Poems by the most deservedly admired Mrs. Katherine Philips, the matchless Orinda ; to which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace, tragedies ; with several other translations out of French.

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Title
Poems by the most deservedly admired Mrs. Katherine Philips, the matchless Orinda ; to which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace, tragedies ; with several other translations out of French.
Author
Philips, Katherine, 1631-1664.
Publication
London :: Printed by J.M. for H. Herringman ...,
1667.
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"Poems by the most deservedly admired Mrs. Katherine Philips, the matchless Orinda ; to which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace, tragedies ; with several other translations out of French." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A54716.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 23, 2024.

Pages

SCEN. I.
Sabina alone.
I Must my party chuse in this sad strife, And either be all Sister, or all Wife; I'le no more vain divided cares express, But somewhat wish, and fear a little less: Yet ah! what party in this dismal Fate? Can I a Husband, or a Brother hate? Nature and love for each does intercede, And sence of Honour for them both does plead: Let their sublimer thoughts yet govern mine, And so my different duties will combine: Their Honour is the Object I'le adore, Their Vertue imitate, and fear no more. Since there's such beauty in the death they court, I must unmov'd encounter the report, And no more think my Fate compassion wants, But weigh the Cause, and not the Combatants: The Conquerors I'le with that gladness view,

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As will from all their Family be due; And not reflecting at whose bloods expence, Their Vertues raise them to that eminence, I'le in their Houses fame concern'd appear; Here I am Wife, and am a Daughter there, And to each party am so strictly ty'd, That I must be on the triumphant side: Fortune though thou art studious in thy spight, Yet I have learnd thence to extract delight; And now can fearless see the fight, the slain Without despair, the Victors without pain. Flattering delusion I sweet, but gross deceit, My labouring Spirits, weak and flying, cheat; By whose false light my dazled Soul's misled, Alas how quickly is thy comfort fled! A flash of Lightning thus relieves the night, Making that darker by its hasty flight, As these faint beams of joy my Soul betray'd, But to involve it in a thicker shade: For Heav'n which saw my griefs, by this decrease, Hath dearly sold me this short minutes peace, And my griev'd heart from no one wound is free'd, At which a Husband, or a Brother bleed; Which sad reflection so much terrour draws, I onely view the Actors, not the Cause: Nor can the Conquerours fame salute my thought, But to remember with whose Blood 'twas bought; The vanquish't Family claims all my care, Here I'm a Wife, and am a Daughter there, And to each party am so strictly ty'd, That I must be on the unhappy side. Is this the Peace I thought so long deferr'd? And thus great Gods have you my Prayers heard? What Thunder-bolts then can your anger find, Since y'are thus cruel when you would be kind? Or which way will you punish an offence, If thus you treat the Vows of innocence?
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