With you, unhappy Eyes, that first let in
To my fond Heart the raging Fire,
With you a Truce I will begin,
Let all your Clouds, let all your Show'rs retire,
And for a while become serene,
And you, my constant rising Sighs, forbear,
To mix your selves with flying Air,
But utter Words among that may express,
The vast degrees of Joy and Wretchedness.
And you, my Soul! forget the dismal hour,
When dead and cold Aminta lay,
And no kind God, no pittying Power
The hasty fleeting Life would stay;
Forget the Mad, the Raving pain.
That seiz'd Thee at a sight so new,
When not the Wind let loose, nor raging Main
Was so destructive and so wild as thou.
Forget thou saw'st the lovely yielding Maid,
Dead in thy trembling Arms
Just in the Ravishing hour, when all her Charms
A willing Victim to thy Love was laid,
Forget that all is fled thou didst Adore,
And never, never, shall return to bless Thee more.
Twelve times the Moon has borrow'd Rays; that Night
Might favour Lovers stealths by Glimmering Light:
Since I imbarqu'd on the inconstant Seas
With people of all Ages and Degrees,
All well dispos'd and absolutely bent,
To visit a far Country call'd Content.
The Sails were hoisted, and the Streamers spread,
And chearfully we cut the yielding Floud;
Calm was the Sea, and peaceful every Wind,
As if the Gods had with our Wishes joyn'd
To make us prosperous; All the whispering Air
Like Lovers Joys, was soft, and falsly fair.
The ruffling Winds were hush'd in wanton sleep,
And all the Waves were silenc'd in the deep:
No threatning Cloud, no angry Curl was found,
But bright, serene, and smooth, 'twas all around:
But yet believe false Iris if she weep,
Or Amorous Layis will her promise keep,
Before the Sea that Flatters with a Calm,
Will cease to ruin with a rising Storm;
For now the Winds are rows'd, the Hemisphere
Grows black, and frights the hardy Mariner,
The Billows all into Disorder hurl'd,
As if they meant to bury all the World;
And least the Gods on us should pity take,
They seem'd against them, too, a War to make.
Now each affrighted to his Cabin Flyes,
And with Repentance Load the angry Skyes;
Distracted Prayers they all to Heaven Address,
While Heaven best knows, they think of nothing less;
To quit their Interest in the World's their fear,
Not whether,—but to go,—is all their Care,
And while to Heav'n their differing crimes they mount,
Their vast disorders doubles the account;
All pray, and promise fair, protest and weep,
And make those Vows they want the pow'r to keep,
And sure with some the angry Gods were pleas'd;
For by degrees their Rage and Thunder ceas'd:
In the rude War no more the Winds engage,
And the destructive Waves were tir'd with their own Rage;
Like a young Ravisher, that has won the day,
O're-toil'd and Panting, Calm and Breathless lay,
While so much Vigour in the Incounter's lost,
They want the pow'r a second Rape to Boast.
The Sun in Glory daignes again t' appear; }
But we who had no Sense, but that of fear, }
Cou'd scarce believe, and lessen our dispair. }
Yet each from his imagin'd Grave gets out,
And with still doubting Eyes looks round about.
Confirm'd they all from Prayer to Praises hast,
And soon forgot the sense of dangers past;
And now from the recruited Top-mast spy'd,
An Island that discover'd Natures Pride:
To which was added, all that Art could do
To make it Tempting and Inviting too;
All wondering Gaz'd upon the happy place,
But none knew either where, or what it was:
Some thought, th'Inaccessible Land 't had been,
And others that Inchantment they had seen,
At last came forth a Man, who long before
Had made a Voyage to that fatal shoar,
Who with his Eyes declin'd, as if dismaid,
At sight of what he dreaded: Thus he said.—
This is the Coast of Africa,
Where all things sweetly move;
This is the Calm Atlantick Sea,
And that the Isle of Love;
To which all Mortals Tribute pay,
Old, Young, the Rich and Poor;
Kings do their awful Laws obey,
And Shepherds do Adore.
There's none its forces can resist,
Or its Decrees Evince,
It Conquers where, and whom it list,
The Cottager and Prince.
In entering here, the King resigns,
The Robe and Crown he wore;
The Slave new Fetters gladly joyns
To those he dragg'd before.
All thither come, early or late,
Directed by Desire,
Not Glory can divert their fate,
Nor quench the Amorous fire.
The Enterances on every side,
Th' Attracts and Beauties Guard,
The Graces with a wanton Pride,
By turn secure the Ward.
The God of Love has lent 'em Darts,
With which they gently Greet,
The heedless undefended Hearts
That pass the fatal Gate.
None e're escapt the welcom'd blow,
Which ner'e is sent in vain;
They Kiss the Shaft, and Bless the Foe,
That gives the pleasing Pain.