The art of love in two books. Written both to men and ladies. A new poem.

The Vision.

YOung, Infant Love is in fair Gardens nurst, Amasia charm'd me in fair Gardens first. Roving thro' flowry Gardens, fragrant Bow'rs, I first beheld her on a Bed of Flow'rs. All ore surpris'd, all ravisht with the view, Soft, Infant sighs with painful risings flew, My Blood thrill'd quick, and light'nings peirc'd me thro'. My panting Heart did with short tremblings move, In all the longing Agonies of Love. Her blooming Beauties did my wonder raise, The more I gaz'd, the more I wish'd to gaze. I gaz'd, and sigh'd, then, sighing gaz'd again, And was at once all extasie, and pain.

Methinks, I see her, as she then was lay'd, With careless Charms on the fair, painted Bed. Her fragrant breath perfum'd the Neighb'ring air, And all the Flow'rs spread more than usual fair. With her loose Robes did wanton Zephirs play, And flew in whistlings, as if pleas'd, away. One Snowy Hand did in her Bosom lye, The other thrown, as if neglected, by; On that she lean'd her Head in soft repose, While her dear Breasts with swelling motions rose. At awful distance did I wondring stand, E're I approach'd to kiss her Beauteous Hand. Softly I mov'd to the Celestial Maid, As if not she, but I the Theif had play'd. Gently I kneel'd, afraid to wake the fair, And view'd the wond'rous charm of Beauty there. My courage quite forsook my sickly Soul, And hopes and fears did in my fancy rowl.

Thro' tedious strugglings of my thoughts I broke, And kiss'd her Hand, before she yet awoke. Thus, with short tremblings still I fondly prest, And kiss't, and sigh'd, and then again I kiss't. Assaults too feirce at last my flames did make, Too much I Lov'd her, now too soon awake. In hast, the frighted Virgin trembling rose, Nor look'd behind, fled me, and fled repose. Silent I stood, and saw her hast away, No power was left me but the power to stay, And fall all ravisht, where the charmer lay.