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(From the same.]
Not the Phoenix in his death,
Nor those banks where violets grow,
And Arabian winds still blow,
But, oh! marriage makes the spell,
The twin beauties of the skies,
(When the half-sunk sailors haste
To rend sail and cut their mast) Shine not welcome as her eyes :
But those beams, than storms more, black, If they point at me, I wrack.
Then for fear of such a fire,
Which kills worse than the long night
Which benumbs the Muscovite,
But, oh no! for if her eye.
The Description of Castara.
Like the violet, which alone
Prospers in some happy shade,' My Castara lives unknown,
To no looser eye betray’d. For she's to herself untrue Who delights i' th' public view.
Such is her beauty, as no arts
Have enrich'd with borrow'd grace'; Her high birth no pride imparts,
For she blushes in her place. Folly boasts a glorious blood :She is noblest, being good.
She her throne makes Reason climb,
While wild Passions captive lie;
Her pure thoughts to heaven fly.
Of True Delight.
Why doth the ear so tempt the voice
That cunningly divides the air ? Why doth the palate buy the choice
Delights o'th' sea tenrich her fare?
As soon as I my ear obey,
The echo's lost e'en with the breath : And when the sewer takes away,
I'm left with no more taste than death.
Be curious in pursuit of eyes,
To procreate new loves with thine ;-Satiety makes sense despise
What superstition thought divine.
Quick fancy how it mocks delight !
As we conceive things are not such : The glow-worm is as warm as bright,
Till the deceitful flame we touch. '
The rose yields her sweet blandishment,
Lost in the folds of lovers' wreaths : '
The violet enchants the scent,
When early in the spring she breathes.
But winter comes, and makes each flower
Shrink from the pillow where it grows; Or an intruding cold hath power
To scorn the perfume of the rose.
Our senses, like false glasses, show
Smooth beauty where brows wrinkled are, And make the cozen'd fancy glow :
Chaste Virtuc's only true and fair,
Give me a heart, where no impure
Disorder'd passions rage,
Nor vanity t'expence engage;
Which not the softness of the age
Take thou a heart, where no new look
Provokes new appetite;
Or wanton stratagem of wit ;
Aiming each beauteous mark to hit; Which virtue doth to one confine: Take thou that heart, Castara !--for 'tis mine.