1/11/24

Five Am’rous Sighs, Jonathon Dove

1.Between your sheets

Between your sheets you soundly sleep

Nor dreams of vigils that we Lovers keep

While all the night, I waking sign your name,

The tender sound does every nerve inflame,

Imagination shows me all your charms,

The plenteous silken hair, and waxen arms,

The well-turned neck, and snowy rising breast

And all the beauties that supinely rest

between your sheets.

Ah Lindamira, could you see my Heart,

How fond, how true, how free from fraudful Art, The warmest glances poorly do explain

The eager wish, the melting throbbing pain

Which through my very blood and soul I feel,

Which you cannot believe nor I reveal,

Which every metaphor must render less

And yet (methinks) which I could well express

between your sheets.

2. Finish

Finish!

Finish, these languors make me sick, of dying airs I know the trick,

Long since I’ve learnt to well explain th’un meaning cant of fire and pain

And see through all the senseless Lyes of burning darts from killing Eyes,

I’m tired with this continual rout of bowing low and leading out;

finish.

Finish this tedious dangling Trade

by which so many fools are made,

for fools they are who you can please with such affected arts as these.

At Operas to stand

and slyly press the given hand,

thus you may wait whole years in vain

but sure you would, were you in pain, Finish!

3. My Heart Still Hovering Round About you

My heart still hovering round about you,

I thought I could not live without you,

Now we have lived three months asunder,

How I lived with you, is the wonder.

4. All These Dismal looks

All those dismal looks and fretting

Cannot Damon’s life restore

Long ago the worms have ate him,

You can never see him more.

Once again consult your toilette,

In the glass your face review:

So much weeping soon will spoil it,

And no Spring your charms renew.

I, like you, was born a woman

Well I know what vapours mean:

The disease, alas! Is common;

Single, we have all the spleen.

All the morals that they tell us,

Never cured the sorrow yet:

Choose, among the pretty fellows,

One of honor, youth, and wit.

Prithee hear him every morning,

At least an hour or two;

Once again at night returning-

I believe the dose will do.

5. Venus

Venus, take my votive glass: Since I am not what I was,

What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.Venus

Venus, take my votive glass: Since I am not what I was,

What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.

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