_From the just Rage of the avenging Hand;_
_Stopt the dire Plague, that o’er the Earth was hurl’d,_
_And sheathing thy Almighty Sword,_
_Calm’d the wild Fears of a distracted World,_
_(As Heaven first made it) with a sacred Word!_
But I will stop the low Flight of my humble Muse, who when she is
upon the wing, on this glorious Subject, knows no Bounds. And all the
World has agreed to say so much of the Virtues and Wonders of this
great Monarch, that they have left me nothing new to say; tho’ indeed
he every Day gives us new Themes of his growing Greatness, and we see
nothing that equals him in our Age. Oh! how happy are we to obey his
Laws; for he is the greatest of Kings, and the best of Men!
You will be very unjust, _Damon_, if you do not confess I have
acquitted my self like a Maid of Honour, of all the Obligations I owe
you, upon the account of the _Discretion_ I lost to you. If it be not
valuable enough, I am generous enough to make it good: And since I am
so willing to be just, you ought to esteem me, and to make it your
chiefest Care to preserve me yours; for I believe I shall deserve it,
and wish you should believe so too. Remember me, write to me, and
observe punctually all the Motions of my _Watch_: The more you regard
it, the better you will like it; and whatever you think of it at first
sight, ‘tis no ill Present. The Invention is soft and gallant; and
_Germany_, so celebrated for rare _Watches_, can produce nothing to
equal this.
Damon, _my_ Watch _is just and new;_ }
_And all a Lover ought to do,_ }
_My_ Cupid _faithfully will shew._ }
_And ev’ry Hour he renders there,_
_Except_ l’heure du Bergere.
The CASE for the WATCH.
DAMON _to_ IRIS.
Expect not, Oh charming _Iris_! that I should chuse Words to thank
you in; (Words, that least Part of Love, and least the Business of
the Lover) but will say all, and every thing that a tender Heart can
dictate, to make an Acknowledgment for so dear and precious a Present
as this of your charming _Watch_: while all I can say will but too
dully express my Sense of Gratitude, my Joy, and the Pleasure I receive
in the mighty Favour. I confess the Present too rich, too gay, and too
magnificent for my Expectation: and tho’ my Love and Faith deserve
it, yet my humbler Hope never durst carry me to a Wish of so great a
Bliss, so great an Acknowledgment from the Maid I adore. The Materials
are glorious, the Work delicate, and the Movement just, and even gives
Rules to my Heart, who shall observe very exactly all that the _Cupid_
remarks to me; even to the Minutes, which I will point with Sighs, tho’
I am obliged to ‘em there but every half Hour.
You tell me, fair _Iris_, that I ought to preserve it tenderly, and yet
you have sent it me without a Case. But that I may obey you justly,
and keep it dear to me, as long as I live, I will give it a Case of
my Fashion: It shall be delicate, and suitable to the fine Present;
of such Materials too. But because I would have it perfect, I will
consult your admirable Wit and Invention in an Affair of so curious a
Consequence.
_The_ FIGURE _of the_ CASE.
I design to give it the Figure of the Heart. Does not your _Watch_,
_Iris_, rule the Heart? It was your Heart that contrived it, and ‘twas
your Heart you consulted in all the Management of it; and ‘twas your
Heart that brought it to so fine a Conclusion. The Heart never acts
without Reason, and all the Heart projects, it performs with Pleasure.
Your _Watch_, my lovely Maid, has explain’d to me a World of rich
Secrets of Love: And where should Thoughts so sacred be stored, but in
the Heart, where all the Secrets of the Soul are treasur’d up, and of
which only _Love_ alone can take a view? ‘Tis thence he takes his Sighs
and Tears, and all his little Flatteries and Arts to please; all his
fine Thoughts, and all his mighty Raptures; nothing is so proper as the
Heart to preserve it, nothing so worthy as the Heart to contain it:
and it concerns my Interest too much, not to be infinitely careful of
so dear a Treasure: And believe me, charming _Iris_, I will never part
with it.
The Votary.
_Fair Goddess of my just Desire,_
_Inspirer of my softest Fire!_
_Since you, from out the num’rous Throng_
_That to your Altars do belong,_
_To me the Sacred Myst’ry have reveal’d,_
_From all my Rival-Worshippers conceal’d;_
_And toucht my Soul with heav’nly Fire,_
_Refin’d it from its grosser Sense,_
_And wrought it to a higher Excellence;_
_It can no more return to Earth,_
_Like things that thence receive their Birth;_
_But still aspiring, upward move,_
_And teach the World new Flights of Love;_
_New Arts of Secrecy shall learn,_
_And render Youth discreet in Love’s Concern._
_In his soft Heart, to hide the charming things_
_A Mistress whispers to his Ear;_
_And e’ery tender Sigh she brings,_
_Mix with his Soul, and hide it there._
_To bear himself so well in Company,_
_That if his Mistress present be,_
_It may be thought by all the Fair,_
_Each in his Heart does claim a Share,_
_And all are more belov’d than she._
_But when with the dear Maid apart,_
_Then at her Feet the Lover lies;_
_Opens his Soul, shews all his Heart,_
_While Joy is dancing in his Eyes._
_Then all that Honour may, or take, or give,_
_They both distribute, both receive._
_A Looker-on wou’d spoil a Lover’s Joy;_
_For Love’s a Game where only two can play._
_And ‘tis the hardest of Love’s Mysteries,_
_To feign Love where it is not, hide it where it is._
After having told you, my lovely _Iris_, that I design to put your
_Watch_ into a Heart, I ought to shew you the Ornaments of the Case.
I do intend to have ‘em crown’d Cyphers: I do not mean those Crowns
of Vanity, which are put indifferently on all sorts of Cyphers; no, I
must have such as may distinguish mine from the rest, and may be true
Emblems of what I would represent. My four Cyphers therefore shall be
crown’d with these four Wreaths, of Olive, Laurel, Myrtle, and Roses:
and the Letters that begin the Names of _Iris_ and _Damon_ shall
compose the Cyphers; tho’ I must intermix some other Letters that bear
another Sense, and have another Signification.
_The First_ CYPHER.
The first Cypher is compos’d of an _I_ and a _D_, which are join’d by
an _L_ and an _E_; which signifies _Love Extreme_. And ‘tis but just,
Oh adorable _Iris_! that Love should be mixt with our Cyphers, and that
Love alone should be the Union of ‘em.
_Love ought alone the Mystick Knot to tie;_
_Love, that great Master of all Arts:_
_And this dear_ Cypher _is to let you see,_
_Love unites Names as well as Hearts._
Without this charming Union, our Souls could not communicate those
invisible Sweetnesses, which compleat the Felicity of Lovers, and
which the most tender and passionate Expressions are too feeble to
make us comprehend. But, my adorable _Iris_, I am contented with the
vast Pleasure I feel in loving well, without the care of expressing it
well; if you will imagine my Pleasure, without expressing it: For I
confess, ‘twould be no Joy to me to adore you, if you did not perfectly
believe I did adore you. Nay, tho’ you lov’d me, if you had no Faith
in me, I should languish, and love in as much Pain, as if you scorn’d;
and at the same time believ’d I dy’d for you: For surely, _Iris_, ‘tis
a greater Pleasure to please than to be pleas’d; and the glorious
Power of Giving is infinitely a greater Satisfaction, than that of
Receiving: there is so Great and God-like a Quality in it. I would have
your Belief therefore equal to my Passion, extreme; as indeed all Love
should be, or it cannot bear that Divine Name: it can pass but for an
indifferent Affection. And these Cyphers ought to make the World find
all the noble Force of delicate Passion: for, Oh my _Iris_! what would
Love signify, if we did not love fervently? Sisters and Brothers love;
Friends and Relations have Affections: but where the Souls are join’d,
which are fill’d with eternal soft Wishes, Oh! there is some Excess of
Pleasure, which cannot be express’d!
Your Looks, your dear obliging Words, and your charming Letters, have
sufficiently persuaded me of your Tenderness; and you might surely see
the Excess of my Passion by my Cares, my Sighs, and entire Resignation
to your Will. I never think of _Iris_, but my Heart feels double
Flames, and pants and heaves with double Sighs; and whose Force makes
its Ardours known, by a thousand Transports: And they are very much
to blame, to give the Name of Love to feeble easy Passions. Such
transitory tranquil Inclinations are at best but Well-wishers to Love;
and a Heart that has such Heats as those, ought not to put it self
into the Rank of those nobler Victims that are offer’d at the Shrine
of Love. But our Souls, _Iris_, burn with a more glorious Flame, that
lights and conducts us beyond a Possibility of losing one another.
’.is this that flatters all my Hopes; ‘tis this alone makes me believe
my self worthy of _Iris_: And let her judge of its Violence, by the
Greatness of its Splendour.
Does not a Passion of this nature, so true, so ardent, deserve to be
crown’d? And will you wonder to see, over this Cypher, a Wreath of
Myrtles, those Boughs so sacred to the Queen of Love, and so worshipp’d
by Lovers? ‘Tis with these soft Wreaths, that those are crown’d, who
understand how to love well and faithfully.
_The Smiles, the Graces, and the Sports,_
_That in the Secret Groves maintain their Courts,_
_Are with these Myrtles crown’d:_
_Thither the Nymphs their Garlands bring;_
_Their Beauties and their Praises sing,_
_While Echoes do the Songs resound._
Love, _tho’ a God, with Myrtle Wreaths_
_Does his soft Temples bind;_
_More valu’d are those consecrated Leaves,_
_Than the bright Wealth in Eastern Rocks confin’d:_
_And Crowns of Glory less Ambition move,_
_Than those more sacred Diadems of Love._
_The Second_ CYPHER,
Is crown’d with Olives; and I add to the two Letters of our Names an
_R_ and an _L_, for _Reciprocal Love_. Every time that I have given
you, O lovely _Iris_, Testimonies of my Passion, I have been so blest,
as to receive some from your Bounty; and you have been pleased to
flatter me with a Belief, that I was not indifferent to you. I dare
therefore say, that being honour’d with the Glory of your Tenderness
and Care, I ought, as a Trophy of my illustrious Conquest, to adorn
the _Watch_ with a Cypher that is so advantageous to me. Ought I not
to esteem my self the most fortunate and happy of Mankind, to have
exchanged my Heart with so charming and admirable a Person as _Iris_?
Ah! how sweet, how precious is the Change; and how vast a Glory arrives
to me from it! Oh! you must not wonder if my Soul abandon it self to
a thousand Extasies! In the Merchandize of Hearts, Oh, how dear it is
to receive as much as one gives; and barter Heart for Heart! Oh! I
would not receive mine again, for all the Crowns the Universe contains!
Nor ought you, my Adorable, make any Vows or Wishes, ever to retrieve
yours; or shew the least Repentance for the Blessing you have given me.
The Exchange we made, was confirm’d by a noble Faith; and you ought to
believe, you have bestow’d it well, since you are paid for it a Heart
that is so conformable to yours, so true, so just, and so full of
Adoration: And nothing can be the just Recompence of Love, but Love:
and to enjoy the true Felicity of it, our Hearts ought to keep an equal
Motion; and, like the Scales of Justice, always hang even.
’.is the Property of Reciprocal Love, to make the Heart feel the
Delicacy of Love, and to give the Lover all the Ease and Softness he
can reasonably hope. Such a Love renders all things advantageous and
prosperous: Such a Love triumphs over all other Pleasures. And I put a
Crown of Olives over the Cypher of _Reciprocal Love_, to make known,
that two Hearts, where Love is justly equal, enjoy a Peace that nothing
can disturb.
_Olives are never fading seen;_
_But always flourishing, and green._
_The Emblem ‘tis of Love and Peace;_ }
_For Love that’s true, will never cease:_ }
_And Peace does Pleasure still increase._ }
_Joy to the World, the Peace of Kings imparts;_
_And Peace in Love distributes it to Hearts._
_The Third_ CYPHER.
The _C_ and the _L_, which are join’d to the Letters of our Names in
this Cypher crown’d with Laurel, explains a _Constant Love_. It will
not, my fair _Iris_, suffice, that my Love is extreme, my Passion
violent, and my Wishes fervent, or that our Loves are reciprocal; but
it ought also to be constant: for in Love, the Imagination is oftner
carried to those things that may arrive, and which we wish for, than
to things that Time has robbed us of. And in those agreeable Thoughts
of Joys to come, the Heart takes more delight to wander, than in all
those that are past; tho’ the Remembrance of ‘em be very dear, and
very charming. We should be both unjust, if we were not persuaded we
are possest with a Virtue, the Use of which is so admirable as that of
Constancy. Our Loves are not of that sort that can finish, or have an
end; but such a Passion, so perfect, and so constant, that it will be
a Precedent for future Ages, to love perfectly; and when they would
express an extreme Passion, they will say, _They lov’d, as_ Damon _did
the charming_ Iris. And he that knows the Glory of constant Love, will
despise those fading Passions, those little Amusements, that serve
for a Day. What Pleasure or Dependance can one have in a Love of that
sort? What Concern? What Raptures can such an Amour produce in a Soul?
And what Satisfaction can one promise one’s self in playing with a
false Gamester; who tho’ you are aware of him, in spite of all your
Precaution, puts the false Dice upon you, and wins all?
_Those Eyes that can no better Conquest make,_
_Let ‘em ne’er look abroad:_
_Such, but the empty Name of Lovers take,_
_And so profane the God._
_Better they never should pretend,_
_Than, ere begun, to make an end._
_Of that fond Flame what shall we say,_
_That’s born and languisht in a Day?_
_Such short-liv’d Blessings cannot bring_
_The Pleasure of an Envying._
_Who is’t will celebrate that Flame,_
_That’s damn’d to such a scanty Fame?_
_While constant Love the Nymphs and Swains_ }
_Still sacred make, in lasting Strains_ }
_And chearful Lays throughout the Plains._ }
_A constant Love knows no Decay:_ }
_But still advancing ev’ry Day,_ }
_Will last as long as Life can stay,_ }
_With ev’ry Look and Smile improves,_ }
_With the same Ardour always moves,_ }
_With such as_ Damon _charming_ Iris _loves!_ }
Constant Love finds it self impossible to be shaken; it resists the
Attacks of Envy, and a thousand Accidents that endeavour to change it:
Nothing can disoblige it but a known Falseness, or Contempt: Nothing
can remove it; tho’ for a short moment it may lie sullen and resenting,
it recovers, and returns with greater Force and Joy. I therefore, with
very good reason, crown this _Cypher_ of _Constant Love_ with a Wreath
of _Laurel_; since such Love always triumphs over Time and Fortune,
tho’ it be not her Property to besiege: for she cannot overcome, but
in defending her self; but the Victories she gains are never the less
glorious.
_For far less Conquest we have known_
_The Victor wear the Laurel Crown._
_The Triumph with more Pride let him receive;_
_While those of Love, at least, more Pleasures give._
_The Fourth_ CYPHER.
Perhaps, my lovely Maid, you will not find out what I mean by the _S_
and the _L_, in this last Cypher, that is crown’d with Roses. I will
therefore tell you, I mean _Secret Love_. There are very few People
who know the Nature of that Pleasure, which so divine a Love creates:
And let me say what I will of it, they must feel it themselves, who
would rightly understand it, and all its ravishing Sweets. But this
there is a great deal of Reason to believe, that the Secrecy in Love
doubles the Pleasures of it. And I am so absolutely persuaded of this,
that I believe all those Favours that are not kept secret, are dull and
pall’d, very insipid and tasteless Pleasures: And let the Favours be
never so innocent that a Lover receives from a Mistress, she ought to
value ‘em, set a price upon ‘em, and make the Lover pay dear; while he
receives ‘em with Difficulty, and sometimes with Hazard. A Lover that
is not secret, but suffers every one to count his Sighs, has at most
but a feeble Passion, such as produces sudden and transitory Desires,
which die as soon as born: A true Love has not this Character; for
whensoever ‘tis made publick, it ceases to be a Pleasure, and is only
the Result of Vanity. Not that I expect our Loves should always remain
a Secret: No, I should never, at that rate, arrive to a Blessing,
which, above all the Glories of the Earth, I aspire to; but even then
there are a thousand Joys, a thousand Pleasures that I shall be as
careful to conceal from the foolish World, as if the whole Preservation
of that Pleasure depended on my Silence; as indeed it does in a great
measure.
To this Cypher I put a Crown of Roses, which are not Flowers of a very
lasting Date. And ‘tis to let you see, that ‘tis impossible Love can
be long hid. We see every Day, with what fine Dissimulation and Pains,
People conceal a thousand Hates and Malices, Disgusts, Disobligations,
and Resentments, without being able to conceal the least part of their
Love: but Reputation has an Odour as well as Roses; and a Lover ought
to esteem that as the dearest and tenderest thing: not only that of
his own, which is, indeed, the least part; but that of his Mistress,
more valuable to him than Life. He ought to endeavour to give People
no occasion to make false Judgments of his Actions, or to give their
Censures; which most certainly are never in the Favour of the Fair
Person: for likely, those false Censurers are of the busy Female Sex,
the _Coquets_ of that number; whose little Spites and Railleries,
join’d to that fancy’d Wit they boast of, sets ‘em at odds with all
the Beautiful and Innocent. And how very little of that kind serves
to give the World a Faith, when a thousand Virtues, told of the same
Persons, by more credible Witnesses and Judges, shall pass unregarded!
so willing and inclin’d is all the World to credit the Ill, and condemn
the Good! And yet, Oh! what pity ‘tis we are compell’d to live in Pain,
to oblige this foolish scandalous World! And tho’ we know each other’s
Virtue and Honour, we are oblig’d to observe that Caution (to humour
the talking Town) which takes away so great a part of the Pleasure of
Life! ‘Tis therefore that among those Roses, you will find some Thorns;
by which you may imagine, that in Love, Precaution is necessary to its
Secrecy: And we must restrain our selves, upon a thousand occasions,
with so much Care, that, Oh _Iris_! ‘tis impossible to be discreet,
without Pain; but ‘tis a Pain that creates a thousand Pleasures.
_Where should a Lover hide his Joys,_
_Free from Malice, free from Noise;_
_Where no Envy can intrude;_
_Where no busy Rival’s Spy,_
_Made, by Disappointment, rude,_
_May inform his Jealousy?_
_The Heart will the best Refuge prove;_
_Which Nature meant the Cabinet of Love._
_What would a Lover not endure,_
_His Mistress’ Fame and Honour to secure?_
Iris, _the Care we take to be discreet,_
_Is the dear Toil that makes the Pleasure sweet:_
_The Thorn that does the Wealth inclose,_
_That with less saucy Freedom we may touch the Rose._
_The_ CLASP _of the_ WATCH.
Ah, charming _Iris_! Ah, my lovely Maid! ‘tis now, in a more peculiar
manner, that I require your Aid in the finishing of my Design, and
compleating the whole Piece to the utmost Perfection; and without your
Aid it cannot be perform’d. It is about the Clasp of the _Watch_; a
Material, in all appearance, the most trivial of any part of it. But
that it may be safe for ever, I design it the Image, or Figure of two
Hands; that fair one of the adorable _Iris_, join’d to mine; with this
Motto, _Inviolable Faith_: For in this _Case_, this Heart ought to be
shut up by this eternal Clasp. Oh! there is nothing so necessary as
this! Nothing can secure Love, but Faith.
That Virtue ought to be a Guard to all the Heart thinks, and all the
Mouth utters: Nor can _Love_ say he triumphs without it. And when that
remains not in the Heart, all the rest deserves no Regard. Oh! I have
not lov’d so ill to leave one Doubt upon your Soul. Why then, will you
want that Faith, Oh unkind Charmer, that my Passion and my Services so
justly merit?
_When two Hearts entirely love,_
_And in one Sphere of Honour move,_
_Each maintains the other’s Fire,_
_With a Faith that is entire._
_For, what heedless Youth bestows,_
_On a faithless Maid, his Vows?_
_Faith without Love, bears Virtue’s Price;_
_But Love without her Mixture, is a Vice._
_Love, like Religion, still should be,_
_In the Foundation, firm and true;_
_In Points of Faith should still agree,_
_Tho’ Innovations vain and new,_
_Love’s little Quarrels, may arise;_
_In Fundamentals still they’re just and wise._
_Then, charming Maid, be sure of this;_
_Allow me Faith, as well as Love:_
_Since that alone affords no Bliss,_
_Unless your Faith your Love improve._
_Either resolve to let me die_
_By fairer Play, your Cruelty;_
_Than not your Love with Faith impart,_
_And with your Vows to give your Heart._
_In mad Despair I’d rather fall,_
_Than lose my glorious Hopes of conquering all._
So certain it is, that Love without Faith, is of no value.
In fine, my adorable _Iris_, this Case shall be, as near as I can,
like those delicate ones of _Filligrin_ Work, which do not hinder the
Sight from taking a View of all within: You may therefore see, thro’
this Heart, all your _Watch_. Nor is my Desire of preserving this
inestimable Piece more, than to make it the whole Rule of my Life and
Actions. And my chiefest Design in these Cyphers, is to comprehend in
them the principal Virtues that are most necessary to Love. Do not we
know that Reciprocal Love is Justice? Constant Love, Fortitude? Secret
Love, Prudence? Tho’ ‘tis true that extreme Love, that is, Excess of
Love, in one sense, appears not to be Temperance; yet you must know,
my _Iris_, that in Matters of Love, Excess is a Virtue, and that all
other Degrees of Love are worthy Scorn alone. ‘Tis this alone that can
make good the glorious Title: ‘Tis this alone that can bear the Name of
Love; and this alone that renders the Lovers truly happy, in spight
of all the Storms of Fate, and Shocks of Fortune. This is an Antidote
against all other Griefs: This bears up the Soul in all Calamity; and
is the very Heaven of Life, the last Refuge of all worldly Pain and
Care, and may well bear the Title of _Divine_.
The Art of Loving well.
_That Love may all Perfection be,_
_Sweet, charming to the last degree,_
_The Heart, where the bright Flame does dwell,_
_In Faith and Softness should excel:_
_Excess of Love should fill each Vein,_
_And all its sacred Rites maintain._
_The tend’rest Thoughts Heav’n can inspire,_
_Should be the Fuel to its Fire:_
_And that, like Incense, burn as pure;_
_Or that in Urns should still endure,_
_No fond Desire should fill the Soul,_
_But such as Honour may controul._
_Jealousy I will allow:_
_Not the amorous Winds that blow,_
_Should wanton in my_ Iris’ _Hair,_
_Or ravish Kisses from my Fair._
_Not the Flowers that grow beneath,_
_Should borrow Sweetness of her Breath._
_If her Bird she do caress,_
_How I grudge its Happiness,_
_When upon her snowy Hand_
_The Wanton does triumphing stand!_
_Or upon her Breast she skips,_
_And lays her Beak to_ Iris’ _Lips!_
_Fainting at my ravished Joy,_
_I could the Innocent destroy._
_If I can no Bliss afford_
_To a little harmless Bird,_
_Tell me, Oh thou dear-lov’d Maid!_
_What Reason could my Rage persuade,_
_If a Rival should invade?_
_If thy charming Eyes should dart_
_Looks that sally from the Heart;_
_If you sent a Smile, or Glance,_
_To another tho’ by Chance;_
_Still thou giv’st what’s not thy own,_
_They belong to me alone._
_All Submission I would pay:_
_Man was born the Fair t’ obey._
_Your very Look I’d understand,_
_And thence receive your least Command:_
_Never your Justice will dispute;_
_But like a Lover execute._
_I would no Usurper be,_
_But in claiming sacred Thee._
_I would have all, and every part;_
_No Thought would hide within thy Heart._
_Mine a Cabinet was made,_
_Where_ Iris’ _Secrets should be laid._
_In the rest, without controul,_
_She should triumph o’er the Soul!_
_Prostrate at her Feet I’d lie,_
_Despising Power and Liberty;_
_Glorying more by Love to fall,_
_Than rule the universal Ball._
_Hear me, O you saucy Youth!_
_And from my Maxims learn this Truth:_
_Would you great and powerful prove?_
_Be an humble Slave to Love._
_’.is nobler far a Joy to give,_
_Than any Blessing to receive._
The _LADY’S_ LOOKING-GLASS,