Ephelia Poems

Since you dare Brave me, with a Rival's Name,
You shall prevail, and I will quit my Claim:
For know, proud Maid, I Scorn to call him mine,

Farewell my dearer half, joy of my heart,
Heaven only knows how loath I am to part:
Whole Months but hours seem, when you are here,

I saw, and started at the sight,
And interchangeably looked red and white;
I felt my Blood run swiftly to my heart,

How Happy was the World before men found
Those metals, Nature hid beneath the Ground!
All Necessary things She placed in View,

Fantastic, wanton God, what dost thou mean
To break my Rest? make me grow pale and lean,
And offer Sighs, and yet not know to who,

had you never loved,

Oh cruel Fate, when wilt thou weary be?
When satisfied with tormenting me?
What have I e'er designed, but thou hast crossed?

Why do I Love? go, ask the Glorious Sun
Why every day it round the world doth Run:

Sir, by your Merit led, to you I bring
A Laurel-wreath, but 'tis too mean a thing
For your high Worth and Parts, which we

Best of thy Sex! if Sacred Friendship can
Dwell in the Bosom of inconstant Man;
As cold, and clear as Ice, as Snow unstained,

Incensed Fair One! if Forgiveness be
Not in thy Power to extend to Me;
Which to believe, were such an impious Thought,

Nature that had been long by Art outdone,
Resolved a Piece to frame;
So Beauteous, that saucy Art should own,

Fair Excellence! such strange Commands you lay,
I neither dare Dispute, nor can Obey:
Had I the sweet

As he that Plants a tender Vine, takes care
To shelter it from the cold Northern Air,
And place it where the Vigor of the Sun

Those that can tell Heaven's Joy, when News is brought
That some Poor Sinner's dear Conversion's wrought,

At your Entreaty, I at last have writ
This whimsy, that has nigh nonplused my wit:
The Toy I've long enjoyed, if it may

Farewell ungrateful Man, Sail to some Land,
Where Treach'ry and Ingratitude command;
There meet with all the Plagues that Man can bear,

do not think my Heart

Young Clovis, by a lucky Chance,
His Loved

I Thought, I'll Swear, that I could freely part,
With the small Theft I'd made of

The Best Poem Of Ephelia

To My Rival.

Since you dare Brave me, with a Rival's Name,
You shall prevail, and I will quit my Claim:
For know, proud Maid, I Scorn to call him mine,
Whom thou durst ever hope to have made thine:
Yet I confess, I loved him once so well,
His presence was my Heav'n, his absence Hell:
With gen'rous excellence I filled his Breast,
And in sweet Beauteous Forms his Person dressed;
For him I did Heaven, and its Pow'r despise,
And only lived by th'Influence of his Eyes:
I feared not Rivals, for I thought that he
That was possessed of such a Prize as me,
All meaner Objects would Contemn,1 and Slight,
Nor let an abject thing Usurp my Right:
But when I heard he was so wretched Base
To pay devotion to thy wrinkled Face
I Banished him my sight, and told the Slave,
He had no Worth, but what my Fancy gave:
'Twas I that raised him to this Glorious State,
And can as easily Annihilate:
But let him live, Branded with Guilt, and Shame,
And Shrink into the Shade from whence he came;
His Punishment shall be, the Loss of Me,
And be Augmented, by his gaining Thee.
1. Disdain

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