Than govern peaceably at Home.
But trust me, Celia, trust me when
Apollo's self inspires my Pen; 20 One Hour of Love's Delights outweighs
Whole Years of universal Praise;
And one Adorer kindly us'd,
Gives truer Joys than Crouds refus'd.
For what does Youth and Beauty serve? 25 Why more than all your Sex deserve?
Why such soft alluring Arts
To charm our Eyes, and melt our Hearts?
By our Loss you nothing gain,
Unless you love, you please in vain. 30
____________________To Love A Sonnet1
LET others sing of Mars, and of his Train,
Of great Exploits, and Honourable Scars,
The many dire Effects of Civil Wars,
Death's Triumphs, and Encomiums of the Slain.
I sing the Conflicts I my self sustain, 5 With her (Great Love) the Cause of all my Cares,
Who wounds with Looks, and fetters with her Hairs.
This mournful Tale requires a Tragick Strain.
Eyes were the Arms, did first my Peace controul,
Wounded by them, a Source of Tears there sprung, 10
Running like Blood from my afflicted Soul;
Thou Love, to whom this Conquest does belong,
Leave me at least the Comfort to condole,
And as thou wound'st my Heart, inspire my Song.