II.
Fountains, wandering Brooks soft rills,
That o're the wanton Pebbles play;
And all the Woods with tender murmuring fills,
Inspiring Love, inciting Joy;
(The sole, the solemn business of the day)
Through all the Groves, the Glades and thickets run,
And nothing see but Love on all their Banks along;
A thousand Flowers of different kinds,
The neighbouring Meads adorn;
Whose sweetness snatcht by flying Winds,
O're all the Bow'r of Bliss is born;
Whether all things in nature strive to bring,
All that is soft, all that is ravishing.
III.
The verdant Banks no other Prints retain,
But where young Lovers, and young Loves have lain.
For Love has nothing here to do,
But to be wanton, soft and gay,
And give a lavish loose to joy.
His emptyed Quiver, and his Bow,
In flowry Wreaths with rosy Garlands Crown'd,
In Myrtle shades are hung,
As Conquerors when the Victories won,
Dispose their glorious Trophies all around.
Soft Winds and Eccho's that do haunt each Grove,
Still whisper, and repeat no other Songs than Love.
Which round about the sacred Bower they sing,
Where every thing arrives that's sweet and ravishing.
IV.
A thousand gloomy Walks the Bower contains,
Sacred all to mighty Love;
A thousand winding turns where Pleasure reigns;
Obscur'd from day by twining Boughs above,
Where Love invents a thousand Plays,
Where Lovers act ten thousand Joys:
Nature has taught each little Bird,
A soft Example to afford;
They Bill and Look, and Sing and Love,
And Charm the Air, and Charm the Grove;
Whilst underneath the Ravisht Swain is lying,
Gazing, Sighing, Pressing, Dying;
Still with new desire warm'd,
Still with new Joy, new Rapture charm'd;
Amongst the green soft Rivulets do pass,
In winding Streams half hid in Flowers and Grass,
Who Purl and Murmur as they glide along,
And mix their Musick with the Shepherds Pipe and Song,
Which Eccho's through the sacred Bower repeat,
Where every thing arrives that's ravishing and sweet.
V.
The Virgin here shows no disdain, }
Nor does the Shepherd Sigh in vain, }
This knows no Cruelty, nor that no Pain: }
No Youth complains upon his rigorous fair; }
No injur'd Maid upon her perjur'd dear, }
'Tis only Love, fond Love finds entrance here; }
The Notes of Birds, the Murmuring Boughs,
When gentle Winds glide through the Glades,
Soft Sighs of Love, and soft breath'd Vows,
The tender Whisperings of the yielding Maids,
Dashing Fountains, Purling Springs,
The short breath'd crys from faint resistance sent,
(Crys which no aid desires or brings)
The soft effects of Fear and Languishment;
The little struggling of the fair,
The trembling force of the young Conqueror,
The tender Arguments he brings,
The pretty Non-sence with which she assails.
Which as she speaks, she hopes it nought prevails
But yielding owns her Love above her Reasonings,
Is all is heard: Silence and shade the rest.
Which best with Love, which best with Joys consist,
All which young Eccho's through the Bower does sing,
Where every thing is heard, that's sweet and ravishing.
VI.
Recesses Dark, and Grotto's all conspire,
To favour Love and soft desire;
Shades, Springs and Fountains flowry Beds, }
To Joys invites, to Pleasure leads, }
To Pleasure which all Humane thought exceeds. }
Heav'n, Earth, and Sea, here all combine, }
To propagate Love's great design, }
And render the Appointments all Divine. }
After long toyl, 'tis here the Lover reaps
Transporting softnesses beyond his hopes;
'Tis here fair Eyes, all languishing impart
The secrets of the fond inclining Heart;
Fine Hands and Arms for tender Pressings made,
In Love's dear business always are imploy'd:
The soft Inchantments of the Tongue,
That does all other Eloquence controul,
Is breath'd with broken Sighs among,
Into the Ravish'd Shepherds Soul,
Whilst all is taken, all is given,
That can compleat a Lovers Heav'n:
And Io Peans through the Woods do ring,
From new fletch'd God, in Songs all Ravishing.