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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345281" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From The First Act Of The Aminta Of Tasso</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphne's Answer to Sylvia, declaring she<br>   should esteem all as Enemies, <br>   who should talk to her of LOVE.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">THEN, to the snowy Ewe, in thy esteem, <br>The Father of the Flock a Foe must seem, <br>The faithful Turtles to their yielding Mates. <br>The cheerful Spring, which Love and Joy creates, <br>That reconciles the World by soft Desires, <br>And tender Thoughts in ev'ry Breast inspires, <br>To you a hateful Season must appear, <br>Whilst Love prevails, and all are Lovers here. <br>Observe the gentle Murmurs of that Dove, <br>And see, how billing she confirms her Love! <br>For this, the Nightingale displays her Throat, <br>And Love, Love, Love, is all her Ev'ning Note. <br>The very Tygers have their tender Hours, <br>And prouder Lyons bow beneath Love's Pow'rs. <br>Thou, prouder yet than that imperious Beast, <br>Alone deny'st him Shelter in thy Breast. <br>But why should I the Creatures only name <br>That Sense partake, as Owners of this Flame? <br>Love farther goes, nor stops his Course at these: <br>The Plants he moves, and gently bends the Trees. <br>See how those Willows mix their am'rous Boughs; <br>And, how that Vine clasps her supporting Spouse! <br>The silver Firr dotes on the stately Pine; <br>By Love those Elms, by Love those Beeches join. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But view that Oak; behold his rugged Side: <br>Yet that rough Bark the melting Flame do's hide. <br>All, by their trembling Leaves, in Sighs declare <br>And tell their Passions to the gath'ring Air. <br>Which, had but Love o'er Thee the least Command, <br>Thou, by their Motions, too might'st understand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">   AMINTOR, being ask'd by THIRSIS <br>   Who is the Object of his Love? <br>   speaks as follows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Amint. THIRSIS! to Thee I mean that Name to show, <br>Which, only yet our Groves, and Fountains know: <br>That, when my Death shall through the Plains be told, <br>Thou with the wretched Cause may'st that unfold <br>To every-one, who shall my Story find <br>Carv'd by thy Hand, in some fair Beeches rind; <br>Beneath whose Shade the bleeding Body lay: <br>That, when by chance she shall be led that way, <br>O'er my sad Grave the haughty Nymph may go, <br>And the proud Triumph of her Beauty shew <br>To all the Swains, to Strangers as they pass; <br>And yet at length she may (but Oh! alas! <br>I fear, too high my flatt'ring Hopes do soar) <br>Yet she at length may my sad Fate deplore; <br>May weep me Dead, may o'er my Tomb recline, <br>And sighing, wish were he alive and Mine! <br>But mark me to the End–<br> Thir. Go on; for well I do thy Speech attend, <br>Perhaps to better Ends, than yet thou know'st. <br> Amint. Being now a Child, or but a Youth at most, <br>When scarce to reach the blushing Fruit I knew, <br>Which on the lowest bending Branches grew; <br>Still with the dearest, sweetest, kindest Maid <br>Young as myself, at childish Sports I play'd. <br>The Fairest, sure, of all that Lovely Kind, <br>Who spread their golden Tresses to the Wind; <br>Cydippe's Daughter, and Montano's Heir, <br>Whose Flocks and Herds so num'rous do appear; <br>The beauteous Sylvia; She, 'tis She I love, <br>Warmth of all Hearts, and Pride of ev'ry Grove. <br>With Her I liv'd, no Turtles e'er so fond. <br>Our Houses met, but more our Souls were join'd. <br>Together Nets for Fish, and Fowl we laid; <br>Together through the spacious Forest stray'd; <br>Pursu'd with equal Speed the flying Deer, <br>And of the Spoils there no Divisions were. <br>But whilst I from the Beasts their Freedom won, <br>Alas! I know not how, my Own was gone. <br>By unperceiv'd Degrees the Fire encreas'd, <br>Which fill'd, at last, each corner of my Breast; <br>As from a Root, tho' scarce discern'd so small, <br>A Plant may rise, that grows amazing tall. <br>From Sylvia's Presence now I could not move, <br>And from her Eyes took in full Draughts of Love, <br>Which sweetly thro' my ravish'd Mind distill'd; <br>Yet in the end such Bitterness wou'd yield, <br>That oft I sigh'd, ere yet I knew the cause, <br>And was a Lover, ere I dream'd I was. <br>But Oh! at last, too well my State I knew; <br>And now, will shew thee how this Passion grew. <br>Then listen, while the pleasing Tale I tell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">  THIRSIS persuades AMINTOR not to despair upon the <br>  redictions of Mopsus discov'ring him to be an Impostor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thirsis. Why dost thou still give way to such Despair! <br> Amintor. Too just, alas! the weighty Causes are. <br>Mopsus, wise Mopsus, who in Art excels, <br>And of all Plants the secret Vertue tells, <br>Knows, with what healing Gifts our Springs abound, <br>And of each Bird explains the mystick Sound; <br>'Twas He, ev'n He! my wretched Fate foretold. <br> Thir. Dost thou this Speech then of that Mopsus hold, <br>Who, whilst his Smiles attract the easy View, <br>Drops flatt'ring Words, soft as the falling Dew; <br>Whose outward Form all friendly still appears, <br>Tho' Fraud and Daggers in his Thoughts he wears, <br>And the unwary Labours to surprize <br>With Looks affected, and with riddling Lyes. <br>If He it is, that bids thy Love despair, <br>I hope the happier End of all thy Care. <br>So far from Truth his vain Predictions fall. <br> Amint. If ought thou know'st, that may my Hopes recall, <br>Conceal it not; for great I've heard his Fame, <br>And fear'd his Words–<br> Thir. –When hither first I came, <br>And in these Shades the false Imposter met, <br>Like Thee I priz'd, and thought his Judgment great; <br>On all his study'd Speeches still rely'd, <br>Nor fear'd to err, whilst led by such a Guide: <br>When on a Day, that Bus'ness and Delight <br>My Steps did to the Neighb'ring Town invite, <br>Which stands upon that rising Mountain's side, <br>And from our Plains this River do's divide, <br>He check'd me thus–Be warn'd in time, My Son, <br>And that new World of painted Mischiefs shun, <br>Whose gay Inhabitants thou shalt behold <br>Plum'd like our Birds, and sparkling all in Gold; <br>Courtiers, that will thy rustick Garb despise, <br>And mock thy Plainness with disdainful Eyes. <br>But above all, that Structure see thou fly, <br>Where hoarded Vanities and Witchcrafts lie; <br>To shun that Path be thy peculiar Care. <br>I ask, what of that Place the Dangers are: <br>To which he soon replies, there shalt thou meet <br>Of soft Enchantresses th' Enchantments sweet, <br>Who subt'ly will thy solid Sense bereave, <br>And a false Gloss to ev'ry Object give. <br>Brass to thy Sight as polish'd Gold shall seem, <br>And Glass thou as the Diamond shalt esteem. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Huge Heaps of Silver to thee shall appear, <br>Which if approach'd, will prove but shining Air. <br>The very Walls by Magick Art are wrought, <br>And Repitition to all Speakers taught: <br>Not such, as from our Ecchoes we obtain, <br>Which only our last Words return again; <br>But Speech for Speech entirely there they give, <br>And often add, beyond what they receive. <br>There downy Couches to false Rest invite, <br>The Lawn is charm'd, that faintly bars the Light. <br>No gilded Seat, no iv'ry Board is there, <br>But what thou may'st for some Delusion fear: <br>Whilst, farther to abuse thy wond'ring Eyes, <br>Strange antick Shapes before them shall arise; <br>Fantastick Fiends, that will about thee flock, <br>And all they see, with Imitation mock. <br>Nor are these Ills the worst. Thyself may'st be <br>Transform'd into a Flame, a Stream, a Tree; <br>A Tear, congeal'd by Art, thou may'st remain, <br>'Till by a burning Sigh dissolv'd again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus spake the Wretch; but cou'd not shake my Mind. <br>My way I take, and soon the City find, <br>Where above all that lofty Fabrick stands, <br>Which, with one View, the Town and Plains commands. <br>Here was I stopt, for who cou'd quit the Ground, <br>That heard such Musick from those Roofs resound! <br>Musick! beyond th' enticing Syrene's Note; <br>Musick! beyond the Swan's expiring Throat; <br>Beyond the softest Voice, that charms the Grove, <br>And equal'd only by the Spheres above. <br>My Ear I thought too narrow for the Art, <br>Nor fast enough convey'd it to my Heart: <br>When in the Entrance of the Gate I saw <br>A Man Majestick, and commanding Awe; <br>Yet temper'd with a Carriage, so refin'd <br>That undetermin'd was my doubtful Mind, <br>Whether for Love, or War, that Form was most design'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With such a Brow, as did at once declare <br>A gentle Nature, and a Wit severe; <br>To view that Palace me he ask'd to go, <br>Tho' Royal He, and I Obscure and Low. <br>But the Delights my Senses there did meet, <br>No rural Tongue, no Swain can e'er repeat. <br>Celestial Goddesses, or Nymphs as Fair, <br>In unveil'd Beauties, to all Eyes appear <br>Sprinkl'd with Gold, as glorious to the View, <br>As young Aurora, deck'd with pearly Dew; <br>Bright Rays dispensing, as along they pass'd, <br>And with new Light the shining Palace grac'd. <br>Phoebus was there by all the Muses met, <br>And at his Feet was our Elpino set. <br>Ev'n humble Me their Harmony inspir'd, <br>My Breast expanded, and my Spirits fir'd. <br>Rude Past'ral now, no longer I rehearse, <br>But Heroes crown with my exalted Verse. <br>Of Arms I sung, of bold advent'rous Wars; <br>And tho' brought back by my too envious Stars, <br>Yet kept my Voice and Reed those lofty Strains, <br>And sent loud Musick through the wond'ring Plains: <br>Which Mopsus hearing, secretly malign'd, <br>And now to ruin Both at once design'd. <br>Which by his Sorceries he soon brought to pass; <br>And suddenly so clogg'd, and hoarse I was, <br>That all our Shepherds, at the Change amaz'd, <br>Believ'd, I on some Ev'ning-Wolf had gaz'd: <br>When He it was, my luckless Path had crost, <br>By whose dire Look, my Skill awhile was lost. <br>This have I told, to raise thy Hopes again, <br>And render, by distrust, his Malice vain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">   From the AMINTA of TASSO.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">THO' we, of small Proportion see <br>And slight the armed Golden Bee; <br>Yet if her Sting behind she leaves, <br>No Ease th' envenom'd Flesh receives. <br>Love, less to Sight than is this Fly, <br>In a soft Curl conceal'd can lie; <br>Under an Eyelid's lovely Shade, <br>Can form a dreadful Ambuscade; <br>Can the most subtil Sight beguile <br>Hid in the Dimples of a Smile. <br>But if from thence a Dart he throw, <br>How sure, how mortal is the Blow! <br>How helpless all the Pow'r of Art <br>To bind, or to restore the Heart! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">   From the AMINTA of TASSO. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Part of the Description of the Golden Age.<br>THEN, by some Fountains flow'ry side <br>The Loves unarm'd, did still abide. <br>Then, the loos'd Quiver careless hung, <br>The Torch extinct, the Bow unstrung. <br>Then, by the Nymphs no Charms were worn, <br>But such as with the Nymphs were born. <br>The Shepherd cou'd not, then, complain, <br>Nor told his am'rous Tale in vain. <br>No Veil the Beauteous Face did hide, <br>Nor harmless Freedom was deny'd. <br>Then, Innocence and Virtue reign'd <br>Pure, unaffected, unconstrain'd. <br>Love was their Pleasure, and their Praise, <br>The soft Employment of their Days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Kingsmill+Finch">Anne Kingsmill Finch</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345281" data-title="From The First Act Of The Aminta Of Tasso de Anne Kingsmill Finch" data-description="Daphne's Answer to Sylvia, declaring she
   should esteem all as Enemies, 
   who should talk to her of LOVE.

THEN, to the snowy Ewe, in thy esteem, 
The Father of the Flock a Foe must seem, 
The faithful Turtles to their yielding Mates. 
The che..."></div>
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