The Discovery

Cælia, that faithful Servant you disown,Would in Obedience keep his Love his own:But bright Ideas, such as you inspire,We can no more conceal, than not admire.My Heart at home in my own Breast did dwell,Like humble Hermit in a peaceful Cell.Unknown and undisturb'd it rested there,Stranger alike to Hope and to Despair.Now Love with a tumultuous Train invadesThe sacred Quiet of those hollow'd Shades.His fatal Flames shine out to ev'ry Eye,Like blazing Comets in a Winter Sky.How can my Passion merit your Offence,That challenges so little Recompence?For I am one, born only to admire;Too humble e'er to hope, scarce to desire.A Thing whose Bliss depends upon your Will,Who wou'd be proud you'd deign to use him ill.Then give me leave to glory in my Chain,My fruitless Sighs, and my unpitied Pain.Let me but ever Love, and ever beTh' Example of your Pow'r and Cruelty.Since so much Scorn does in your Breast reside,Be more indulgent to its Mother Pride.Kill all you strike, and trample on their Graves;But own the Fates of your neglected Slaves:When in the Croud yours undistinguish'd lies,You give away the Triumph of your Eyes.Perhaps (obtaining this) you'll think I findMore Mercy than your Anger has design'd:But Love has carefully design'd for me,The last Perfection of Misery.For to my State the Hopes of Common Peace,Which ev'ry Wretch enjoys in Death, must cease:My worst of Fates attend me in my Grave,Since, dying, I must be no more your Slave.