_A Lady lovely, with a charming Meen,_ _Gay, frank, and open, and an Air serene;_ _In every Look she does her Soul impart,_ _With ease one reads the Sent’ments of her Heart;_ _Her Humour generous, and her Language free,_ _And all her Conversation graceful Liberty:_ _Her_ Villa _is Youth’s general Rendezvous,_ _Where in delightful Gardens, winding Groves,_ _The happy Lovers dwell with secresie,_ _Un-interrupted by fond Jealousie:_ _’.is there with Innocence, they do and say_ _A thousand things, to pass the short-liv’d day:_ _There free from censuring Spies, they entertain,_ _And pleasures tast, un-intermixt with pain._ ‘Tis there we see, what most we do adore, And yet we languish to discover more. Hard fate of Lovers, who are ne’er content, In an Estate so Blest and Innocent. But still press forward, urg’d by soft desires, To Joys that oft extinguishes their Fires; In this degree I found a happiness, Which nought but wishing more cou’d render less. I saw _Aminta_ here without controul, And told her all the Secrets of my Soul; Whilst she t’ express her height of Amity, Communicated all her Thoughts to me. The REFLECTION. _Oh with what Pleasure did I pass away._ _The too swift course of the delightful day!_ _What Joys I found in being a Slave_ _To every Conquering Smile she gave,_ _Whose every sweetness wou’d inspire_ _The Cinick and the Fool with Love;_ _Alas, I needed no more Fire,_ _Who did its height already prove:_ _Ah my_ Aminta! _had I been content,_ _With this degree of Ravishment,_ _With the nee’r satisfy’d delight I took,_ _Only to prattle Love, to sigh and look,_ _With the dull Bartering Kiss for Kiss,_ _And never aim’d at higher Bliss,_ _With all the stealths forgetful Lovers make,_ _When they their_ Little Covenants _break:_ _To these sad shades of Death I’d not been hurl’d,_ _And thou mightst still have blest the drooping World;_ _But though my Pleasure were thus vast and high,_ } _Yet Loves insatiate Luxury_ } _Still wish’d reveal’d the unknown Mystery._ }