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And when she finds a lover coming on,
Yet not so fast to be too soon undone,
There all her arts of languishment she tries,
Sweetens her whispering voice, softens her eyes,
Touches his hand as if it were by chance,
And yields herself to every kind advance.
Looks on his eyes, then strait declines her own,
And seems to love, as not to have it shewn.
And having thus proceeded in her art,

Breaks forth, as if she cou'd not guard her heart.
Too long, she cries, I have supprest my fire,
Take all my heart, and all Love can desire.
Thus while she softly speaks, and sweetly smiles,
And doubly charms the senses by these wiles,
She does a faith in strongest souls create,
And gains a conquest in despite of faith.

Ah cruel Love! the honey and the gall,
Which thou afford'st, do equally enthral;
And all our ills, and all our cures from thee,
Are mortal to us in the same degree :
If any of Inconstancy complain,

Of broken vows and her unjust disdain,

She fains herself unpractis'd in Love's arts,

And that she wants the charms should vanquish

hearts.

And looks with such a blushing, modesty,

As undeceives your fancy'd injury.

And thus the thorne lies hid that she does bear.
Under the roses which her beauties wear.
So in the earliest rise of day, we spy
The ruddy morning mingled with the sky.
While shame and anger in her looks appear,
Both seem confusedly mixt together there.

Thus in delusive dream the time being spent,
Weary with cozenage and discontent,
Even hope itself he scarcely now retaines,
But like a hunter at the last remaines,
Who having to no purpose spent the day,
At last loses the track of the lost prey.

Such were the practices and such the arts,
By which she can ensnare ten thousand hearts;
Or rather such the pow'rful armes do prove,
By which she conquers and makes slaves to Love.

To my Heart.

WHAT ail'st thou, oh thou trembling thing
To pant and languish in my breast,

Like birds that fain wou'd try the callow wing
And leave the downy nest?

Why hast thou fill'd thyself with thought
Strange, new, fantastick as the air?

Why to thy peaceful empire hast thou brought
That restless tyrant, Care?

But oh alas, I ask in vain

Thou answer'st nothing back again,

But in soft sighs Amintor's name.

Oh thou betrayer of my liberty,

Thou fond deceiver, what's the youth to thee!
What has he done, what has he said
That thus has conquer'd or betray'd?
He came and saw but 'twas by such a light,
As scarce distinguish'd day from night;
Such as in thick-grown shades is found,
Where here and there a piercing beam
Scatters faint spangled sun-shine on the ground
And casts about a melancholy gleam,

But so obscure I could not see

The charming eyes that wounded thee,

But they, like gems, by their own light

Betray'd their value through the gloom of night,

I felt thee heave at every look,
And stop my language as I spoke.

I felt thy blood fly upward to my face,
While thou unguarded lay

Yielding to every word, to every grace,
Fond to be made a prey.

I left thee watching in my eyes
And list'ning in my eare.
Discovering weakness in thy sighs
Uneasy with thy fear.

Suffering Imagination to deceive,

I found thee willing to believe

And with the treacherous shade conspire, To let into thyself a dangerous fire.

Ah foolish wanderer, say, what would'st thou do, If thou shouldst find at second view,

That all thou fanciest now were true, If thou shouldst find by day those charms, Which thus observed threaten'd undoing harms. If thou shouldst find that awful mien. Not the effects of first address,

Nor of my conversation disesteem,

But noble native sullenness;

If thou shouldst find that soft good-natured voice (Unused to insolence and noise),

Still thus adorn'd with modesty.

And his mind's virtues with his wit agree,

Tell me, thou forward lavish fool,

What reason cou'd thy fate controul,
Or save the ruin of thy soul >

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Cease then to languish for the coming day, That may direct his wandering steps that way, When I again shall the loved form survey.

SONG.

BREAK, break, sad heart, unload thy grief, Give, give, thy sorrows way:

Seek out thy only last relief,

And thy hard stars obey :

Those stars that doom thee to revere

What do's themselves outshine.

And placed her too in such a sphere
That she can ne'er be mine.

Because Endymion once did move
Nights' Goddess to come down,
And listen to his tale of love,

Aim not thou idly at the moon.

Be it thy pleasure and thy pride

That, wreck'd on stretch'd desire,.

Thou canst thy fiercest torments hide,
And silently expire.

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