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But soon reflection's power impress'd
And tho' in distant climes to roam,
THE TIMID LOVER.
Yes, it is true I utter'd not my tale ;
But didst thou never hear the bitter sighs That swelled my breast, ne'er see what deadly
pale, Stole o'er my cheek, how often to mine eyes, Spite of myself, the grief-wrung tears would
Xhen, by thy side, some youth than me more
bold, More blest in all those charms that wealth sup
plies, With ready tongue his artful story told? Hast thou not seen my passion, ill-contrould,
For thee in thousand nameless actions shown? Seen that in others nought could I behold? That still I spoke, moved, breathed for thee
alone? And might not these have taught thee, far above The feeble power of words, my watchless love?
AN APOLOGY FOR HAVING LOVED
They that never had the use
So, they that are to love inclin'd,
Sway'd by chance, not choice or art, To the first that's fair or kind,
Make a present of their heart :
"T'is not she that first we love, But whom dying we approve.
To man, that was in th' evening made,
Stars gave the first delight; Admiring, in the gloomy shade,
Those little drops of light: Then at Aurora, whose fair hand
Remov'd then from the skies, He gazing toward the east did stand,
She entertain'd his eyes.
But when the bright sun did appear,
All those he 'gan despise ;
And could not higher rise :
A more refulgent light : For that (as mine your beauties now)
Employ'd his utmost sight.
UPON MY MISTRESS DANCING.
I stood and saw my mistress dance,
Silent, and with so fixed an eye,
But being asked why,
I could not but impart
So niinbly with a marble heart
Lately at afternoon, the sun hot-shining,
Flush'd with the grape, and in poetics deep; On a soft sopha carelessly reclining,
Tuning new sonnets, lo! I dropp'd asleep. Thro’ the vine-bower'd windows then inclining,
My mistress from the garden chanc'd to peep; And left her lily's with the heat repining,
On tip-toe to my cool recess to creep.
She read the verse for her sweet self intended
We must indeed, she said, those lips saluté,
Which blushingly do use such modest suit, That maiden meekness cannot be offended ;
She kiss'd, I wak’d-how eloquently mute Her eyes, her blushes, the sweet fault defended,
ON AURELIA'S BLUSHING.
Say, gentle spirit, has thou seen,
When the sun darts o'er ocean low,
The warm, the radiating glow?
Say, hast thou seen the opal white,
First when no ray its breast illumes, Then flashing on some rapid light,
What blooming brilliance it assumes ?
And hast thou seen an ebon cloud,
From which the rainy torrents flow, When Phæbus casts away his shroud,
Gleam with the orience of the bow?