Classic Poem

ODE IX

1

Goe dote, fond Lover; Seeke
(To smooth lascivious Rhime)
Some beautie, where Sublime
Graces adorne the Cheeke;
Court Lips, or Eyes,
Or what you prise
With most Affection, as you can devise.

2

And see, how long they please
The flitting Sence with Joy;
Either they kill, or Cloy,
And aggravate Disease;
Noe reall good
Is understood,
Where the maine object is, but Flesh and Blood.

3

But, if you would behold
A Beautie, to Entice;
Revert your pur-blind Eyes,
Too blind, and yet too bold;
Ile Shew you, here
In her true Sphere,
Perfection, crowned in a golden Chaire;

4

Gainst which, the Rage of Time,
Could never yet prevaile;
Nor doth She want the Haile,
Of Poets, in a Rhime;
Remaining yonge,
Although she sprunge,
Ere time the Chaos into Forme had flung.

5

Nor Shall you need, to bring
Attributes to her praise;
For her Aspect will raise
A Store, too vast to Singe;
Such as would pose
Art to disclose
In any verse; and fill a Rheme of Prose.

6

This is that Beautie, which
Strikes dead all humane Sence;
From whose sole Influence,
All Creatures are made rich,
And what wee praise
Soe manie waies
Are but light Sparkes, shot from these liveing raies.

7

Bring, bring the loftie verse;
And Sonnet out your Dayes;
Let everie word be praise;
And everie Accent peirce
The Ears of Men
With wonder; when
You faile, goe to this Source, and fill your Pen.

8

Here, never Ending Love
Runns in a liveing Streame;
Peace sitts under the Beame
Of Glorie; all that move
Is holie, here;
Pale Doubt, and Feare,
Exiled are, and Envie comes not neare.

9

The witts, who sung of old
Their feilds of lasting pleasure,
Meant this; though in some measure
(Perhaps) it would not hold;
For, humane witt
Can onlie Fitt
The Sence with Joy; Soe much they failed of it.

10

Bring in fresh Chaplets; Crowne
Her, worthy all your praise;
And mightie Rapture raise
To sing her Name; lay downe
Your brittle Theame,
Caught in a Dreame;
And raise a Character, in her great name.