SONG. [From the same.] NOT the Phoenix in his death, Nor those banks where violets grow, Yield a perfume like her breath: The twin beauties of the skies, But those beams, than storms more black, Then for fear of such a fire, Which kills worse than the long night Which benumbs the Muscovite, I must from my life retire. But, oh no! for if her eye Warm me not, I freeze and die. The Description of Castara. LIKE the violet, which alone To no looser eye betray'd. 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 her throne makes Reason climb, While wild Passions captive lie; And, each article of time, Her pure thoughts to heaven fly. All her vows religious be, Of True Delight. WHY doth the ear so tempt the voice 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! 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 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 Virtue's only true and fair. To Castara. GIVE me a heart, where no impure Which jealousy doth not obscure, Which not the softness of the age To vice or folly doth decline: Give me that heart, Castara!-for 'tis thine. Take thou a heart, where no new look With no fresh charm of beauty took, Or wanton stratagem of wit; Led by an amorous eye or ear, Aiming each beauteous mark to hit; Which virtue doth to one confine: Take thou that heart, Castara!—for 'tis mine. |