Classic Poem

If I my Celia could persuade
To see those wounds her eyes have made,
And hear whilst I that passion tell,
Which, like herself, does so excel,
How soon we might be freed from care!
She need not fear, nor I despair.

Such beauty does the nymph protect,
That all approach her with respect;
And can I offer violence
Where love does join in her defence?
This guard might all her fears disperse,
Did she with savages converse.

Then I my Celia would surprise
With what's produced by her own eyes—
Those matchless flames which they inspire
In her own breast should raise a fire;
For love, but with more subtle art,
As well as beauty charms the heart.