Chapter II

_These are her qualities; but yet_
_She has a Person full of Charms,_
_Her Smiles are able to beget_
_Forgiveness for her other harms;_
_She’s most divinely shap’d, her Eyes are sweet,_
_And every Glance to please she does employ,_
_With such address she does all persons treat_
_As none are weary of her flattery,_
_She still consoles the most afflicted Hearts,_
_And makes the Proud vain of his fancy’d Arts._

Amongst the rest of those who dayly came,
T’ admire this _Princess_, and oblige their flame,
(Conducted thither by a false report, }
That Happiness resided in her Court) }
Two young successless Lovers did resort: }
One, so above his Aim had made pretence,
That even to Hope, for him, was Impudence;
Yet he ‘gainst Reasons Arguments makes War,
And vainly Swore, his Love did merit her.
Boldly Attempted, daringly Addrest,
And with unblushing Confidence his flame confest.
The other was a Bashful Youth, who made
His Passion his _Devotion_, not his _Trade_;
No fond opiniater, who a price
Sets on his Titles, Equipage, or Eyes,
But one that had a thousand Charms in store,
Yet did not understand his _Conquering_ Pow’r:
This _Princess_ with a kind Address receives
These Strangers; and to both new Courage gives.
She animates the haughty to go on!
Says--_A Town long besieg’d must needs be won._
_Time and Respect remove all obstacles,_
_And obstinate Love arrives at Miracles._
_Were she the Heir to an illustrious Crown,_
_Those Charms, that haughty meen, that fam’d renown,_
_That wond’rous skill you do in Verse profess,_
_That great disdain of common Mistresses;_
_Can when you please with aid of Billet Deux,_
_The Royal Virgin to your Arms subdue,_
_One skill’d in all the Arts to please the fair,_
_Shou’d be above the Sense of dull despair:_
_Go on, young noble Warrier, then go on,_
_Though all the fair are by that Love undone._
Then turning to the other: _Sir_, said she,
_Were the bright Beauty you Adore like me,_
_Your silent awful Passion more wou’d move,_
_Than all the bold and forward Arts of Love._
_A Heart the softest composition forms,_
_And sooner yields by treaty, then by storms;_
_A Look, a Sigh, a Tear, is understood,_
_And makes more warm disorders in the Blood,_
_Has more ingaging tender Eloquence,_
_Then all the industry of Artful Sense:_
_So falling drops with their soft force alone_
_Insinuate kind impressions in obdurate stone._
But that which most my pity did imploy,
Was a young Hero, full of Smiles and Joy.
A noble Youth to whom indulgent Heaven,
Had more of Glory then of Virtue given;
Conducted thither by a Politick throng,
The Rabble Shouting as he past along.
Whilst he, vain with the beastly Din they make,
(Which were the same, if Bears were going to stake)
Addresses to this faithless Flatterer;
Who in return, calls him, _young God of War!_
The _Cities Champion!_ and his _Countries Hope_,
_The Peoples Darling_, and _Religious Prop_.
_Scepters_ and _Crowns_ does to his view expose;
And all the Fancied pow’r of Empire shows.
In vain the Vision he wou’d dis-believe,
In spight of Sense she does his Soul deceive:
He Credits all! nor ask’s which way or how,
The dazling Circle shall surround his Brow;
Implicitly attends the flattering Song,
Gives her his easy Faith, and is undone.
For with one turn of State the Frenzy’s heal’d,
The Blind recover and the Cheats reveal’d.
Whilst all his _Charms_ of _Youth_ and _Beauty_ lies,
The kind reproach of pitying Enemies.
To me she said, and smiling as she spoke,
Lisander, _you with Love have Reason took,_
_Continue so, and from_ Aminta’s _Heart_
_Expect what Love and Beauty can impart._
I knew she flatter’d, yet I cou’d not choose
But please my Self, and credit the Abuse;
Her charming Words that Night repos’d me more,
Then all the grateful Dreams I’d had before.
Next day I rose, and early with the Sun;
Love guided me to _Declaration_,
A pleasant City built with Artful Care,
To which the Lovers of the Isle repair.
In our pursuit _Respect_ dissatisfy’d,
Did the unreasonable Adventure chide;
Return, unheedy Youth, cry’d he, return!
Let my advice th’ approaching danger warn:
Renounce thy Purpose and thy haste decline,
Or thou wilt ruine all Loves great design;
Amaz’d I stood, and unresolv’d t’ obey,
Cou’d not return, durst not pursue my way;
Whilst LOVE, who thought himself concern’d as Guide
I’th’ Criminal Adventure, thus reply’d:

LOVE’s Resentment.

_Must we eternal Martyrdom pursue?_
_Must we still_ Love, _and always suffer too?_
_Must we continue still to dye,_
_And ne’r declare the cruel Cause;_
_Whilst the fair Murdress asks not why,_
_But triumphs in her rigorous Laws;_
_And grows more mighty in disdain,_ }
_More Peevish, Humorous, Proud and Vain_ }
_The more we languish by our Pain?_ }
_And when we Vow, Implore, and Pray,_
_Shall the Inhumane cruel fair_
_Only with nice disdain the sufferer pay?_
_Consult her Pride alone in the affair,_
_And coldly cry--In time perhaps I may--_
_Consider and redress the Youth’s despair;_
_And when she wou’d a Period put to’s Fate,_
_Alas, her cruel Mercy comes too late!_
But wise _Respect_ obligingly reply’d,
Amintas _Cruelty you need not dread,_
_Your Passion by your Eyes will soon be known,_
_Without this hast to Declaration;_
_’.is I will guide you where you still shall find,_
Aminta _in best Humour and most kind._

Strong were his Arguments; his Reasonings prove
Too pow’rful for the angry God of _Love_.
Who by degrees t’ his native softness came,
Yields to _Respect_ and owns his haste a blame.
Both vow obedience to his judging Wit,
And to his graver Conduct both submit,
Who now invites us to a Reverend place,
An ancient Town, whose Governor he was.
Impregnable, with Bastions fortify’d,
Guarded with fair built Walls on every side,
The top of which the Eye cou’d scarce discern,
So strong as well secur’d the Rich concern;
_Silence_ with _Modesty_ and _Secrecy_,
Have all committed to their Custody.
_Silence_ to every questions ask’d, replies
With apt Grimasses of the Face and Eyes;
Her Finger on her Mouth; and as you’ve seen,
Her Picture, Handsom, with fantastick mean,
Her every Motion her Commands express,
But seldom any the hid Soul confess.
The _Virgin Modesty_ is wond’rous fair,
A bashful Motion, and a blushing Air;
With unassur’d regard her Eyes do move,
Untaught by affectation or Self-love;
Her Robes not gaudy were, nor loosely ty’d,
But even concealing more then need be hid.
For _Secrecie_, one rarely sees her Face,
Whose lone Apartment is some Dark recess;
From whence unless some great affairs oblige,
She finds it difficult to dis-ingage;
Her voice is low, but subtilly quick her Ears,
And answers still by signs to what she hears.
--Led by _Respect_ we did an entrance get,
Not saying any thing, who ere we met.

The City of DISCRETION.

_The Houses there, retir’d in Gardens are,_
_And all is done with little noise,_
_One seldom sees Assemblies there,_
_Or publick shows for Grief or Joys._
_One rarely walks but in the Night,_
_And most endeavour to avoid the Light._
_There the whole World their bus’ness carry,_
_Without or confident, or Secretary:_
_One still is under great constraint,_
_Must always suffer, but ne’r make complaint,_
_’.is there the dumb and silent languishes,_
_Are predic’d, which so well explain the Heart:_
_Which without speaking can so much express,_
_And secrets to the Soul the nearest way impart;_
_Language which prettify perswades belief;_
_Who’s silent Eloquence obliges Joy or Grief._

This City’s called _Discretion_, being the name
Of her that is Lieutenant of the same,
And Sister to _Respect_; a Lady who
Seldom obtains a Conquest at first view;
But in repeated Visits one shall find,
Sufficient Charms of Beauty and of Mind:
Her vigorous piercing Eyes can when they please,
Make themselves lov’d, and understood with Ease.
Not too severe, but yet reserv’d and wise,
And her Address is full of subtilties;
Which upon all occasions serves her turn;
T’ express her Kindness, and to hide her scorn;
Dissimulations Arts, she useful holds,
And in good manners sets ‘en down for rules.
‘Twas here _Aminta_ liv’d, and here I paid
My constant visits to the lovely Maid.
With mighty force upon my Soul I strove,
To hide the Sent’ments of my raging Love.
All that I spoke did but indifferent seem,
Or went no higher than a great esteem.
But ‘twas not long my Passion I conceal’d,
My flame in spight of me, it self reveal’d.

The silent Confession.

_And tho’ I do not speak, alas,_
_My Eyes, and Sighs too much do say!_
_And pale and languishing my Face,_
_The torments of my Soul betray;_
_They the sad story do unfold,_
Love _cannot his own secrets hold;_
_And though Fear ty’s my Tongue, Respect my Eyes,_
_Yet something will disclose the pain;_
_Which breaking out throw’s all disguise;_
_Reproaches her with Cruelties;_
_Which she augments by new disdain;_
_--Where e’re she be, I still am there;_
_What-ere she do, I that prefer;_
_In spight of all my strength, at her approach,_
_I tremble with a sight or touch;_
_Paleness or Blushes does my Face surprize,_
_If mine by chance meet her encountering Eyes;_
_’.was thus she learn’d my Weakness, and her Pow’r;_
_And knew too well she was my Conqueror._

And now--
Her Eyes no more their wonted Smiles afford,
But grew more fierce, the more they were ador’d;
The marks of her esteem which heretofore
Rais’d my aspiring flame, oblige no more;
She calls up all her Pride to her defence;
And as a Crime condemns my just pretence;
Me from her presence does in Fury chase;
No supplications can my doom reverse;
And vainly certain of her Victory,
Retir’d into the _Den_ of _Cruelty_.

The Den of Cruelty.

A Den _where_ Tygers _make the passage good,_
_And all attempting_ Lovers _make their Food;_
_I’th’ hollow of a mighty_ Rock _’.is plac’d,_
_Which by the angry Sea is still imbrac’d:_
_Whose frightful surface constant Tempest wears,_
_Which strikes the bold Adventurers with Fears._
_The_ Elements _their rudest Winds send out,_
_Which blow continual coldness round about._
_Upon the_ Rock _eternal Winter dwells,_
_Which weeps away in dropping Isicles;_
_The barren hardness meets no fruitful Ray,_
_Nor bears it Issue to the God of day;_
_All bleek and cale, th’ unshady prospect lies,_
_And nothing grateful meets the melancholy Eyes._

To this dire place _Aminta_ goes, whilst I,
Begg’d her with Prayers and Tears to pass it by;
All dying on the Ground my self I cast,
And with my Arms her flying Feet imbrac’d;
But she from the kind force with Fury flung,
And on an old deformed Woman hung.
A Woman frightful, with a horrid Frown,
And o’re her angry Eyes, her Brows hung down:
One single Look of hers, fails not t’ impart,
A terror and despair to every Heart:
She fills the Universe with discontents,
And Torments for poor Lovers still invents.
This is the mighty _Tyrant Cruelty_,
Who with the _God of Love_ is still at enmity;
She keeps a glorious Train, and Glorious Court,
And thither Youth and Beauty still resort:
But oh my Soul form’d for Loves softer Sport,
Cou’d not endure the _Rigor_ of her Court!
Which her first rude Address did so affright,
That I all Trembling hasted from her Sight,
Leaving the unconcern’d and cruel Maid,
And on a Rivers Bank my self all fainting laid;
Which River from the obdurate Rock proceeds,
And cast’s it self i’th’ Melancholy Meads.

The River of Despair.

_Its Torrent has no other source,_
_But Tears from dying Lovers Eyes;_
_Which mixt with Sighs precipitates its course;_
_Softning the senseless Rocks in gliding by;_
_Whose doleful Murmurs have such Eloquence_
_That even the neighbouring Trees and flow’rs have pitying sense;_
_And Cruelty alone knows in what sort,_
_Against the moving sound to make defence,_
_Who laughs at all despair and Death as sport._

A dismal Wood the Rivers Banks do bear,
Securing even the day from entering there;
The Suns bright Rays a passage cannot find,
Whose Boughs make constant War against the Wind;
Yet through their Leaves glimmers a sullen Light;
Which renders all below more terrible than Night,
And shows upon the Bark of every Tree,
Sad stories carv’d of Love and Cruelty;
The Grove is fill’d with Sighs, with Crys, and Groans,
Reproaches and Complaints in dying Moans;
The Neighbouring Eccho’s nothing do repeat,
But what the Soul sends forth with sad regret;
And all things there no other Murmurs make,
But what from Language full of death they take,
‘Twas in this place dispairing ere to free
_Aminta_ from the Arms of _Cruelty,_
That I design’d to render up my Breath,
And charge the cruel Charmer with my Death.

The RESOLVE.

_Now, my fair Tyrant, I despise your Pow’r;_
_’.is Death, not you becomes my Conqueror;_
_This easy Trophy which your scorn_
_Led bleeding by your Chariot-side,_
_Your haughty Victory to adorn,_
_Has broke the Fetters of your Pride,_
_Death takes his quarrel now in hand,_
_And laughs at all your Eyes can do;_
_His pow’r thy Beauty can withstand,_
_Not all your Smiles can the grim victor bow._
_He’ll hold no Parley with your Wit,_
_Nor understands your wanton play,_
_Not all your Arts can force him to submit,_
_Not all your Charms can teach him to obey;_
_Your youth nor Beauty can inspire,_
_His frozen Heart with_ Love’s _perswasive fire;_
_Alas, you cannot warm him to one soft desire;_
_Oh mighty Death that art above,_
_The pow’r of Beauty or of_ Love!

Thus sullen with my Fate sometimes I grew,
And then a fit of softness wou’d ensue,
Then weep, and on my Knees implore my Fair,
And speak as if _Aminta present were_.

The QUESTION.

_Say, my fair Charmer, must I fall,_
_A Victim to your Cruelty?_
_And must I suffer as a Criminal?_
_Is it to_ Love _offence enough to dye?_
_Is this the recompence at last,_
_Of all the restless hours I’ve past?_
_How oft my Awe, and my Respect,_
_Have fed your Pride and Scorn?_
_How have I suffered your neglect,_
_Too mighty to be born?_
_How have I strove to hide that flame_
_You seem’d to disapprove?_
_How careful to avoid the name_
_Of Tenderness or_ Love?
_Least at that Word some guilty Blush shou’d own,_
_What your bright Eyes forbad me to make known._

Thus fill’d the neighbouring Eccho’s with my Cry,
Did nothing but reproach, complain and dye:
One day----
All hopeless on the Rivers Brink I stood,
Resolv’d to plunge into the Rapid Floud,
That Floud that eases Lovers in despair,
And puts an end to all their raging care:
‘Tis hither those betray’d by Beauty come,
And from this kinder stream receive their doom;
Here Birds of Ominous presages Nest,
Securing the forlorn Inhabitants from rest:
Here Mid-night-Owls, night-Crows, and Ravens dwell,
Filling the Air with Melancholy Yell:
Here swims a thousand Swans, whose doleful moan
Sing dying Loves Requiems with their own:
I gaz’d around, and many Lovers view’d,
Gastly and pale, who my design pursu’d;
But most inspir’d by some new hope, or won
To finish something they had left undone;
Some grand Important bus’ness of their Love,
Did from the fatal precipice remove:
For me, no Reason my designs disswade,
Till _Love_ all Breathless hasted to my Aid;
With force m’ unfixing Feet he kindly graspt,
And tenderly reproacht my desperate hast,
Reproach’d my Courage, and condemn’d my Wit,
That meanly cou’d t’ a Womans scorn submit,
That cou’d to feed her Pride, and make her vain,
Destroy an Age of Life, for a short date of pain:
He wou’d have left me here, but that I made, }
So many friendships as did soon perswade }
The yielding Boy, who Smil’d, resolv’d and staid. }
He rais’d my Head, and did again renew,
His Flatteries, and all the Arts he knew:
To call my Courage to its wonted place.
What, cry’d he--(sweetly Angry) shall a Face
Arm’d with the weak resistance of a Frown,
Force us to lay our Claims and Titles down?
Shall _Cruelty_ a peevish Woman prove,
Too strong to be overcome by Youth and Love?
No! rally all thy Vigor, all thy Charms,
And force her from the cruel Tyrants Arms;
Come, once more try th’ incens’d Maid to appease,
Death’s in our pow’r to grasp when ere we please;
He said----And I the heavenly voice attend,
Whilst towards the Rock our hasty steps we bend,
Before the Gates with all our forces lye,
Resolv’d to Conquer, or resolv’d to dye;
In vain Love all his feeble Engines rears,
His soft Artillery of Sighs and Tears,
Were all in vain--against the Winds were sent,
For she was proof ‘gainst them and Languishment:
Repeated Vows and Prayers mov’d no Remorse,
And ‘twas to Death alone I had Recourse:
_Love_ in my Anguish bore a mighty part,
He pityed, but he cou’d not ease my Heart:
A thousand several ways he had assay’d,
To touch the Heart of this obdurate Maid;
Rebated all his Arrow’s still return,
For she was fortify’d with Pride and Scorn.
The useless Weapons now away he flung,
Neglected lay his Ivory Bow unstrung,
His gentle Azure Wings were all unprun’d,
And the gay Plumes a fading Tinct assum’d;
Which down his snowy sides extended lay,
And now no more in wanton Motions play.
He blusht to think he had not left one dart,
Of force enough to wound _Aminta’s_ Heart;
He blusht to think she shou’d her freedom boast,
Whilst mine from the first Dart he sent was lost:
Thus tir’d with our Complaints; (whilst no relief
Rescu’d the fleeting Soul from killing Grief)
We saw a Maid approach, who’s lovely Face
Disdain’d the Beauties of the common race:
Soft were her Eyes, where unfeign’d Sorrow dwelt,
And on her Cheeks in pitying Show’rs they melt:
Soft was her Voice, and tenderly it strook,
The eager listening Soul, when e’re she spoke;
And what did yet my Courage more augment,
She wore this sadness for my languishment.

_And sighing said, ah Gods! have you_
_Beheld this dying Youth, and never found_
_A pity for a Heart so true,_
_Which dyes adoring her that gave the Wound?_
_His Youth, his Passion, and his Constancy,_
_Merits, ye God’s, a kinder Destiny._

With pleasure I attended what she said,
And wonder’d at the friendship of the Maid.
Of LOVE I ask’d her name? who answer’d me,
‘Twas _Pity_: Enemy to _Cruelty_:
Who often came endeavouring to abate,
The Languishments of the unfortunate;
And said, if she wou’d take my injur’d part,
She soon wou’d soften fair _Aminta’s_ Heart;
For she knows all the subtillest Arts to move,
And teach the timorous Virgin how to love.
With Joy I heard, and my Address apply’d,
To gain the Beauteous _Pity_ to my Side:
Nothing I left untold that might perswade,
The listening Virgin to afford her aid.
Told her my Passions, Sorrows, Pains and Fears,
And whilst I spoke, confirm’d ‘em with my Tears;
All which with down-cast Eyes she did attend,
And blushing said, my Tale had made a Friend;
I bow’d and thankt her with a chearful look,
Which being return’d by hers, her leave she took:
Now to _Aminta_ all in haste she hyes, }
Whom she assail’d with sorrow in her Eyes, }
And a sad story of my Miseries, }
Which she with so much tenderness exprest,
As forc’d some Sighs from the fair Charmers Breast;
The subtil _Pity_ found she should prevail,
And oft repeats th’ insinuating Tale,
And does insensibly the Maid betray,
Where _Love_ and I, Panting and Trembling lay;
Where she beheld th’ effects of her disdain,
And in my languid Face she read my Pain.
Down her fair Cheeks some pitying drops did glide;
Which cou’d not be restrain’d by feebler Pride;
Against my anguish she had no defence,
Such Charms had grief, my Tears such Eloquence;
My Sighs and Murmurs she began t’ approve,
And listen’d to the story of my LOVE.
With tenderness, she did my Sufferings hear,
And even my Reproaches now cou’d bear:
At last my trembling Hand in hers she took,
And with a charming Blush, these Words she spoke:

I.

_Faithful_ Lisander, _I your Vows approve,_
_And can no longer hide._
_My Sense of all your suffering Love,_
_With the thin Veil of Pride._

II.

_’.was long in Vain that Pity did assail,_
_My cold and stubborn Heart;_
_Ere on th’ insensible she cou’d prevail,_
_To render any Part._

III.

_To her for all the tenderness,_
_Which in my Eyes you find,_
_You must your gratitude express,_
_’.is_ Pity _only makes me kind._