A LA MALADE.
Reading edition
Ah, lovely Amoret! the care Of all that know what's good or fair! Is heaven become our rival too? Had the rich gifts conferr'd on you So amply thence, the common end Of giving lovers—to pretend? Hence, to this pining sickness (meant To weary thee to a consent Of leaving us) no power is given 9 Thy beauties to impair; for heaven Solicits thee with such a care, As roses from their stalks we tear, When we would still preserve them new And fresh, as on the bush they grew.
With such a grace you entertain, And look with such contempt on pain, That languishing you conquer more, And wound us deeper than before. So lightnings which in storms appear, Scorch more than when the skies are clear. 20
And as pale sickness does invade Your frailer part, the breaches made In that fair lodging, still more clear Make the bright guest, your soul, appear. So nymphs o'er pathless mountains borne, Their light robes by the brambles torn From their fair limbs, exposing new And unknown beauties to the view Of following gods, increase their flame And haste to catch the flying game. 30