The air which thy smooth voice doth break
Into my soul like lightning flies;
My life retires whilst thou dost speak,
And thy soft breath its room supplies.
Lost in this pleasing ecstasy,5
I join my trembling lips to thine,
And back receive that life from thee,
Which I so gladly did resign.
Forbear, platonic fools! t’inquire
What numbers do the soul compose:10
No harmony can life inspire,
But that which from these accents flows.
The Deposition.[43:1]
Though when I lov’d thee thou wert[43:2] fair,
Thou art no longer so:
Those glories do[43:3] the pride they wear
Unto opinion owe.
Beauties, like stars, in borrow’d lustre shine;5
And ’twas my love that gave thee thine.
The flames that dwelt within thine eye
Do now with mine expire;
Thy brightest graces[43:4] fade and die
At once, with my desire.10
Love’s fires thus mutual influence return:
Thine cease to shine when mine to burn.
Then, proud Celinda, hope no more
To be implor’d or woo’d,
Since by thy scorn thou dost restore15
The wealth my[43:5] love bestow’d;
And thy despis’d disdain too late shall find
That none are fair but who are kind.