THE LADY's LOOKING-GLASS. Matthew Prior Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T075639 Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. Poems on Several Occasions [English poems only]. London Printed for JACOB TONSON at Shakespear's-Head over against Katharine-Street in the Strand, and JOHN BARBER upon Lambeth-Hill. MDCCXVIII. 1718 pp. 29-31. [42],506,[6]p.: ill.; 2°.

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THE LADY's LOOKING-GLASS . Celia and I the other Day Walk'd o'er the Sand-Hills to the Sea : The setting Sun adorn'd the Coast , His Beams entire , his Fierceness lost : And , on the Surface of the Deep , The Winds lay only not asleep : The Nymph did like the Scene appear , Serenely pleasant , calmly fair : Soft fell her words , as flew the Air . With secret Joy I heard Her say , That She would never miss one Day A Walk so fine , a Sight so gay . But , oh the Change ! the Winds grow high : Impending Tempests charge the Sky : The Lightning flies : the Thunder roars : And big Waves lash the frighten'd Shoars . Struck with the Horror of the Sight , She turns her Head , and wings her Flight ; And trembling vows , She'll ne'er again Approach the Shoar , or view the Main . Once more at least look back , said I ; Thy self in That large Glass descry : When Thou art in good Humour drest ; When gentle Reason rules thy Breast ; The Sun upon the calmest Sea Appears not half so bright as Thee : 'Tis then , that with Delight I rove Upon the boundless Depth of Love : I bless my Chain : I hand my Oar ; Nor think on all I left on Shoar . But when vain Doubt , and groundless Fear Do That Dear Foolish Bosom tear ; When the big Lip , and wat'ry Eye Tell Me , the rising Storm is nigh : 'Tis then , Thou art yon' angry Main , Deform'd by Winds , and dash'd by Rain ; And the poor Sailor that must try Its Fury , labours less than I . Shipwreck'd , in vain to Land I make ; While Love and Fate still drive Me back : Forc'd to doat on Thee thy own Way , I chide Thee first , and then obey : Wretched when from Thee , vex'd when nigh , I with Thee , or without Thee , die .