The Temple of Death, Art of Poetry, Duel of the Stags, etc (1695)/To Celia ("All things submit themselves to your Command")
For works with similar titles, see To Celia.
TO
CELIA.
By an unknown Hand.
All things submit themselves to your Command,
Fair Celia, when it does not Love withstand;
The power it borrowed from your Eyes alone,
All but himself would yield to who has none;
Were he not blind, such are the Charms you have,
He'd quit his Godhead to become your Slave.
Be proud to act a Mortal Hero's part,
And throw himself, for Fame, on his own Dart?
But Fate hath otherwise dispos'd of things,
In different Bonds Subjecting Slaves, and Kings.
That Fate (like you, resistless) does ordain
That Love alone should over Beauty Reign.
By Harmony the Universe does move;
And what is Harmony, but Mutual Love?
See gentle Brooks, how quietly they glide,
Kissing the rugged Banks on either side,
Whil'st in their Crystal Stream at once they show,
And with them feed the Flowers which they bestow;
Though prest upon by their too rude Imbrace,
In gentle Murmurs they keep on their pace
To their Lov'd Sea; for even Streams have Desires,
Cool as they are, they feel Love's Pow'rful Fires,
And with such Passion, that if any force
Stop, or molest 'em in their Am'rous Course,
They swell with Rage, break down, and Ravage o'er
The Banks they Kiss'd, the Flowers they fed before.
Who would resist and Empire so Divine,
Which Universal Nature does enjoyn?
Submit then Celia e're you be reduc'd:
For Rebels Vanquisht once, are vilely us'd.
And such are you, when e're you dare obey
Another Passion, and your Love betray.
You are Love's Citadels, by you he reigns,
And his proud Empire o'er the World maintains;
He trusts you with his Stratagems and Arms,
His Frowns, his Smiles, and all his Conquering Charms.
Beauty's no more but the dead Soil which Love
Manures, and does by wise Commerce improve;
Sailing by Sighs, through Seas of Tears, he sends
Courtship from Foreign Hearts: For your own Ends
Cherish a Trade; for as with Indians we
Get Gold and Jewels for our Trumpery;
So to each other, for their useless Toys,
Lovers afford Inestimable Joys:
But if you're fond of Trifles, be, and Starve,
Your Gugaw Reputation preserve;
Live upon Modesty and empty Fame,
Foregoing Sense, for a Fantastick Name.
Fair Celia, when it does not Love withstand;
The power it borrowed from your Eyes alone,
All but himself would yield to who has none;
Were he not blind, such are the Charms you have,
He'd quit his Godhead to become your Slave.
Be proud to act a Mortal Hero's part,
And throw himself, for Fame, on his own Dart?
But Fate hath otherwise dispos'd of things,
In different Bonds Subjecting Slaves, and Kings.
That Fate (like you, resistless) does ordain
That Love alone should over Beauty Reign.
By Harmony the Universe does move;
And what is Harmony, but Mutual Love?
See gentle Brooks, how quietly they glide,
Kissing the rugged Banks on either side,
Whil'st in their Crystal Stream at once they show,
And with them feed the Flowers which they bestow;
Though prest upon by their too rude Imbrace,
In gentle Murmurs they keep on their pace
To their Lov'd Sea; for even Streams have Desires,
Cool as they are, they feel Love's Pow'rful Fires,
And with such Passion, that if any force
Stop, or molest 'em in their Am'rous Course,
They swell with Rage, break down, and Ravage o'er
The Banks they Kiss'd, the Flowers they fed before.
Who would resist and Empire so Divine,
Which Universal Nature does enjoyn?
Submit then Celia e're you be reduc'd:
For Rebels Vanquisht once, are vilely us'd.
And such are you, when e're you dare obey
Another Passion, and your Love betray.
You are Love's Citadels, by you he reigns,
And his proud Empire o'er the World maintains;
He trusts you with his Stratagems and Arms,
His Frowns, his Smiles, and all his Conquering Charms.
Beauty's no more but the dead Soil which Love
Manures, and does by wise Commerce improve;
Sailing by Sighs, through Seas of Tears, he sends
Courtship from Foreign Hearts: For your own Ends
Cherish a Trade; for as with Indians we
Get Gold and Jewels for our Trumpery;
So to each other, for their useless Toys,
Lovers afford Inestimable Joys:
But if you're fond of Trifles, be, and Starve,
Your Gugaw Reputation preserve;
Live upon Modesty and empty Fame,
Foregoing Sense, for a Fantastick Name.