University of Virginia Library

The CONFESSION.

For why, my Friend, shou'd I conceal
A Flame that must itself reveal?
That Matchless Dame, whose Sov'raign Pow'r
The Brightest Nymphs with Pride adore,
That Goddess's Victorious Eyes
Have made your Thyrsis Heart her Prize:
Her Eyes, whose Lustre soon can charm
The Proudest Heart, the Coldest warm.
'Twas now the Boy first taught me Cares,
Unpractis'd yet in Cupid's Wars,
Where by Pursuit fresh Wounds we gain,
And all the Conquest's to be slain.
When first I saw this Lovely Maid
I then was ruin'd, then betray'd;
Her polish'd Beauties shine so bright,
And thence reflect such dazling Light,
With aking Sight I on them gaze,
And my Eyes darken on her Face.
High on her spacious Front above,
Heav'n opens wide—a Heav'n of Love.
Her Eye-brows black beneath it lie,
Like Two bent Bows of Ebony.
Her ruddy Lips are big with Joy,
And her soft Smiles create the Boy.
Upon her Cheeks fresh Roses blow,
Which, as her Virgin-Blushes flow,
Flash in the Blood, and crimson all their Snow.
Her Neck, whose Pillar does sustain
That Intellectual World her Brain,
In artful Workmanship transcends
The Pow'r of any Mortal Hands;
That Atlas, whose loud Fame's so great
For bearing Heav'n, wou'd change his State,
Proud to sustain this Nobler Weight.
These Beauties then, these Charms Divine
Have vanquish'd this poor Heart of mine,
From which it never can remove,
Linkt fast by Chains of endless Love.