till they burst with blood Without remorse insatiably they read And never leave till they have read Men dead THE TEMPLE OF DEATH By the Earl of Mulgrave A Translation out of FRENCH IN those cold Climates where the Sun appears Unwillingly and hides his face in tears A dreadful Vale lies in a Desart Isle On which indulgent Heaven did never smile There a thick Grove of Aged Cypress Trees Which none without an awful horrour sees Into its wither'd Arms depriv'd of Leaves Whole Flocks of ill-presaging Birds receives Poysons are all the Plants the Soyl will bear And Winter is the only Season there Millions of Graves cover the spacious Field And springs of blood a thousand Rivers yield Whose streams opprest with Carcases and Bones Instead of gentle Murmurs pour forth Groans Within this Vale a famous Temple stands Old as the World it self which it commands Round is its figure and four Iron-Gates Divide Mankind by order of the Fates There Come in Crouds doom'd to one common Grave The Young the Old the Monarch and the Slave Old Age and Pains which Mankind most deplores Are faithful Keepers of those sacred Doors All clad in mournful Blacks which also Load The sacred Walls of this obscure Abode And Tapers of a pitchy substance made With Clouds of smoak increase the dismal Shade A Monster void of Reason and of Sight The Goddess is who sways this Realm of Night Her Power extends o'er all things that have breath A Cruel Tyrant and her Name is Death The fairest Object of our wond'ring Eyes Was newly offer'd up her Sacrifice Th' adjoining places where the Altar stood Yet blushing with the fair Almeria's Blood When griev'd Orontes whose unhappy flame Is known to all that e'er converse with Fame His mind possest by Fury and Despair Within the Sacred Temple made this Prayer Great Deity Who in thy hands do'st bear That rusty Scepter which poor Mortals fear Who wanting Eyes thy self respectest none And neither spares the Laurel nor the Crown Oh thou whom all Mankind in vain withstands Each of whose Blood must one day stain thy Hands Oh thou who every Eye which sees the Light Closest again in an eternal Night Open thy Ears and hearken to my Grief To which thy only Power can give Relief I Come not hither to prolong my Fate But wish my wretched Life a shorter date And that the Earth would in its Bowels hide A Wretch whom Heaven invades on every side That from the sight of Day I could remove And might have nothing left me but my Love Thou only Comforter of Minds opprest The Port where wearied Spirits are at rest Conducter to Elyzium Take my Life My Breast I offer to thy Sacred Knife â—o just a Grace refuse not nor despise A Willing though a Worthless Sacrifice Others their frail and mortal State forgot Before thy Altars are not to be brought Without constraint the noise of dying rage Heaps of the Slain of every Sex and Age The blade all reeking in the gore it shed With sever'd Heads and Arms confus'dly spread The Rapid Flames of a perpetual fire The Groans of Wretches ready to expire This Tragick Scene makes them in Terrour Live Till that is forc'd which they should freely give Yielding unwillingly what Heaven will have Their fears eclipse the Glory of their Grave Before thy Face they make undecent moan And feel a hundred Deaths in fearing one The flame becomes unhallow'd in their Breast And he a Murtherer who was a Priest His Hands profan'd in breaking Nature's Chain By which the Body does the Soul detain But against me thy strongest Forces call And on my Head let all the Tempest fall No shrinking back shall any weakness shew And Calmly I 'll expect the fatal blow My Limb not trembling in my mind no fear Plaints in my Mouth nor in my Eyes a Tear Think not that time our wonted sure relief That universal Cure for every grief Whose aid so many Lovers oft have found With like success can ever heal my wound Too weak's the Power of Nature or of Art Nothing but Death can ease a broken heart And that thou mayst behold my helpless state Learn the extreamest rigour of my Fate Amidst th' innumerable beauteous Train Paris the Queen of Cities does contain The fairest Town the largest and the best So fair Almeria shin'd above the rest From her bright Eyes to feel a hopeless flame Was of our Youth the most ambitious aim Her Chains were marks of Honour to the Brave She made a Prince when e'er she made a Slave Love under whose Tyrannick Power I groan Shew'd me this Beauty e'er 't was fully blown Her tim'rous Charms and her unpractis'd Look Their first assurance from my Conquest took By wounding me she learnt the fatal Art And the first sigh she had was from my Heart My Eyes with Tears moist'ning her snowy Arms Render'd the Tribute owing to her Charms But as I soonest of all Mortals paid My Vows and to her Beauty Altars made So among all those Slaves that sigh'd in vain She thought me only worthy of my Chain Loves heavy burden my Submissive Heart Endur'd not long before she bore her part My violent flame melted her frozen Breast And in soft Sighs her pity she exprest Her gentle Voice allay'd my raging Pains And her fair hands Sustain'd me in my Chains Even Tears of Pity waited on my moan And tender Looks were cast on me alone My hopes and dangers were less mine than hers Those filled her Soul with Joys and these with Fears Our hearts united had the same desires And both alike burn'd in Impatient Fires Too Faithful Memory I give thee Leave Thy wretched Master kindly to deceive Make me not once possessor of her Charms Let me not find her Languish in my Arms Past Joys are now my Fancies mournful Theams Make all my happy Nights appear but Dreams Let not that Bliss before my Eyes be brought Oh! hide those Scenes from my tormenting Thought And in their place Disdainful Beauty shew If thou would'st not be cruel make her so And something to abate my deep Despair Oh let her seem less Gentle or less Fair. But I in vain flatter my wounded Mind Never was Nymph so Lovely or so Kind No cold Repulses my Desires supprest I seldom sigh'd but on Almeria's Breast Of all the Passions which Mankind destroy I only felt excess of Love and Joy Numberless Pleasures charm'd my Sense and they Were as my Love without the least Allay As pure alas but not so sure to last For like a pleasing Dream they all are past From Heav'n her Beauty like fierce Light'ning came Which breaks through Darkness with its Glorious Flame A while it Shines a while our Sight it chears But soon the short-liv'd Comfort disappears And Thunder follows whose resistless Rage None can withstand and nothing can Asswage So oft the Light which those bright flashes gave Serves only to conduct us to our Grave When I had just
begun Love's Joys to taste Those full Rewards for Fears and Dangers past A Fever seiz'd her and to nothing brought The richest Work that ever Nature Wrought All things below alas uncertain stand The firmest Rocks are fix'd upon the Sand Under this Law both Kings and Kingdoms bend And no beginning is without an end A Sacrifice to Time Fate dooms us all And at the Tyrant's Feet we daily fall Time whose bold hand alike does bring to dust Mankind and all those Powers in which they trust Her wasted Spirits now begin to faint Yet Patience ties her Tongue from all Complaint And in her Heart as in a Fort remains But yields at last to her resistless pains Thus while the Fever am'rous of his Prey Through all her Veins makes his delightful way Her Fate 's like Semile's the Flames destroy That Beauty they too eagerly enjoy Her charming Face is in its Spring decay'd Pale grow the Roses and the Lilies fade Her Skin has lost that lustre which surpast The Sun's and did deserve as long to last Her Eyes which us'd to pierce the firmest hearts Are now disarm'd of all their Flames and Darts Those Stars now heavily and slowly move And Sickness triumphs in the Throne of Love The Fever every moment more prevails Its rage her Body feels and Tongue bewails She whose disdain so many Lovers prove Sighs now for Torment as they sigh for Love And with loud Crys which rend the neighb'ring Air Wounds my sad heart and wakens my Despair Both Gods and Men I charge now with my loss And wild with Grief my Thoughts each other cross My Heart and Tongue labour in both extreams That sends up slighted Prayers while this blasphemes I ask their help whose malice I defie And mingle Sacriledge with Piety But that which does yet more perplex my mind To Love her truly I must seem unkind So unconcern'd a Face my Sorrow wears I must restrain unruly floods of Tears My Eyes and Tongue put on dissembling forms I shew a Calmness in the midst of Storms I seem to hope when all my hopes are gone And almost dead with grief discover none But who can long deceive a Loving Eye Or with dry Eyes behold his Mistress die When Passion had with all its terrours brought Th' approaching danger nearer to my Thought Off on a sudden fell the forc'd disguise And shew'd a sighing heart in weeping Eyes My apprehensions now no more confin'd Expos'd my sorrows and betray'd my mind The Fair Afflicted Soon perceives my Tears Explains my Sighs and thence concludes my Fears With sad Presages of her hopeless Case She reads her Fate in my dejected Face Then feels my Torment and neglects her own While I am Sensible of hers alone Each does the others burden kindly bear I fear her Death and she bewails my Fear Though we thus suffer under Fortune's Darts 'T is only those of Love which reach our Hearts Mean-while the Fever mocks at all our Fears Grows by our Sighs and rages at our Tears Those vain effects of our as vain desire Like Wind and Oyl increase the fatal fire Almeria then feeling the Destinies About to shut her Lips and close her Eyes Weeping in mine fix'd her fair trembling Hand And with these words I scarce could understand Her Passion in a dying Voice express'd Half and her Sighs alas made out the rest 'T is past this pang Nature gives o'er the strife Thou must thy Mistress Lose and I my Life I die but dying thine the Fates may prove Their Conquest over me but not my Love Thy Memory my Glory and my Pain In spight of Death it self shall still remain Ah! Dear Orontes my hard Fate denys That hope is the last thing which in us dies From my griev'd Breast all those soft Thoughts are fled And Love survives although my Hope is dead I yield my Life but keep my Passion yet And can all thoughts but of Orontes quit My flame increases as my strength decays Death which puts out the light the heat does raise That still remains though I from hence remove I lose my Lover but I keep my Love The Sigh which sent forth that last tender word Up towards the Heav'ns like a bright Meteor soar'd And the Kind Nymph bereft of all her Charms Fell cold and breathless in her Lover's Arms Which shews since Death could deny him relief That 't is in vain we hope to die with grief Goddess who now my Fate has understood Spare but my Tears and freely take my Blood Here let me end the Story of my Cares My Dismal Grief enough the rest declares Judge thou by all this Misery display'd Whether I ought not to implore thy aid Thus to survive reproaches on me draws And my sad wishes have too Just a Cause Come then my only hope in every place Thou visitest Men tremble at thy Face And fear thy Name once let thy fatal hand Fall on a Swain that does the blow demand Vouchsafe thy Dart I need not one of those With which thou dost unwilling Kings depose Thy weakest my desir'd release can bring And free my Soul already on her wing But since all Prayers and Tears are vain I 'll try If spite of thee 't is possible to dy A PARAPHRASE On the CXLVIII PSALM By the Earl of Roscommon O Azure Vaults O Crystal Sky The World 's transparent Canopy Break your long silence and let Mortals know With what contempt you look on things below Wing'd Squadrons of the God of War Who Conquer wheresoe'er you are Let Echoing Anthems make his Praises known On Earth his Foot-stool as in Heaven his Throne Great Eye of All whose Glorious Ray Rules the bright Empire of the Day O praise his Name without whose purer Light Thou hadst been hid in an Abyss of Night Ye Moon and Planets who dispence By God's Command your Influence Resign to him as your Creatour due That Veneration which Men pay to you Fairest as well as first of things From whom all Joy all Beauty springs O praise the Almighty Ruler of the Globe Who useth thee for his Empyreal Robe Praise him ye loud harmonious Sphaeres Whose Sacred Stamp all Nature bears Who did all Forms from the rude Chaos draw And whose Command is th' universal Law Ye wat'ry Mountains of the Sky And you so far above our Eye Vast ever-moving Orbs Exalt his Name Who gave its being to your Glorious Frame Ye Dragons whose Contagious Breath Peoples the dark Retreats of Death Change your fierce hissing into joyful Song And praise your Maker with your forked Tongue Praise him ye Monsters of the Deep That in the Seas vast Bosoms sleep At whose Command the foaming Billows roar Yet know their Limits Tremble and Adore Ye Mists and Vapours Hail and Snow And you who through the Concave blow Swift Executors of his holy Word Whirlwinds and Tempest praise the Almighty Lord Mountains who to your Maker's View Seem less than Mole-Hills do to you Remember how when first Jehovah
Years Design'd in growing one out-wears Whilst Flowers for a Season made Quickly spring up and quickly fade TO CHLORIS By the same Author CHloris you live ador'd by all And yet on none your Favours fall A stranger Mistress ne'er was known You pay us all in Paying none We him of Avarice accuse Who what he has does fear to use But what Disease of Mind shall I Call this thy hated Penury Thou wilt not give out of a store Which no Profuseness can make poor Misers when Dead may make amends And in their Wills enrich their Friends But when thou Dy'st thy Treasure dies And thou canst leave no Legacies What madness is it then to spare When we want power to make an Heir Live Chloris then at the full rate Of thy great Beauty and since Fate To Love and Youth is so severe Enjoy'm freely while th' art here Some caution yet I 'de have thee use Whene're thou dost a Servant chuse We are not all for Lovers fit No more than Arms or Arts of Wit For Wisdom some respected are Some we see po'wrful at the Bar Some for Preferment waste their time And the steep Hill of Honour climb Others of Love their business make In Love their whole Diversion take Take one of those for in one Breast Two Passions live but ill at rest And even of them I 'd have thee fly All that take flame at every Eye All those that light and faithless are All that dare more than think thee fair Take one of Love who nothing says And yet whom every word betrays Love in the Cradle pretty shews And when 't can speak unruly grows THE PICTURE In Imitation of ANACREON's BATHILLUS By the Earl of Mulgrave THou Flatterer of all the Fair Come with all your skill and care Draw me such a Shape and Face As your Flatt'ry would disgrace Wish not that she would appear 'T is well for you she is not here Scarce can you with safety see All her Charms describ'd by me Who alas have found too well What a power does in them dwell I alas the danger know I alas have felt the Blow Mourn as lost my former Days That did not sing of Celia's praise And those few that are behind I shall blest or wretched find Only just as she is kind With her tempting Eyes begin Eyes that might draw Angels in To a second sweeter sin Oh those wanton rowling Eyes At each glance a Lover dies Make them bright yet make them willing Let them look both kind and killing Next draw her Forehead then her Nose And Lips just opening which disclose Teeth so white and Breath so sweet So much Beauty so much Wit To our very Soul they strike All our Senses pleas'd alike But so pure a white and red Never never can be said What are words in such a case What is paint to such a Face How should either Art avail us Fancy here it self will fail us In her Looks and in her Meen Such a graceful Air is seen That if you with all your Art Can but reach the smallest part Next to her the Matchless She We shall wonder most at Thee Then her Neck and Breasts and Hair And her but my Charming Fair Does in a thousand things excel Which I must not dare not tell How go on then Oh I see A Lovely Venus drawn by Thee Oh how fair she does appear Touch it only here and there Make her yet seem more Divine Your Venus then may look like mine Whose bright form if once you saw You by her would Venus draw TO A Coquet Beauty By the same Author FRom Wars and Plagues come no such harms As from a Nymph so full of Charms So much sweetness in her Face In her Motions such a Grace In her kind inviting Eyes Such a soft Enchantment lies That we please our selves too soon And are with vain hopes undone After all her softness we Are but Slaves while she is free Free alas from all desire Except to set the World on fire Thou fair Dissembler dost but thus Deceive thy self as well as us Like Ambitious Monarchs thou Would'st rather force Mankind to bow And venture o'er the World to roam Than govern with content at home But trust me Celia trust me when Apollo's self inspires my Pen One hour of Love's Delights out-weighs Whole Years of Universal Praise And one Adorer kindly used Is of more use than Crowds refused For what does Youth and Beauty serve Why more than all your Sex deserve Why such soft alluring Arts To charm our Eyes and melt our Hearts By our loss you nothing gain Unless you love you please in vain SONG By the same Author FRom all Uneasie Passions Free Revenge Ambition Jealousie Contented I had been too blest If Love and You would let me Rest Yet that Dull Life I now Despite Safe from your Eyes I fear'd no Griefs but Oh I found no Joys Amidst a thousand soft Desires Which Beauty moves and Love inspires I feel such pangs of Jealous Fear No heart so kind as mine can bear Yet I 'll defie the worst of harms Such are those Charms 'T is worth a Life to Die within your Arms. The Parting of Hector with his Princess Andromache and only Son Astyanax when he went upon his last Expedition in which he was Slain by Achilles Done out of the Greek of Homer Iliad 6. By Knightly Chetwood HEctor though warn'd by an approaching Cry That to Troy Walls the Conqu'ring Greeks drew nigh T' his Princess one short Visit pays in haste Some Daemon told him this would be his last Her swiftly passing through the spacious Streets He nor at home nor in the Circle meets Nor at * Note The Temple of Minerva Minerva's where the Beauteous Train Made Prayers and Vows to angry Powers in vain She half distracted with the loud Alarms The Prince was carry'd in his Nurse's Arms Runs to a Turret whose commanding height Presented all the Battel to her fight Advancing Grecians and the Trojans flight Here Hector finds her with a Lover's Pace She speeds and breathless sinks in his Embrace The Nurse came after with her Princely care As Hesperus fresh promising and fair Hector in little with paternal Joy He blest in silent Smiles the Lovely Boy The Princess at his sight compos'd again Pressing his Hand do's gently thus complain My Dearest Lord believe a careful Wife You are too lavish of your precious Life You formost into every danger ran Of me regardless and your little Son Shortly the Greeks what none can singly do Will compass pointing all the War at you But before that day comes Heavens may I have The mournful Privilege of an early Grave For I of your dear Company bereft Have no Reserve no second Comfort left My Father who did in Cilicia Reign By fierce Achilles was in Battel Slain His Arms that Savage Conquerour durst not spoil But paid just Honours to his Funeral Pile Wood-Nymphs about his Grave have planted since A
By the same Author * INtreaty shall not serve nor Violence To make me speak in such a Play 's defence A Play where Wit and Humour do agree To break all practis'd Laws of Comedy The Scene what more absurd in England lies No Gods descend nor dancing Devils rise No Captive Prince from nameless Countrey brought No Battel nay there 's not a Duel fought And something yet more sharply might be said But I consider the poor Author's Dead Let that be his Excuse Now for our own Why Faith in my Opinion we need none The parts were fitted well but some will say Pox on 'em Rogues What made 'em chuse this Play I do not doubt but you will credit me It was not Choice but meer Necessity To all our writing Friends in Town we sent But not a Wit durst venture out in Lent Have patience but till Easter-Term and then You shall have Jigg and Hobby-horse again Here 's Mr. Matthew or Domestick Wit Does promise one of the ten Plays h 'as writ But since great Bribes weigh nothing with the Just Know we have Merits and in them we trust When any Fasts or Holy-days defer The publick Labours of the Theatre We ride not forth although the Day be fair On Ambling Tit to take the Suburb-air But with our Authors meet and spend that time To make up Quarrels between Sense and Rhyme Wednesdays and Fridays constantly we fate Till after many a long and free debate For divers weighty Reasons 't was thought fit Unruly Sense shou'd still to Rhyme submit This the most wholesome Law we ever made So strictly in this Epilogue obey'd Sure no Man here will ever dare to break Enter Johnson's Ghost Hold and give way for I my self will speak Can you encourage so much Insolence And add new faults still to the great Offence Your Ancestors so rashly did commit Against the mighty Powers of Art and Wit When they condemn'd those noble works of mine Sejanus and my best-lov'd Cataline Repent or on your guilty Heads shall fall The Curse of many a Rhyming Pastoral The three bold Beauchamps shall revive again And with the London Prentice conquer Spain All the dull Follies of the former Age Shall rise and find applause upon this Stage But if you pay the great Arrears of Praise So long since due to my much injur'd Plays From all past Crimes I first will set you free And then inspire some one to write like me UPON THE DEATH Of His GRACE the Late Duke of ORMOND Anno 1687. By Knightly Chetwood REligious Discord Fury of this Isle A little Truce cease your harsh Notes a while Honour Religion Vertue Learning all Demand our Tears at their Great Patron 's fall Whilst slight Court-Meteors soon advancing high Short-liv'd too long once seen neglected die At Eighty Years Ormond's Propitious Light Seems immaturely ravish'd from our sight Some Prosperom Star torn from his Native Sphere Would cause such Wonder and Confusion there The Vertues of four Reigns he kept intire Fin'd from the Dross as Gold by Chymick fire Exalted Vertues which here want a Name Too weighty for the labouring Wings of Fame Of Ancient Honour Loyalty and Truth The Noblest Standard for our wand'ring Youth Thus whilst the Patriarch liv'd who pass'd the Flood The Jewish State by Ancient Maxims stood But He once gone the Base Degenerate Age Sunk to its old Apostasie and Rage Some have in Courts others in Camps been great In Business some some in a Wise Retreat Ormond in all his vast Imperious Mind Excell'd in each as if to one confin'd All times of Life all Stations he could grace The distant Poles of goodness did embrace With crowding Lights fill'd all the glorious Space Thro' several Climes he a bright Course did run Kind as the enliv'ning Progress of the Sun Warm'd by his Beams even sad Hybernia's Isle Look'd up and chear'd her Visage with a Smile Mov'd Britain's Envy but her Patron dead Deep in his Fens her Genius sinks his Head O rd which during this Apollo's Reign Rival'd your Sister and improv'd your Vein If you just Tribute to his Hearse deny Your Swans fall Speechless and your Streams be dry Some grateful Voice his Glorious Life shall sing More above Subjects than beneath a King To His Grace the present DUKE THis Atlas gone what Hero do's remain The ponderous Mass of Honours to sustain 'T is You Great Sir his Rights his Vertue too That best Succession are devolv'd on You. Your Mind we ll ballass'd bears the prosperous Gales They cannot over-set scarce fill your Sails What a fair steddy Course you steer along Thro' Scylla's Barkings and false Syrens Song Your Friendship not debas'd by Treacherous Art Your Actions speak the Language of your Heart Fortune despairs or Flattering or Unkind To daunt your Courage or corrupt your Mind Some plac'd in foolish Pride 's new tottering Seat Grow less from little labouring to look Great Such do not rise but weigh great Titles down Their Misplac'd Coronets but eclipse the Crown Whilst your digested Honour easie lies Came as a Debt not taken by Surprize Thus Torrents Creatures of the Winter Sky O'erflow whilst hurtful in the heats grow dry But Sacred Nile warm'd by the Rising Sun With him a thousand Leagues from his high Source do's run With a rich Deluge all the Plains do's bless Aegypt were ruin'd if his Streams were less The Earl of ROCHESTER's Answer to a Paper of Verses sent him by L. B. Felton and taken out of the Translation of Ovid's Epistles 1680. WHat strange Surprise to meet such Words as these Such Terms of Horrour were ne'er chose to please To meet midst Pleasures of a Jovial Night Words that can only give amaze and fright No gentle thought that does to Love invite Were it not better for your Arms t' employ Grasping a Lover in pursuit of Joy Than handling Sword and Pen Weapons unfit Your Sex gains Conquest by their Charms and Wit Of Writers slain I could with pleasure hear Approve of Fights o'er-joy'd to cause a Tear So slain I mean that she should soon revive Pleas'd in my Arms to find her self Alive TO A Very Young LADY By Sir George Etherege SWeetest Bud of Beauty may No untimely Frost decay Th' early glories which we trace Blooming in thy matchless Face But kindly opening like the Rose Fresh Beauties every day disclose Such as by Nature are not shewn In all the Blossoms she has blown And then what conquest shall you make Who hearts already daily take Scorcht in the Morning with thy beams How shall we bear those sad extreams Which must attend thy threatning Eyes When thou shalt to thy Noon arise THE Forsaken Mistress By the same Author DIALOGUE Phil. TELL me gentle Strephon why You from my Embraces fly Does my Love thy Love destroy Tell me I will yet be coy Stay O stay and I will feign Though I break my Heart disdain But lest I too unkind appear For ev'ry Frown I 'll shed a
Tear And if in vain I court thy Love Let mine at least thy pity move Ah while I scorn vouchsafe to woo Methinks you may dissemble too Streph. Ah Phillis that you wou'd contrive A way to keep my Love alive But all your other Charms must fail When Kindness ceases to prevail Alas No less than you I grieve My dying flame has no reprieve For I can never hope to find Shou'd all the Nymphs I Court be kind One Beauty able to renew Those Pleasures I enjoy in you When Love and Youth did both conspire To fill our Breasts and Veins with fire 'T is true some other Nymph may gain That Heart which merits your Disdain But second Love has still allay The Joys grow aged and decay Then blame me not for losing more Than Love and Beauty can restore And let this truth thy comfort prove I wou'd but can no longer Love THE DIVIDED HEART By the same Author AH Celia that I were but sure Thy Love like mine cou'd still endure That Time and Absence which destroy The Cares of Lovers and their Joy Cou'd never rob me of that part Which you have giv'n me of your Heart Others unenvy'd might possess Whole Hearts and boast that Happiness 'T was Nobler Fortune to divide The Roman Empire in her Pride Than on some low and barb'rous Throne Obscurely plac'd to rule alone Love only from thy Heart exacts The several Debts thy Face contracts And by that new and juster way Secures thy Empire and his sway Fav'ring but one he might compel The hopeless Lover to rebel But shou'd he other Hearts thus share That in the whole so worthless are Shou'd into several Squadrons draw That strength which kept entire cou'd awe Men would his scatter'd Powers deride And conqu'ring Him those spoils divide To Mr. J. N. on his Translations out of French and Italian By the same Author WHile others toil our Country to supply With what we need only for Luxury Spices and Silk in the rich East provide To glut our Avarice and feed our Pride You Foreign Learning prosperously transmit To raise our Virtue and provoke our Wit Such brave Designs your Gen'rous Soul inflame To be a bold Adventurer for Fame How much oblig'd are Italy and France While with your Voice their Musick you advance Your growing Fame with Envy can oppose Who sing with no less Art than they Compose In these Attempts so few have had success Their Beauties suffer in our English Dress By Artless Hands spoil'd of their Native Ayr They seldom pass from moderately fair As if you meant these Injuries to atone You give them Charms more Conqu'ring than their own Not like the dull laborious Flatterer With secret Art those Graces you confer The skilful Painters with slight stroaks impart That subtil Beauty which affects the Heart There are who publickly profess they hate Translations and yet all they Write Translate So proud they scorn to drive a Lawful Trade Yet by their Wants are shameless Pirates made These you incense while you their Thefts reveal Or else prevent in what they meant to steal From all besides you are secure of praise But you so high our Expectation raise A gen'ral Discontent we shall declare If such a Workman only should repair You to the Dead your Piety have shewn Adorn'd their Monuments now build your own Drawn in the East we in your Lines may trace That Genius which of old inspir'd the place The banish'd Muses back to Greece you bring Where their best Airs you so Divinely sing The World must own they are by you restor'd To sacred shades where they were first ador'd Virtue 's Urania By the same Author HOpeless I languish out my Days Struck with Vrania's Conqu'ring Eyes The Wretch at whom she darts these rays Must feel the Wound until he dies Though endless be her Cruelty Calling her Beauties to my Mind I bow beneath her Tyranny And dare not murmur she 's unkind Reason this tameness does upbraid Proff'ring to arm in my defence But when I call her to my aid She 's more a Traytor than my sense No sooner I the War declare But strait her succour she denies And joyning Forces with the Fair Confirms the Conquest of her Eyes SYLVIA By the same Author THe Nymph that undoes me is Fair and Unkind No less than a Wonder by Nature design'd She 's the Grief of my Heart the Joy of my Eye And the cause of a Flame that never can die Her Mouth from whence Wit still obligingly flows Has the Beautiful Blush and the Smell of the Rose Love and Destiny both attend on her Will She wounds with a Look with a Frown she can kill The Desperate Lover can hope no redress Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess In Sylvia they meet so unhappy am I Who sees her must Love and who Loves her must die TO CELIA By Sir Charles Sedley AS in those Nations where they yet adore Marble and Cedar and their aid implore 'T is not the Workman nor the precious Wood But 't is the Worshipper that makes the God So cruel Fair tho Heaven has giv'n thee all We Mortals Virtue or can Beauty call 'T is we that give the Thunder to your Frowns Darts to your Eyes and to our selves the Wounds Without our Love which proudly you deride Vain were your Beauty and more vain your Pride All envy'd Beings that the World can shew Still to some meaner thing their greatness owe. Subjects make Kings and we the numerous Train Of Humble Lovers Constitute thy Reign This difference only Beauties Realm may boast Where most it favours it enslaves the most And they to whom it is indulgent found Are ever in the rudest Fetters bound What Tyrant yet but thee was ever known Cruel to those that serv'd to make him one Valour 's a Vice if not with Honour joyn'd And Beauty a Disease when 't is not kind THE SUBMISSION By the same Author AH Pardon Madam if I ever thought Your smallest Favours could too dear be bought And the just greatness of your Servant's Flame I did the poorness of their Spirits Name Calling their due attendance Slavery Your power of Life and Death flat Tyranny Since now I yield and do confess there is No way too hard that leads to such a bliss So when Hippomanes beheld the Race Where Loss was Death and Conquest but a Face He stood amazed at the fatal strife Wondring that Love shou'd dearer be than Life But when he saw the Prize no longer staid But through those very dangers sought the Maid And won her too O may his Conquest prove A happy Omen to my purer Love Which if the honour of all Victory In the resistance of the Vanquisht lie Though it may be the least regarded Prize Is not the smallest Trophy of your Eyes CONSTANCY By the same Author FEar not My Dear a Flame can never die That is once kindled by so bright an Eye Look on thy self and measure thence my Love
Think what a Passion such a Form must move For though thy Beauty first allur'd my Sight Yet now I look on it but as the Light That led me to the Treasury of thy Mind Whose inward Virtue in that Feature shin'd That knot be confident will ever last Which Fancy ty'd and Reason has made fast So fast that time although it may disarm Thy Lovely Face my Faith can never harm And Age deluded when it comes will find My Love remov'd and to thy Soul assign'd The Passion I have now shall ne'er grow less No though thy own Fair Self should it oppre I could e'en hazard my Eternity Love but again and 't will a Heaven be THE INDIFFERENCE By the same Author THanks Fair Vrania to your scorn I now am free as I was born Of all the Pain that I endur'd By your late Coldness I am Cur'd In losing me proud Nymph you lose The Humblest Slave your Beauty knows In losing you I but throw down A Cruel Tyrant from her Throne I must confess I ne'er could find Your equal or in Shape or Mind Y 'ave Beauty Wit and all things know But where you shou'd your Love bestow I unawares my Freedom gave And to those Tyrants grew a Slave But would y 'ave kept what you have won You should have more Compassion shewn Love is a burthen which two Hearts When equally they bear their parts With pleasure carry but no one Alas can bear it long alone I 'm not of those who Court their Pain And make an Idol of Disdain My hope in Love does ne'er expire But I lose also the Desire Nor yet of those who ill receiv'd Would gladly have strange things believ'd And if your Heart you do defend Their Force against your Honour bend Whoe'er does make his Victor less His own low weakness does confess And whiles her pow'r he does defame He poorly doubles his own shame Even that Malice does betray And speak concern another way And all such scorn in Men is but The Smoak of Fires ill put out He 's still in Torment whom the Rage To Detraction does engage In Love Indifference is sure The only sign of perfect Cure Yet Cruel Fair if thou canst prove As happy in some other Love As I could once have done in thine The Sun on Happier does not shine A Pastoral Dialogue By the same Author Thyrsis STrephon O Strephon Once the Jolliest Lad That with shrill Pipe did ever Mountain glad While'ome the formost at our Rural Plays The Pride and Glory of our Holy-days Why dost thou now sit musing all alone Teaching the Turtles yet a sadder Groan Well'd with thy Tears why does the Neighb'ring Brook Bear to the Ocean what she never took Why do our Woods so us'd to hear thee Sing With nothing now but with thy Sorrows ring Thy Flocks are well and fruitful and no Swain Than thee more welcome to the Hill or Plain Strephon. No loss of these or care of those are left Hath wretched Strephon of his Peace bereft I could invite the Wolf my Cruel Guest And play unmov'd while he on all did Feast I could endure that every Swain out-run Out-threw Out-wrestl'd and each Nymph shou'd shun The hapless Strephon But the Gods I find To no such trifles have this Heart design'd A feller grief and sadder loss I plain Than ever Shepherd or did Prince sustain Bright Galatea in whose matchless Face Sate Rural Innocence with Heavenly Grace In whose no less to be adored mind With equal light even distant Virtues shin'd Chaste without pride though gentle yet not soft Not always cruel nor yet kind too oft Fair Goddess of these Fields who for our sports Though she might well become despised Courts Belov'd of all and loving one alone Is from my fight I fear for ever gone Now I am sure thou wondrest not I grieve But rather art amazed that I Live Thyrsis Thy Case indeed is pitiful but yet Thou on thy loss too great a price dost set Women like Days are Strephon some be far More bright and glorious than others are Yet none so wonderful were ever seen But by as Fair they have succeeded been Strephon. Others as Fair and may as worthy prove But sure I never shall another Love Her bright Idea wanders in my Thought At once my Poyson and my Antidote The Stag shall sooner with the Eagle soar Seas leave their Fishes naked on the shoar The Wolf shall sooner by the Lambkin die And from the Kid the hungry Lyon flie Than I forget her Face what once I Love May from my Eyes but not my Heart remove To a Lady who fled the Sight of him By Sir George Etherege IF I my Celia cou'd perswade To see those Wounds her Eyes have made And hear whilst I that Passion tell Which like her self does so excel How soon we might be freed from Care She need not fear nor I despair Such Beauty does the Nymph protect That all approach her with respect And can I offer Violence Where Love does joyn in her defence This Guard might all her Fears disperse Did she with Savages Converse Then my Celia wou'd surprize With what 's produc'd by her own Eyes Those matchless Flames which they inspire In her own Breast shou'd raise a fire For Love but with more subtil Art As well as Beauty charms the Heart To a Lady asking him how long he would Love her By the same Author IT is not Celia in our power To say how long our Love will last It may be we within this Hour May lose those Joys we now do taste The Blessed that Immortal be From Change in Love are only free Then since we Mortal Lovers are Ask not how long our Love will last But while it does let us take care Each Minute be with Pleasure past Were it not madness to deny To Live because w' are sure to Die TO Mr. G. Granville ON HIS VERSES TO THE KING By Mr. Edmund Waller AN Early Plant which such a Blossom bears And shows a Genius so beyond his Years A Judgment which could make so fair a Choice So high a Subject to employ his Voice Still as it grows How sweetly will it sing The growing Greatness of our Matchless King TO Mr. WALLER By Mr. G. Granville WHen into Lybia the Young Grecian came To Talk with Hammon and Consult for Fame When from the Sacred Tripod where he stood The Priest inspir'd Saluted him a God So own'd by Heaven less glorious far was he Great God of Verse than I thus Prais'd by Thee Whoe'er their Names can in thy Numbers show Have more than Empire and Immortal grow Ages to come shall scorn the Pow'rs of Old When in thy Verse of Greater Gods they 're told Our Beauteous Queen and Martial Monarch's Name For Jove and Juno shall be plac'd by Fame Thy Charles for Neptune shall the Seas Command And Sacharissa shall for Venus stand Greece shall no longer Boast nor Haughty Rome But think from Britain all the
Crown'd Ye that pass by see me with Sorrows Drown'd My weight of Sin hath press'd me to the Ground Who is it now my Freedom can restore My Youth and Captive Virgins are no more 19. I call'd for all my Friends but they were gone Friendship grows cold when Misery comes on With Hunger pin'd my Priests and Rulers Dy'd Within my Walls perish'd my Strength and Guide 20. My Crimes were great so are my Sorrows now Behold my Lord see the Afflicted bow Abroad th' unwearied Sword bereaves of Breath And Grief at Home is a more Cruel Death 21. All round me hear my Sighs and see my Tears Whilst there is none that can relieve my Cares My Foes hear and rejoyce at what is done But thou wilt surely Lord at last return And then the Enemy like me will Mourn 22. Their Crimes are great turn Mighty Lord and see Afflict 'em then as thou Afflictest me My Griefs are great turn therefore and Relent My Sighs are many and my Heart is Faint TO CELIA By an Vnknown Hand ALL things submit themselves to your Command Fair Celia when it does not Love withstand The power it borrowed from your Eyes alone All but himself would yield to who has none Were he not blind such are the Charms you have He 'd quit his Godhead to become your Slave Be proud to act a Mortal Hero's part And throw himself for Fame on his own Dart But Fate hath otherwise dispos'd of things In different Bonds Subjecting Slaves and Kings That Fate like you resistless does ordain That Love alone should over Beauty Reign By Harmony the Universe does move And what is Harmony but Mutual Love See gentle Brooks how quietly they glide Kissing the rugged Banks on either side Whil'st in their Crystal Stream at once they show And with them feed the Flowers which they bestow Though prest upon by their too rude Imbrace In gentle Murmurs they keep on their pace To their Lov'd Sea for even Streams have Desires Cool as they are they feel Love's Pow'rful Fires And with such Passion that if any force Stop or molest 'em in their Am'rous Course They swell with Rage break down and Ravage o'er The Banks they Kiss'd the Flowers they fed before Who would resist an Empire so Divine Which Universal Nature does enjoyn Submit then Celia e're you be reduc'd For Rebels Vanquisht once are vilely us'd And such are you when e're you dare obey Another Passion and your Love betray You are Love's Citadels by you he reigns And his proud Empire o'er the World maintains He trusts you with his Stratagems and Arms His Frowns his Smiles and all his Conquering Charms Beauty 's no more but the dead Soil which Love Manures and does by wise Commerce improve Sailing by Sighs through Seas of Tears he sends Courtship from Foreign Hearts For your own Ends Cherish a Trade for as with Indians we Get Gold and Jewels for our Trumpery So to each other for their useless Toys Lovers afford Inestimable Joys But if you 're fond of Trifles be and Starve Your Gugaw Reputation preserve Live upon Modesty and empty Fame Foregoing Sense for a Fantastick Name SONG By a Person of Honour * AS he lay in the Plain his Arm under his Head And his Flock feeding by the fond Celadon said If Love 's a Sweet Passion why does it Torment If a Bitter said he whence are Lovers Content Since I suffer with Pleasure why should I complain Or grieve at my Fate when I know 't is in vain Yet so pleasing the Pain is so soft is the Dart That at once it both Wounds me and Tickles my Heart To my self I sigh often without knowing why And when Absent from Phillis methinks I could Die But Oh! what a Pleasure still follows my Pain When kind Fortune do's help me to see her again In her Eyes the bright Stars that foretel what 's to come By soft stealth now and then I examine my Doom I press her Hand gently look languishing down And by Passionate Silence I make my Love known But Oh! how I 'm Blest when so kind she do's prove By some willing Mistake to discover her Love When in striving to hide she reveals all her Flame And our Eyes tell each other what neither dare name A SONG By Mrs. Wharton HOW hardly I conceal'd my Tears How oft did I complain When many tedious Days my Fears Told me I Lov'd in vain But now my Joys as wild are grown And hard to be conceal'd Sorrow may make a silent Moan But Joy will be reveal'd I tell it to the Bleating Flocks To every Stream and Tree And Bless the Hollow Murmuring Rocks For Echoing back to me Thus you may see with how much Joy We Want we Wish Believe 'T is hard such Passion to Destroy But easie to Deceive ON THE STORM BETWEEN Gravesend and Diepe Made at that Time By the same Author WHen the Tempestuous Sea did foam and roar Tossing the Bark from the long-wish'd for Shore With false affected fondness it betray'd Striving to keep what Perish'd if it stay'd Such is the Love of Impious Men where e're Their cruel Kindness lights 't is to ensnare I toss'd in tedious Storms of troubled Thought Was careless of the Waves the Ocean brought My Anchor Hope was lost and too too near On either hand were Rocks of sad Despair Mistaken Seamen prais'd my fearless Mind Which sunk in Seas of Grief could dare the Wind. In Life tempestuous Life is dread and harm Approaching Death had no unpleasing Form Approaching Death appeases ev'ry Storm TO Mrs. A. BEHN On what she Writ of The Earl of Rochester By the same Author IN pleasing Transport rap't my Thoughts aspire With humble Verse to Praise what you Admire Few living Poets may the Laurel claim Most pass thro' Death to reach at Living Fame Fame Phoenix like still rises from a Tomb But bravely you this Custom have o'ercome You force an Homage from each Generous Heart Such as you always pay to just Desert You prais'd him Living whom you Dead bemoan And now your Tears afresh his Laurel crown It is this Flight of yours excites my Art Weak as it is to take your Muse's part And pay loud Thanks back from my bleeding Heart May you in every pleasing Grace excel May Bright Apollo in your Bosome dwell May yours excel the Matchless Sappho's Name May you have all her Wit without her Shame Tho' she to Honour gave a fatal Wound Employ your Hand to raise it from the ground Right its wrong'd Cause with your Inticing Strain Its ruin'd Temples try to build again Scorn meaner Theams declining low desire And bid your Muse maintain a Vestal Fire If you do this what Glory will insue To all our Sex to Poesie and you Write on and may your Numbers ever flow Soft as the Wishes that I make for you TO MELPOMENE AGAINST COMPLAINT By the same Author IN soft Complaints no longer ease I find That latest refuge of a
is ours THE PLATONICK By Sir Charles Sedley FAIR Octavia you are much to blame To blow the fire and wonder at the flame I did converse 't is true so far was mine But that I Lov'd and hop'd was wholly thine Not hop'd as others do for a return But that I might without offending burn I thought those Eyes which every hour enslave Could not remember all the Wounds they gave Forgotten in the Crowd I wisht to lie And of your Coldness not your Anger die Yet since you know I Love 't is now no time Longer to hide let me excuse the Crime Seeing what Laws I to my Passion give Perphaps you may consent that it should live First It never shall a hope advance Of waiting on you but by seeming chance I at a distance will Adore your Eyes As awful Persians do the Eastern Skies I never will presume to think of Sex Nor with gross Thoughts my Deathless Love perplex I tread a pleasant path without design And to thy care my Happiness resign From Heaven it self thy Beauty cannot be A freer Gift than is my Love to Thee TO A Devout Young Woman By the same Author PHillis this mighty Zeal asswage You over-act your part The Martyrs at your tender Age Gave Heaven but half their Heart Old Men till past the Pleasure ne'er Declaim against the Sin 'T is early to begin to fear The Devil at Fifteen The World to Youth is too severe And like a Treacherous Light Beauty the Actions of the Fair Exposes to their sight And yet this World as old as 't is Is oft deceiv'd by 't too Wise Combinations seldom miss Let 's try what we can do SONG By the same Author WHEN Aurelia first became The Mistress of his Heart So mild and gentle was her Reign Thyrsis in hers had part Reserves and Care he laid aside And gave his Love the Reins The headlong course he now must bide No other way remains At first her Cruelty he fear'd But that being overcome No second for a while appear'd And he thought all his own He call'd himself a happier Man Than ever Lov'd before Her Favours still his Hopes out-ran What Mortal can have more Love smil'd at first then looking grave Said Thyrsis leave to boast More joy than all her kindness gave Her Fickleness will cost He spoke and from that fatal time All Thyrsis did or said Appear'd unwelcome or a Crime To the Ungrateful Maid Then he dispairing of her Heart Would fain have had his own Love answered such a Nymph could part With nothing she had won On the Lamented DEATH Of the Late Countess of DORSET By N. Tate Servant to Their Majesties HOME Shepherds to your Cottages retire Your Dorset Mourns no more the Pipe inspire Your Mirth is done your Care is vain what need To Tend those Flocks that will no longer Feed Nature her self concern'd for Him appears Sables for his and her lost Darling wears She Sighs in Storms and Weeps in Seas of Tears Ev'n Earth that does the precious Relicks shround Laments the Treasure that shou'd make her Pround Alone exempted from the gen'ral Care The Skies rejoyce to have regain'd their Star Profane Disease The Crime had been too great In only Batt'ring of so fair a Seat Which spightfully thou quite hast undermin'd Because the bright Remains would still have shin'd So Envious Rome no Method cou'd employ Fair Carthage to Subdue but to Destroy Mute are the Groves where Happy Shepherds sung And Philomel once more has lost her Tongue The Palm and Myrtle Glades no longer please Cypress and Yew are now the only Trees The ruthfull'st Objects most Endearments have The Uncouth Vale Delights and gloomy Cave Can please because it represents the Grave Tears our Refreshment are our sole Relief To give Despair free scope To set the Sluces ope And Rowl with the Impetuous Tide of Grief Let the next Age the costly Tomb prepare To her shrin'd Image come and seek her there The Present rears beyond the Pow'r of Art A breathing Monument in ev'ry Heart What Rhet'rick can divorce what Charms of Verse The Sighing Mother from her Darling's Hearse To trace her Features and her Virtues paint In Form an Angel as in Life a Saint Are Themes ill suited to a Parent 's Grief The Food of Sorrow an unkind Relief One only Sov'raign Balm sick Nature bears A Sympathizing Royal Mourners Tears Though Gods nor Goddesses may Fate reverse Our Goddess Weeping Consecrates the Hearse Behold forlorn the Muses Patron laid With Mourning Cupids in the Cypress shade Of Fate nor cruel Skies he once complains But inwardly the Conflict deep sustains The strugling Tumult in his Breast restrains O DORSET cou'd our Worthless Live presented Whose Comforts only on thy Smiles depend To Bribe thy Griefs how pleas'd cou'd we resign Our Breaths compounding for one Pang of thine Our Useless Breaths are tender'd now in vain Science Tuneful Notes no more must chear the Plain Let Numbers cease for whom shou'd they relieve That can no Comfort to their Patron give Yet DORSET Live in pity to the Age That to Condole thy Loss forgets its Rage The Impious Age still from one Crime is Free Mad with Intestine Strife we all agree As in Admired in Lamenting Thee Let those dear Pledges Intercede at least The Living Relicks of of Fair Deceas'd Till Infant Beauty to full Bloom arrives The Mother's Virtues and her Charms receives Till Dawing Buckhurst to his Zenith rise And gild like you and warm our Northern Skies Till then Indulge our dearest Wishes scope Next Age's DORSET Britain's second Hope To CHLORIS By Sir Charles Sedley CHloris I cannot say your Eyes Did my unwary Heart surprize Nor will I swear it was your Face Your Shape or any nameless Grace For you are so entirely Fair To Love a part injustice were No drowning Man can know which drop Of water his last breath did stop So when the Stars in Heaven appear And join to make the Night look clear The Light we no one's Bounty call But the united work of all He that both Lips or Hands adore Deserves them only and no more But I Love all and every part And nothing less can ease my Heart Cupid that Lover weakly strikes Who can express what 't is he likes SONG By the same Author AVrelia Art thou mad To let the World in me Envy Joys I never had And censure them in Thee Fill'd with grief for what is past Let us at length be wise And the Banquet boldly taste Since we have paid the price Love does easie Souls despise Who lose themselves for Toys And Escape for those devise Who taste his utmost Joys To be thus for Trifles blam'd Like theirs a Folly is Who are for vain Swearing Damn'd And knew no higher Bliss Love should like the Year be Crown'd With sweet variety Hope should in the Spring be found Kind Fears and Jealousie In the Summer Flowers should rife And in the Autumn Fruit His Spring doth else but
spoke All Heaven was Fire and Sinai hid in Smoak Praise him sweet Off-spring of the Ground With Heavenly Nectar yearly Crown'd And ye tall Cedars celebrate his Praise That in his Temple Sacred Altars raise Idle Musicians of the Spring Whose only cares to Love and Sing Fly thro the World and let your trembling Throat Praise your Creatour with the sweetest Note Praise him each Salvage Furious Beast That on his Stores do daily feast And you tame Slaves of the Laborious Plow Your weary Knees to your Creatour bow Majestick Monarchs Mortal Gods Whose Power hath here no Periods May all Attempts against your Crown be vain But still remember by whose power you Raign Let the wide World his Praises sing Where Tagus and Euphrates spring And from the Danube frosty Banks to those Where from an unknown head great Nilus flows You that dispose of all our Lives Praise him from whom your power derives Be True and Just like him and fear his Word As much as Malefactors do your Sword Praise him old Monuments of Time O praise him in your Youthful prime Praise him fair Idols of our greedy Sence Exalt his Name sweet Age of Innocence Jehovah's Name shall only last When Heaven Earth and all is past Nothing Great God is to be found in Thee But Unconceivable Eternity Exalt O Jacob's Sacred Race The God of Gods the God of Grace Who will above the Stars your Empire raise And with His Glory Recompence your Praise TO ORINDA An Imitation of HORACE By the Earl of Roscommon Integer vitae c. Carm. Lib. 1. Od. 22. I. VIrtue dear Friend needs no defence No Arms but it s own Innocence Quivers and Bows and poison'd Darts Are only us'd by guilty Hearts II. An honest mind safely alone May travel through the burning Zone Or through the deepest Scythian Snows Or where the fam'd Hydaspes flows III. While rul'd by a resistless fire Our Great ORINDA I Admire The hungry Wolves that see me stray Unarm'd and single run away IV. Set me in the remotest place That ever Neptune did embrace When there her Image fills my Breast Helicon is not half so blest V. Leave me upon some Libyan Plain So she my Fancy entertain And when the thirsty Monsters meet They 'll all pay homage to my Feet VI. The Magick of ORINDA's Name Not only can their fierceness tame But if that mighty word I once rehearse They seem submissively to roar in Verse THE GROVE By the same Author AH happy Grove Dark and secure retreat Of Sacred silence Rest's Eternal Seat How well your cool and unfrequented shade Suits with the chaste retirements of a Maid Oh! If kind Heavâ—n had been so much my friend To make my Fate upon my choice depend All my ambition I would here confine And only this Elyzium should be mine Fond Men by Passion wilfully betray'd Adore those Idols which their fancy made Purchasing Riches with our time and care We lose our freedom in a gilded Snare And having all all to our selves refuse Opprest with Blessings which we fear to use Fame is at best but an inconstant good Vain are the boasted Titles of our Blood We soonest lose what we most highly prise And with our Youth our short-liv'd Beauty dies In vain our Fields and Flocks increase our store If our abundance makes us wish for more How happy is the harmless Country Maid Who rich by Nature scorns superfluous aid Whose modest Cloaths no wanton eyes invite But like her Soul preserves the Native White Whose little store her well-taught Mind does please Not pinch'd with want nor cloyd with wanton ease Who free from Storms which on the Great Ones fall Makes but few Wishes and enjoys them all No care but Love can discompose her Breast Love of all Cares the sweetest and the best Whil'st on sweet Grass her bleating Charge does lie Our happy Lover feeds upon her eye Not one on whom or Gods or Men impose But one whom Love has for this Lover chose Under some favourite Myrtle's shady Boughs They speak their Passions in repeated Vows And whilst a Blush confesses how she burns His faithful heart makes as sincere returns Thus in the Arms of Love and Peace they lie And whilst they Live their flames can never die THE DUEL OF THE STAGS Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD IN Windsor Forest before War destroy'd The harmless Pleasures which soft Peace injoy'd A mighty Stag grew Monarch of the Heard By all his Savage Slaves obey'd and fear'd And while the Troops about their Soveraign fed They watch't the awful nodding of his Head Still as he passeth by they all remove Proud in Dominion Prouder in his Love And while with Pride and Appetite he swells He courts no chosen object but compels No Subject his lov'd Mistress dares deny But yields his hopes up to his Tyranny Long had this Prince imperiously thus sway'd By no set Laws but by his Will obey'd His fearful Slaves to full Obedience grown Admire his strength and dare not use their own One Subject most did his suspicion move That show'd least Fear and counterfeited Love In the best Pastures by his side he fed Arm'd with two large Militia's on his head As if he practis'd Majesty he walk't And at his Nod he made not haste but stalk't By his large shade he saw how great he was And his vast Layers on the bended Grass His thoughts as large as his proportion grew And judg'd himself as fit for Empire too Thus to rebellious hopes he swell'd at length Love and Ambition growing with his strength This hid Ambition his bold Passion shows And from a Subject to a Rival grows Sollicits all his Princes fearful Dames And in his sight Courts with rebellious flames The Prince sees this with an inflamed Eye But Looks are only signs of Majesty When once a Prince's Will meets a restraint His Power is then esteem'd but his Complaint His Head then shakes at which th' affrighted Heard Start to each side his Rival not afear'd Stands by his Mistress side and stirs not thence But bids her own his Love and his Defence The Quarrel now to a vast height is grown Both urg'd to fight by Passion and a Throne But Love has most excuse for all we find Have Passions tho' not Thrones alike assign'd The Soveraign Stag shaking his loaded head On which hisScepters with his Arms were spread Wisely by Nature there together fix't Where with the Title the Defence was mixt The Pace which he advanc'd with to engage Became at once his Majesty and Rage T'other stands still with as much confidence To make his part seem only his defence Their heads now meet and at one blow each strikes As many strokes as if a Rank of Pikes Grew on his Brows as thick their Antlers stand Which every Year kind Nature does disband Wild Beasts sometimes in peace and quiet are But Man no season frees from Love or War With equal strength they met as if two
new-born Hopes his antient Fears o'recame The Mighty Enemies now met at length With equal Fury though not equal Strength For now too late the Conqueror did find That all was wasted in him but his Mind His Courage in his Weakness yet prevails As a bold Pilot steers with tatter'd Sails And Cordage crackt directs no steddy Course Carry'd by Resolution more than Force Before his once scorn'd Enemy he reels His Wounds encreasing with his Shame he feels The others Strenght more from his Weakness grows And with one furious push his Rival throws So a tall Oak the pride of all the Wood That long th' Assault of several Storms hath stood Till by a Mighty Blast more pow'rfully push't His Root 's torn up and to the Earth he rusht Yet then he rais'd his Head on which there Grew Once all his Power and all his Title too Unable now to rise and less to Fight He rais'd those Scepters to demand his Right But such weak Arguments prevail with none To plead their Titles when their Power is gone His Head now sinks and with it all desence Not only rob'd of Power but Pretence Wounds upon Wounds the Conqueror still gives And thinks himself unsafe while t'other Lives Unhappy State of such as wear a Crown Fortune does seldom lay'em gently down Now to the most scorn'd Remedy he flies And for some Pity seems to move his Eyes Pity by which the best of Virtue 's try'd To wretched Princes ever is deny'd There is a Debt to Fortune which they pay For all their Greatness by no Common way The flatt'ring Troops unto the Victor fly And own his Title to his Victory The faith of most with Fortune does decline Duty 's but Fear and Conscience but Design The Victor now proud in his great success Hastes to enjoy his fatal Happiness Forgot his Mighty Rival was destroy'd By that which he so fondly now enjoy'd In Passions thus Nature her self enjoys Sometimes Preserves and then again destroys Yet all Destruction which Revenge can move Time or Ambition is supply'd by Love TO CELIA By Sir Charles Sedley YOU tell me Celia you approve Yet never must return my love An answer that my hope destroys And in the Cradle wounds our joys To kill at once what needs must die None would to Birds and Beasts deny How can you then so cruel prove As to preserve and torture Love That Beauty Nature kindly meant For her own Pride and our Content Why shou'd the Tyrant Honour make Our greatest torment Let us break His Yoke and that base power disdain Which only keeps the good in pain In Love and War th' Impostor do's The best to greatest harms expose Come then my Celia let 's no more This Devil for a God adore Like foolish Indians we have been Whose whole Religion is a sin If we the Laws of Love had kept And not in Dreams of Honour slept He wou'd have surely long ere this Have Crown'd us with the highest Bliss Our Joy had then been as compleat As now our Folly has been great Let 's lose no time then but repent Love welcomes best a Penitent ANSWER By the same Author THyrsis I wish as well as you To Honour there were nothing due Then would I pay my Debt of Love In the same Coin that you approve Which now you must in Friendship take 'T is all the Payment I can make Friendship so high that I must say 'T is rather Love with some allay And rest contented since that I As well my self as you deny Learn then of me bravely to bear The want of what you hold most dear And that which Honour does in me Let my Example work on thee TO CELIA By the same Author PRinces make Laws by which their Subjects live And the high Gods Rules for their Worship give How should poor Mortals else a Service find At all proportion'd to their mighty Mind Had it been left to us each one would bring Of what he lik'd himself an Offering And with unwelcome Zeal perhaps displease Th' offended Deity he would appease All powers but thine this Mercy do allow And how they wou'd be serv'd themselves do shew A rude Barbarian wou'd his Captiv'd Foe Fully instruct in what he 'd have him do And can it be my Celia that Love Less kind than War shou'd to the vanquish't prove Say cruel Fair then would you that my flame Shou'd for a while move under Friendship 's Name Or may it boldly like it self appear And its own Tale deliver to your Ear Or must it in my tortur'd Bosome live Like Fire in quiet Elints and no Light give And only then humbly send forth a small Spark when your self does on that Subject fall My Passion can with any Laws comply And for your sake do any thing but Die TO CHLORIS By the same Author CHloris I justly am betray'd By a Design my self had laid Like an old Rook whom in his Cheat A Run of Fortune does defeat I thought at first with a small Sum Of Love thy heap to overcome Presuming on thy want of Art Thy gentle and upractis'd Heart But naked Beauty can prevail Like open force when Plots do fail Instead of that thou hast all mine And I have not one Stake of thine And like all Winners do'st discover A willingness to give me over And though I beg thou wilt not now 'T were better thou should'st do so too For I so far in Debt shall run Even thee I shall be forc't to shun My Hand alas is no more mine Else it had long ago been thine My Heart I give thee and we call No Man unjust that parts with all What a Priest says moves not the mind Souls are by Love not Words combin'd To a Lady who told him he could not Love By the same Author MAdam though meaner Beauties might Perhaps have need of some such slight Who to excuse their Rigour must Say they our Passions do mistrust And that they wou'd more pity shew Were they but sure our Loves were true You shou'd those petty Arts despise Secure of what is once your Prize We to our Slaves no Frauds address But as they are our Minds express Tell me not then I cannot Love Say rather you it ne'er can move Who can no more doubt of your Charms Than I resist such pow'rful Arms Whose numerous force that I withstood So long was not through any hope I cou'd Escape their pow'r but through despair Which oft makes Courage out of fear I trembling saw how you us'd those Who tamely yielded without blows Had you but one of all them spar'd I might perhaps have been ensnar'd And not have thus e're I did yield Call'd Love's whole Force into the Field Yet now I 'm Conquer'd I will prove Faithful as they that never strove All flames in matter where too fast They do not seize the longer last Then blame not mine for moving slow Since all things durable are so The Oak that 's for three hundred
Gods did come ON MYRA's Singing By the same Author THE Syrens once Deluded Vainly Charm'd Ty'd to the Mast Vlysses Sail'd un-harm'd Had Myra's Voice Entic'd his List'ning Ear The Greek had stop't and wou'd have Dy'd to hear When Myra Sings we seek th' Enchanting Sound And Bless the Notes which do so sweetly Wound What Musick needs must dwell upon that Tongue Whose Speech is Tune-full as another's Song Such Harmony such Wit a Face so fair So many pointed Arrows who can bear The Slave that from her Wit or Beauty flies If she but reach him with her Voice he Dies Like Soldiers so in Battle we succeed One Peril scaping by another Bleed In vain the Dart or glittering Sword we shun Condemn'd to Perish by the Slaughtering Gun IN Praise of MYRA. By the same Author I. TUNE thy Harmonious Lyre Begin my Muse What Nymph What Queen What Goddess shall we chuse Whose Praises shall we Sing What Charmer's Name Transmit Immortal down to Fame Strike strike thy Strings let Echo take the Sound And bear it far to all the Mountains round Pyndus again shall hear again rejoyce And Haemus too as when th' Enchanting Voice Of Tuneful Orpheus Charm'd the Grove Taught Oaks to Dance and made the Cedars move II. Nor Venus nor Diana will we Name Myra is Venus and Diana too All that was feign'd of them apply'd to her is true Then Sing my Muse let Myra be our Theam As when the Shepherds do their Garland make They search with pains the Fragrant Meadows round Plucking but here and there and only take The Choicest Flow'rs with which some Nymph is Crown'd In Framing Myra so Divinely Fair Nature has taken the same care All that is Lovely Noble Good we see All-beauteous Myra all bound up in Thee III. Where Myra is there is the Queen of Love Th' Arcadian Pastures and the Cyprian Grove When Myra Walks so Charming is her Meen In every Movement every Grace is seen When Myra speaks so just's the sense and strong So Sweet the Voice 't is like the Muse's Song Place me on Mountains of Eternal Snow Where all is Ice all Winter Winds that blow Or cast me underneath the Burning Line Where everlasting Sun do's shine Where all is scorcht Whatever you decree Ye Gods whereever I shall be Myra shall still be Lov'd and still Ador'd by Me. SONG By the same Author PRepar'd to Rail Resolv'd to Part When I approach the Perjur'd Maid What is it awes my Timorous Heart Why is my Tongue afraid With the least Glance a little kind Such wondrous Pow'r have Myra's Charms She drives my Doubts Enslaves my Mind And all my Rage disarms Forgetful of her broken Vows when gazing on that Form Divine Her Injur'd Vassal trembling bows Nor dares the Slave Repine SONG By the same Author SO Smooth and so Serene but now What means this Change on Myra's Brow Her Aguish Love now glows and burns Then chills and shakes and the Cold Fit returns Mockt with deluding Vows and Smiles When on her Pity I depend My airy hope she soon beguiles And Laughs to see my Labours never end So up the Steepy Hill with pain The weighty Stone is rowl'd in vain Which having toucht the top recoils And leaves the Labourer * Sisyphus to renew his Toils VERSES Sent from an Unknown Hand To Mr. G. GRANVILLE In the Countrey WHY G I le is thy Life confin'd To Shades Thou whom the Gods design'd In publick to do credit to Mankind Why sleeps the Noble Ardour of thy Bloud Which from thy Ancestors so many Ages past From Rollo down to Bevil Floud And then appear'd again at last In Thee whom thy Victorious Lance Bore the Disputed Prize from all the Youth of France In the first Tryals which are made for Fame Those to whom Fate Success denies If taking Counsel from their Shame They modestly Retreat they 're Wise But why should you who still succeed In all you do whether with Graceful Art you lead The fiery Barb or with as Graceful Motion tread At shining Balls where all agree To give the highest Praise and the first Place to Thee So Lov'd and Prais'd whom all Admire Why why should you from Courts or Camps retire If Celia is unkind if it can be That any Nymph can be unkind to Thee If Pensive made by Love you thus retire A wake your Muse and string your Lyre Thy tender Song and thy Melodious Strain Can never be addrest in vain She needs will Love and we shall have Thee back again SONG By Sir George Etherege TEll me no more you Love in vain Fair Celia You this Passion feign Can they pretend to Love who do Resuse what Love perswades them to Who once has felt his Active Flame Dull Laws of Honour will disdain You wou'd be thougth his Slave and yet You will not to his Pow'r submit More Cruel then those Beauties are Whose Coyness wounds us to despair For all the kindness which you shew Each Smile and Kiss which you bestow Are like those Cordials which we give To Dying Men to make them Live And Languish out an Hour in pain Be Kinder Celia or Disdain To Her EXCELLENCE the MARCHIONESS OF NEW-CASTLE After the Reading of Her Incomparable POEMS By the same Author Madam WIth so much Wonder we are struck When we begin to Read your matchless Book A while your own excess of Merit stays Our forward Pens and does suspend your Praise Till Time our Minds does gently recompose Allays this Wonder and our Duty shews Instructs us how your Virtues to proclaim And what we ought to pay to your Great Fame Your Fame which in your Countrey has no Bounds But wheresoever Learning 's known resounds Those Graces Nature did till now divide Your Sexes Glory and our Sexes Pride Are joyn'd in you and all to you submit The brightest Beauty and the sharpest Wit No Faction here or fiery Envy sways They give you Myrtle while we offer Bays What Mortal dares dispute those Wreaths with You Arm'd thus with Light'ning and with Thunder too This made the Great New-Castle's Heart your Prize Your Charming Soul and your Victorious Eyes Had only pow'r his Martial Mind to tame And raise in his Heroick Breast a Flame A Flame which with his Courage still aspires As if Immortal Fuel fed those Fires This Mighty Chief and your Great Self made One Together the same Race of Glory run Together in the Wings of Fame you move Like yours his Vertue And like yours his Love While we your Praise endeav'ring to rehearse Pay that great Duty in our Humble Verse Such as may justly move your Anger You Like Heaven forgive them and accept them too But what we cannot your brave Hero pays He builds those Monuments we strive to raise Such as to after Ages shall make known While he records your Deathless Fame his own So when an Artist some rare Beauty draws Both in our wonder share and our applause His skill from Time secures
By the same Author LOve when 't is true needs not the aid Of Sighs nor Tears to make it known And to convince the Cruel'st Maid Lovers should use their Love alone Into their very Looks 't will steal And he that most will hide his Flame Does in that Care his Pains reveal Silence it self can Love proclaim This Aurelia made me shun The Paths that common Lovers tread Whose guilty passions are begun Not in their Hearts but in their Head I cou'd not sigh and with cross'd Arms Lament your Rigour and my Fate Nor tax your Beauty with such Charms As Men Adore and Women Hate But Careless Live and without Art Knowing my Love you must have sp'ide And thinking it a foolish part To strive to shew what none can hide To my Honoured Friend Sir ROBERT HOWARD On His Excellent Poems By Mr. John Dryden AS there is Musick uninform'd by Art In those wild Notes which with a merry Heart The Birds in unfrequented Shades express Who better taught at home yet please us less So in your Verse a native sweetness dwells Which shames Composure and its Art excells Singing no more can your soft numbers grace Than Paint adds Charms unto a Beauteous Face Yet as when mighty Rivers gently creep Their even calmness does suppose them deep Such is your Muse No Metaphor swell'd high With dangerous boldness lifts her to the Sky Those mounting Fancies when they fall again Shew Sand and Dirt at bottom do remain So firm a strength and yet withal so sweet Did never but in Sampson's Riddle meet 'T is strange each Line so great a weight should bear And yet no sign of toil no sweat appear Either your Art hides Art as Stoicks feign Then least to feel when most they suffer pain And we dull Souls admire but cannot see What hidden Springs within the Engine be Or 't is some happiness that still pursues Each Act and Motion of your Graceful Muse Or is it Fortune's Work that in your Head The curious * Rete Mirabile Net that is for Fancies spread Le ts through its Meshes every meaner Thought While rich Idea's there are only caught Sure that 's not all this is a piece too fair To be the Child of Chance and not of Care No Atoms casually together hurl'd Could e'er produce so beautiful a World Nor dare I such a Doctrine here admit As would destroy the Providence of Wit 'T is your strong Genius then which does not feel Those weights would make a weaker Spirit reel To carry weight and run so lightly too Is what alone your Pegasus can do Great Hercules himself cou'd ne'er do more Than not to feel those Heav'ns and Gods he bore Your easier Odes which for Delight were penn'd Yet our Instruction make their second end We 're both enrich'd and pleas'd like them that Wooe At once a Beauty and a Fortune too Of Moral Knowledge Poesie was Queen And still she might had wanton Wits not been Who like ill Guardians liv'd themselves at large And not content with that debauch'd their Charge Like some brave Captain your successful Pen Restores the Exil'd to her Crown again And gives us hope that having seen the Days When nothing flourish'd but Fanatick Bays All will at length in this Opinion rest A Sober Prince's Government is best This is not all your Art the way has found To make improvement of the richest ground That Soil which those Immortal Laurels bore That once the Sacred Maro's Temples wore Elisa's Griefs are so exprest by you They are too Eloquent to have been true Had she so spoke Aeneas had obey'd What Dido rather than what Jove had said If Funeral Rites can give a Ghost repose Your Muse so justly has discharged those Elisa's shade may now its wandring cease And claim a Title to the Fields of Peace But if Aeneas be oblig'd no less Your kindness great Achilles doth confess Who dress'd by Statius in too bold a look Did ill become those Virgin 's Robes he took To understand how much we owe to you We must your Numbers with your Authors view Then we shall see his work was lamely rough Each figure stiff as if design'd in Buff His Colours laid so thick on every place As only shew'd the Paint but hid the Face But as in Perspective we Beauties see Which in the Glass not in the Picture be So here our sight obligingly mistakes That Wealth which his your Bounty only makes Thus vulgar Dishes are by Cooks disguis'd More for their dressing than their substance priz'd Your curious * Annotations on Statius Notes so search into that Age When all was Fable but the Sacred Page That since in that dark Night we needs must stray We are at least misled in pleasant way But what we most admire your Verse no less The Prophet than the Poet doth confess E're our weak Eyes discern'd the doubtful streak Of Light you saw Great Charles his Morning break So skilful Sea-men ken the Land from far Which shews like Mists to the dull Passenger To Charles your Muse first pays her dutious Love As still the Antients did begin from Jove With Monck you end whose Name preserv'd shall be As Rome recorded * Hic situs est Rufus qui pulso vindice quondam Imperiam asseruit non sibi sed Patriae Rufus Memory Who thought it greater honour to obey His Countrey 's Interest than the World to sway But to Write Worthy Things of Worthy Men Is the peculiar Talent of your Pen Yet let me take your Mantle up and I Will venture in your right to Prophesie This Work by Merit first of Fame secure Is likewise happy in its Geniture For since 't is born when Charles ascends the Throne It shares at once his Fortune and its own AN ODE In Imitation of Quid Bellicosus Cantabor c. Hor. Od. 11. Lib. 2. By Mr. John How WHAT is' t to us who guides the State Who 's out of Favour or who Great Who are the Ministers and Spies Who votes for Places or who buys The World will stil be rul'd by Knaves And Fools contending to be Slaves Small Things my Friend serve to support Life troublesom at best and short Our youth runs back occasion flies Grey Hairs come on and Pleasure dies Who would the present Blessings lose For Empires which he cannot use Kind Providence has us supply'd With what to others is deny'd Virtue which teaches to condemn And scorn ill Actions and ill Men. Beneath this Lime-Tree's fragrant shade On Beds of Flowers supinely laid Let 's then all other Cares remove And Drink and Sing to those we Love Here 's to Neaera Heaven design'd Perfection of the Charming kind Whose Beauty Voice and wondrous Wit Lays all Adoring at her Feet Makes Angels envy Nature vain And me delight in hopeless pain May she be Blest as she is Fair And Pity me as I Love her The rest let 's leave to the unseen Powers This Moment and this Glass
mock our Eyes And in a Scoff Salute SONG By the same Author LOVE still has something of the Sea From whence his Mother rose No time his Slaves from doubt can free Nor give their Thoughts repose They are becalm'd in clearest Days And in rough weather tost They wither under cold delays Or are in Tempests lost One while they seem to touch the Port Then straight into the Main Some angry Wind in cruel sport Their Vessel drives again At first Disdain and Pride they fear Which if they chance to scape Rivals and falshood soon appear In a more dreadful Shape By such degrees to Joy they come And are so long withstood So slowly they receive the Sum It hardly does them good 'T is Cruel to prolong a Pain And to defer a Bliss Believe me gentle Hermione No less Inhumane is And Hundred Thousand Oaths your Fears Perhaps would not remove And if I gaz'd a Thousand Years I could no deeper Love 'T is fitter much for you to guess Than for me to explain But grant O grant that Happiness Which only does remain A DIALOGUE BETWEEN AMINTAS and CELIA By the same Author Celia AMintas I am come alone According as I said But whither is thy Honour flown I fear I am betray'd The Looks are chang'd and in the place Of Innocent Desires Methinks I see thy Eyes and Face Burn with unusual Fires Amintas Sees not my Celia Nature wear One Countenance in the Spring And yet another Shape prepare To bring the Harvest in Look on the Eagle how unlike He to the Egg is found When he prepares his Pownce to strike His Prey against the ground Fears might my Infant Love become 'T were want of kindness now Should Modesty my Hope benum Or check what you allow Celia Amintas hold What could you worse To worst of Women do Ah! How could you a Passion nurse So much my Honour's Foe Amintas Make not an Idol of a Toy Which every breath can shake Which all must have or none enjoy What course so e'er we take Whil'st Women hate or Men are vain You cannot be secure What makes my Celia then a pain So fruitless to endure Celia Could I the World neglect for Thee Thy Love though dear it cost In some unkind Conceit of me Would be untimely lost Thou would'st thy own Example fear And every heedless word I chance let fall beyond thy Care Would some new doubt afford Amintas If I am Jealous 't is because I know not where you Love With me fulfil Love's gentle Laws And all my Fears remove Celia Women like things at second hand Do half their Value lose But whilst all Courtship they withstand May at their Pleasure choose Amintas This were a fine Discourse my Dear If we were not alone But now Love whispers in my Ear There 's somewhat to be done She said she never would forgive He Kissing swore she should And told her she was mad to strive Against their Mutual Good What farther past I cannot tell But sure not much amiss He vow'd he Lov'd her dearly well She answered with a Kiss THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMIAH By Mrs. Wharton CHAP. I. The ARGUMENT Verse 1. The Miserable Estate of Jerusalem by reason of her Sin 12. She Complaineth of her Grief 18. And confesseth God's Judgments to be Righteous 1. HOW doth the Mournful Widow'd City bow She that was once so great Alas how low Once fill'd with Joy with Desolation now 2. Tears on her Cheeks and Sables on her Head She mourns her Lover's lost and Comfort 's Dead Alas alas lost City where are those So proud once to be Friends now turn'd her Foes 3. Judah is gone alas to Bondage gone Amongst the Heathen Judah mourns alone Griev'd and in Servitude she finds no rest Follow'd by none but those by whom opprest 4. The Feasts of Zion no one now attends Unhappy Zion destitute of Friends Her Priests still Sigh and all her Virgins Mourn Because her Gladness now finds no return 5. Her Enemies are great and ever nigh Still Fortunate because her Crimes were high Her Captiv'd Children still her guilt upbraid Who Mourn whilst their Insulting Foes Invade 6. Her Beauty which excell'd is now no more That brightness which all Nations did Adore Here Princes are like hunted Harts become Breathless and Faint whilst the Pursuit goes on Alas for Zion all their Strength is gone 7. Jerusalem then thought upon the Hour When she was Crown'd with Peace Delight and Power Thoughts once so Joyful Mournful now and Vain The Foe Insults whilst she no help sustains Mocking both at her Sabbaths and her Pains 8. Her Crimes have caus'd her to be far remov'd Jerusalem who was so well belov'd All those who in her Pride admir'd her Fame Despise her now because they 've seen her Shame Sighing she turns away with Shame distrest Amaz'd Despis'd Deserted and Opprest 9. Circl'd with Guilt and Shame she cannot fly Her Comforts far remov'd her End too nigh She vainly think on that 't is now too late Behold those Griefs which no one can repeat Her Fall is steep and all her Foes are great 10. Her Sanctuary is by them betray'd All her Delights they carelesly invade Even the Heathen of whom God had said They should not in her Holy Temple tread 11. Her hungry People sigh and give away For Bread their Treasures lest their Lives decay Consider Lord see her with Cares bow'd down For I am Vile and Zion left alone 12. All you who pass this way behold and see Are my Griefs small Do others grieve like me Are not these Sorrows under which I bow With which the Lord hath brought my Soul so low Turn back and Mourn with me because my Lord In his fierce Anger doth no Peace afford 13. He from above hath Flames and Horrour sent Circling my Soul with Pain and Discontent His Snares alas my weary Feet betray Whilst Desolate and Faint I Mourn all Day For Zion lost her Glory thrown away 14. Our Sins have brought those Chains which his Command Hath fastn'd now who can his Power withstand Now they are link'd by his Almighty Hand The Lord forsakes and I am now the scorn Of Enemies because of God forlorn He was my Strength and now alas 't is gone 15. My Mighty Men are all by him cast down They 're crush'd by numbers and I 'm left alone Whilst silently thy Virgin Daughters Mourn Unhappy Mournful Judah left Forlorn 16. For this I Weep and waste my self in Tears Because her Help 's far off and Sorrow's near Ah wretched Judah where is now thy hope Thy Foes still triumph whilst thy Children droop 17. Zion spreads forth her Arms to be reliev'd But who can Comfort whom the Lord hath Griev'd Her Enemies increase and flourish still By his Command by his all-powerful Will Ah wretched City scorn'd and sham'd by all Who can enough lament thy dreadful Fall 18. Yet he is Just for I am Guilty found The Lord with Righteousness is always
Tortur'd Mind Romantick Heros may their Fancy please In telling of their Griefs to senceless Trees 'T is now to me no pleasure to rehearse A doleful Tale in Melancholy Verse Men are more Deaf than Trees more Wild than Seas Complaints and Tears will sooner Storms appease Than draw soft pity from an Humane Breast All Sooth the Happy and Despise the Opprest Each Man who lives of sorrow hath his share Or else of Pride and cannot pity spare For those whose weight is more than one can bear All who are happy do their Merit boast Think Heaven ows'em more and Heav'n is Just Still they observe the Opprest with Partial Eyes And think their Crimes draw Vengeance from the Skies But were they gentle pitiful and mild Not as they are rough unconcern'd and wild What Joy can pity bring on other's Grief For what I feel affords me no relief To see another's Eyes with pity melt For wretched me would add to what I felt Since in Complaints there can no ease be found For such an Heart as mine in sorrow drown'd Sleep sleep Melpomene thou mournful Muse For of my Torments I will thee accuse I 'll say thou keep'st 'em waking with thy Charms And drives soft slumbers from my Longing Arms. Sleep sleep my Muse and let my Cares alone But if thou wilt not since thy Harp is strung Attend a while and like a dying Swan My latest Accents shall be sweetly sung WIT 's ABUSE By the same Author I Ask not why Astraea fled away But wonder more why any Vertues stay In such a World where they are made a scorn Oppress'd by numerous Vice mangled and torn Wounded by Laughter and by Wit forlorn I mean not here by Wit what 's truly so But that false Coin which does for Current go 'T is certain but a few can Judgment make Of such a gift which but a few partake Ignorant Judges may decide a Cause Sooner against than for Concealed Laws This is Wit 's Pledge but few those Preoepts know Which many false Pretenders over-throw And yet amongst those very few there are Some who betray that Glorious Character Whilst low-born Falshood goes for Heavenly Wit How many aim at what so few can hit The Trade of Hell was never hard to get Thus these Intruders double ends pursue Rooting out Wit they root out Vertue too Soft pity passes now for Servile Fear A generous scorn of Life for mean despair Truth and Sincerity the Fools proclaim Which witty falshood always load with shame An Active Soul affected Notions prove Out-flying common Thoughts or private Love Thus tho' each Vertue in it self they hate They love to make it add to a Deceit Undress'd 't is scorn'd but favour'd and allow'd When to the Neighbouring Vice it lends a Cloud Thus the Inconstant Empress of the Night Tho' foul and spotted cloaths her self with Light And can with borrow'd Beams be always bright MY FATE By the same Author RAising my drooping Head o'er charg'd with Thought Having each Scene of Life before me brought I chid my self because I durst repine At Nature's Laws or those that were Divine Throughout the whole Creation 't is the same The Fuel is devoured by the Flame Each peaceful harmless unoffending thing Is to the Offender made an Offering Even God himself Hold my aspiring Thought Descend my Muse thy flight too high is wrought Tell not how He all peaceful and all kind Was offer'd for the vilest of Mankind A Victim for the vilest was design'd Descend I say my Muse low things afford Theams high enough for thee Touch not the Word Till he hath touch'd thy Wings with Grace Divine Then only his thou shalt the World decline The harmless Dove the Faloon doth betray The Lamb is to the Wolf become a Prey And Men to whom free will Heaven doth impart To follow still the Counsels of his Heart If wrack'd with doubt if harmless he designs Peace to his Heart and still his Wish confines Justice to Peace and Love to Quiet joyns Why then the Dove-like Fate will sure be his Short is his Life unsettled is his Bliss Hard Fate that choice we eagerly pursuo Is or to be undone or to undo ON THE DEATH OF Mr. Abraham Cowley AND HIS BURIAL IN Westminster-Abbey By the Earl of Orrery OUR Wit till Cowley did its lustre raise May be resembled to the first Three Days In which did shine only such streaks of Light As serv'd but to distinguish Day from Night But Wit breaks forth in all that he has done Like Light when 't was united in the Sun The Poets formerly did lie in wait To rifle those whom they would imitate We Watch'd to rob all strangers when they writ And learnt their Language but to steal their Wit He from that need his Country does redeem Since those who want may be supply'd from him And Foreign Nations now may borrow more From Cowley than we could from them before Who though he condescended to admit The Greeks and Romans for his Guides in Wit Yet he those Ancient Poets does pursue But as the Spaniards great Columbus do He taught them first to the New World to steer But they possess all that is precious there When first his Spring of Wit began to flow It rais'd in some Wonder and Sorrow too That God had so much Wit and Knowledge lent And that they were not in his Praises spent But those who in his Davideis look Find they his Blossoms for his Fruit mistook In diff'ring Ages diff'rent Muses shin'd His Green did Charm the Sense his Ripe the Mind Writing for Heaven he was inspir'd from thence And from his Theam deriv'd his Influence The Scripture will no more the Wicked fright His Muse does make Religion a Delight Oh how severely Man is us'd by Fate The Covetous toil long for an Estate And having got more than their Life can spend They may bequeath it to a Son or Friend But learning in which none can have a share Unless they climb to it by Time and Care Learning the truest Wealth which Man can have Does with his Body perish in his Grave To Tenements of Clay it is confin'd Tho' 't is the Noblest Purchace of the Mind Oh why can we thus leave our Friends possest Of all our Acquisitions but the best Still when we study Cowley we lament That to the World he was no longer lent Who like a Lightning to our Eyes was shown So bright he shin'd and was so quickly gone Sure he rejoyc'd to see his flame expire Since he himself could not have rais'd it higher For when wise Poets can no higher flie They would like Saints in their perfection die Though Beauty some Affection in him bred Yet only Sacred Learning he would wed By which th' Illustrious Off-spring of his Brain Shall over Wit 's great Empire ever Reign His Works shall Live when Pyramids of Pride Shrink to such Ashes as they long did hide That Sacrilegious Fire which did last Year Level