To Alexis, on his absence. Sarah Fyge Egerton 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. T125148 Egerton, Sarah Fyge, 1668-1723. Poems on Several Occasions, Together with a Pastoral. By Mrs. S. F. [poems only] London printed, and are to be sold by J. Nutt, near Stationers-Hall 1703 pp. 38-39. [20],117,[3],15,[1]p.; 8⁰.

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To Alexis , on his absence . Say , lovely Youth , why all this niceness shown , Is modest Passion , so offensive grown ? I'll not oblige too far , nor force my Charms , To tempt your Coyness to my slighted Arms : Give me but leave , with secret sighs to Gaze , And silent Joys , view that dear fatal Face . I never dress'd , nor smil'd , us'd no soft Art , No little Amorous cheat to win your Heart , Nor knew in mine you had so great a Part ; Till from my Sight you cautiously remov'd , Then , not till then , I knew how well I lov'd : 'Twas my Advice , you should awhile absent , I ne'er design'd it for a Banishment . But wisely you , as if you fear'd your Fate , Shun what you would not Love , and cannot hate ; Yet spite of all your Vanity and Care , Know my Alexis , that I have you here : Here in my Breast , your dearest Image glows , Warms every Wish , and softens all my Vows . Inspires my Muse , to wanton in your Charms , And feast on Joys , which are deny'd my Arms : In melting strains , she shall my Passion tell , Describe those lovely Eyes , and Smiles so well ; Till every Nymph who my soft Lines shall see , Sighs and Adores , and owns she loves like me . That Shape , that Mein , that dear undoing Tongue , With thousand unknown Charms shall fill my Song , To glad the listening World and make it last as long . With an Eternal blast the trump of Fame , Will found Alexis and Clarinda's Name , Your matchless Graces , my unequall'd Flame . You shall this fondness of my Muse forgive , And tho' not in my Arms , in my soft numbers live : While warlike Heroes who are half Divine , Shall have their Glories sung , in meaner Lays than thine .