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.
_But as a God he’s Worshipt here,_
_By all the lovely, young, and fair,_
_Who all their kind desires controul,_
_And plays the Tyrant o’re the Soul:_
_His chiefest Attributes, are Pride and Spight,_
_His pow’r, is robbing Lovers of delight,_
_An Enemy to Humane kind,_
_But most to Youth severe;_
_As Age ill-natur’d, and as ignorance Blind,_
_Boasting, and Baffled too, as Cowards are;_
_Fond in opinion, obstinately Wise,_
_Fills the whole World with bus’ness and with noise._
III.
_Where wert thou born? from what didst thou begin?_
_And what strange Witchcraft brought thy Maxims in?_
_What hardy Fool first taught thee to the Crowd?_
_Or who the Duller Slaves that first believ’d?_
_Some Woman sure, ill-natur’d, old, and proud,_
_Too ugly ever to have been deceiv’d;_
_Unskill’d in Love; in Virtue, or in Truth,_
_Preach’d thy false Notions first, aud so debaucht our Youth._
IV.
_And as in other Sectuaries you find,_
_His Votaries most consist of Womankind,_
_Who Throng t’ adore the necessary Evil,_
_But most for fear, as Indians do the Devil._
_Peevish, uneasy all; for in Revenge,_
_Love shoots ‘em with a thousand Darts._
_They feel, but not confess the change;_
_Their false Devotion cannot save their Hearts._
_Thus while the Idol Honour they obey,_ }
_Swift time comes on, and blooming Charms decay,_ }
_And Ruin’d Beauty does too late the Cheat betray._ }
This Goblin here--the lovely Maid Alarms,
And snatch’d her, even from my Trembling Arms,
With all the Pow’r of _Non-sence_ he commands,
Which she for mighty Reason understands.
Aminta, _fly_, he crys! _fly, heedless Maid,_
_For if thou enter’st this Bewitching shade,_
_Thy Flame, Content, and Lover, all are lost,_
_And thou no more of Him, or Fame shall boast,_
_The charming Pleasure soon the Youth will cloy,_
_And what thou wouldst preserve, that will destroy._
_Oh hardy Maid by too much Love undone,_
_Where are thy Modesty, and Blushes gone?_
_Where’s all that Virtue made thee so Ador’d?_
_For Beauty stript of Virtue, grows abhorr’d:_
_Dyes like a flower whose scent quick Poyson gives,_
_Though every gawdy Glory paints its leaves;_
_Oh fly, fond Maid, fly that false happiness,_
_That will attend Thee in the Bower of Bliss._
Thus spoke the Phantom, while the listening Maid,
Took in the fatal Councel; and obey’d:
Frighted she flys, even from the Temple door,
And left me fainting on the sacred floor:
LOVE saw my Griefs, and to my rescue came,
Where on his Bosom, thus I did complain.
The LOSS.
_Weep, weep,_ Lysander, _for the lovely Maid,_
_To whom thy sacred Vows were paid;_
_Regardless of thy Love, thy Youth, thy Vows,_
_The Dull Advice of Honour now pursues;_
_Oh say my lovely Charmer, where_
_Is all that softness gone?_
_Your tender Voice and Eyes did wear,_
_When first I was undone._
_Oh whether are your Sighs and Kisses fled?_
_Where are those clasping Arms,_
_That left me oft with Pleasures dead,_
_With their Excess of Charms?_
_Where is the Killing Language of thy Tongue,_
_That did the Ravisht Soul surprize?_
_Where is that tender Rhetorick gone,_
_That flow’d so softly in thy Eyes?_
_That did thy heavenly face so sweetly dress,_
_That did thy wonderous Soul so well express?_
_All fled with Honour on a Phantom lost;_
_Where Youth’s vast store must perish unpossest._
_Ah, my dear Boy, thy loss with me bemoan,_
_The lovely Fugitive is with Honour gone!_
_Love_ laughing spread his Wings and mounting flies, }
As swift as Lightning through the yielding Skies, }
Where _Honour_ bore away the Trembling Prize. }
There at her Feet the _Little Charmer_ falls,
And to his Aid his powerful softness calls:
_Assails_ her with his Tears, his Sighs and Crys,
Th’ unfailing Language of his Tongue and Eyes.
_Return_, said he, _return oh fickle Maid,_
_Who solid Joys abandon’st for a shade;_
_urn and behold the Slaughter of thy Eyes;_
_See--the Heart-broken Youth all dying lyes._
_Why dost thou follow this Phantastick spright?_
_This faithless_ Ignis Fatuus _of the Light?_
_This Foe to Youth, and Beauties worst Disease,_
_Tyrant of Wit, of Pleasure, and of Ease;_
_Of all substantial Harms he Author is,_
_But never pays us back one solid Bliss._
_--You’ll urge, your Fame is worth a thousand Joys;_
_Deluded Maid, trust not to empty noise,_
_A sound, that for a poor Esteem to gain,_
_Damns thy whole Life t’ uneasyness and pain._
_Mistaken Virgin, that which pleases me_ }
_I cannot by another tast and see;_ }
_And what’s the complementing of the World to thee?_ }
_No, no, return with me, and there receive,_
_What poor, what scanted_ Honour _cannot give,_
_Starve not those Charms that were for pleasure made,_
_Nor unpossest let the rich Treasure fade._
_When time comes on;_ Honour _that empty word,_
_Will leave thee then fore-slighted Age to guard;_
_Honour as other faithless Lovers are,_
_Is only dealing with the young and fair;_
_Approaching Age makes the false_ Hero _fly,_
_He’s Honour with the Young, but with the old necessity._
--Thus said the _God!_ and all the while he spoke,
Her Heart new Fire, her Eyes new softness took.
Now crys, _I yield, I yield the Victory!_
_Lead on, young Charming Boy, I follow thee;_
_Lead to_ Lysander, _quickly let’s be gone,_
_I am resolv’d to Love, and be undone;_
_I must not, cannot_, Love _at cheaper rate,_
Love _is the word_, Lysander _and my fate._
Thus to my Arms _Love_ brought the trembling Maid;
_Who on my Bosom sighing, softly, said:_
_Take, charming Victor--what you must--subdue--_
_’.is_ Love_--and not Aminta gives it you,_
Love _that o’re all, and every part does reign,_
_And I shou’d plead-and struggle--but in vain;_
_Take what a yielding Virgin--can bestow,_
_I am--dis-arm’d--of all resistance now_.--
_Then down her Cheeks a tender shower did glide,_
_The Trophies of my Victory, Joy, and Pride:_
_She yields, ye Gods_ (I cry’d) _and in my Arms,_
_Gives up the wonderous Treasure of her Charms._
--Transported to the Bower of Bliss we high,
But once more met _Respect_ upon the way,
But not as heretofore with Meen and Grace
All formal, but a gay and smiling Face;
A different sort of Air his looks now wears,
Galljard and Joyful every part appears.
And thus he said--
_Go, happy Lovers, perfect the desires,_
_That fill two Hearts that burn with equal Fires;_
_Receive the mighty Recompence at last,_
_Of all the Anxious hours you’ve past,_
_Enter the Bower where endless Pleasures flow,_
_Young Joys, new Raptures all the year:_
_Respect has nothing now to do,_
_He always leaves the Lover here._
_Young_ Loves _attend and here supply all want,_
_In secret Pleasures I’m no confident._
_Respect_ here left me: and He scarce was gone,
But I perceiv’d a Woman hasting on,
Naked she came; all lovely, and her Hair
Was loosely flying in the wanton Air:
_Love_ told me ‘twas _Occasion_, and if I
The swift pac’d Maid shou’d pass neglected by,
My Love, my Hopes, and Industry were vain,
For she but rarely e’re returned again.
I stopt her speed, and did implore her Aid,
Which granted, she _Aminta_ did perswade
Into the _Palace of true Joys_ to hast,
And thither ‘twas, we both arriv’d at last.
Oh _Lysidas_, no Mortal Sense affords,
No Wit, no Eloquence can furnish Words
Fit for the soft Discription of the _Bower_;
Some _Love-blest God in the Triumphing hour_,
Can only guess, can only say what ‘tis; }
Yet even that God but faintly wou’d express, }
Th’ unbounded pleasures of the _Bower of Bliss_. }
A slight, a poor Idea may be given,
Like that we fancy when we paint a Heav’n,
As solid Christal, Diamonds, shining Gold,
May fancy Light, that is not to be told.
To vulgar Senses, Love like Heaven shou’d be
(To make it more Ador’d) a Mystery:
Eternal Powers! when ere I sing of Love,
And the unworthy Song immortal prove;
To please my wandering Ghost when I am Dead,
Let none but Lovers the soft stories read;
Praise from the Wits and Braves I’le not implore;
Listen, ye Lovers all, I ask no more;
That where Words fail, you may with thought supply,
If ever any lov’d like me, or were so blest as I.
The Prospect and Bower of Bliss.
I.
_’.is all eternal Spring around,_
_And all the Trees with fragrant flowers are Crown’d;_
_No Clouds, no misty Showers obscure the Light,_
_But all is calm, serene and gay,_
_The Heavens are drest with a perpetual bright,_
_And all the Earth with everlasting_ May.
_Each minute blows the Rose and Jesamine,_
_And twines with new-born Eglantine,_
_Each minute new Discoveries bring;_
_Of something sweet, of something ravishing._
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,_ }
_’.is 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;_
_’.is 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._
Oh my dear _Lysidas!_ my faithful Friend,
Would I cou’d here with all my Pleasures end:
‘Twas Heaven! ‘twas Extaxsie! each minute brought
New Raptures to my Senses, Soul and Thought;
Each Look, each Touch, my Ravisht fancy charm’d,
Each Accent of her Voice my Blood Alarm’d;
I pant with every Glance, faint with a Kiss,
Oh Judge my Transports then in higher Bliss.
A while all Dead, between her Arms I lay,
Unable to possess the conquer’d Joys;
But by degrees my Soul its sense retriev’d;
Shame and Confusion let me know I liv’d.
I saw the trembling dis-appointed Maid,
With charming angry Eyes my fault upbraid,
While Love and Spight no kind Excuse affords,
My Rage and Softness was above dull Words,
And my Misfortune only was exprest,
By Signing out my Soul into her Brest:
A thousand times I breath’d _Aminta’s_ name,
_Aminta!_ call’d! but that increas’d my flame.
And as the Tide of Love flow’d in, so fast
My Low, my Ebbing Vigor out did hast.
But ‘twas not long, thus idly, and undone
I lay, before vast Seas came rowling on,
Spring-tides of Joy, that the rich neighboring shoar }
And down the fragrant Banks it proudly bore, }
O’re-flow’d and ravisht all great Natures store. }
Swoln to Luxurious heights, no bounds it knows,
But wantonly it Triumphs where it flows.
Some God inform Thee of my blest Estate,
But all their Powers divert thee from my Fate.
‘Twas thus we liv’d the wonder of the Groves,
Fam’d for our Love, our mutual constant Loves.
Young Amorous Hero’s at her Feet did fall,
Despair’d and dy’d, whilst I was Lord of All;
Her Empire o’re my Soul each moment grew, }
New Charms each minute did appear in view, }
And each appointment Ravishing and New. }
Fonder each hour my tender Heart became,
And that which us’d t’ allay, increas’d my Flame.
But on a day, oh may no chearful Ray,
Of the Sun’s Light, bless that succeeding day!
May the black hours from the account be torn,
May no fair thing upon thy day be born!
May fate and Hell appoint thee for their own,
May no good deed be in thy Circle done!
May Rapes, Conspiricies and Murders stay,
Till thou com’st on, and hatch em in thy day!
--’Twas on this day all Joyful Gay and Fair, }
Fond as desire, and wanton as the Air; }
_Aminta_ did with me to the blest Bower repair. }
Beneath a Beechy Shade, a flowry Bed,
Officious _Cupid’s_ for our Pleasure spred,
Where never did the Charmer ere impart,
More Joy, more Rapture to my ravisht Heart:
‘Twas all the first; ‘twas all beginning Fire!
‘Twas all new Love! new Pleasure! new Desire!
--Here stop, my Soul--
Stop thy carreer of Vanity and Pride,
And only say,--_’.was here_ Aminta _dy’d_:
The fleeting Soul as quickly dis-appears,
As leaves blown off with Winds, or falling Stars;
And Life its flight assum’d with such a pace;
It took no farewel of her lovely Face,
The Fugitive not one Beauty did surprize,
It scarce took time to languish in her Eyes,
But on my Bosom bow’d her charming Head;
And sighing, these surprizing words she said:
“Joy of my Soul, my faithful tender Youth,
Lord of my Vows, and Miracle of Truth:
Thou soft obliger--: of thy Sex the best,
Thou blessing too Extream to be possest;
The Angry God, designing we must part,
Do render back the Treasure of thy Heart;
When in some new fair Breast, it finds a room,
And I shall ly--neglected--in my Tomb--
Remember--oh remember--the fair she,
Can never love thee, darling Youth, like me.”
Then with a Sigh she sunk into my Brest,
While her fair Eyes her last farewel exprest;
To aiding God’s I cry’d; but they were Deaf,
And no kind pow’r afforded me relief:
I call her name, I weep, I rave and faint,
And none but Eccho’s answer my Complaint;
I Kiss and Bathe her stiffening Face with Tears,
Press it to mine, as cold and pale as her’s;
The fading Roses of her Lips I press,
But no kind Word the silenc’d Pratlers will confess;
Her lovely Eyes I kiss, and call upon,
But all their wonted answering Rhetorick’s gone.
Her charming little Hands in vain I ask,
Those little Hands no more my Neck shall grasp;
No more about my Face her Fingers play,
Nor brede my Hair, or the vain Curls display,
No more her Tongue beguiling Stories tell,
Whose wonderous Wit cou’d grace a Tale so well;
All, all is fled, to Death’s cold Mansion gone, }
And I am left benighted and undone, }
And every day my Fate is hasting on. }
From the inchanting Bower I madly fly,
That Bower that now no more affords me Joy.
_Love_ had not left for me one Bliss in store,
Since my _Aminta_ you’d dispence no more.
--Thence to a silent Desert I advance,
And call’d the _Desert of Remembrance_;
A solitude upon a Mountain plac’d,
All gloomy round, and wonderous high and vast,
From whence _Love’s_ Island all appears in view,
And distant Prospects renders near and true;
Each Bank, each Bower, each dear inviting Shade,
That to our Sacred Loves was conscious made;
Each flowry Bed, each Thicket and each Grove,
Where I have lain Charm’d with _Aminta’s_ Love;
(Where e’re she chear’d the day, and blest the Night)
Eternally are present to my Sight.
Where e’re I turn, the Landskip does confess,
Something that calls to mind past happiness.
This, _Lysidas_, this is my wretched state,
‘Tis here I languish, and attend my Fate.
But e’re I go, ‘twou’d wonderous Pleasure be, }
(If such a thing can e’re arrive to me) }
To find some Pity (_Lysidas_) from thee. }
Then I shou’d take the Wing, and upwards fly,
And loose the Sight of this dull World with Joy.
Your _Lysander_.
A TABLE.
PAGE.
_The Golden Age, a Paraphrase on a Translation out
of_ French 138
_A Farewell to_ Celladon _on his going into_ Ireland 144
_On a Juniper-Tree cut down to make Busks_ 148
_On the Death of Mr._ Greenhill _the famous Painter_ 151
_A Ballad on Mr._ J. H. _to_ Amoret, _asking why I
was so sad_ 153
_Our Caball_ 156
_The willing Mistress, a Song_ 163
_Love Arm’d, a Song_ 163
_The Complaint, a Song_ 164
_The Invitation, a Song_ 165
_A Song_ 165
_To Mr._ Creech (_under the name of_ Daphnis) _on his
Excellent Translation of_ Lucretius 166
_To Mrs._ W. _on her excellent Verses (writ in praise
of some I had made on the late Earl of_
Rochester) _written in a fit of sickness_ 171
_The sense of a Letter sent me, made into Verse, to a
New Tune_ 173
_The Return_ 173
_On a Copy of Verses made in a Dream and sent to
me in a Morning before I was awake_ 174
_To my Lady_ Morland _at_ Tunbridge 175
_Song to_ Ceres, _in the wavering Nymph or mad_
Amyntas 177
_A Song in the same Play by the wavering Nymph_ 177
_The Disappointment_ 178
_On a Locket of Hair wove in a True-lovers Knot
given me by Sir_ R. O. 182
_The Dream, a Song_ 183
_A Letter to a Brother of the Pen in Tribulation_ 185
_The Reflexion, a Song_ 186
_A Song to_ Pesibles _Tune_ 188
_A Song on her loving two Equally set by Capt._ Pack 189
_The Counsel, a Song set by the same hand_ 190
_The Surprise, a Song set by Mr._ Farmer 191
_A Song_ 192
_The Invitation, a Song to a New_ Scotch _Tune_ 192
Sylvio’s _Complaint, a Song to a fine_ Scotch _Tune_ 193
_In Imitation of_ Horace 195
_To_ Lysander _who made some Verses on a Discourse of Loves Fire_ 196
_A Dialogue for an entertainment at Court between_ Damon _and_
Sylvia 198
_On Mr._ J. H. _In a fit of sickness_ 200
_To_ Lysander _on some Verses he writ, and asking
more for his Heart than ‘twas worth_ 202
_To the Honourable Lord_ Howard, _on his Comedy
called the New_ Utopia 204
_To_ Lysander _at the Musick meeting_ 207
_An Ode to Love_ 208
_Love Reveng’d, a Song_ 209
_A Song to a New_ Scotch _Tune_ 210
_The Caball at Nickey Nackeys_ 211
_A Paraphrase on the eleventh Ode out of the first
Book of_ Horace 212
_A Translation_ 212
_A Paraphrase on_ OEnone _to_ Paris 213
_A Voyage to the Isle of Love_ 223
FINIS.
LYCIDUS: OR, THE LOVER IN FASHION, &c.
To the EARL OF MELFORD, &c., Knight of the most Noble Order of the
Thistle.
My Lord,
This Epistle Dedicatory which humbly lays this Little Volume
at your Lordships feet, and begs a Protection there, is rather
an Address than a Dedication; to which a great many hands have
subscrib’d, it Presenting your Lordship a Garland whose Flowers
are cull’d by several Judgments in which I claim the least part;
whose sole Ambition is this way to congratulate your Lordships
new Addition of Honour, that of the Most Noble Order of the
_Thistle_, an Honour which preced’s that of the _Garter_, having
been supported by a long Race of Kings, and only fell with the most
Illustrious of Queens, whose memory (which ought to be Establish’d,
in all hearts can not be better preserv’d,) than by reviving this
so Ancient Order; well has His Majesty chosen its Noble Champions,
among whom none merits more the Glory of that Royal Favor than your
Lordship: whose Loyalty to His Sacred Person and interest through
all the adversities of Fate, has begot you so perfect a veneration
in all hearts, and is so peculiarly the Innate vertue of your Great
mind; a virtue not shewn by unreasonable fits when it shall serve
an end, (a false Bravery for a while when least needful, and thrown
off when put to useful Tryal; like those who weighing Advantages
by Probabilities only, and fancying the future to out-poyse the
present, cast there their Anchor of Hope,) but a virtue built
on so sure and steady Basis’s of Honour, as nothing can move or
shake; the Royal Interest being so greatly indeed the Property of
Nobility, and so much even above life and Fortune: Especially when
to support a Monarch so truly just, so wise and great; a Monarch
whom God Almighty Grant long to Reign over Us, and still to be
serv’d by men of Principles so truly Brave, as those that shine in
your Lordship.
Pardon, my Lord, this Digression and the meanness of this Present,
which to a Person of your Lordships great and weighty Employments
in the world may seem Improper, if I did not know that the most
Glorious of States-men must sometimes unbend from Great Affairs,
and seek a diversion in trivial Entertainments; Though Poetry will
Justle for the Preeminency of all others, and I know is not the
least in the Esteem of your Lordship, who is so admirable a Judge
of it, if any thing here may be found worthy the Patronage it
Implores, ‘twill be a sufficient Honour to,
My Lord,
Your Lordships most humble,
most oblig’d,
and obedient Servant,
A. BEHN.
_To Mrs. B. on her Poems_.
Hail, Beauteous _Prophetess_, in whom alone,
Of all your sex Heav’ns master-piece is shewn.
For wondrous skill it argues, wondrous care,
Where two such Stars in firm conjunction are,
A Brain so Glorious, and a Face so fair.
Two Goddesses in your composure joyn’d, }
Nothing but Goddess cou’d, you’re so refin’d, }
Bright _Venus_ Body gave, _Minerva_ Mind. }
How soft and fine your manly numbers flow,
Soft as your Lips, and smooth as is your brow.
Gentle as Air, bright as the Noon-days Sky,
Clear as your skin, and charming as your Eye.
No craggy Precipice the Prospect spoyles,
The Eye no tedious barren plain beguiles.
But, like _Thessalian_ Feilds your Volumes are, }
Rapture and charms o’re all the soyl appear, }
_Astrea_ and her verse are _Tempe_ every where. }