upon leaving his mistress
‘T is not that I am weary grown
Of being yours, and yours alone;
But with what face can I incline
To danmn you to be only mine?
You, whom some kinder power did fashion,
By merit and by inclination,
The joy of at least one whole nation.
–
Let meaner spirits of your sex
With humbler aims their throughts perplex,
And boast if by their arts they can
Contrive to make one happy man;
Whilst, moved by an impartial sense,
Favors like nature you dispense
With universal influence.
–
See, the kind seed-receiving earth
To every grain affords a birth.
On her no showers unwelcome fall;
Her willing womb retains ‘em all.
And shall my Celia be confined?
No! Live up to thy mighty mind,
And be the mistress of mankind.
—
sept. 1680
