Fair Goddess of my just Desire,
Inspirer of my softest Fire!
Since you, from out the num’rous Throng
That to your Altars do belong,
To me the Sacred Myst’ry have reveal’d,
From all my Rival-Worshippers conceal’d;
And toucht my Soul with heav’nly Fire,
Refin’d it from its grosser Sense,
And wrought it to a higher Excellence;
It can no more return to Earth,
Like things that thence receive their Birth;
But still aspiring, upward move,
And teach the World new Flights of Love;
New Arts of Secrecy shall learn,
And render Youth discreet in Love’s Concern.
In his soft Heart, to hide the charming things
A Mistress whispers to his Ear;
And e’ery tender Sigh she brings,
Mix with his Soul, and hide it there.
To bear himself so well in Company,
That if his Mistress present be,
It may be thought by all the Fair,
Each in his Heart does claim a Share,
And all are more belov’d than she.
But when with the dear Maid apart,
Then at her Feet the Lover lies;
Opens his Soul, shews all his Heart,
While Joy is dancing in his Eyes.
Then all that Honour may, or take, or give,
They both distribute, both receive.
A Looker-on wou’d spoil a Lover’s Joy;
For Love’s a Game where only two can play.
And ’tis the hardest of Love’s Mysteries,
To feign Love where it is not, hide it where it is.
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