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In deserts where no men abide,
Small is the worth
Bid her come forth,
Then die-that she
May read in thee;
Dear love, for nothing less than thee
It was a theme
As lightning, or a taper's light,
Yet I thought thee-
knew'st when Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then, I must confess it could not choose but be Profane to think thee anything but thee.
Coming and staying show'd thee thee,
That art not thou.
From The Mulberry Garden
An, Chloris ! that I now could sit
As unconcerned as when
When I the dawn used to admire,
And praised the coming day, I little thought the growing fire
Must take my rest away.
Your charms in harmless childhood lay,
Like metals in the mine;
Than youth concealed in thine.
But as your charms insensibly
To their perfection prest,
And in my bosom rest.
My passion with your beauty grew,
And Cupid at my heart,
Threw a new flaming dart.
Each gloried in their wanton part:
To make a lover, he
To make a Beauty, she.
Though now I slowly bend to love
Uncertain of my fate,
I shall my freedom hate.
Lovers, like dying men, may well
At first disordered be,
What fortune they must see. 1668.
Sir Charles Sedley.
AH, HOW SWEET IT IS TO LOVE!
From Tyrannic Love
Az, how sweet it is to love!
Ah, how gay is young desire!
When we first approach love's fire!
Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.
Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend;
Which in youth sincere they send :
Swells in every youthful vein;
Till they quite shrink in again. If a flow in age appear,
'T is but rain, and runs not clear. 1670.
Love in fantastic triumph sate,
Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd, For whom fresh pains he did create,
And strange tyrannic power he show'd: From thy bright eyes he took his fires,
Which round about in sport he hurl'd; But 't was from mine he took desires
Enough t undo the amorous world.
From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty ; From me his languishments and fears,
And every killing dart from thee.
And set him up a deity;
Whilst thine the victor is, and free! 16 1677.