The City of LOVE.
In this vast Isle a famous City stands,
Who for its Beauty all the rest Commands,
Built to delight the wondering Gazers Eyes,
Of all the World the great Metropolis.
Call'd by LOVE's name: and here the Charming God,
When he retires to Pleasure, makes abode;
'Tis here both Art and Nature strive to show, }
What Pride, Expence, and Luxury, can do, }
To make it Ravishing and Awful too: }
All Nations hourly thither do resort,
To add a splendour to this glorious Court;
The Young, the Old, the Witty, and the Wise,
The Fair, the Ugly, Lavish, and Precise;
Cowards and Braves, the Modest, and the Lowd,
Promiscuously are blended in the Crowd.
From distant Shoars young Kings their Courts remove,
To pay their Homage to the God of Love.
Where all their sacred awful Majesty,
Their boasted and their fond Divinity;
Loose their vast force; as lesser Lights are hid,
When the fierce God of Day his Beauties spread.
The wondering World for Gods did Kings adore,
Till LOVE confirm'd 'em Mortal by his Pow'r;
And in Loves Court, do with their Vassals live,
Without or Homage, or Prerogative:
Which the young God, not only Blind must show,
But as Defective in his Judgment too.
LOVE's Temple.
Midst this Gay Court a famous Temple stands,
Old as the Universe which it commands;
For mighty Love a sacred being had, }
Whilst yet 'twas Chaos, e're the World was made, }
And nothing was compos'd without his Aid. }
Agreeing Attoms by his pow'r were hurl'd,
And Love and Harmony compos'd the World.
'Tis rich, 'tis solemn all! Divine yet Gay! }
From the Jemm'd Roof the dazling Lights display, }
And all below inform without the Aids of day. }
All Nations hither bring rich offerings,
And 'tis endow'd with Gifts of Love-sick Kings.
Upon an Altar (whose unbounded store
Has made the Rifled Universe so poor,
Adorn'd with all the Treasure of the Seas,
More than the Sun in his vast course surveys)
Was plac'd the God! with every Beauty form'd,
Of Smiling Youth, but Naked, unadorn'd.
His painted Wings displaid: His Bow laid by,
(For here Love needs not his Artillery)
One of his little Hands aloft he bore,
And grasp'd a wounded Heart that burnt all o're,
Towards which he lookt with lovely Laughing Eyes:
As pleas'd and vain, with the fond Sacrifice,
The other pointing downward seem'd to say,
Here at my Feet your grateful Victims lay,
Whilst in a Golden Tablet o're his Head, }
In Diamond Characters this Motto stood, }
Behold the Pow'r that Conquers every GOD. }
The Temple Gates are open Night and Day,
Love's Votaries at all hours Devotions pay,
A Priest of Hymen gives attendance near,
But very rarely shows his Function here,
For Priest cou'd ne'r the Marriage-cheat improve,
Were there no other Laws, but those of Love!
A Slavery generous Heav'n did ne'r design,
Nor did its first lov'd Race of men confine;
A Trick, that Priest, whom Avarice cunning made,
Did first contrive, then sacred did perswade,
That on their numerous and unlucky Race,
They might their base got Wealth securely place.
Curse—cou'd they not their own loose Race inthral,
But they must spread the infection over all!
That Race, whose Brutal heat was grown so wild,
That even the Sacred Porches they defil'd;
And Ravisht all that for Devotion came,
Their Function, nor the Place restrains their flame.
But Love's soft Votaries no such injuries fear,
No pamper'd Levits are in Pension here;
Here are no fatted Lambs to Sacrifice, }
No Oyl, fine Flower, or Wines of mighty price, }
The subtil Holy Cheats to Gormandize. }
Love's soft Religion knows no Tricks nor Arts,
All the Attoning Offerings here are Hearts.
The Mystery's silent, without noyse or show, }
In which the Holy Man has nought to do, }
The Lover is both Priest and Victim too. }
Hither with little force I did perswade,
My lovely timorously yielding Maid,
Implor'd we might together Sacrifice,
And she agrees with Blushing down-cast Eyes;
'Twas then we both our Hearts an Offering made,
Which at the Feet of the young God we laid,
With equal Flames they Burnt; with equal Joy,
But with a Fire that neither did destroy;
Soft was its Force and Sympathy with them,
Dispers'd it self through every trembling Limb;
We cou'd not hide our tender new surprize,
We languisht and confest it with our Eyes;
Thus gaz'd we—when the Sacrifice perform'd,
We found our Hearts entire—but still they burn,
But by a Blessed change in taking back,
The lovely Virgin did her Heart mistake:
Her Bashful Eyes favour'd Love's great design,
I took her Burning Victim: and she mine.
Thus, Lysidas, without constraint or Art,
I reign'd the Monarch of Aminta's Heart;
My great, my happy Title she allows,
And makes me Lord of all her tender Vows,
All my past Griefs in coming Joys were drown'd,
And with eternal Pleasure I was Crown'd;
My Blessed hours in the extream of Joy,
With my soft Languisher I still imploy;
When I am Gay, Love Revels in her Eyes,
When sad—there the young God all panting lies.
A thousand freedoms now she does impart, }
Shows all her tenderness dis-rob'd of Art, }
But oh this cou'd not satisfy my Heart. }
A thousand Anguishes that still contains,
It sighs, and heaves, and pants with pleasing pains.
We look, and Kiss, and Press with new desire,
Whilst every touch Blows the unusual Fire.
For Love's last Mystery was yet conceal'd,
Which both still languisht for, both wisht reveal'd:
Which I prest on—and faintly she deny'd,
With all the weak efforts of dying Pride,
Which struggled long for Empire in her Soul,
Where it was wont to rule without controul.
But Conquering Love had got possession now,
And open'd every Sally to the Foe:
And to secure my doubting happiness,
Permits me to conduct her to the Bow'r of Bliss.
That Bow'r that does eternal Pleasures yield,
Where Psyche first the God of Love beheld:
But oh, in entering this so blest abode,
All Gay and Pleas'd as a Triumphing God,
I new unlook'd for difficulties meet,
Encount'ring Honour at the sacred Gate.
HONOUR.
I.
Honour's a mighty Phantom! which around
The sacred Bower does still appear;
All Day it haunts the hallow'd ground.
And hinders Lovers entering there.
It rarely ever takes its flight,
But in the secret shades of night.
Silence and gloom the charm can soonest end,
And are the luckyest hours to lay the Fiend,
Then 'tis the Vision only will remove,
With Incantations of soft Vows of Love.
II.