LOVE arms himself in Celia's eyes Repeated thoughts present the ill Which seeing I must still endure; They tell me Love has darts to kill, And Wisdom has no power to cure. Then, cruel Reason, give me rest, There all thy nicest arts employ; Confess thyself her beauty's slave, And argue, whilst she may destroy, How great, how godlike 't is to save. YOUNG Yo OUNG I am, and yet unskill'd Take me, take me, some of you, Heave my breasts, and roll my eyes. Stay not till I learn the way Could I find a blooming youth SAY SAY not, OLINDA, I despise The faded glories of your face, The languish'd vigour of your eyes, And that once only-loved embrace. In vain, in vain, my constant heart, I blame not your decay of power, On youthful climes your beams display, And rise the sun to gild their day, To me, benighted, when you set. O NYMPH! O NYMPH! of Fortune's smiles beware, Ah! what are all her piles of gold? To Love alone thy homage pay, The queen of every true delight : Her smiles with joy shall gild thy day, WOLCOTT. WHY, lovely charmer, tell me why, Or Or why that smile my soul subdue, In vain you strive with all your art So sweet a look, so soft an air, YE virgin powers, defend my heart From amorous looks and smiles; From saucy love, or nicer art, Which most our sex beguiles; From sighs and vows, from awful fears That do to pity move; From speaking silence, and from tears, But if thro' passion I grow blind, Let honour be my guide; And where frail nature seems inclined, There place a guard of pride. |