on the distant Shore,
With Joy I hear the furious Billows roar;
False Syren, all thy Wheedles now are vain,
Thou ne're shalt tempt Me out to Sea again.

Driv'n by two diff'rent Gusts of Love, and Hate,
My Heart now floats to This Point, now to That;
Both struggle in my Breast, but Love, I fear,
All-pow'rful Love will prove the Conqueror.
In vain, in vain, thy treach'rous Snares I shun,
One Look, one Glance, and I'm again undone;
A strange Aversion to your Crimes I find,
But love your Body, tho' I hate your Mind.
My giddy Soul turns round, and I perceive
I can nor with thee, nor without thee live:
Distracted with my wild Desires I rave,
And I my self scarce know what I wou'd have.
Th' unhandsome Things you've done, my Hatred move;
But O! those Eyes perswade again to love:
Your Eyes my strongest Resolutions break,
So gently they perswade, such wond'rous Sense they speak:

Upon my Soul insensibly they win,
And melt me all to Tenderness within.
By all those luscious, soft, endearing Charms
We feasted on, in one another's Arms,
By your sweet Face with Beauty's Blossoms strow'd,
Your Face, to Me more pow'rful than a God;
Remit my Sufferings, remove my Smart,
Nor play the wanton Tyrant with my Heart.
Your Eyes, your pow'rful Eyes have learn'd the Skill,
And can, like Fate, necessitate my Will,
My Will that leaves it to your Choice alone,
Whether I freely Servitude shall own,
Or wear my Fetters on Compulsion.
Well, since 'tis thus, I'll spread the flying Sail
Before the Wind, and catch the present Gale;
Rowl'd down the Stream 'tis easier far to move,
Since I, in Spite of mine own Heart, must Love.