 | Poems, Songs and Love-Verses |  |
Love Triumphant.
'Twas at the time when Phœbus with his RayesThe Universe with equal Beams serveys;
When Flocks and Heards to the cool Shades repair,
T'enjoy the Breezes of a cooler Air.
I laid me down upon the Grass to rest,
Whilst Loves fierce God inflam'd my tender Breast.
Millions of thoughts I interweav'd with fears,
And my blest Saints Idea wash'd in Tears.
Ah, cruel Nymph, said I, what God unkind
Hath with such Cruelty incens'd thy mind?
Lay by Joves Flames, Salmonean terrors fear,
Least you his Thunder and his Lightning bear.
For that great God that rules the arched Skie,
Can ne're be pleas'd with acts of cruelty.
But if you needs will take a Goddess form,
Which can your native Beauty nought adorn,
Take her whose milder form Mankind did move
To honour and adore as Queen of Love.
Thus shall you gain that honour that's your due,
And we take you for her, or her for you.
Thus whilst my mind passion toss'd too and fro,
As Waves by Winds which on the Ocean blow,
Behold my Clelia came, and forward prest,
Whilst the light Wind her lower Parts undrest;
48
Thus Venus us'd to court the God of War;
And thus themselves who in the Woods retire,
The Naides, and Draydes attire.
I silent lay, as if with sleep opprest,
Whilst her right Arm surrounds my willing Breast.
I made return, and often Clelia cry'd,
She who you seek is here, she then reply'd;
With that I gave a start, to let her know
How great a passion in my Breast did flow;
She smil'd, as something pleas'd to see me start,
And by my actions seem'd to know my Heart.
Then, as if newly risen from a trance,
Or death-like sleep, I did my Head advance,
And mildly speak her thus, Goddess most fair,
If you are come to comfort my despair,
You have nob'ly done, taking that shape whereby
You may at once deceive and please my Eye.
But if you come for to deride my fear,
And make me think my absent Clelia here,
You have lost your aim, for to my grief I know
My Clelia ne're did so much kindness show.
However I'm content, be what you will,
Nothing that bears that form can e're be ill.
Much more I wou'd have said, but she, too kind
To bear my passion with a steady mind,
With loving words my sorrow did asswage,
Commanding me no farther to engage
My self in sadness, since before my Eyes
No flying shade did stand to Tantalize;
49
And her who I so oft had vow'd to love.
I gave attention unto what she said,
And millions more of Protestations made
To keep my faith inviolate, whilst she,
Poor Soul, did both believe and pitty me.
I often kissing wring'd her by the Hand,
And by dumb signs gave her to understand
My head-strong Passion wou'd no more obey,
Since she her self had took the curb away.
But she, too Innocent, ne're understood
The swelling Tides of Passion in my Blood:
Yet from her Eyes some pitty did distil,
Like Pearls thrust out, though shrewd against their will;
Unwilling for to leave that happy place,
Where sorrow cou'd not chuse but have a grace.
Thus temper'd Steel is sometimes clad in rust,
And grains of Gold are mingled with the Dust.
But I, who in the Wars of Love had been
A Voluntier, thought now or ne're to win
The honour of the day, and in some sort
To gain the conquest of the Virgin Fort;
Which I assaulted with so free a force,
(Not with Battallions of Foot and Horse;
But smooth and courtly Complements) as might
Have mov'd the chaste Diana to delight,
And made the cold Lucretia to desire
To wanton in the Flames of Venus fire.
50
Was solely at the Conquerours will and Pleasure;
Which was so great, that nothing can augment
My Joy, or add unto my blest Content.
Divinest Creature, to whose heavenly Brow
Our yielding Hearts do with submission bow;
Rare Master-piece of Nature, here I lye
Conquer'd by Beauty, and by Beauty dye.
To you my Ghost shall in the Night appear,
And though I die, I'll never leave you here.
Yet you are cruel, and will not afford
My dying Corps but one poor parting Word.
O that your Beauty had less mortal been,
Or that to love had not been held a sin!
I boldly to the World wou'd have made known
Thy Beauty claims Desert, and thine alone.
But stay, methinks there's something in thy Eye
That tells me that thy Lover must not die.
And since that thou hast gave this blest Reprieve,
I for thy sake will be content to live,
And by some signal Service henceforth try
For to requite your generosity.
| Poems, Songs and Love-Verses | |