The Installment.

The Installment.

I.

LOng have I Languisht in the Fire Of an unquenchable Desire; And will it not suffice thee Love, That I thy patient Martyr am, Unless thy Worship I promove, And proselyte others to thy Flame? If as a Laick-Lover ought I act, What canst thou more from me expect, Who am not gifted for a Teacher in the Sect?

II.

My Gifts of Nature are too small; I own it, and pretend no Call! Beside, I've found at last the Cheat; The Flame that do's thy Priests inspire, (Pretended for Seraphick Heat) Is meer Enthusiastick Fire. When Heav'n inspires the mind no Trouble knows; But Love's wild Extasics (like those That Rag'd in Heathen Priests) torment and discompose.

III.

And 'tis no more than their Desert, That these Impostors thus shou'd smart; By whose false Wiles we are betray'd To Loves curst Tyranny and Rage; For they, when once Love's Captives made, Their Griefs dissembling, Sing i'th' Cage: Then from afar, the Credulous Flock repairs, T'attend their soft and charming Aires; And whil'st they listning sit, are caught in unseen Snares.

IV.

But why fond Love wilt thou make choice Of my untaught and grating Voice? Fool, whil'st amidst thy Gins I sing, I shall not only fright away Such as already are on Wing, But those that were inclin'd to stay! Consult thy Reason first deluded Boy, Ere my rude Verse thou dost employ; Verse that will prove a Scare-Crow, rather than Ducoy.