But give me leave, whose Soul's inspir'd,
With sacred, but desparing Love.
To dye from all your noise retir'd,
And Buried lie within this silent Grove.
For whilst I Live, my Soul's a prey,
To insignificant desires,
Whilst thou fond God of Love and Play,
With all thy Darts, with all thy useless Fires,
With all thy wanton flatteries cannot charm,
Nor yet the frozen-hearted Virgin warm.
V.
Others by absence Cure their fire,
Me it inrages more with pain;
Each thought of my Aminta blows it higher,
And distance strengthens my desire;
I Faint with wishing, since I wish in vain;
Either be gone, fond Love, or let me dye,
Hopeless desire admits no other remedy.
Here 'twas the height of Cruelty I prov'd,
By absence from the sacred Maid I lov'd:
And here had dy'd, but that Love found a way,
Some letters from Aminta to convey,
Which all the tender marks of pity gave,
And hope enough to make me wish to Live.
From Duty, now the lovely Maid is freed,
And calls me from my lonely solitude:
Whose cruel Memory in a Moments space,
The thoughts of coming Pleasures quite deface;
With an impatent Lovers hast I flew,
To the vast Blessing Love had set in view,
But oh I found Aminta in a place,
Where never any Lover happy was!
RIVALS.
Rivals 'tis call'd, a Village where,
The Inhabitants in Fury still appear;
Malicious paleness, or a generous red,
O'r every angry face is spread,
Their Eyes are either smiling with disdain,
Or fiercely glow with raging Fire.
Gloomy and sullen with dissembl'd pain,
Love in the Heart, Revenge in the desire:
Combates, Duels, Challenges,
Is the discourse, and all the business there.
Respect of Blood, nor sacred friendship tyes;
Can reconcile the Civil War,
Rage, Horror, Death, and wild despair,
Are still Rencounter'd, and still practised there.
'Twas here the lovely cruel Maid I found,
Incompass'd with a thousand Lovers round;
At my approach I saw their Blushes rise,
And they regarded me with angry Eyes.
Aminta too, or else my Fancy 'twas,
Receiv'd me with a shy and cold Address,
—I cou'd not speak—but Sigh'd, retir'd and Bow'd; }
With pain I heard her Talk and Laugh aloud, }
And deal her Freedoms to the greedy Crowd. }
I Curst her Smiles, and envy'd every look,
And Swore it was too kind, what'ere she spoke;
Condemn'd her Air, rail'd on her soft Address, }
And vow'd her Eyes did her false Heart confess, }
And vainly wisht their Charming Beauties less. }
A Secret hatred in my Soul I bear,
Against these objects of my new despair;
I waited all the day, and all in vain;
Not one lone minute snatcht, to ease my pain;
Her Lovers went and came in such a sort, }
It rather seem'd Loves-Office than his Court, }
Made for eternal Bus'ness, not his Sport, }
Love saw my pain, and found my rage grew high,
And led me off, to lodge at Jealousie.
JEALOUSIE.
I.