Written to Amasia

As Men untry'd stand shiv'ring on the shore,
And wish, impatient, the first plunge were o'er;
Till at the last —
Boy'd up with fancy'd hopes they shall not sink,
Headlong they leap, and leaping Spurn the brink.
So, doubting long, the ruin'd Sylvius stood,
So plung'd —
But void of hope, down Love's impetuous Flood,
Others by Waters may, unskill'd, expire;
More fierce my wreck; I'm lost in Seas of Fire.
With me, as with some wretch pursu'd, it fares,
Oceans before, behind him Swords and Spears.
Bold does he plunge, or tamely yielding dies;
Easy his fate, or if he stands or slies,
But oh! what Sword —
What Spear can pierce like bright Amasia's Eyes?
You know my fate, you know, and make it too,
All I can be, depends alone on you,
You know I Love you, too, too well I do.
Love with the humblest Passion, yet so high,
That but your scorn can with that Passion vye;
Unhappy Passion! thrice unhappy I!
Ill has the Partial hand of chance assign'd
Fortunes too slender, but too large a Mind.
By this the greatness of my Soul I prove,
I Love with more than with a Mortal Love.
Yet you, the fair, imperious Charmer, you,
Will not believe those Vows I offer true.
Too mean the Captive, and Obscure the Prize;
Under unhappy Stars that Lover lies,
Where Beauty Conquers, and where Pride denies.
In vain the proof of my pretence you shun;
You needs must see what your own Eyes have done.
But to convince you of the pangs I bear,
O do not see alone, but see, and hear.
Hear, tho' you never make the least return,
Hear me declare how I shall ever burn.