} The Temple Gates are open Night and Day, _Love’s_ Votaries at all hours Devotions pay, A Priest of _Hymen_ gives attendance near, But very rarely shows his Function here, For Priest cou’d ne’r the Marriage-cheat improve, Were there no other Laws, but those of Love! A Slavery generous Heav’n did ne’r design, Nor did its first lov’d Race of men confine; A Trick, that Priest, whom Avarice cunning made, Did first contrive, then sacred did perswade, That on their numerous and unlucky Race, They might their base got Wealth securely place. Curse--cou’d they not their own loose Race inthral, But they must spread the infection over all! That Race, whose Brutal heat was grown so wild, That even the Sacred Porches they defil’d; And Ravisht all that for Devotion came, Their Function, nor the Place restrains their flame. But _Love’s_ soft Votaries no such injuries fear, No pamper’d _Levits_ are in Pension here; Here are no fatted Lambs to Sacrifice, } No Oyl, fine Flower, or Wines of mighty price, } The subtil Holy Cheats to Gormandize. } _Love’s_ soft Religion knows no Tricks nor Arts, All the Attoning Offerings here are Hearts. The Mystery’s silent, without noyse or show, } In which the Holy Man has nought to do, } The Lover is both Priest and Victim too. } Hither with little force I did perswade, My lovely timorously yielding Maid, Implor’d we might together Sacrifice, And she agrees with Blushing down-cast Eyes; ‘Twas then we both our Hearts an Offering made, Which at the Feet of the young _God_ we laid, With equal Flames they Burnt; with equal Joy, But with a Fire that neither did destroy; Soft was its Force and Sympathy with them, Dispers’d it self through every trembling Limb; We cou’d not hide our tender new surprize, We languisht and confest it with our Eyes; Thus gaz’d we--when the Sacrifice perform’d, We found our Hearts entire--but still they burn, But by a Blessed change in taking back, The lovely Virgin did her Heart mistake: Her Bashful Eyes favour’d _Love’s_ great design, I took her Burning Victim: and she mine. Thus, _Lysidas_, without constraint or Art, I reign’d the _Monarch_ of _Aminta’s_ Heart; My great, my happy Title she allows, And makes me Lord of all her tender Vows, All my past Griefs in coming Joys were drown’d, And with eternal Pleasure I was Crown’d; My Blessed hours in the extream of Joy, With my soft Languisher I still imploy; When I am Gay, Love Revels in her Eyes, When sad--there the young God all panting lies. A thousand freedoms now she does impart, }