Sylvia by Sir George Etherege

The Nymph that undoes me, is fair and unkind;
No less than a wonder by Nature designed.
She’s the grief of my heart, the joy of my eye ;
And the cause of a flame that never can die !

Her mouth, from whence wit still obligingly flows,
Has the beautiful blush, and the smell, of the rose.
Love and Destiny both attend on her will;
She wounds with a look; with a frown, she can kill!

The desperate Lover can hope no redress;
Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess!
In Sylvia they meet; so unhappy am I !
Who sees her, must love; and who loves her, must die!

Sir George Etherege – VOITURES URANIA

Hopeless, I languish out my days ;

Struck with Urania’s conqu’ring eyes!
The wretch, at whom she darts these rays,

Must feel the wound until he dies!

Though endless be her cruelty;

Calling her beauties to my mind,
I bow beneath her tyranny.

And dare not murmur’ She’s unkind! *

Reason, this tameness does upbraid;

Proff’ring to arm in my defence:
But when I call her to my aid.

She ‘s more a traitor than my Sense!

No sooner I the war declare,

But, straight, her succour she denies;
And joining forces with the Fair,

Confirms the conquest of her eyes.

Cease, anxious World! your fruitless pain

To grasp forbidden store!
Your studied labours shall prove vain.

Your alchemy, unblest ;
Whilst seeds of far more precious ore

Are ripened in my breast.

My breast, the Forge of happier Love,

Where my Lucinda lives.
And the rich stock does so improve,

As she her art employs,
That ev’ry smile and touch she gives,

Turn all to Golden Joys!

Since then, we can such treasures raise;

Let ‘s no expense refuse !
In Love, let ‘s lay out all our days!

How can we e’er be poor;
When ev’ry blessing that we use

Begets a thousand more?

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