THE PLEASURES OF LOVE, &c.
DIvinest Sex, compos'd of purer
Mold!
(We only are the
Ore, but you the
Gold.)
How shall I justly
Treat so vast a
Theme,
Where
meanly to Commend were to
Blaspheme?
How shall I give your
Virtues half their due,
In
Living Verse, and
Numbers worthy you?
Fair
Stella, thy soft Sexes
Pride and
Joy,
The noblest
Trophy of the winged
Boy:
Bright
Charmer of my Soul, whose very
Name
Inspires
Delight eternal as our
Flame.
[Page 2] No longer I'll the noble
Task refuse,
If with one gentle
Smile you'll
Tune my
Muse.
The kindly
Spring does Natures
Face restore,
And dress a new, but
Stella can do more;
Where nothing
Gay e're flourisht, spite of
Fate,
Her powerful
Smile can what she please
Create.
As,
Thebes! thy wondrous
Walls did once aspire
At the command of great
Amphion's Lyre.
And now the
Inspiration does begin,
I feel, I rising feel the
God within,
A kindly
Warmth, which does with that agree
When first my
charming Conqu'ress wounded me,
(So near a kin are
Love and
Poetry)
Some
Angel has with
Nectar toucht my
Tongue,
As
Spencer's, when his
Rosaline he sung.
Snarl on this Age! the next just praise will give,
And this, as long as the
Fair Sex shall live.
When
Man did first from
Native Turf arise,
He all around him cast his wondring
Eys.
Absolute
Monarch then himself might call,
And
under his great
Maker, Lord of all:
The
Royal Lyon willing Homage paid,
The
mighty Elephant Obeysance made;
[Page 3]
Ambition cou'd not find a thing to ask,
And
Pleasure had as difficult a
Task;
His most
Luxurious wish cou'd seek no more,
When all
Fair Eden was his own before.
Yet did he
sad and
Melancholy rove,
By each clear
stream, thro' ev'ry lonely
Grove,
And thought he wanted
something still to Love.
When to the
Christal Brooks he did repair,
To view in vain his
watry Image there,
He saw the
Amorous Palms outstretching wide
Their
Leavy Hands to reach the distant side.
No
Fruit they bore, unless their
Like they found,
But dropt their
Baren Blossoms on the
Ground.
If to the
Woods, if to the
Plains he went,
What e're he meets augments his
Discontent.
Here
Faithful Turtles Court, and there he sees,
Thro' all the
Grove, in all the
Shrubs and
Trees,
The
Feather'd People lodg their
Families.
The bolder
Male abroad for
Food does roam,
And leaves th' Industrious
Female close at home▪
But every ev'ning returns to wonted Rest,
And Perches near her in her
Downy Nest;
Like seeks its Like,
of every Kind'
s a Pair,
He saw no
Single, fablous
Phaenix there.
[Page 4] Nor that for which much more he'd blest his
Fate,
Which all besides enjoy'd, a gentle
Mate.
Weary with
seeking what cou'd not be found.
He throws himself upon the Verdant Ground;
There sadly lean'd on his kind Mothers
Breast,
He with a
Sigh compos'd his Eys to rest;
Where in a wondrous
Vision's mystick
Shade
He saw that glorious Creature
Woman Made.
How fine a
Turn appear'd in every part?
The Beauteous
Master-piece of Heavenly
Art:
All the exact
Proportions sweeter seem'd,
And Man
himself above
himself esteem'd.
Far more of
Angel in her
Face and
Eys,
The fittest
Tenant she for Paradice:
He wak'd and
claspt the Air; she from him
flies,
Flies, yet looks back (so soon that Art she knew,)
And with a
Smile invites him to
pursue.
On
rusht the
Eager Youth to Bliss unknown,
And quickly thought the Beauteous
Prey his own;
Till with a
Frown his boldness she reproves,
At his Fair
Captives Feet he kneels and
Loves:
He
Loves, she
Grants, and
Nature smiles to see,
In her best works so sweet a
Harmony.
Murmur each
Chrystal Brook and Silver
Spring;
No
Wind but amorous
Zephyrs Spicy
Breez,
Which into gentle
Motion Fans the
Waves and
Trees.
What if this
Calm was, ah! too quickly past,
This more than
Mortal Bliss too great to
last,
If the false
Serpent, Woman did deceive,
And flily ruin'd all the World in
Eve?
'Twas her ungrateful
Lover let her stray
Through an unknown and a
Forbidden way;
Careless what
Company she chose or
Place,
A true
Forefather of his
Perjur'd Race.
When
Surfeited with too much
happiness,
His
Woman soon discover'd the
Disease,
Would be a
Goddess, not to know, but
Please,
Thus when at last by
Hellish Policy,
She
Pluckt and
Tasted that
unlucky Tree;
Without her
Adam she refus'd the
Throne,
And scorn'd to be a
Deity alone;
The choicest
Fruit she in her
Bosome stor'd,
And bore with greedy steps to her
Lov'd Lord.
More Guilty far than his mistaken
Bride,
He knew the fatal Price, yet
Eat and
Dy'd.
Her Love another
Paradice cou'd give,
And made him, ev'n when
Faln, content to Live.
Hence sprung a
Race so very
Fair and Good,
No wonder
Heaven was left, and
Angels Woe'd.
Those
Sons of God in all their Pomp of
Light,
Confess'd they found a Mortals
Eys as bright.
What foolish
Man despis'd, with Joy Embrac'd,
Mended his humble
Stock and
Heroes rais'd.
In
Politics and
Architecture Skill'd,
Men Boast they
Empires raise and
Cities Build:
Monsters and Thieves are to Destruction hurl'd
By them; 'tis they pretend to Rule the
VVorld;
When
VVomen kept it in its constant state,
While they their first
fair Copy imitate,
Encourage
Man in all his
sweat and
toils,
And richly pay his Pains with
Love and
Smiles.
'Tis
VVoman makes the ravish'd
Poet Write,
'Tis Lovely
VVoman makes the
Soldier Fight;
The
Merchant Sails to
China or
Peru,
Farther than
Janson or
Mercator knew;
And
Caravans through Sandy Desarts rome,
But to the same
account their
Labours coam,
To bring a
Mistress Silks or Spices home.
[Page 7] If them with welcom
Smiles she's pleas'd to meet,
Down go their
Gold and
Jewels at her
Feet.
Should that
soft Sex refuse the World to Bless,
Twou'd soon be
Chaos all, or
VVilderness;
A
Herd, without
Civility or
Rules,
A
Drove of Drinking, Cheating, Fighting
Fools;
All
Mad to kick each other off the
Stage,
Their very
Race destroy'd in one short
Age.
'Twas
Beauty first made
Laws, did Monsters bind,
Reform'd the
VVorld and civiliz'd
Mankind;
Taught us at first to
turn the Fruitful
Soyl,
And with glad
Harvest recompence the
Toyl,
Fair
Ceres gave us
Corn, Minerva Oyl.
For Brutal
Force which oft true
worth supplies,
The other
Sex may that
Monopolize;
But which is the best Title,
Bold or
VVise?
Presence of Mind,
Invention quick and free,
Unforc'd, and Natural
Ingenuity;
Foresight and
Caution, Ills unseen to ward,
Ready for th'
worst, and still upon their
Guard.
Here
Man must own, tho scarce without a
Blush,
They rather do
excel than
rival us.
As
useful and more
nimble all their
Pow'rs,
Their
Judgment sharp, and earlier
Ripe than ours.
[Page 8] Of Fancy they've an unexhausted
Mine,
A Quarry where the richest
Jewels shine,
Their
VVit is all their own, and all Divine.
Who has not heard of great
Orinda's Fame,
Pride of her own, and our vain
Sexes shame,
To every
Sister Muse a darling
Name?
Her self a Muse.—
Whom late
Posterity just Praise shall give,
Scarce
Cowleys Sacred VVorks will longer live.
Nor had soft
Afra less Immortal prov'd,
Had that fond
Sappho kept her
Heart unmov'd,
And had she not
too many Phaons Lov'd,
Whether with
fair Oenonoe she deplor'd
The broken
Faith of her ungrateful
Lord;
Or in the
Tragic Buskin swept the
Stage,
Or in sharp
Satyr lasht th' obnoxious
Age,
Or aims at something more
Sublime and
High,
When
Caesars Conquer or when
Caesars Dye.
Till we her
Match can find, her
Fate we'll mourn,
Light fall the Dust on gentle
Afra's Vrn!
" What!
Woman Wit? some VVitty
Spark will say,
" Egad, not till sh' has Read my last
New Play.
" The
Dullest things on Earth, below a
Pen,
" Heavy as
Priests, or old fat
Aldermen.
They'll wear in spite of
Impudence and you.
If Wit be
Nature's writing Copy fair,
Where shall we find it
neater Drawn than
there?
Shew me a
Fop who seven long years in
France,
Has learnt to
play the Fool, and
Cringe and
Dance,
Can teach 'em the
sweet Arts of
Complaisance.
Their
Sex the speediest best
Instructions lends,
The best of
Tutors and the best of
Friends.
Man's like a
Lute unstrung, until he be
By
Conversation turn'd to
Harmony;
And
that's it self, if
Woman from it stays,
As
dull as when an
ill Musician Plays.
Woman's the
Salt of Life, without a
Grain
Of which, attempts for
Mirth were all in vain;
Where e're she treads like
Sunshine guilds the ground
And throws an air of
Life and
Pleasure round.
A Sympathetic
Fire, whose very sight
Clears all the
Rust of Man, and makes him
Bright.
" But they a hundred thousand
knicknacks wear,
" Exalted
Top-knot Christians now they are,
" And grow almost as
Proud as
Lucifer.
We none wou'd wrong, but give the
Devil his due,
Suppose for once your
Accusation true;
Where did they learn their
Pride, unless from you?
Unless
fantastick, they can never
please.
Is
Pride then seated in the
Mind or
Dress;
Have you not often seen, if you'd confess,
A
humble Pomp, and a
proud Nastiness?
With what shou'd they
adorn themselves, and how?
Must Mother
Eves thin
Fig-leaves only do,
Or may they wear a
Leathern-Apron too?
Or dress'd in honest
Home-spun Country Gray?
If
you your selves know what will
please you, say,
That all the
Sex may instantly obey.
Nothing, alas, which feeble
Art can lend,
Can unsophisticated
Beauty mend.
Is
Phaebus by the
Clouds he wears more bright?
Vnarm'd that Sex most dangerously
fight.
How well becomes a
Horse his noble
Pride,
Since every
Beggar else would
up and ride?
That sometimes will instead of
Virtue serve,
'Tis a
just Sense of what their Sex
deserve;
But yours more unexcusable will prove,
They only love
themselves, you think that
you they love.
Nor are you more
uncivil or
unjust,
In fixing here the ugly
Brand of Lust.
Invent new
Sins and throw 'em on the
Sex;
More monstrous
Crimes than e're
Hot Asia knew,
Tho if 'twere possible they shou'd be true,
Italy equals, and exceeds 'em too.
Whose
thrifty Wickedness the Sex forsakes,
And of those Beauteous
Fields a
Sodom makes.
When,
tame Vesuvius! shall thy Thunder rise,
And purge those foul infected Earth and Skies,
Thy
Streams beyond th' affrighted
Tiber shine,
And justly punish
hotter Flames than thine?
if any left, reserve 'em still for those
Who are the
Lovely Sexes causeless Foes.
How many a faithful
Wife and gen'rous
Maid
VVhen to a Ravishers
hot Lust betray'd,
Have gladly fled to Deaths cold
Arms for aid?
How bravely cou'd the Fair
Lucretia Dye,
Rather than she'd
survive her
Chastity?
But ah! she did the fatal
Stab misplace,
Her part sh' had acted with a
better Grace,
To've Kill'd the
Tyrant in his loath'd
Embrace;
There left him in his own
Hot Gore to role,
And at the
wound let out his
Lustful Soul.
[Page 12] In vain the
Spark may-grin, in vain he'll Swear,
"
Such Miracles are Ceas'd, or never
were.
" And that no
Woman he cou'd ever find,
" But if the
opportunity were kind,
" Wou'd be
so too.—Perhaps he once is right;
He ne're Assaults but where the
Walls are
slight;
True
Bullies will with none but
Cowards Fight.
A Virtuous Woman values
Fame too high,
To let the bold
Assailant come so nigh,
The
Fort's half gone that
Treats with th' Enemy.
That
Town is
won which e're th'
Attack is made,
Has lost its
Counterscarp and
Palizade.
When the
White-Flag you see at first hung out,
You're wondrous
Daring then, and wondrous
Stout;
When once you but discover those within,
By their faint Fire have a low
Magazine,
A slender stock of
Chastity in store,
Your Oaths and Curses then like
Canon roar,
You storm like
Devils, and cry a
Whore a
Whore.
If you a
Virtuous VVoman tempt in vain,
Who still repells you with deserv'd disdain,
Who all your weak
designs secure can mock,
Firm seated on an
Alablaster Rock.
[Page 13] Her Snowy
Bosom not more pure and fair,
Than the
white Guest that still inhabits there,
Repulst at last with just
Despair and
Shame,
Your Poisnous
Tongues at least will blast her
Fame;
If her you can't, you'll ruin her
Good Name.
And to th'
ill-natur'd World with
Oaths protest,
All her Resistance was
design or
Jest,
You found her
VVoman, just like all the rest.
But say what
VVoman, search all ages o're
Debaucht a Man, search Hell's unnumber'd store,
Who learnt it not from that
false Sex before.
Who, can they any easy
Fool Debauch,
Most generously
undo, and then
reproach,
And like th'
Inhabitants of endless
Flame,
Over the
wretch insult they helpt to
Damn.
To whom the
Perjur'd Villains Kneel'd and Swore,
But a few
days perhaps or
hours before,
Like a true
Spaniel; lickt her
Hand or
Glove,
And Vow'd eternal
Constancy and
Love.
Marriage is a dull
Ceremony, made
By hungry
Priests of old, to mend their
Trade.
'Tis
Love's the thing, what matter for the
Name?
Cou'd they suspect their
Faith as not the same,
Or when they'd all the
Stakes they'd not play out
Then with ten thousand
Oaths his
Faith he'll bind;
Perjur'd and
Damn'd so often and so deep,
The
Devil himself th'
Accounts can hardly keep.
Thus silly
Flies by
Cobweb-vows betray'd,
Their
Virtue lose, and lose the name of
Maid.
But then how soon another
Face is shown?
E're the third night she's stale and nauseous grown,
The Cur has now some other Games to play;
No more her
Whistle or her
Call't obey,
H' intends, but
shakes his Tayl and runs away.
To
Brother Brutes will of her Favours boast,
And Write her Name on every
Pissing-Post.
Who wonders if a
Shop-Lift hates the Jayl,
Or strolling
Gipsies at the
Justice Rail?
If an old
Vsurer 'twou'd not well content
To hear a
Bill was past for Four
per Cent,
And if he all
berogu'd the Parliament.
And who, that knows the
World, will wonder more
That those at
Matrimony rail, who
Whore?
Call the poor
Husband Munkey, Ass, or Dog,
And jear his Neck worn with the
Wedlock-Clog,
While freely they o're
tops of Houses strolling,
Venture their Bones each Night a
Caterwouling.
Through
Cellar, or through
Garret-Windows creep;
Expose themselves to
Falls, or
Guns, or
Traps,
And twenty other unforeseen
Mishaps,
All in the hot pursuit of
VVhores and
Claps.
Ruin their
Health, their
Honour and
Estate,
To Buy
Repentance at so
dear a rate;
For when Old
Age with Palsy'd
steps draws on,
Some ten perhaps, or twenty
Years too soon,
And long e're this the last dear
Acre gon.
Shew me a
Thing whom more the World despise,
Or more a
VVretch than the old
Lecher is!
'Twou'd even a
common Womans passion move,
To see th' Old
Doating Epicure make Love.
Restrain her strugling
Laughter she that can,
A Lousy, Gowty, spawling, poor Old-Man;
All over Lame, his
Hips, his
Hands, his
Feet,
Fit for no other but a Winding-
Sheet.
" True cries the
Spark, but I have
time to spare,
" Am Young and Free, and unconfin'd as Air;
" I'll Drink full Bowls of
Pleasure while I may,
" And treat
Life kindly, since so
short its stay,
" And sip the sweets, and bask in the warm Beams of day,
[Page 16] " Whilst i'm
awake i'll to my self be kind,
" And Reason too for all that I can find,
" Since all's a
long, a
dark, eternal sleep behind.
Sir, are you
sure of that? Nay, never Swear,
You think none e're come thence that once were there;
How should you know it then? Deny it not,
By
night and
sleep you mean you
know not what.
" Well, if their shou'd, as the dull Clergy prate,
" Be any
Future World or
After State,
" Sure that good
Being who did all Create,
" Rewards and Pains distributes
justly there,
" And
Man for
necessary Ills will spare,
" Nor will his Punishment be too
Severe.
" For what's more hard to
vanquish than
reprove,
" The natural
Fault, if such it be, of
Love?
" Are we into our
Ruin thus
decoy'd?
" VVas
Nature made only to be
destroy'd?
" For what is
Good, if not to be
Enjoy'd?
" And what is
Good, or
where, unless 'tis
Common?
" And shew me any
Good on
Earth like
VVoman!
So now the
Quarrel's plainer than before,
'Tis with the
Virtuous VVoman, not the
VVhore.
Well Argu'd for a Beast, we needs must own,
To whom no
Principle but
Sense is known;
(Those are the Sole
Prerogatives of
Man)
But rush with undiscerning
Rage, like you,
On the first
Object that presents to view.
Themselves with
Shape or
Beauty ne're perplex,
But just like you,'r in Love with all the
Sex.
Thus they, but those with
reasoning minds endu'd,
Suspend a while when a
Good Object's view'd,
And ask, if a
Proportionable Good?
Sense is enough where
Senses only Woe,
But
Reasoning Lovers must have
Reason too,
No wonder if the
Body quickly cloy,
But
Minds are
infinite, and like themselves
Enjoy.
There you may Travel still from Pole to Pole,
Where Winds can carry, or where Waves can roll,
For all the World is
Pictur'd in a
Soul;
An unexhausted sweet
Variety,
That ne're degenerates to
Satiety,
But out-lasts
Time, and measures with
Eternity.
Can any thing in this dull World pretend,
Than
Wit and
Reason greater Bliss to lend?
And
VVit and
Reasons pleasures never end.
If there's a farther Pleasure, 'tis a
[...]riend.
With whom we all the
Sweets of
Life may prove,
Society and
Sympathy and
Love.
If each of these so
Charming is alone,
Who wou'd not gladly listen to be shown,
Where, without fail, to find 'em
all in one.
At once the vast
united Joys to prove,
Of Sense and Reason, Nature, Friendship, Love?
For such a
Bliss, who'd not the
World despise,
If such a Bliss he might
Monopolize?
Yet need not his poor
Neighbour at him
Grutch,
Tho he has
all, t'other may have as
much:
Fire, Air, Earth, VVater, thus we
common call,
Yet 'tis not
all to
some, but
some to
all,
" VVou'd not this
Phaenix set the World at strife
" To enjoy't? No, there's no danger, 'tis a
VVife.
"
A VVife, the Spark replies, the Name's as dull
"
As Country Squire, or sage
Right Worshipful.
" Rather than that, e'en let the
World stand still,
" Or
Porters drudg to keep it on the
wheel.
" Give me your French
Ragoo! your racy
Miss,
" I hate a
VVife, that English fulsom Dish,
" Nor know n
[...] care whether 'tis
Flesh or
Fish.
[Page 19] " On such
Gross Food our Grandsires us'd to Dine,
" The
Coxcombs knew not what was to Eat
Fine:
" The
World Sir now is mightily
improv'd,
" 'Tis not the age in which their
Wives they Lov'd.
Degenerate
Race! Your own and
Natures Foe:
Ah! that your Fathers never had
done so!
And yet in truth 'twou'd bear a long debate,
If this
whole Age be'nt illegitimate?
By their loose
Sites with
Rage and
Brandy hot,
In
Leagures on the
Sutlers Wives begot.
Since nothing they but
Drabs and
Drinking mind,
So true the Proverb,
Cat will after kind.
Tho
some there are, so very
good and
few,
That if enough might
Plant the VVorld anew.
Not made like those Sown on
Earths fertile Face,
Old
Pyrrhu's and
Deucalion's Stony Race,
But warm'd with gentle
Fire and gentle
Love,
As Pure and Constant as the Lamps above.
By Law and Inclination doubly joyn'd,
Both acted by one
Sympathetick Mind.
VVhom
Wedlock's Silken Chains as softly tye,
As that which when asunder
snapt, we
dye,
Which makes the
Soul and
Body's wondrous
harmony.
[Page 20] Thrice Happy they in those soft
Fetters ty'd,
The Fatal
Sisters only can divide;
Who for no other
Mastry ever strove,
But whether of the two should better
Love,
As kind as when the
Youth did first pretend,
(
Passions on
Virtue founded never end)
For tho in
Age their
Tops less verdant show,
Their flour'shing twisted
Roots still stronger grow.
No churlish
Feuds disturb their
blest Abodes,
All calm, as are the
Dwellings of the Gods.
No little peevish
Quarrels enter there,
No
noise but
Sighs which Fan the
Amorous Air,
And all like
Tempe still, and all like
Tempe Fair.
Jealousy's Banish'd thence, and
Rage and
Pride,
And all the
Torments of the
World beside,
Sweet
Peace their close Attendant,
Love their
Guide.
All the
white Passions that delight to rest,
With
Innocence in every constant
Breast;
Pleasures which
Guilt, nor
Time, nor
Age destroy,
Grateful
Vicissitudes of
Hope and
Joy.
Glad
Lambent Flames, but no wild
wandring Fire,
A still
Possess'd, and still renew'd
Desire;
The Parent that,
Delight the Child of
Love,
Complacency, the Heaven of those above.
[Page 21] Wisely has Fate to
to half the World deny'd,
(Almost perhaps to
t'other half beside)
That more than mortal Bliss,
a Virtuous, Lovely Bride
Since knew they once the Joys of
Loving well,
And were they all but
blest like
Astrophel;
Ev'n for
Elysium sure they'd hardly
care,
But spite of
Lethe live unhappy there.
Whoever of the
two first seiz'd shou'd be,
Whether 'twere
Orpheus or
Euridice;
T'other wou'd
follow, either to retrieve
Far more than
half their Soul, or with 'em live.
One then cou'd never
Dye without a
Pair,
The
Indian Wives Examples, now so rare
Wou'd then be own'd, and practis'd every where.
Let others Rally, Envy, Smile or Chide,
Me from my
Stella may no
day divide.
Not ev'n the
last, 'twould be
Impiety,
To think I'd wish to
out-live her, or she
To live one single moment
more than me.
Wou'd some of you, ye gentle Powers above,
Who favour
Innocence and Virtuous
Love;
Wou'd you blest
Astrophel's Petition grant,
For which thus low he kneels your
Supplicant.
[Page 22] His
Modest wishes shou'd not aim too high,
Thus only he'd ask to
Live, and thus to
Dye.
After a
Life in
Virtuous Acts employ'd,
And Bliss, that leaves no
Sting or
Shame, enjoy'd,
(Double your Gifts, ye Gods! If ought you'd give)
To cheerful
Age may
He and
Stella live,
Till of their
Lives no Friend is
weary grown,
Nor they, or of
each others, or their
own.
May they (but sure that wish scarce needs) Love on
With mutual
Flames till their last
Sand is gon;
Then gently leaning on each others
Breast,
Slumber away in
Smiles to
softer Rest.
Mistaken World to envy
Kings, when we
May at far less expence far happier be.
All those gay trifles which so weigh'em down,
Their
Robes and heavy, wondrous heavy
Crown;
Their Globe, their Scepter and their Diadem,
With ease a
happy Lover can contemn,
Poor cumber'd things, by Heaven
I pity them.
So great their
Toyl, their thankless
Task so hard,
Ungrateful
Towns to Save, and
Kingdoms Guard,
So great their
Task, so rare their just
Reward.
What can a worthy
Reparation prove?
What but a
Beauty worth a Princes
Love?
[Page 23] If in ten Ages
one by Fate is blest,
One
Favorite Prince, who all his Life redrest,
The worlds wide wrongs, and succour'd the distrest
" True
Successor o'th' great Herculean race,
" Form'd by the Gods, fell
Monsters to debase;
If
one with such an
Empress favour'd be,
As suits his Inclination and Degree,
Worthy to fill a share of Majesty.
Who with him joyntly feels each Joy and Smart,
True partner of his Empire, Cares and Heart;
If
Business he of one short
Hour beguile,
And lets th'
expecting World stand still the while;
If
Great Augustus from the
Field retires,
And Gracious
Gloriana's Eys admires;
The
Fates of Empires will not let him stay,
He in a few short
moments must away;
Some
other Kingdoms his Defence do crave,
Imploring that he'd them vouchsafe to
Save;
Their
Patron and their
Guardian Friend esteem,
And lift their
Dying Eys to Heaven and Him;
Or
sighing Europe of her wrongs complains,
Shows her Imprison'd
Hands, and begs he'd break her
Chains,
Deliver all her Injur'd
Sons and Her,
And take just Vengeance on the
Ravisher.
Now the
Mosell, and
Meause, and headlong
Rhine;
A thousand
Fates around him does
despise,
And sends far
more among his
Enemies;
He keeps far off our Danger at a
Bay,
While we securely here sit still and Pray.
Tast the
sweet Spring, and new recov'ring
Groves,
And thro' our Peaceful
Plains Record our happy
Loves.
VVhile
Gloriana fills so well his Trone,
As either were design'd to Reign
alone;
Dazles
Spite's Eys, stops
Envy's stinking Breath,
A second Lov'd, Ador'd
Elizabeth;
Had She been Born where
Rome's Religion sways,
And all the World their
Mitred Prince obeys;
They one St. more wou'd from their Mass-book
New
Ave-Mary's they'd repeat to Her, tear,
And place Her
second in the
Calendar;
No other Saints auspicious aid they'd crave,
Her single Worth and Merits they'd believe
Sufficient all Her Rank and Sex to Save.
While She the Kingdom's Intrest still Improves,
While She Her
Royal Lord so dearly Loves,
While She'll so
Fair, so
Just a Pattern give,
Her Subjects must be
blest, if they'd but like Her Live.
Who now can so Divine a
Princess Claim:
None sure will do't, but those who burst for
Spite,
None but despairing
Teague or
Jacobite.
For those who in their rage persist and will
The vengeance of a
Loyal Lover feel;
Who still at the
Fair Sex will rail and curse,
Be this their
Doom, till we can find a
worse:
Be this their
Doom, to
Love and to
Despair,
The
Ridicule of some
Fantastic Fair;
With Folly, Jealousy, and Pride possest,
And all the Faults are
Charg'd on all the rest;
So
fondly fickle that she does not know
What she has promis'd
half an Hour ago.
(I need not wish a Mortal more perplex'd)
Nor better what she means to do the
next;
Still discontented, sower, morose, and vain,
Triumphing in her
tame Adorers pain;
Jilting him to his
Face, but not too long
deceive,
Lest he
too happy shou'd himself
believe.
May all the
Infamy they ever cast
Upon the
Charming Sex rebound at last
On their own
cursed Heads; their
Folly, Pride,
Rage, Lust, and every poysonous Ill beside▪
From Eating
Spite, and Canker'd
Jealousie;
Through ev'ry
Vein may the sharp
Venom roul,
Diseases rack their
Body, Rage their
Soul,
Till with their
Sins and
Sores alike opprest,
They Rotting to the
Dung-hill crawl for rest;
Drop in the Streets, like
Poyson'd Rats from
Shelves,
Or in some
Whores old
Garters Hang themselves.
FINIS.