The art of love in two books. Written both to men and ladies. A new poem.
About this Item
- Title
- The art of love in two books. Written both to men and ladies. A new poem.
- Author
- Hopkins, Charles, 1664?-1700?
- Publication
- London :: printed for Joseph Wild, at the Elephant at Charing-Cross,
- 1700. Where gentlemen and ladies may pick novels at 6 s. per doz. and be furnish'd with most sorts of plays.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Subject terms
- Love poetry -- Early works to 1800.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A23605.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"The art of love in two books. Written both to men and ladies. A new poem." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A23605.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2024.
Pages
Page [unnumbered]
TO THE AUTHOR, ON HIS ART of LOVE.
IF Numbers can immortalize a Name, And to descending Times transmit the Poet's Fame. Then, happy Youth! Thy sweet, harmonieus Lays, Fix the Foundations of a lasting Praise. Thou, Loves Physician! Thou can'st best impart, The Sovraign Balm to Cure the bleeding Heart. Of Love's Maeanders with such skill you Write, Sure, Cupid's wings sustain'd your Muse's Flight. If Transmigration more than fancy be, The Soul of Ovid is transfus'd in thee. Love was a Labrynth▪ like the Cretan Maze, Its Paths untrod, a Wilderness its Ways; Till Araidne's kind conducting Clue, Your Muse, disclos'd it; Love's best Thescus YouPage [unnumbered]
What Gallus, nor Propertius could express,
What greater Ovid touch'd with ill Success,
With lustre sparkles in an English Dress.
No Thought unchast thy melting Muse affords,
But charming Sense drest in as charming Words.
The British Maids shall read thy Verse and smile,
Imploring Venus to reward the toyl
Of thee, the lost Columbus of her Isle.
Whilst Cytharea on Love's Throne shall sit,
Whilst Phaebus Reigns the Lawrell'd God of Wit,
Envy nor Time shall blast what you have writ.
Let Dryden, Prince of all, in Satyr Reign,
Let Congreve Charm, with his rich, Comick Vein,
Love be thy Charge, do thou Love's Cause maintain.
A. S.