The Temple of Death, Art of Poetry, Duel of the Stags, etc (1695)/Sylvia
For works with similar titles, see Sylvia.
SYLVIA.
By the same Author.
The Nymph that undoes me, is Fair and Unkind,
No less than a Wonder by Nature design'd;
She's the Grief of my Heart, the Joy of my Eye,
And the cause of a Flame that never can die.
No less than a Wonder by Nature design'd;
She's the Grief of my Heart, the Joy of my Eye,
And the cause of a Flame that never can die.
Her Mouth, from whence Wit still obligingly flows,
Has the Beautiful Blush, and the Smell of the Rose;
Love and Destiny both attend on her Will,
She wounds with a Look, with a Frown she can kill.
Has the Beautiful Blush, and the Smell of the Rose;
Love and Destiny both attend on her Will,
She wounds with a Look, with a Frown she can kill.
The Desperate Lover can hope no redress,
Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess;
In Sylvia they meet, so unhappy am I,
Who sees her must Love, and who Loves her must die.
Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess;
In Sylvia they meet, so unhappy am I,
Who sees her must Love, and who Loves her must die.