You that do seek with Amorous desires,
To tast the Pleasures of the Life below,
Land on this Island, and renew your Fires,
For without Love, there is no joy, you know.
Then all the Cupids waiting no Commands,
With soft inviting Smiles present their Hands,
And in that silent Motion seem'd to say,
You ought to follow, where Love leads the way.
Mad with delight, and all transported too,
I quitted Reason, and resolv'd to go;
For that bright charming Beauty I had seen,
And burnt with strange desire to see again,
Fill'd with new hope, I laught at Reasons force,
And towards the Island, bent my eager Course;
The Zephires at that instant lent their Aid,
And I into Loves Fleet was soon convey'd,
And by a thousand Friendships did receive,
Welcomes which none but God's of Love cou'd give.
Many possest with my Curiosity,
Tho' not inspir'd like me, yet follow'd me,
And many staid behind, and laught at us:
And in a scoffing tone reproacht us thus,
Farewel, Adventurers, go search the Joy,
Which mighty Love inspires, and you shall find,
The treatment of the wond'rous Monarch Boy,
In's Airy Castle always soft and kind.
We on the fragrant Beds of Roses laid, }
And lull'd with Musick which the Zephires made, }
When with the Amorous silken Sails they plaid, }
Rather did them as wanting Wit account
Then we in this affair did Judgment want,
With Smiles of pity only answer'd them,
Whilst they return'd us pitying ones again.
Now to the wisht for Shoar, with speed we high;
Vain with our Fate, and eager of our Joy,
And as upon the Beach we landed were,
An awful Woman did to us repair.
Goddess of Prudence! who with grave advice,
Counsels the heedless Stranger to be Wise;
She guards this Shoar, and Passage does forbid,
But now blind Sense her Face from us had hid;
We pass'd and dis-obey'd the heavenly Voice,
Which few e'er do, but in this fatal place.
Now with impatient hast, (but long in vain) }
I seek the Charming Author of my Pain, }
And haunt the Woods, the Groves, and ev'ry Plain. }
I ask each Chrystal Spring, each murmuring Brook,
Who saw my fair, or knows which way she took?
I ask the Eccho's, when they heard her Name?
But they cou'd nothing but my Moans proclaim;
My Sighs, the fleeting Winds far off do bear,
My Charmer, cou'd no soft complaining hear:
At last, where all was shade, where all was Gay; }
On a Brooks Brink, which purling past away, }
Asleep the lovely Maid extended lay; }
Of different Flowers the Cupids made her Bed,
And Rosey Pillows did support her Head.
With what transported Joy my Soul was fill'd,
When I, the Object of my wish beheld!
My greedy View each lovely part survey'd;
On her white Hand, her Blushing Cheek was laid
Half hid in Roses; yet did so appear
As if with those, the Lillys mingled were;
Her thin loose Robe did all her shape betray,
(Her wondrous shape that negligently lay)
And every Tempting Beauty did reveal,
But what young bashful Maids wou'd still conceal;
Impatient I, more apt to hope than fear,
Approacht the Heav'nly sleeping Maid more near;
The place, my flame, and all her Charms invite
To tast the sacred Joys of stoln delight.
The Grove was silent, and no Creature by,
But the young smiling God of Love and I;
But as before the awful shrine, I kneel'd,
Where Loves great Mystery was to be reveal'd,
A Man from out the Groves recess appears,
Who all my boasted Vigor turn'd to fears,
He slackt my Courage by a kind surprize,
And aw'd me with th' Majesty of his Eyes;
I bow'd, and blusht, and trembling did retire,
And wonder'd at the Pow'r that checkt my fire;
So excellent a Mean, so good a Grace,
So grave a Look, such a commanding Face;
In modest Speech, as might well subdue,
Youth's native wildness; yet 'twas gracious too.
A little Cupid waiting by my side,
(Who was presented to me for a guide,)
Beholding me decline, the Sleeping Maid,
To gaze on this Intruder,—Thus he said.
RESPECT.
I.
Him whom you see so awful and severe,
Is call'd Respect, the Eldest Son of Love;
Esteem his Mother is; who every where
Is the best Advocate to all the fair,
And knows the most obliging Arts to move:
Him you must still carress, and by his Grace,
You'll conquer all the Beauties of the Place;
To gain him 'tis not Words will do,
His Rhetorick is the Blush and Bow.
II.
He even requires that you shou'd silent be,
And understand no Language but from Eyes,
Or Sighs, the soft Complaints on Cruelty;
Which soonest move the Heart they wou'd surprize:
They like the Fire in Limbecks gently move.
What words (too hot and fierce) destroy;
These by degrees infuse a lasting Love;
Whilst those do soon burn out the short blaz'd Joy.
These the all-gaining Youth requires,
And bears to Ladies Hearts the Lambent Fires;
And He that wou'd against despair be proof,
Can never keep him Company enough.