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In heaven itself thou sure wert drest
With that angel-like disguise;
Thus deluded am I blest,

And see my joy with closed eyes.

But ah! this image is too kind To be other than a dream!

-iCruel Sacharissa's mind Never put on that sweet extreme.

Fair dream, if thou intend'st me grace,
Change that heavenly face of thine;
Paint despis'd love in thy face,

And make it to appear like mine.

Pale, wan, and meagre let it look,
With a pity-moving shape,
Such as wander by the brook

Of Lethe; or from graves escape.

Then to that matchless nymph appear,
In whose shape thou shinest so,
Softly in her sleeping ear,

With humble words express my woe.

Perhaps from greatness, state, and pride,
Thus surprised she may fall:
Sleep does disproportion hide. And death resembling equals all.

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Lome, little infant, love me now,
While thine unsuspected years

Clear thine aged father's brow
From cold jealousy and fears.

Pretty, surely, 'twere to see
By young Love old Time beguil'd,

While our sportings are as free
As the nurse's with the child.

Common beauties stay fifteen, Such as yours should swifter move,

Whose fair blossoms are too green
Yet for lust, but not for love.

Love as much the snowy lamb,
Or the wanton kid does prize,

As the lusty bull or ram,
For his morning sacrifice.

Now then love me, time may take
Thee before thy time away;

Of this need we'll virtue make,
And learn love before we may.


So we win of doubtful Fate;

And if good to us she meant, We that good should antedate,

Or if ill, that ill prevent.

Thus as kingdoms frustrating
Other titles to their crown,

In the cradle crown their king,
So all foreign claims to drown.

So to make all rivals vain

Now I crown thee with my love;

Crown me with thy love again,
And we both shall monarchs prove.


Vtentle air, thou breath of lovers,
Vapour from a secret fire,
Which by thee itself discovers,

Ere yet daring to aspire.

Softest note of whisper'd anguish,

Harmony's refined part, Striking, while thou seem'st to languish,

Full upon the list'ners heart.

Safest messenger of passion, Stealing thro' a cloud of spies,
Which constrain the outward fashion, Close the lips, and guard the eyes.

Shapeless sigh, we ne'er can show thee, Form'd but to assault the ear;Yet ere to their cost they know thee, Every nymph may read thee here.


Ohe loves, and she confesses too;
Then there's at last no more to do;
The happy work's entirely done,
Enter the town which thou hast won.
The fruits of conquest now begin,
Io triumphe! enter in.

What's this, ye gods, what can it be?
Remains there still an enemy?
Bold honour stands up in the gate,
And would yet capitulate.
Have I o'ercome all real foes,
And shall this phantom me oppose?

Noisy nothing, stalking shade,
By what witchcraft wert thou made-?
Empty cause of solid harms!
But I shall find out counter charms,
Thy airy devilship to remove
From this circle here of love.

Sure I shall rid myself of thee
By the night's obscurity,
And obscurer secrecy.
'Unlike to every other spright,
Thou attempt'st not men t'affright,
Nor appear'st, but in the light.


lis now since I sat down before
That foolish fort, a heart,
(Time strangely spent) a year and more,
And still I did my part.

Made my approaches, from her hand

Unto her lip did rise, And did already understand

The language of her eyes.

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