To a Lady retiring into a
Monastery.
HAT Breaft but yours can hold the double
Of fierce Devotion, and of fond Defire?
Love would fhine forth, were not your Zeal fo bright, Whose glaring Flames eclipfe his gentler Light: Lefs feems the Faith that Mountains can remove, Than this which triumphs over Youth and Love.
But shall some threat'ning Prieft divide us two? What worse than that could all his Curfes do? Thus with a Fright fome have refign'd their Breath, And poorly dy'd only for fear of Death.
Heav'n fees our Paflions with Indulgence fill,
And they who love well, can do nothing ill.
While to us nothing but ourselves is dear,
Should the World frown, yet what have we to fear?
Fame, Wealth, and Pow'r, thofe high-priz'd Gifts
The low Concerns of a lefs happy State,
Are far beneath us: Fortune's self may take
Her Aim at us, yet no Impreffion make;
Let Worldlings ask her Help, or fear her Harms;
We can lie fafe, lock'd in cach other's Arms,
Like the bleft Saints, eternal Raptures know;
And flight thofe Storms that vainly reft below.
Yet this, all this you are refolv'd to quit;
I fee my Ruin, and I muft fubmit:
But think, O think, before you prove unkind,
How loft a Wretch you leave forlorn behind.
Malignant Envy, mix'd with Hate and Fear,
Revenge for Wrongs too burdenfome to bear,
Ev'n Zeal itself, from whence all Mischiefs fpring,
Have never done fo barbarous a Thing.
With fuch a Fate the Heav'ns decreed to vex
ARMIDA Once, tho' of the fairer Sex ;
RINALDO fhe had charm'd with fo much Art,
Hers was his Pow'r, his Perfon, and his Heart;
Honour's high Thoughts no more his Mind could
She footh'd his Rage, and turn'd it all to Love:
When ftreight a Guft of fierce Devotion blows,
And in a Moment all her Joys o'erthrows :
The poor ARMIDA tears her golden Hair,
Matchless till now, for Love, or for Despair.
Who is not mov'd while the fad Nymph complains?
Yet you now act what TASSO only feigns;
And after all our Vows, our Sighs, our Tears,
My banish'd Sorrows, and your conquer'd Fears;
So many Doubts, fo many Dangers past,
Vifions of Zcal muft vanquifh me at last.
Thus, in great HoMER's War, throughout the Field
Some Hero ftill made all things mortal yield;
But when a God once took the vanquish'd Side,
The Weak prevail'd, and the Victorious dy❜d.
The VISION.
Written during a Sea Voyage, when fent to command the Forces for the Relief of Tangier.
'Ithin the filent Shades of foft Repose,
Where Fancy's boundless Stream for ever
Where the enfranchis'd Soul at ease can play,
Tir'd with the toilfome Bufinefs of the Day,
Where Princes gladly reft their weary Heads,
And change uneafy Thrones for downy Beds;
Where seeming Joys delude despairing Minds,
And where ev'n Jealousy fome Quiet finds ;
There I and Sorrow for a while could part,
Sleep clos'd my Eyes, and eas'd a fighing Heart.
But here too soon a wretched Lover found In deepest Griefs the Sleep can ne'er be found; With ftrange Surprize my troubled Fancy brings Odd antick Shapes of wild unheard-of things; Dismal and terrible they all appear,
My Soul was shook with an unusual Fear.
But as when Visions glad the Eyes of Saints,
And kind Relief attends devout Complaints,
Some beauteous Angel in bright Charms will shine,
And spreads a Glory round, that's all divine;
Juft fuch a bright and beauteous Form appears,
The Monsters vanish, and with them my Fears.
The fairest Shape was then before me brought,
That Eyes e'er faw, or Fancy ever thought;
How weak are Words to fhew fuch Excellence,
Which ev'n confounds the Soul, as well as Sense!
And, while our Eyes transporting Pleasure find,
It stops not here, but ftrikes the very Mind.
Some Angel fpeak her Praise! no human Tongue,
But with its utmost Art must do her Wrong.
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