love poetry

The poet is a prisoner for all time;
But, captive in the shining House of Song,
Life, Love and Sorrow round about him throng,
And sweet are his enchanted chains of rhyme!

How can I help my yielding to Mankind?
All are, alas! too hard for me, I find;
And, the Love-sickness of the Soul will make
The Spirit, for the potent Flesh, too weak.
Then since Resistance makes the Lover more
Exact his Vigour, and provokes his Pow'r,
The vain Repulsing of our Honour's Foes,
Us to their Passion does but more expose;
Why more than They should we our Credit lose,
Who can but ill th' Invader's Force oppose?
That which we can't defend, we must submit
To strong Perswasions urg'd by Love, or Wit;

I.

P HILLIS .

You to another give me now,
Who gave my self to you before;
So more unjust to me you grow,
My Freedom to me to restore;
That Freedom which by Force you strove to take,
But which you now by Force would give me back.

II.

S TREPHON .

To force you to Variety,
Shou'd not my Want of Kindness shew,
Since Women love Inconstancy,

I.

It is my Choice of Mistresses,
That ineffectual makes my Love,
Thus, if my Choice now, were but less
More wou'd my Satisfaction prove.

II.

The She-Fool, or the Witty'st one,
Alike still, must I love or hate,
Since one pulls up her Coats too soon, —
As t'other makes me hers, too late.

III.

One's Forwardness, makes me, to be
More backward to her in my Love;
So backward t'other is to me,
I forward to her, cannot prove.

IV.

Me this, does with her Kindness kill;

I.

I Love Variety, 'tis true,
But for your sake (my Dear) alone;
Variety I find in you,
Who have all Woman's Charms in one.

II.

Your Humour varies like your Look,
Which you so daily change to me,
That if with Change I were not took,
Constant to you I cou'd not be.

III.

To please Men more, you change your Dress,
And since all else, why not your Mind?

I.

For our Love, you requite us all,
Repaying Love to none;
Since still, your Scorn is general,
You Wrong not any one;

II.

One Way your Rigour pleases me,
If I cannot have you,
Nor in your Love can Happy be
I'm so, since none are so;

III.

For if your Love were Singular,
'Twere Public Injury;
Since none of you deserving are,

Veiled by the shadows of obscurest night,
All Dian's host are shining unrevealed,
Save one fair star on heaven's unbounded field,
All lonely, lovely, fascinating, bright;
How clearly tremulous it hails the sight!
As if 'twould smile away the clouds that lie
Athwart its glorious sisters of the sky,
Prohibiting our earth their holy light:
So, as I stumble on the path of life,
Without one voice to cheer, one heart to love —
When all is darkness round me, and above,
And every bitter feeling is at strife —

I.

Let me thy Kindness but revive,
Who Dy'd long since for Love of thee;
My Songs shall make thy Beauty live.
Altho' that it has Murther'd me;

II.

As Arrows shot back, on the Foe,
By them, at whom they first were aim'd,
Of their Defence, Offensive grow,
When by their own Arms, they are maim'd;

III.

My Song's so meant, for my Love's Aid,
In overcoming Cruel thee;

I.

The Grave and Dull I did despise,
Now most my Spleen and Envy move;
Whom Want of Sense has made so Wise,
As to live Ignorant of Love;

II.

So Fools, the Wise Turks reverence,
Whose Want of Sense and Wit, secures
Them from those Troubles, too much Sense,
For the too Knowing still procures;

III.

Since Fools in this World, as elsewhere

I.

True Love, sure, needs no kind of Aid,
From Vows, Tears, Oaths, to make it good;
Love but in Silence best is made,
And by it, better understood;

II.

Like Hypocrites, so those of Love,
Are by Eye, Lip-Devotion known;
Less their True Faith, and Worship prove,
As more Appearance of 'em's shown;

III.

Since True Love, like True Piety,
Does still all Ostentation shun;