Whofe Aid so many Lovers oft have found,
With like Success can ever heal my Wound:
Too weak the Pow'r of Nature, or of Art,
Nothing but Death can ease a broken Heart.
And that thou may'ft behold my helpless State,
Learn the extremeft Rigour of my Fate..
Amidst th' innumerable beauteous Train,
Paris, the Queen of Cities, does contain,
(The fairest Town, the largeft, and the best,)
The fair ALMERIA fhin'd above the reft.
From her bright Eyes to feel a hopeless Flame,
Was of our Youth the most ambitious Aim;
Her Chains were Marks of Honour to the Brave,
She made a Prince whene'er fhe made a Slave.
Love, under whose tyrannick Pow'r I groan,
Shew'd me this Beauty e'er 'twas fully blown;
Her tim'rous Charms, and her unpractis'd Look,
Their firft Affurance from my Conqucft took ;
By wounding me fhe learn'd the fatal Art,
And the first Sigh fhe had was from my Heart:
My Eyes with Tears moift'ning her snowy Arms,
Render'd the Tribute owing to her Charms.
But, as I fooneft of all mortals paid
My Vows, and to her Beauty Altars made;
So, among all thofe Slaves that figh'd in vain,
She thought me only worthy of my Chain.
Love's heavy Burden my fubmiffive Heart
Endur'd not long, before fhe bore her part;
My violent Flame melted her frozen Breast,
And in foft Sighs her Pity she express'd;
Her gentle Voice allay'd my raging Pains,
And her fair Hands fuftain'd me in my Chains:
Ev'n Tears of Pity waited on my Moan,
And tender Looks were caft on me alone.
My Hopes and Dangers were lefs mine than hers,
Those fill'd her Soul with Joys, and these with
Our Hearts united had the fame Defires,
And both alike burn'd with impatient Fires.
Too faithful Memory! I give thee leave
Thy wretched Mafter kindly to deceive;
Oh, make me not Poffeffor of her Charms,
Let me not find her languifh in my Arms;
Paft Joys are now my Fancy's mournful Themes;
Make all my happy Nights appear but Dreams:
Let not fuch Blifs before my Eyes be brought;
O hide thofe Scenes from my tormenting Thought;
And in their place difdainful Beauty show;
If thou would'ft not be cruel, make her fo:
And, fomething to abate my deep Despair,
O let her feem less gentle, or less fair.
But I in vain flatter my wounded Mind,
Never was Nymph fo lovely, or fo kind:
No cold Repulfes my Defires fupprefs'd,
I feldom figh'd but on ALMERIA'S Breaft:
Of all the Paflions which Mankind destroy,
I only felt Excefs of Love and Joy:
Unnumber'd Pleasures charm'd my Senfe, and they
Were, as my Love, without the least Allay.
As pure, alas! but not fo fure to laft,
For, like a pleasing Dream, they all are past.
From Heav'n her Beauties like fierce Light'nings came,
Which break through Darkness with a gloriousFlame;
A while they fhine, a while our Minds amaze,
Our wond'ring Eyes are dazled with the Blaze;
But Thunder follows, whose refiftless Rage
None can withstand, and nothing can affuage;
And all that Light which those bright Flashes gave,
Serves only to conduct us to our Grave.
When I had just begun Love's Joys to taste,
(Those full Rewards for Fears and Dangers paft)
A Fever feiz'd her, and to nothing brought
The richeft Work that ever Nature wrought.
All things below, alas, uncertain stand;
The firmeft Rocks are fix'd upon the Sand:
Under this Law both Kings and Kingdoms bend,
And no Beginning is without an End.
A Sacrifice to Time, Fate dooms us all,
And at the Tyrant's Feet we daily fall :
Time, whose bold Hand will bring alike to Duft
Mankind, and Temples too in which they truft.
Her wafted Spirits now begin to faint,
Yet Patience ties her Tongue from all Complaint,
And in her Heart as in a Fort remains ;
But yields at laft to her refiftlefs Pains.
Thus while the Fever, am'rous of his Prey,
Through all her Veins makes his delightful Way,
Her Fate's like SEMELE'S, the Flames destroy
That Beauty they too eagerly enjoy.
Her charming Face is in its Spring decay'd,
Pale grow the Rofes, and the Lillies fade;
Her Skin has loft that Luftre which surpass'd
The Sun's, and well deferv'd as long to laft:
Her Eyes, which us'd to pierce the hardest Hearts,
Are now difarm'd of all their Flames and Darts;
Those Stars now heavily and flowly move;
And Sickness triumphs in the Throne of Love.
The Fever ev'ry Moment more prevails,
Its Rage her Body feels, and Tongue bewails:
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