TO MIRA.
Loſt in a labyrinth of doubts and joys,
Whom now her ſmiles reviv’d her ſcorn deſtroys:
She will, and ſhe will not; ſhe grants, denies,
Conſents, retracts, advances, and then flies;
Approving and rejecting in a breath,5
Now proff’ring mercy, now preſenting death.
Thus hoping, thus deſpairing, never ſure,
How various are the torments I endure!
Cruel eſtate of doubt! ah, Mira! try
Once to reſolve—Or let me live or die.10
TO FLAVIA.
WRITTEN ON HER GARDEN IN THE NORTH, &c.
What charm is this, that in the midſt of ſnow,
Of ſtorms and blaſts, the choiceſt fruits do grow?
Melons on beds of ice are taught to bear,
And ſtrangers to the ſun yet ripen here:
On frozen ground the ſweeteſt flow’rs ariſe,5
Unſeen by any light but Flavia’s eyes:
Where’er ſhe treads, beneath the charmer’s feet
The roſe, the jaſmine, and the lilies, meet:
Where’er ſhe looks, behold ſome ſudden birth
Adorns the trees, and fructifies the earth!10
In midſt of mountains and unfruitful ground
As rich an Eden as the firſt is found.
