293. Ingrateful Beauty threatened

KNOW, Celia, since thou art so proud,
‘Twas I that gave thee thy renown.
Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd
Of common beauties lived unknown,
Had not my verse extoll’d thy name,	5
And with it imp’d the wings of Fame.

That killing power is none of thine;
I gave it to thy voice and eyes;
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;
Thou art my star, shin’st in my skies;	10
Then dart not from thy borrow’d sphere
Lightning on him that fix’d thee there.

Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made I uncreate;
Let fools thy mystic form adore,	15
I know thee in thy mortal state.
Wise poets, that wrapt Truth in tales,
Knew her themselves through all her veils.

GLOSS: imp’d] grafted with new feathers.