LOVE'S TRIUMPH:
OR, THE
Batchelors Warning-Piece.
With the CHARACTER of a FALSE LOVER.
Love our only Joy and Grace,
Love from Heaven derives his race:
None but Heavenly Souls can prove
Fit receptions of true Love.
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1.
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ANgels Happiness doth move
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In the eternal Sphere of Love:
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When their Maker they would praise,
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Love can do't a thousand ways:
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Love begins the Hymns, and Love
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Ends the Harmony above.
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2.
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Love doth more than this; for he
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Moves th'All-ruling Deity,
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He to th' Chaos form did bring,
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He gave Life to everything;
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All was made and all doth move
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By the Influence of Love.
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3.
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Sometimes Love is pleas'd to shew
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His Empires large extent below;
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Then he shoots immortal Darts
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Into well-prepared hearts.
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From the bright and blessed Skies
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Down to silly Worms he flies.
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4.
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He descends, but with milde force
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Doth our Hearts from Earth divorce;
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Straight we burn with holy Fire,
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Love doth mount our pinions higher,
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Love on Contemplation flies,
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On Love's Wings ourselves do rise.
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The Second Part.
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5.
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How came Woman to deprive
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Love of his Prerogative?
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Woman, but a beauteous snare,
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Woman so destructive fair,
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Woman, whose bright Eyes impart
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Heaven, though Hell be in her Heart.
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6.
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How came Woman thus to reign?
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She doth cozen, she doth feign,
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She both flatters and betrays;
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First she sings, and then she slays:
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Yet she doth the Crown obtain;
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How came Woman thus to reign?
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7.
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Mortals, you mistake your aim,
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Burning in forbidden flame;
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They may be with caution us'd,
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When they rule you, you're abus'd:
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You your Bodies may bestow,
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But to Heaven your Hearts you owe.
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8.
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Then joyn your Hands and something more,
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So you forbear but to adore.
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With her you may your person joyn;
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But never offer at her Shrine:
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Upon kind Heaven your Soul confer,
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Sure 'tis more fit for him than her.
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9.
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If they had a faithful Heart,
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You might yours to them impart;
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Then at least (though 'twere not just)
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You would have some place of trust:
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But their Hearts inconstant now;
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And though yours break, they will not bow.
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10.
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If they please, they can express
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Much of Love and Gentleness;
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But their Tongues, like Ships, do sail
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Strongly mov'd with Fancies gale,
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Though they plow the Ocean deep,
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No track of them the Waves can keep.
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Why should this fair Idol be
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Rival to the Deity?
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Break her Altars, burn her face,
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And retrive your hearts again.
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------ Varium & mutabile semper
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Faemina ------ Virgil.
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