Instructed thus, I did my steps direct,
Towards the necessary Grave Respect,
Whom I soon won to favour my design,
To which young LOVE his promis'd aid did joyn.
This wak't Aminta, who with trembling fear,
Wonder'd to see a stranger enter'd there;
With timorous Eyes the Grove she does survey,
Where are my LOVES, she crys! all fled away?
And left me in this gloomy shade alone?
And with a Man! Alas, I am undone.
Then strove to fly; but I all prostrate lay,
And grasping fast her Robe, oblig'd her stay;
Cease, lovely Charming Maid, Oh cease to fear,
I faintly cry'd,—There is no Satyr near;
I am of humane Race, whom Beauty Aws,
And born an humble Slave to all her Laws;
Besides we're not alone within the Grove,
Behold Respect, and the young God of LOVE:
How can you fear the Man who with these two,
In any Shade or hour approaches you?
Thus by degrees her Courage took its place;
And usual Blushes drest again her Face,
Then with a Charming Air, her Hand she gave,
She bade me rise, and said she did believe.
And now my Conversation does permit;
But oh the entertainment of her Wit,
Beyond her Beauty did my Soul surprize,
Her Tongue had Charms more pow'rful than her Eyes!
Ah Lysidas, hadst thou a list'ner been }
To what she said; tho' her thou ne're had'st seen, }
Without that Sense, thou hadst a Captive been. }
Guess at my Fate,—but after having spoke,
Many indifferent things: Her leave she took.
The Night approach't, and now with Thoughts opprest,
I minded neither where, nor when to Rest,
When my Conductor LOVE! whom I pursu'd,
Led to a Palace call'd Inquietude.
INQUIETUDE.
A Neighbouring Villa which derives its name,
From the rude sullen Mistress of the same;
A Woman of a strange deform'd Aspect;
Peevishly pensive, fond of her neglect;
She never in one posture does remain,
Now leans, lyes down, then on her Feet again;
Sometimes with Snails she keeps a lazy pace,
And sometimes runs like Furies in a Chase;
She seldom shuts her watchful Eyes to sleep,
Which pale and languid does her Visage keep;
Her loose neglected Hair disorder'd grows;
Which undesign'd her Fingers discompose;
Still out of Humour, and deprav'd in Sense,
And Contradictive as Impertinence;
Distrustful as false States-men, and as nice
In Plots, Intrigues, Intelligence and Spies.
To her we did our Duty pay, but she
Made no returns to our Civility.
Thence to my Bed; where rest in vain I sought, }
For pratling LOVE still entertain'd my thought, }
And to my Mind, a thousand Fancies brought: }
Aminta's Charms and Pow'rful Attractions,
From whence I grew to make these soft Reflections.
The REFLECTION.
I.
What differing Passions from what once I felt,
My yielding Heart do melt,
And all my Blood as in a Feaver burns,
Yet shivering Cold by turns.
What new variety of hopes and fears?
What suddain fits of Smiles and Tears?
Hope! Why dost thou sometimes my Soul imploy
With Prospects of approaching Joy?
Why dost thou make me pleas'd and vain,
And quite forget last minutes pain?
What Sleep wou'd calm, Aminta keeps awake;
And I all Night soft Vows and Wishes make.
When to the Gods I would my Prayers address,
And sue to be forgiven,
Aminta's name, I still express,
And Love is all that I confess,
Love and Aminta! Ever out Rival Heaven!
II.
Books give me no content at all;
Unless soft Cowly entertain my Mind,
Then every pair in Love I find;
Lysander him, Aminta her, I call:
Till the bewitching Fewel raise the fire;
Which was design'd but to divert,
Then to cool Shades I ragingly retire,
To ease my hopeless panting Heart,
Yet thereto every thing begets desire.
Each flowry Bed, and every loanly Grove,
Inspires new Wishes, new impatient Love.
[Sidenote A: Little Arts to please.]