Mean-while a howling Wolf, with Hunger preft, Leap'd on the Wretch, and feiz'd him by the Breaft; Tore out his Heart, and lick'd the purple Flood; For Earth refus'd to drink the Villain's Blood. The TEST of LovE. To a Friend who fancied himself in LOVE. FT haft thou told me, Dick, in friendly O F1 That the Ufurper Love has feiz'd thy Heart; In their full Vigour, may'st mistake thy Cafe; The fudden Rage and Madness of the Blood: proves, And when he's lewd and rampant, thinks he loves. But But I, who in that Study am grown old, Will to my Friend fuch certain Marks unfold, By which a real Paffion he may prove, And without which he cannot truly love. How does this Tyrant lord it in thy Mind? What Symptoms of his Empire doft thou find? Doft thou within perceive the growing Wound? Does thy Soul ficken, while thy Body's found? Does in thy Thought fome blooming Beauty reign, Whofe ftrong Idea mingles Joy with Pain? When she appears before thee, does she spread O'er thy pale, fading Cheeks a fudden Red? Prefs her foft Lips, or touch her lillied Hand, Does thy Heart flutter, does thy Breast expand? If but her Name is mention'd, does it fire Thy Pulfes with a quick and fierce Defire? Does every Glance, like Jove's vindictive Flame, Shoot thro' thy Veins, and kindle all thy Frame? From hence a real Paffion you may prove, For he, who wants these Symptoms, does not love. Is to One Woman all your Heart inclin'd? And can fhe only charm your conftant Mind? For her do all your Morning Wishes rise? Does the at Night of Slumber rob your Eyes? Mufing on her, does fhe alone excite Your Thoughts by Day, and all your Dreams by Night? Or does your Heart, for every Nymph you meet, From hence a real Paffion you may prove, love. Does Love, and only Love, invade your Or is it ftricken with a golden Dart? But art thou fure that, in thy tender Heart, That still thou would'ft abide a faithful Swain? If, in the curft South-Sea, her All were loft, Still would her Eyes their former Conquests boaft? And would she, doft thou think, in ev'ry State, The fame Emotions in thy Soul create ? From From hence a real Paffion you may prove,› For if you figh for Wealth, you do not love. Again, my Friend, incline thy patient Ear, (For thou haft many Questions still to hear) This chofen Damfel, this triumphant she, Canft thou no Blemish in her Perfon fee? Her Temper, Shape, her Features, and her Air, (Tho' never yet was born a faultlefs Fair) Do they all please? In Body or in Mind, Canft thou no Blot nor Imperfection find?" Does o'er her Skin no Mole nor Pimple rife?" Or do ev'n these feem Beauties in thy Eyes? From hence a real Paffion you may prove, For if you spy one Fault, you do not love. Your fnowy Wrifts do Mecklin Pendants grace, From hence a real Paffion you may prove, Can no Diverfions give your Heart-pains Eafe?` Have Wealth and Honours loft their wonted Charms? And does Ambition yield to Cupid's Arms ? ̈ Is your whole Frame diffolv'd, by Love ingroft, To Study, Intereft, and Preferment loft? From hence a real Paffion you may prove, Comply with her, and burn with mutual Fires? Or if at Court, do you attend her there? Approve, and cenfure what fhe judges wrong? From hence a real Paffion you may prove, |