The Temple of Death, Art of Poetry, Duel of the Stags, etc (1695)/To a Coquet-Beauty

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TO A

Coquet Beauty.

By the same Author.

From Wars and Plagues come no such harms,As from a Nymph so full of Charms,So much Sweetness in her Face,In her Motions such a Grace,In her kind inviting EyesSuch a soft Enchantment lies,That we please our selves too soon,And are with vain hopes undone
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After all her softness, weAre but Slaves, while she is free;Free, alas, from all desire,Except to set the World on fire.
Thou, fair Dissembler, dost but thusDeceive thy self as well as us;Like Ambitious Monarchs, thouWould'st rather force Mankind to bow,And venture o'er the World to roam,Than govern with content at home.But trust me, Celia, trust me whenApollo's self inspires my Pen,One hour of Love's Delights out-weighsWhole Years of Universal Praise,And one Adorer kindly used,Is of more use, than Crowds refused.
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For what does Youth and Beauty serve?Why more than all your Sex deserve?Why such soft alluring ArtsTo charm our Eyes, and melt our Hearts?By our loss, you nothing gain;Unless you love, you please in vain.
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