Poems by the most deservedly admired MrsKatherine Philips, the matchless Orinda : to which is added Monsieur Corneille's tragedies of Pompey and Horace, with several other translations out of the French . l beftow,But they without thee can give none. They may repeat the found of Words,But not confer their hidden Force 5And, without thee, their beft Difcourfe Nothing but Scorn to Men affords. Let them thy Miracles impart,And vigroufly thy Will declare-,Their Voice, perhaps, may ftrike the Ear, But it can never move the Heart. Th* obfcure and naked Word they fow,But thou doft open our dim Eye,An
Poems by the most deservedly admired MrsKatherine Philips, the matchless Orinda : to which is added Monsieur Corneille's tragedies of Pompey and Horace, with several other translations out of the French . l beftow,But they without thee can give none. They may repeat the found of Words,But not confer their hidden Force 5And, without thee, their beft Difcourfe Nothing but Scorn to Men affords. Let them thy Miracles impart,And vigroufly thy Will declare-,Their Voice, perhaps, may ftrike the Ear, But it can never move the Heart. Th* obfcure and naked Word they fow,But thou doft open our dim Eye,And, the dead Letter to fupply, The living Spirit doft beftow. Myfterious Truths to us they brought,But thou expoundft the Riddle too,And thou alone canft make us do All the great things that they have taught» They may indeed the Way direft,But thou inableft us to walk -,Ith Ear alone flicks all they talk, But thou doft even the Heart diffeft. They Toems on fever al Occafions. 245 They wafli the Surface of the Mind,But all her Fruit, thy Goodnefs claims,AU that eer enlightens, or enflâmes, Muft be to that alone aflignd. R3 POM- ? 0 M TET. TRAGEDY. Tranflated from the French of Monfîeur LONDON: Printed in the Year 1710. TO THE Right Honourable THE Countefs of C 0 R K. Madam, AS fome untimely Flowr, whofe baftiful Head(Ready to drop into her humble Bed)Is refcud by the Suns prevailing Ray,To (hare that Light with which he gilds the Day ^So this Tranflation, of ftrid: Eyes afraid,With confcious Blufhes, would have fought a Shade,When your refiftlefs Powr did Orders give,Thus to recall the timrous Fugitive,Which, to your Breath, mud all her Being own,Thrive when you Smile, and Wither if you Frown. Yet from Submiffion this Aflurance grows,That you 11 proted the Perfon you expofe,Who more delight from fuch a Shelter draws,Than to obtain, or to defire Applaufe,And your Indulgence would, much rather, chufe,Than to be Favourite to evry Mufe. Foe For even they requeft to wai
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