That Love may all Perfection be,
Sweet, charming to the last degree,
The Heart, where the bright Flame does dwell,
In Faith and Softness should excel:
Excess of Love should fill each Vein,
And all its sacred Rites maintain.
The tend’rest Thoughts Heav’n can inspire,
Should be the Fuel to its Fire:
And that, like Incense, burn as pure;
Or that in Urns should still endure,
No fond Desire should fill the Soul,
But such as Honour may controul.
Jealousy I will allow:
Not the amorous Winds that blow,
Should wanton in my Iris’ Hair,
Or ravish Kisses from my Fair.
Not the Flowers that grow beneath,
Should borrow Sweetness of her Breath.
If her Bird she do caress,
How I grudge its Happiness,
When upon her snowy Hand
The Wanton does triumphing stand!
Or upon her Breast she skips,
And lays her Beak to Iris’ Lips!
Fainting at my ravished Joy,
I could the Innocent destroy.
If I can no Bliss afford
To a little harmless Bird,
Tell me, Oh thou dear-lov’d Maid!
What Reason could my Rage persuade,
If a Rival should invade?
If thy charming Eyes should dart
Looks that sally from the Heart;
If you sent a Smile, or Glance,
To another tho’ by Chance;
Still thou giv’st what’s not thy own,
They belong to me alone.
All Submission I would pay:
Man was born the Fair t’ obey.
Your very Look I’d understand,
And thence receive your least Command:
Never your Justice will dispute;
But like a Lover execute.
I would no Usurper be,
But in claiming sacred Thee.
I would have all, and every part;
No Thought would hide within thy Heart.
Mine a Cabinet was made,
Where Iris’ Secrets should be laid.
In the rest, without controul,
She should triumph o’er the Soul!
Prostrate at her Feet I’d lie,
Despising Power and Liberty;
Glorying more by Love to fall,
Than rule the universal Ball.
Hear me, O you saucy Youth!
And from my Maxims learn this Truth:
Would you great and powerful prove?
Be an humble Slave to Love.
‘Tis nobler far a Joy to give,
Than any Blessing to receive.
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