Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts
Barker, Jane.
Page  122

UPON A Gentlewomans Refusal of a LETTER from one she was ingaged to.

NOT hear my Message, but the Bearer shun!
What hellish Fiend inrag'd cou'd more have done?
Surely the Gods design to make my Fate
Of all most wretched, and unfortunate.
'Twas but a Letter, and the Words were few,
Fill'd with kind wishes, but my Fate's too true.
I'm lost for ever, banish'd from her sight,
Although by Oaths and Vows she's mine by right.
Ye Gods! look down, and hear my Sorrows moan,
Like the faint Echoes of a dying groan.
But how is't possible so fair a Face
Shou'd have a Soul so treacherous and base,
To promise constancy, and then to prove
False and unkind to him she vow'd to love?
Page  123Oh, Barb'rous Sex! whose Nature is to rook
nd cheat Mankind with a betraying look.
Hence I'll keep guard within from all your Charms,
And ever more resist all fresh Alarms;
'll trace your windings through the darkest Cell,
And find your Stratagems, though lodg'd in Hell.
Your gilded Paintings, and each treacherous Wile,
By which so eas'ly you Mankind beguile;
Winds are more constant than a Womans Mind,
Who holds to none but to the present kind:
For when by absence th' Object is remov'd,
The time is gone and spent wherein she lov'd.
And is it not the very same with me,
To slight my Love, when I must absent be?
Perhaps sh'has seen a more atracting Face,
And a new Paramour has taken place.
And shall my injur'd Soul stand Mute, and live,
Whilst that another reaps what she can give?
Glutted with pleasures, and again renew
Their past delights, although my claim and due
Oh, no, my Soul's inrag'd, revenge calls on,
I'll tear her piece-meal e'er my fury's gone;
Page  124Stretch out my Arm all o'er th' inconstant stain,
And then cleave down her treach'rous limbs in twai••
The greatest plagues Invention e'er cou'd ind,
Is not sufficient for th' inconstant Mind.
I think I have o'er-come my Passion quite,
And cou'd not love, although 'twere in despight.
As for the Man who must enjoy my room,
He'll soon be partner in my wretched doom;
He by her Faith, alas, no more will find,
Than when she swore to me to prove most kind.
Therefore I'll leave her, and esteem her less;
And in my self both joy and acquiesce.
But oh, my Heart, there's something moves there still,
Sure 'tis the vigour of unbounded Will.
Too much, I fear, my Fetters are not gone,
Or I at least again must put them on.
Methinks I feel my Heart is not got free,
Nor all my Passions set at liberty,
From the bright glances of her am'rous Eye.
Down Rebel-love, and hide thy boyish Head,
I'm too much Man to hear thy follies plead:
Go seek some other Breast of lower note;
Go make some Old decrepit Cuckold dote:
Page  125egone, I say, or strait thy Quiver, Bow,
And thou thy self fall to destruction too.
But oh, I'm gone, my Foes have all got ground,
My Brains grow giddy, and my Head turns round.
My Heart's intangled with the Nets of Love;
My Passions rave, and now ye Gods above
Help on my doom, and heave me to your Skies;
Look, look, Mervinda's just before my Eyes:
Help me to catch her e'er her Shadow fly,
And I fall downward from this rowling Sky.