Song of Venus

Fairest Isle, all Isles Excelling,
Seat of Pleasures, and of Loves;
Venus here, will chuse her Dwelling,
And forsake her Cyprian Groves.

Cupid, from his Fav'rite Nation,
Care and Envy will Remove;
Jealousie that poysons Passion,
And Despair that dies for Love.

Gentle Murmurs, sweet Complaining,
Sighs that blow the Fire of Love;
Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,
Shall be all the Pains you prove.

Ev'ry Swain shall pay his Duty,
Grateful every Nymph shall prove;
And as these Excel in Beauty,
Those shall be Renown'd for Love.

Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.