The Disappointment

1.

Lisander,
Cloris, that lov’d Maid,
All things did with his love conspire,
Day,
Charriot, drawn by Fire,
Sea,
And left no light to guide the World,
Cloris brighter Eyes was hurl’d
 

2.

Thicket, made for love,
Maids consent,
She with a charming languishment,
Her hands, his Bosome, softly meet,
Feet;

3.

Eyes sweet, and yet severe,
Love, and shame, confus’dly strive,
Lisander give;
Ear,
I cannot—must not give—retire,
Or take that life, whose chiefest part,
Heart.
 

4

Love,
Minutes to improve,
Lips, her Neck, her Hair!
Each touch! her new desires Allarmes!
His burning trembling Hand he prest,
Breast,
While he lay panting in his Armes!
Beauties lye,
Trophies, of the Enemy,
 

4

And now without respect, or fear,
Object of his Vows.
His love no modesty allows.
By swift degrees, advancing where.
Hand that Altar seiz’d,
Gods of Love, do Sacrifice!
Throne! that Paradice!
Fountain, from whose Trills,
The melted Soul, in liquid drops destils!
 
6.
Lips, encountring his,
Bodies, as their Souls they joyn’d,
Moss!
Eyes appear’d like Humid light,
Day, and Night,
Stars, whose Fires decay;
And now no signs of life she shows,

7.

He saw how at her length she lay,
Bosome bare;
Robes, through which appear,
Pride, and shame:
She does her softest sweets dispence,
Virgin, innocence,
Victim, to Loves sacred flame.
Shepherd, lyes,
Sacrifice.
 

8

Thousand joys,
Swayne,
Pleasure! which too much love destroys!
The willing Garment by he laid,
Heav’n all open to his view.
Mad to possess, himself he threw,
Maid!
Gods conspire!

9.

Art to live;
Nerves Invade,
Youth assay’d,
Vigor back;
In vain he toyles, in vain commands.
Insensible, fell weeping in his Hands.
 

10.

Love, ond Fate, were too severe.
Lisander, in despair,
Reason, with his life.
Active fire,
Charmes cou’d move,
Rage, that had debauch’d his love.
 

11.

Trance,
Which love and soft desire, had bred,
Or guided by design, or chance
Fabulous  Priapus,
Potent God (as Poets feign)
Shepherdess,
Fern, upon the Plain)
Fingers back,
Verdent Leaves a Snake;
 

12.

Cloris, her fair hand withdrew,
God, of her defiers,
Fires;
Flow’rs bath’d in the Morning Dew;
Nymphs confusion guess?
The blood forsook the kinder place,
Face,
Lisanders Armes she fled,
Bed.
 

13.

Lightning, through the Grove, she hyes,
Daphne, from the Delphick God;
Grassy Rcad,
Eyes;
Wind, that wanton’d in her Hair,
And with her ruffled Garments plaid,
Maid;
Gods e’re made of Fair.
Venus, when her Love, was slain,
Plain,
 

14.

Nymphs resentments, none but I,
Lisanders, Soul,
Distiny:
Storms,
God, his fury spares,
Berth, his Fate, his Stars,
Sheherdesses Charmes;
Whose soft bewitching influence,
Hell, of Impotence.