Ephelia

England

The Reconcilement.

If you Repent, can I forgive your Crime,
Except you Love again, and call you Mine:
What Question's this? Ask some poor Slave if he
Will take again his former Liberty:
Some greedy Miser ask, that Gold had lost
If he'll Receive't again: one that is tossed
In a fierce Tempest, on the raging Main,
Ask if he would be safe on Land again:
Ask the Diseas├Ęd, if they would be Well
Or ask the Damned, if they would leave their Hell:
But ask not me a Question So Vain,
As, can you take my wand'ring Heart again.
No Conqu'ring
Hero
e'er did Foes pursue
With half the Pleasure, that I took in you;
No Youthful Monarch, of a Glitt'ring Crown,
Or prating Coxcomb, of a Scarlet Gown
Was half so proud, as I was of your Love;
Nor could great
Juno's
(1) State my Envy move,
While in your Heart I thought I Reigned in chief.
Then
Strephon
, think, how killing was the Grief
That I sustained, to find my Empire lost,
And servile
Mopsa
of your Conquest boast:
None but a deposed Monarch, made a Scorn
By the rude Slaves that were his Vassals born,
Who while th'Imperial Circle graced his Brow,
At awful(2) distance, to his Feet did bow,
His Scepter snatched by an unworthy hand,
That late was proud to wait his least command,
But now th'Insulting wretch dares threat the Head
Of him, whose Frown but late could look him dead,
Could guess the horrid Tortures seized my mind,
When I perceived you were to
Mopsa
kind:
That ill-looked Hag! who ne'er had guilty been,
(No not in thought) of such a daring Sin,
Had you not broke the Solemn Faith you vowed,
Made me a Scorn to the Ignoble Crowd
Of vulgar Nymphs, who now dare loudly prate
Reviling tales, they durst not think of late.
I did almost to Death this usage Mourn,
Yet 'tis forgot i'th' Joy of your Return;
Your proofs of Penitence shall be but small,
Look kind on me, and not on her at all.
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