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.
About this Item
- 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.
- Rights/Permissions
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- Cite this Item
-
"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 15, 2024.
Pages
Page 79
And when two Souls are chang'd and mixed so,
It is what they and none but they can do.
This, this is Friendship, that abstracted flame
Which groveling Mortals know not how to name.
All Love is sacred, and the Marriage-tie
Hath much of Honour and Divinity.
But Lust, Design, or some unworthy ends
May mingle there, which are despis'd by Friends.
Passion hath violent extreams, and thus
All oppositions are contiguous.
So when the end is serv'd their Love will bate,
If Friendship make it not more fortunate:
Friendship, that Love's Elixir, that pure fire
Which burns the clearer' cause it burns the higher.
For Love, like earthly fires (which will decay If the material fuel be away)
Is with offensive smoke accompanied,
And by resistance only is supplied:
But Friendship, like the fiery Element,
With its own Heat and Nourishment content,
Where neither hurt, nor smoke, nor noise is made,
Scorns the assistance of a foreign aid.
Friendship (like Heraldry) is hereby known,
Richest when plainest, bravest when alone;
Calm as a Virgin, and more Innocent
Than sleeping Doves are, and as much content
As Saints in Visions; quiet as the Night,
But clear and open as the Summer's light;
United more than Spirits Faculties,
Higher in thoughts than are the Eagle's eyes;
What shall I say? when we true friends are grown,
W'are like—Alas, w'are like our selves alone.