My tim’rous tongue, not daring to confeſs,
Trembling to name, would fain have had her gueſs:
Impatient of excuſe ſhe urges ſtill,15
Perſiſts in her demand; ſhe must, ſhe will:
If ſilent, I am threaten’d with her hate;
If I obey—ah! what may be my fate?
Uncertain to conceal or to unfold,
She ſmiles—the goddeſs ſmiles!—and I grow bold.20
My vows to Mira all were meant to thee,
The praiſe, the love, the matchleſs conſtancy.
’T was thus of old, when all th’ immortal dames
Were grac’d by poets each with ſev’ral names;
For Venus Cytherea was invok’d,25
Altars for Pallas to Tritonia ſmok’d:
Such names were theirs; and thou, the moſt divine,
Moſt lov’d, of heav’nly beauties—Mira ’s thine.28
TO MRS. HIGGONS,
Occaſioned by ſome verſes written by that lady, and ſent the Author in his retirement, 1690.
Ceaſe, tempting Syren! ceaſe thy flatt’ring ſtrain;
Sweet is thy charming ſong, but ſung in vain.
When the winds blow, and loud the tempeſts roar,
What fool would truſt the waves and quit the ſhore?
Early and vain into the world I came,5
Big with falſe hopes, and eager after fame,
Till looking round me ere the race began,
Madmen and giddy fools were all that ran.
