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Poems on Several Occasions

Written by Charles Cotton

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DIALOGUE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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DIALOGUE.

Geron and Amarillis.
Gr.
Stay, stay, fair Nymph! oh! whither Flies
The love, and wonder of all Eyes?
Stay, and to see be now besought
The Miracle thy Charms have wrought;
Age turn'd to youth at Love's command,
And thine which nothing can withstand.

Am.
Be gon, old Fool, why dost thou slay
My better thoughts, and cross my way?
Fly, fly, and quit my shady walk,
Nature will blush to see us talk,

486

Who all conjunction must disclaim
Betwixt her glory, and her shame.
Prefer thy suit to some one fit,
If not to grant, to pardon it.
Thou wrong'st my youth, by thy pretence,
And ev'ry Pray'r is violence.
Love has on thee no wonder wrought,
Thou only art transform'd in thought,
Nor art thou quick'ned by my Eyes,
But dream'st of Metamorphosies.
Thou art the same old thing thou wast,
Without, or sight, or touch, or taste,
Hearing, or smell, or any sense,
That beauties grace should recompense.
And only hast a tongue to move
Contempt, and laughter, but no Love.

Ge.
Sweet, do not scorn me, though I seem
Old, and unfit for thy esteem;
Though hoary grown, and shrunk I am,
I feed within, perhaps, a flame;

487

As hot as can the youngest he,
That hourly Sighs, and sues to thee.
As I am old, I should be wise,
And better know the thing I prize,
Than twenty Younglings that do light
Their Torches only at the sight.

Am.
I shun thee not for any part
Of what thou seem'st, but what thou art.
And that, thou dost a flame believe,
Is but enough to make thee live:
For if thy Heart a flame should turn,
The bulk's so dry thy frame would burn.
I know thee old, and wish thee wise,
A younger Man, and younger Eyes;
On publick Faith thou courtest me,
For troth, I think thou canst not see.

Ge.
Would I were deaf! I might not hear
This confirmation of my fear.
I doubted thou would'st scornful prove,
But look'd for no reproach for love.

488

I come perhaps with full delight
T'outbid thy wary appetite;
I can distinguish Beauty too,
And taste the Fruit for which I sue.
Know all Love's ends, and all his ways,
Womens reproaches, and delays,
And furnish'd 'em with able Arms
To force the Fortress of thy charms.
Scorn then, ingrate, my love, and me;
Thy Spring will one day Winter be.
When ev'ry youthfull Shepherd Swain,
As thou dost me, will thee disdain.

Am.
Old Man, why should'st thou think me nice?
Because I cannot hug thy Ice?
Or tell me I shall Winter grow,
Because thy self art turn'd to Snow?
No heats so wild in my Blood play,
As need th' excess of thy allay:
Nor can the judgment of thy dim,
Erroneous sight, raise my esteem;

489

And that stiff blade of thine may in,
Attempts, but no performance, sin.
Go Dotard, and impartial look
Thy Shadow in the frozen Brook,
In that congeal'd mirror behold,
How shrunk thou art, wither'd, and old,
Thy Leaf dropt off from thy bald Crown,
And all an antick Statue grown;
Then say if ought thou there canst see
Fit to present my youth, and me.

Ge.
I have (fair Nymph!) consider'd all,
Thy Youth may tax my Age withall,
And on my self some Lectures read:
But cannot find that I am dead:
For furrow'd though my Skin appears,
Because old Time these threescore Years,
Has plow'd it up, I'me fruitfull still,
And want no power to my will.
And though my Leaf be fall'n, each Vein
Does a proportion'd heat retain.

490

One yielding Glance from thy fair Eyes
Would make my lusty Sap to rise;
My wanton Pulses strongly beat,
And glow with germinating heat.
Create me then, and call me thine,
We then will in Embraces twine,
As sweet, and fruitfull, as the Pair
That in their April coupled were.

Am.
Stay Shepherd, stay, you run too fast,
This fury is too hot to last;
And by the crackling Flame, I doubt,
The Fire will be soon burnt out.
Leave me, and stumble to thy Bed,
Where dream thou hast me; and thou'rt sped.

Ge.
Fair, and inflexible, will Love,
Pray'rs, Tears, and Suff'rings nothing move?
Thus then I leave thee, and am gone,
To die for an ungratefull one.
When I am dead if thou repent,
And sigh over my Monument,

491

By that sweet Breath, I shall respire,
And Dead enjoy my Life's desire.

Am.
Stay, stay, for now I better see
Th' unblemish't truth that shines in thee.
Thou conquer'd hast, I am o'recome,
Then lead me, Shepherd, Captive home.

CHORUS.

Jolly Shepherds, quit your Flocks
To the greedy Wolf, or Fox;
Though no Shepherd them attend,
Hecate will all defend.
For another Cynthia's led
To a lusty old Man's Bed.
Tune your Oaten Pipes and Play;
This is Hymen's Holy-day.
To one Night a Years mirth bring,
Winter's marry'd to the Spring.
Therefore it becomes each one
To Crown the revolution.