To Celinda

I

I can’t, Celinda, say, I love,

   But rather I adore,

When with transported eyes I view

   Your shining merits o’er.

II

A frame so spotless and serene,

   A virtue so refined;

And thoughts as great, as e’er was yet

   Grasped by a female mind.

III

There love and honour dressed in all

   Their genuine charms appear, [10]

And with a pleasing force at once

   They conquer and endear.

IV

Celestial flames are scarce more bright,

   Than those your worth inspires,

So Angels love and so they burn

   In just such holy fires.

V

Then let’s my dear Celinda thus

   Blest in our selves contemn

The treacherous and deluding arts,

   Of those base things called men. [20]