pure streams yet too polluted are With thine much purer to compare The rapid Garonne and the winding Seine Are both too mean Beloved Dove with thee To vie Priority Nay Tame and Isis when conjoyn'd submit And lay their Trophies at thy Silver Feet VIII Oh my beloved Rocks that rise To awe the Earth and brave the Skies From some aspiring Mountain's crown How dearly do I love Giddy with pleasure to look down And from the Vales to view the noble heights above IX Oh my beloved Caves from Dog-star heats And hotter Persecution safe Retreats What safety privacy what true delight In the artificial Night Your gloomy entrails make Have I taken do I take How oft when grief has made me fly To hide me from Society Even of my dearest Friends have I In your recesses friendly shade All my sorrows open laid And most secret woes entrusted to your privacy X. Lord would men let me alone What an over-happy one Should I think my self to be Might I in this desart place Which most men by their voice disgrace Live but undisturb'd and free Here in this despis'd recess Would I maugre Winter's cold And the Summer's worst excess Try to live out to sixty full years old And all the while Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile Contented live and then contented die Rondeau THou Fool if madness be so rife That spight of wit thou 'lt have a Wife I 'll tell thee what thou must expect After the Honey-Moon neglect All the sad days of thy whole Life To that a World of Woe and Strife Which is of Marriage the effect And thou thy woe 's own Architect Thou Fool Thou 'lt nothing find but disrespect Ill words i' th' scolding Dialect For she 'll all Tabor be or Fife Then prythee go and whet thy Knife And from this Fate thy self protect Thou Fool To Cupid I. FOnd Love deliver up thy Bow I am become more Love than thou I am as wanton grown and wild Much less a Man and more a Child From Venus born of chaster kind A better Archer though as blind II. Surrender without more adoe I am both King and Subject too I will command but must obey I am the Hunter and the Prey 〈◊〉 vanquish yet am overcome And Sentencing receive my Doom III. No springing Beauty scapes my Dart And ev'ry ripe one wounds my Heart Thus whilst I wound I wounded am And firing others turn to flame To shew how far Love can combine The Mortal part with the Divine IV. Faith quit thine Empire and come down That thou and I may share the Crown I 've tri'd the worst thy Arms can doe Come then and taste my power too Which howsoe'er it may fall short Will doubtless prove the better sport V. Yet do not for in Field and Town The Females are so loving grown So kind or else so lustfull we Can neither err though neither see Keep then thine own Dominions Lad Two Loves would make all Women mad To Aelia ODE POOR antiquated Slut forbear Thy Importunity's so strong â—t will I fear corrupt the Air And doe an universal wrong Be modest or I swear and vow I neither can nor will be kind Pox on 't now thou dost clam'rous grow There 's no enduring in the wind Whilst silence did thy thoughts betray I only was the sufferer But now thy Lungs begin to play All the whole Province suffers here Faith Aelia if thou be'st so hot That nor Satiety nor Age Can cool the over-boiling Pot Nor thy edullient Lust assuage Yet be so charitably kind Though damn'd thou art resolv'd to be As not to poyson all Mankind By fulsome importunity But sure 't is time we should give o'er And if I mourn my time mispent How much for fifty years of Whore Ought'st thou poor Aeliâ— to repent Yet if in spight of all advice Thou needs wilt importune me still I am not so reclaim'd from Vice But I can satisfie thy will And 't will to my advantage be For should I new amours begin Delight might damn me when with thee The penance expiates the sin Sonnet GOE false one now I see the cheat Your love was all a Counterfeit And I was gall'd to think that you Or any she could long be true How could you once so kind appear To kiss to sigh and shed a tear To cherish and caress me so And now not let but bid me go Oh Woman Frailty is thy name Since she 's untrue y' are all to blame And but in man no truth is sound 'T is a fair Sex we all must love it But on my conscience could we prove it They all are false ev'n under ground Stanzes de Monsieur Bertaud I. WHilst wishing Heaven in his ire Would punish with some judgment dire This heart to love so obstinate â—o say I love her is to lie Though I do love t'extremity Since thus to love her is to hate II. â—ut since from this my hatred springs â—hat she neglects my Sufferings And is unto my love ingrate â—y hatred is so full of â—lame â—ince from affection first it came That 't is to love her thus to hate III. I wish that milder Love or Death That ends our Miseries with our breath Would my affections terminate For to my Soul depriv'd of peace It is a torment worse than these Thus wretchedly to love and hate IV. Let Love be gentle or severe It is in vain to hope or fear His grace or rage in this estate Being I from my fair one's Spirit Nor mutual love nor hatred merit Thus foolishly to love and hate V. â—r if by my example here 〈◊〉 just and equal do appear She love and loath who is my fate â—rant me ye powers in this case â—oth for my punishment and grace That as I do she love and hate The eighth Psalm paraphrased â— O Lord our Governour whose potent sway All Pow'rs in Heav'n and Earth obey â—hroughout the spacious Earth's extended frame How great is thy adored Name â—hy Glories thou hast seated Lord on high Above the Empirean Sky 2. Out of the mouths of Infants newly come From the dark Closet of the Womb Thou hast ordained pow'rfull Truth to rise To baffle all thine Enemies That thou the furious Rage might'st calm agen Of bloudy and revengefull men 3. When on thy Glorious Heav'ns I reflect Thy work almighty Architect The changing Moon and Stars that thou hast madâ— T' illuminate night's sable shade 4. Oh! what is man think I that Heaven's King Should mind so poor a wretched thing Or Man's â—rail Off-spring that Almighty God Should stoop to visit his abode 5. For thou createdst him but one degree Below the Heav'nly Hierarchy Of bless'd and happy Angels and didst crown Frail Dust with Glory and Renown 6. Over the works of thy Almighty hand Thou giv'st him absolute command And all the rest that thou hast made Under his feet hast subject laid 7. All Sheep and Oxen and the wilder breed Of Beasts
that on their Fellows feed 8. The Air 's Inhabitants and scaly brood That live and wanton in the Flood And whatsoe'er does either swim or creep Thorough th'investigable Deep 9. Throughout the spacious Earth's extended frame How great is thy adored Name Advice I. GO thou perpetual whining Lover For shame leave off this humble Trade 'T is more than time thou gav'st it over For sighs and tears will never move her By them more obstinate she 's made And thou by Love fond constant Love betray'd II. The more vain Fop thou su'st unto her The more she does torment thee still Is more perverse the more you woo her When thou art humblest lays thee lower And when most prostrate to her will Thou meanly begg'st for life does basely kill III. By Heaven 't is against all Nature Honour and Manhood Wit and Sense To let a little Female Creature Rule on the poor account of Feature And thy unmanly patience Monstrous and shamefull as her Insolence IV. Thou may'st find forty will be kinder Or more compassionate at least If one will serve two hours will find her And half this ' doe for ever bind her As firm and true as thine own Breast On Love and Vertue 's double Interest V. But if thou canst not live without her This onely she when it comes to 't And she relent not as I doubt her Never make more adoe about her To sigh and whimper is no boot Go hang thy self and that will do 't Lyrick Ex Cornelio Gallo Trans LYdia thou lovely Maid whose white The Milk and Lilly does outvie The pale and blushing Roses light Or polish'd Indian Ivory Dishevel Sweet thy yellow hair Whose Ray doth burnish'd Gold disprize Disclose thy neck so white and fair That doth from snowy shoulders rise Virgin unvail those starry eyes Whose Sable brows like arches spread Unvail those Cheeks where the Rose lies Streak'd with the Tyrian Purple's red Lend me those Lips with Coral lin'd And kisses mild of Doves impart Thou ravishest away my mind Those gentle kisses wound my heart Why suck'st thou from my panting Breast The youthfull Vigour of my Bloud Hide those twin-apples ripe if press'd To spring into a milky Floud From thy expanded bosome breath Perfumes Arabia doth not know Thy ev'ry part doth love bequeath From thee all excellencies flow Thy bosome 's killing-white then shade Hide that temptation from mine eye See'st not I languish cruel Maid Wilt thou then go and let me die Amoret in Masquerade BLess me wonder how I 'm struck With that Youth 's victorious look So much Lustre so much Grace Never broke from humane face Fond Narcissus was an Ass Cynthia's Love a Moon-Calf was Ganimede that bears Iove's Boul Was a Chit Paris an Owl And Adonis with th'fine Miss Was a Puppy-Dog to this Women now lay by your Charms Here is one has other Arms And of greater power too Than your Megazines can shew All your Beauties all your Arts Conqu'ring or deceiving hearts You may spare and let alone We shall henceforth be by none Conquer'd but this peerless one Yet I have a Lover been Sev'ral Beauties I have seen Nor in Love am yet so rude But I 've often been subdu'd Nor so old but that again Once more struck I might have been By some Glances or some Features Of those little Female Creatures Had I but escap'd this night Seeing of this charming sight But now having seen those eyes I all Female force despise Yet my flame I can't approve 'T is but a prodigious love And there can be little joy In thus doating on a Boy Who although he love again Never can reward my pain Yet methinks it cannot be There is in 't some Mystery Nature sure would ne'er so use me Nor Instinct so much abuse me As my Reason thus to blind But there 's something in the wind â— have e'er a loather been Of the foul Italian Sin And yet know not where the bliss is â—n a little Stripling 's kisses My heart tells me to those eyes There belongs a pair of thighs â—Twixt whose Iv'ry Columns is Th'Ebor folding door to bliss And this Spring all that we see â—trut with such Formality â—uff and strive to look so big â— but Pallas in a Wigg And though his count'nance he doth set To a good pitch of counterfeit Yet he cannot hide the while â—enus dimple in his smile Were the Story not cold fled â—nd the party long since dead â—should swear a thousand Oaths Hellen 't were in Paris cloths But there I should wrong him yet Hellen was not half so sweet For all Greeks and Trojans arming Nor is Venus half so charming Pretty Monsieur I must pry More into your Symmetry Those fine Fingers were not made To be put to th'fighting trade And that pretty little arme Methinks threatens no great harm Wastes which Thimbles will environ Are not to be shell'd with Iron And those little Martin-nests Which swell out upon your Breasts With Steel are not to be press'd But whereon for Kings to rest Your soft Belly not unlike May sometimes feel push of Pike But there will be Balsom found In the Spear to heal the wound Nor those thighs yet by their leaves Were I take it made for Greaves Nor yet do you walk so wide As you us'd to ride astride But look your Saddle when you do Be well stuff'd and pummell'd too Next those pretty Legs and Feet Ne'er were spur'd and booted yet I dare swear it Come tell truth Are you not a cloven Youth See he laughs and has confess'd God-a-mercy for the Jest Monsieur Amoret let me Your Valet de Chambre be I will serve with humble duty Both your Valour and your Beauty You shall all day Master hight But my Mistriss Sir at night Which if you will please to grant To your humble Supplicant Since you wear your Wigg so â—eatly And become your Cloaths so neatly He has sworn who thus beseeches You shall always wear the Breeches Estreines To Calista I. I Reckon the first day I saw those eyes Which in a moment made my heart their prize To all my whole futurity The first day of my first new year Since then I first began to be And knew why Heaven plac'd me here For till we love and love discreetly too We nothing are nor know we what we doe II. Love is the Soul of Life though that I know Is call'd Soul too but yet it is not so Not rational at least untill Beauty with her diviner light Illuminates the groaping will And shews us how to chuse aright And that 's first prov'd by th' objects it refuses And by being constant then to that it chuses III. Days Weeks Months Years and Lustres take So small time up i' th' Lover's Almanack And can so little Love assuage That we in truth can hardly say When we have liv'd at least an Age A long one we have lov'd a day This day to me so slowly does time move Seems but
indeed was scant To shew her malice rather than her want Would make a loathsom Serpent her Gallant III. O mother Eve sure 't was a fault So wild a Rule to give E're there were any to be taught Or any to deceive 'T was ill to ruine all thy Off-spring so E're they were yet in Embrio Great mischeifs did attend thy easie will For all thy Sons which usually are The Mothers care For ever lost and ruin'd were By thy instructing thy fair Daughters ill What 's he that dares his own fond choice approve Or be secure his spouse in Chast Or if she be that it will last Yet all must love Oh Cruel Nature that does force our wills T' embrace those necessary ills Oh negligent and treacherous eyes Given to man for true and faithful spies How oft do you betray you trust And joyn'd Confederate with our lust Tell us that Beauty is which is but flesh that flesh but Dust. IV. Heaven if it be thy undisputed will That still This charming Sex we must adore Let us love less or they love more For so the Ills that we endure Will find some ease if not a cure Or if their hearts from the first Gangrene be Inâ—ected to that desperate degree As will no Surgery admit Out of thy love to Men at least forbear To make their faces so subduing fair And if thou wilt give Beauty limit it For moderate Beauty though it bear no price Is yet a mighty enemy to Vice And who has Vertue once can never see Any thing of Deformity Let her Complexion swart or Tawny be A Twilight Olive or a Mid-night Ebony V. She that is chast is always fair No matter for her Hue And though for form she were a Star She 's ugly if untrue Tâ—ue Beauty alwayes lies within Much deeper than the outer skin So deep that in a Woman's mind It will be hard I doubt to find Or if it be she 's so deriv'd And with so many doors contriv'd Harder by much to keep it in For Vertue in a Woman's Breast Seldom by Title is possest And is no Tenant but a wand'ring Guest VI. But all this while I 've soundly slept And rav'd as Dreamers use Fy what a coil my brains have kept T' instruct a sawcy Muse Her own fair Sex t' abuse 'T is nothing but an ill Digestion Has thus brought Women's Fame in question Which have been and still will be what they are That is as chaste as they are sweet and fair And all that has been said Nothing but ravings of an idle Head Troubled with fumes of wine For now that I am broad awake I find 't is all a gross mistake Else what a case were his and thine and mine The World. ODE I. FY What a wretched World is this Nothing but anguish grieâ—s and fears Where who does best must do amiss Frailty the Ruling Power bears In this our dismal Vale of Tears II. Oh! who would live that could but dye Dye honestly and as he shou'd Since to contend with misery Willâ— do the wisest Man no good Misfortune will not be withstood III. The most that helpless man can do Towards the bett'ring his Estate Is but to barter woe for woe And he ev'n there attempts too late So absolute a Prince is Fate IV. But why do I of Fate complain Man might live happy if not free And Fortunes shocks with ease sustain If Man would let him happy be Man is Man's Foe and Destiny V. And that Rib Woman though she be But such a little little part Is yet a greater Fate than he And has the Power or the Art To break his Peace nay break his Heart VI. Ah glorious Flower lovely peice Of superfine reâ—ined Clay Thou poyson'st only with a Kiss And dartest an auspicious Ray On him thou meanest to betray VII These are the World and these are they That Life does so unpleasant make Whom to avoid there is no way But the wild Desart straight to take And there to husband the last stake VIII Fly to the empty Desarts then For so you leave the World behind There 's no World where there are no Men And Brutes more civil are and kind Than Man whose Reason Passions blind IX For should you take a Hermitage Tho' you might scape from other wrongs Yet even there you bear the rage Of venemous and slanderous tongues Which to the Innocent belongs X. Grant me then Heav'n a wilderness And there an endless Solitude Where though Wolves howl and Serpents hiss Though dang'rous 't is not half so rude As the ungovern'd Multitude XI And Solitude in a dark Cave Where all things husht and silent be Resembleth so the quiet Grave That there I would prepare to flee With Death that hourly waits for me De Vita Beata Paraphras'd from the Latin. COme y' are deceiv'd and what you do Esteem a happy Life 's not so He is not happy that excells I' th' Lapidary's Bagatells Nor he that when he sleeps doth lye Under a stately Canopy Nor he that still supinely hides In easie Down his lazy sides Nor he that Purple wears and sups Luxurious Draughts in golden Cups Nor he that loads with Princely Fare His bowing Tables whilst they 'l bear Nor he that has each spacious Vault With Deluges of Plenty fraught Cull'd from the fruitful Libyan Fields When Autumn his best Harvest yields But he whom no mischance affrights Nor popular applause delights That can unmov'd and undismay'd Confront a Ruffians threatning blade Who can do this that man alone Has power Fortune to disthrone Q. Cicero De mulierum levitate Transl. COmmit a Ship unto the Wind But not thy Faith to Woman-Kind For th' Oceans waving billows are Safer than Woman's faith by far No Woman's good and if there be Hereafter such a thing as she 'T is by I know not what of Fate That can from bad a good create Despair ODE IT is decreed that I must dy And could lost men a reason show For losing so themselves 't is I Woman and Fate will have it so Woman more cruel than my Fate From thee this sentence was severe 'T is thou condemn'st me fair ingrate Fate 's but the Executioner And mine must be Fate 's hands to strike At this uncomfortable life Which I do loath cause you dislike And court cold Death to be my wife In whose embraces though I must Fail of those Joyes that warm'd my heart And only be espous'd to dust Yet Death and I shall never part That 's one assurance I shall have Although I wed Deformity And must inhabit the cold Grave More than I Sweet could have with thee And yet if thou could'st be so kind As but to grant me a Reprieve I 'me not to Death so much inclind But I could be content to live But so that that same life should be With thee and with thy kindness blest For without thee and all of thee 'T were dying only with the rest But that you 'l say's
doggrel she said would not doâ—â— It needs must be galloping doggrel to boot For Amblers and Trotters tho' th' had thousands of feet Could never however be made to be fleet But would make so damnable slow a progression They'd noâ— reach up to Westminster till the next Session Thus then unto thee my dear Brother and Sweeting In Canterbury Verse I send health and kind greeting Wishing thee honour but if thou bee'st cloy'd we't Above what thy Ancestâ—y ever enjoy'd yet May'st thou 〈◊〉 where â—ow seated without fear of blushing Till thy little fat 〈…〉 grow to the cushin Give his Majesty Moâ—y no mattter who pays it For we never can want it â—o long as he has it But wer 't Wisdom to trust sawcy Counsel in Letters I 'de advise thee beware falling out with thy betters I have heard of two Dogs once that fought for a bone But the Proverb 's so greazy I 'll let it alone A word is enough to the wise then resent it A rash Act than mended is sooner repented And as for the thing call'd a Traytor if any Be prov'd to be such as I doubt there 's too many Let him e'en be hang'd up and never be pray'd for What a pox were blocks gibbets and gallowses made for But I grow monstrous weary and how should I chuse This galloping Rhyme has quite jaded my Muse And I swear if thou look'st for more posting of hers Little K nt thou must needs lend her one of thy Spurs Farewel then dear Bully but ne're look for a Name For expecting no honour I will have no shame Yet that you may ghess at the Party that writes t' ee And not grope in the dark I 'll hold up these Lights t' ee For his Stature he 's but a contemptible Male And grown something swab with drinking good Ale His Looks than your brown a little thought brighter Which gray hairs make every year whiter whiter His Visage which all the rest mainly disgraces Is warp't or by Age or cutting of Faces So that whether 't were made so or whether 't were marr'd In good sooth he 's a very unpromising Bard His Legs which creep out of two old-fashion'd Knapsacks Are neither two Mill-posts nor yet are they trap-sticks They bear him when sober bestir 'em and spare not And who the Devil can stand when they are not Thus much for his Person now for his condition That 's sick enough full to require a Physician He always wants Mony which makes him want ease And he 's always besieg'd tho himself of the Peace By an Army of Duns who batter with Scandals And are Foemen more fierce than the Goths or the Vandals But when he does sally as somtimes he does Then hey for Bess Iuckson and a Fig for his Foes He 's good Fellow enough to do every one right And never was first that ask't what time of Night His delight is to toss the Cann merrily round And loves to be wet but hates to be drow'nd He fain would be just but sometimes he cannot Which gives him the trouble that other men ha' not He honours his Friend but he wants means to show it And loves to be rhyming but is the worst Poet. Yet among all these Vices to give him his due He has the Vertue to be a true Lover of you But how much he loves you he says you may ghess it Since nor Prose nor yet Meeter he swears can express it Stances de Monsieur Bertaud I. WHilst wishing Heaven in his ire Would punish with some Judgment dire This heart to Love so obstinate To say I love her is to lye Though I do love t' Extremity Since thus to love her is to hate II. But since from this my hatred Springs That she neglects my Sufferings And is unto my love ingrate My hatred is so full of flame Since from affection first it came That 't is to love her thus to hate III. I wish that milder Love or Death That ends our miseries with our Breath Would my Afflictions terminate For to my Soul depriv'd of peace It is a torment worse than these Thus wretchedly to love and hate IV. Let Love be gentle or severe It is in vain to hope or fear His grace or rage in this Estate Being I from my fair ones Spirit Nor mutual Love nor hatred merit Thus sencelesly to Love and Hate V. Or if by my Example here It just and equal do appear She love and loath who is my Fate Grant me ye Powers in this case Both for my punishment and grace That as I do she Love and Hate Contentment Pindarick Ode I. THou precious Treasure of the peaceful mind Thou Jewel of Inestimable price Thou bravest Soul 's Terrestrial Paradice Dearest Contentment thou best happiness That Man on Earth can know Thou greatest gift Heav'n can on Man bestow And greater than Man's Language can express Where highest Epithets would fall so low As only in our dearth of words to show A part of thy perfection a poor part Of what to us what in thy self thou art What Sin has banisht thee the World And in thy stead despairing Sorrow hurld Into the breasts of Humane kind Ah whether art thou fled who can this Treasure find II. No more on Earth now to be found Thou art become a hollow sound The empty name of something that of old Mankind was happy in but now Like a vain Dream or Tale that 's told Art vanisht hence we know not how Oh fatal loss for which we are In our own thoughts at endless War And each one by himself is made a Sufferer III. Yet 't were worth seeking if a Man knew where Or could but ghess of whom t' enquire But 't is not to be found on Earth I fear And who can best direct will prove a Lyar Or be himself the first deceiv'd By none but who 'd be cheated too to be believ'd IV. Shew me that Man on Earth that does prosess To have the greatest share of happiness And let him if he can Forbear to shew the Discontented Man A few hours Observation will declare Hee is the same that others are Riches will cure a Man of being poor But oft creates a thirst of having more And makes the Miser starve and pine amidst his store V. Or if a plentiful Estate In a good Mind good Thoughts create A generous Soul and free Will Mourn at least though not repine To want an overflowing Mine Still to supply a constant Charity Which still is Discontent what e're the Motive be VI. Th' ambitious who to place aspire When rais'd to that they did pretend Are restless still would still be higher For that 's a Passion has no end 'T is the minds Wolf a strange Disease That ev'n Saciety can't appease An Appetite of such a kind As does by feeding still increase And is to eat the more it eats inclin'd As the Ambitious mount the Sky New prospects still allure the Eye Which makes them upwards still
said Canst thou Ungratefull thus renounce thy Rhime Tell me how would'st thou spend thy Vacant time To Tragick buskins would'st thy Sock transfer And in Heroick Verse sing bloudy War That tyrannous Pedants with awfull voice May terrify Old Men Virgins and Boys Let rigid Antiquaries such things write Who by a blinking Lamp consume the Night With Roman air touch up thy Poems Dress That th' Age may read its manners and confess Tâ—ou'lt find thou may'st with trifling Subjects play â—â—til their Trumpets to thy Reed give way Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 19. De Cinna CInna would fain be thought to need And so he does he 's poor indeed Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 23. Ad Rusticum TO thee I gluttonous and cruel seem About my Cook because I basted him For supper Rusticus the cause was great What should a Cook be beaten for but 's meat Id. Lib. Ep. 47. In variâ— se tondentem PArt of thy Beard is clipt part shav'd anothâ—â— place Is pull'd who 'd think this could be all one Face Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 21. Ad Luciferum â—Hospher appear why dost our joys delay When Caesar's coming only waits for Day 〈◊〉 begs thy haste on slow Boots's Carr 〈◊〉 thou not ride thou mov'st so slowly Star â—â—ift-footed Cyllarus thou might'st have took 〈◊〉 his saddle now would have forsook â—hy do'st thou longer stop the longing Sun â—â—â—thus and Aethon beat and snort to run 〈◊〉 Memnon's Mother watches till you come â—or will the Stars give place to greater Light 〈◊〉 stay with th' Moon expecting Caesars sight â—ow Caesar come by Night we shall have Ray 〈◊〉 People cannot where thou art want Day Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 35. In pessimos Conjuges SInce y' are a-like in Manners and in Life A wicked Husband and a wicked Wife I wonder much you are so full of strife Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 53. In Catullam THE Fair'st of Women that have been or arâ— Thou art yet Cheaper than them all by far To me Catulla what a triumph 't were That thou wer 't or more Honest or less Fair. Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 59. In Vacerram BUT Antick Poets thou admirest none And only prayest them are dead and gone I beg your pardon good Vacerra I Can't on such terms find in my Heart to die Id. Lib. 7. Ep. 100. De Vetula THou' rt soft to touch charming to hear unseen Thou' rt both but neither take away the Screen Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 41. Ad Faustinum SAd Athenagoras nought presents me now As in December he was wont to do If Athenagoras be sad or no I 'll see I 'me sure that he has made me so Id. Lib. 11. Ep. 103. In Lydiam HE did not lye that said thy Skin was fair But not thy Face so one and th' other are Thy Face if thou sit'st mute and hold'st thy peace Even as in one â—mbost or Painted is But as thou talk'st thou loosest off thy Skin And no ones Tongue more hurts themselves than thine Take heed the Aedile thee nor hear nor see As oft as Statues speak 't is a Prodigie Id. Lib. 12. Ep. 7. De Ligia IF by her Hairs Ligia's Age be told 'T is soon cast up than she is three years old Id. Lib. 12. Ep. 20. Ad Fabullam THat Themison has no Wife how 't comes to pass â—hou ask'st why Themison a Sister has Horat. Lib 1. Carmin Ode 8 Ad Lydia TEll me for God's sake Lydia why Thy Saâ—aris thou do'st with love destroy The Glorious Field why should he shun Grown now impatient of the Dust and Sun Why not in War-like bravery ride Curbing with bits the Gallick Horses pride Why fears he Tybers yellow Floud And flies the Olive more than Vipers Bloud Why not still crusht with Arms whose art Was fam'd for clean delivery of his Dart Why does he Lydia now lye hid As once they say the Son of Thetiâ— did Before Troy's wept for Funerall Lest in his own Apparel he might fall Subject to Slaughter and the Harms Of bloudy Lycians unrelenting Arms De Fortuna an sit caeca Epig. ex Johann Secundo WHY do they speak the Goodess Fortune blind Because She 's only to th' unjust inclin'd This Reason nought Her blindness does declare They only Fortune need who Wicked are Tria Mala ex eodem THE three great Evils of Mans life Are Fire Water and a Wife Id. Lib. Ep. 15. In Neaeram 'T Was Night and Phaebe in a Heaven bright Shone 'mongst the lesser sparks of Light When thou to wound the Gods vowd'st to fulfill The strictest tenures of my will With straighter Arms than ever th' Ivy tall Embrac'd the aged Oak withall Whilst Wolves devour and whilst Orion stirs The Winter Main to Mariners And that this â— ove should mutual last whilst air Wanton'd with Phaebus's uncut Hair. Neaera false on my good Nature wan Too much were Flaccus ought of Man He 'd not t' another yield thee Night by Night But seek another Love in spight Nor would his Anger so provok'd give place To th' Charms of thy offensive Face But Thou who ere more happy and now grown Proud usher'st my Affliction Thou mayst be rich in Cattle and in Land Pactolus may flow to thy Hand Thou mayst be too a Pythagorean O'recome with Beauty Nerean Yet thou alas wilt mourn her change to see When I by turn shall laugh at thee ODE De Theophile Par. I. THy Beauties Dearest Isis have Disturbed Nature at their sight Thine Eyes to Love his blindness gave Such is the vigour of their light The Gods too only minding thee Let the World err at liberty II. And having in the Suns bright Eye Thy glances counterfeited seen Even their Hearts my Sweet thereby So sensibly have wounded been That but they 're fixt they 'd come to see And gaze upon their Creature thee III. Beleive me in this humor They Of things below have little Care Of good or ill we do or say Then since Heaven lets thee love me Dear Without revenging on thine Eye Or striking me in Iealousy IV. â—hou mayst securely in mine Arms And warm Womb of my wanton bed â—each me t' unravel all thy Charms Thou nothing Isis needest dread Since Gods themselves had happy been Could all their power have made thee Sin. Elegy de Theophile SInce that sad Day a sadder Farewell did My Eyes the object of my â—lame forbid My Soul and Sense so disunited are That being thus deprived of thee My Fair I find me so distractedly alone That from my self methinks my self am gone To me invisible's the Sun 's fair Light Nor do I feel the soâ—t repose of Night I Poyson tast in my repast most sweet And sink where-ever I dispose my feet My Life all company but Death has lost Chloris so dear the love I bear thee cost Oh Gods who all the joys we have bestow Do you with them always give torments too Can that we call Good Fortune never hit Humane designs but ill must follow it If equally you interweave the Fate With
good and ill of those you love and hate In vain I sue to her I so adore In vain her help that has no Power implore For as black Night pursues the glorious Sun The greatest Good does but some Ill fore-run When handsome Paris liv'd with Helen fair He saw his Fortune rais'd above his Care But Fate severely did revenge that bliss For as with time his Fortune changed is From his Delights sprang a debate that Fire Brought to old Troy and massacred his Sire And though in that subversion there appearâ— Such sad mishaps of Bloud of Fire and Tears Yet by that Heavenly Face I so adore I swear for love of thee I suffer more For so long absent from thy gracious Eyes Methinks I banisht am the Deities And that from Heaven with Thunder wrapt in Flame To th' Centre I precipitated am Since I left thee my Pleasures in their Tomb â—ye dead and I their Mourner am become With all Delights my Thoughts distasted are And only to dislike the World take care Which as complying with my peevish Will Does nothing I protest but vex me still In Paris like an Hermit I retire And in one Object limit my Desire Where e'er my Eyes seek to divert my Mind I bear the Prison where I am confin'd My Blood is sir'd and my Soul wounded lies By th' golden Shaft shot from thy killing Eyes All the Temptations that I daily see Serve only to confirm my Faith to thee The usual helps that humane Reâ—son bless To render a Man's Passion someâ—hing less Stir mine up more to suffer chearfully Th' obliging Torments that do make me dye My Prudence by my Courage is withstood As by a rock the fury of the Floud I love my Frenzy and I could not love Him of my Friends that should it disapprove Nor do I think my reasonable part Will e'er approach me whilst thou absent art I find my Thoughts uncessantly approve The torturing effects of faithful Love. I find that Day it self shares in my pain The Air 's o'respread with Clouds the Earth with Rain That horrid Visions in my starting Sleep My Souls in their illusions tangled keep That all the apprehensions in my Head Are Madness by my feverish Passion bred That at husht midnight I imagine Storms And see a Ship-wrack in its dreadfull'st Forms Fall from the top of an high precipice Into the Jaws of an obscure Abyss And there a thousand ugly Serpents see Hissing t' advance their scaly Crests at me I cannot once dream of a false Delight But cruel Death straight seizes me in spite But when Heaven weary to have gone thus far Gives that I live under a better Star And when th' unconstant Stars by their chang'd power Present me for my Pains one happy hour My Soul will find it self chang'd at thy sight And of all past mishaps revenged quite Though in Nights Sleep my Spirits buried lay Thy sight my Dear would lend them beams of Day Thy Voice has over me the self same power With Zephyr's Breath over th' Earth's wither'd Flower The vigorous Springs makes all things fresh and new The blowing Rose puts on her blushing hue The Heavens more gay the Days more fair appear Aurora dressing to the Birds gives ear The wild Beasts of the Forrest free from Care Do feel their Bloud and Youth renewed are And naturally obedient to their Sense Without remorse their Pleasures recommence I only in the season all are blest With cruel and continual Griefs opprest Alone in Winter sad and comfortless See not the glorious Spring that we should blâ—ss I only see the Forrest fair forsook ' Th' Earths surface Desart and the frozen Brook And as if charm'd cannot once tast the Fruit That in this season to all Palats suit But when those Suns my adoration claim Shall with their Rays once reinforce my Flame My Spring will then return more sweet and fair By thousand times than those ' Heavens Lamp gives are If ever Fate allow mine Eyes that grace My Joys will transcend those of humane Race Nothing but that Oh Gods nothing but that Do I desire to baâ—â—le Death and Fate Out of Astrea MADRIGALL I Think I could my Passions sway Though great as Beauties power can move To such obedience as to say I cannot or I do not love But to pretend another Flame Since I adore thy conqu'ring Eye To thee and Truth were such a shame I cannot do it though I dye If I must one or th' other do Then let me die I beg of you Stanzes upon the Death of Cleon. Out of Astrea I. THE Beauty which so soon to Cinders turn'd By Death of her Humanity depriv'd Like Light'ning vanisht like the Bolt it burn'd So great this Beauty was and so short liv'd II. Those Eyes so practis'd once in all the Arts That loyal Love attempted or e'er knew Those fair Eyes now are shut that once the hearts Of all that saw their lustre did subdue III. If this be true Beauty is ravisht hence Love vanquisht droops that ever conquered And she who gave Life by her influence Is if she live not in my Bosom dead IV. Henceforth what happiness can Fortune send Since Death this abstract of all Joy has won Since Shadows do the Substance still attend And that our good does but our ill fore-run V. It seems my Cleon in thy rising morn That Destiny thy whole Days course had bound And that thy Beauty dead as soon as born It s fatal Hearâ—e has in its Cradle â—ound VI. No no thou shalt not die I Death will prove Who Life by thy sweet Inspiration drew If Lovers live in that which doth them love Thou liv'st in me who ever lov'd most true VII If I do live Love then will have it known That even Death it self he can controul Or as a God to have his Power shown Will that I live without of Heart or Soul. VIII But Cleon if Heav'ns unresisâ—ed will 'Point thee of Death th' inhumane Fate to try Love to that Fate equals my Fortune still Thou by my mourning by the Death I dye IX Thus did I my immortal Sorrows Breath Mine Eyes to Fountains turn'd of springing Woe But could not stay the wounding Hand of Death Lament but not lessen misfortune so X. When Love with me having bewail'd the loss Of this sweet Beauty thus much did express Cease cease to weep this mourning is too gross Our Tears are still than our misfortune less Song of the inconstant Hylas Out of Astrea I. IF one disdain me then I fly Her Cruelty and her Disdain And e'er the Morning guild the Sky Another Mistriss do obtain They err who hope by force to move A Womans Heart to like or love II. Iâ— oft falls out that they who in Discretion seem us to despise Nourish a greater Fire within Although perhaps conceal'd it lies Which we when once we quit our rooms Do kindle for the next that comes III. The faithful Fool that obstinatâ— Pursues a
The tedious hours of the day Hating all light that does not rise From the gay Morning of her eyes Tell her that Friends which were to be Welcome to men in misery To me I know not how of late Are grown to be importunate My Books which once were wont to be My best beloved Company Are save a Prayer-book for Form Left to the Canker or the Worm My Study's Grief my Pleasure Care My Joys are Woe my Hope Despair Fears are my Drink deep Sighs my Food And my Companions Solitude Night too which Heav'n ordain'd to be Man's chiefest Friend 's my Enemy When she her Sable Curtain spreads The whole Creation make their beds And every thing on Earth is bless'd With gentle and refreshing Rest But wretched I more pensive made By the addition of that shade Am left alone with sorrow roar The grief I did but sigh before And tears which check'd by shame and light Do only drop by day by night No longer aw'd by nice respects Gush out in Flouds and Cataracts Ill life ah Love why is it so To me is measur'd out by woe Whilst she who is that life 's great light Conceals her Glories from my â—ight Say fair Clorinda why should he Who is thy Vertue 's Creature be More wretched than the rest of men Who love and are belov'd agen I know my passion not desert Has giv'n me int'rest in a heart Truer than ever Man possess'd And in that knowledge I am bless'd Yet even thence proceeds my care That makes your absence hard to bear For were you cruel I should be Glad to avoid your cruelty But happy in an equal flame I Sweetest thus impatient am Then since your presence can restore My heart the joy it had before Since lib'ral Heaven never gave To Woman such a pow'r to save Practise that Sovereign pow'r on one Must live or dye for you alone Taking leave of Chloris I. SHE sighs as if she would restore The life she took away before As if she did recant my doom And sweetly would reprieve me home Such hope to one condemn'd appears From every whisper that he hears But what do such vain hopes avail If those sweet sighs compose a gale To drive me hence and swell my sail II. See see she weeps Who would not swear That love descended in that tear Boasting him of his wounded prize Thus in the bleeding of her eyes Or that those tears with just pretence Would quench the fire that came from thence But oh they are which strikes me dead Chrystal her frozen heart has bred Neither in love nor pitty shed III. Thus of my merit jealous grown My happiness I dare not own But wretchedly her favours wear Blind to my self unjust to her Whose sighs and tears at least discover She pitties if not loves her Lover And more betrays the Tyrant's skill Than any blemish in her will That thus laments whom she doth kill IV. Pitty still Sweet my dying state My flame may sure pretend to that Since it was only unto thee I gave my life and liberty Howe'er my life's misfortune 's laid By love I 'm pitty's object made Pitty me then and if thou hear I 'm dead drop such another tear And I am paid my full arrear Song I. FIe pretty Doris weep no more Damon is doubtless safe on shoar Despight of wind and wave The life is Fate-free that you cherish And 't is unlike he now should perish You once thought fit to save II. Dry Sweet at last those twins of light Which whilst ecclips'd with us 't is night And all of us are blind The tears that you so freely shed Are both too pretious for the Dead And for the Quick too kind III. Fie pretty Doris sigh no more The Gods your Damon will restore From Rocks and Quick-sands free Your wishes will secure his way And doubtless he for whom you pray May laugh at Destiny IV. Still then those Tempests of your breast And set that pretty heart at rest The man will soon return Those sighs for Heav'n are only fit Arabian Gums are not so sweet Nor Off'rings when they burn V. On him you lavish grief in vain Can't be lamented nor complain Whilst you continue true That man's disaster is above And needs no pitty that does love And is belov'd by you Resolution in four Sonnets of a Poetical Question put to me by a Friend concerning four Rural Sisters Sonnet I. ALice is tall and upright as a Pine White as blaunch'd Almonds or the falling Snow Sweet as are Damask Roses when they blow And doubtless fruitful as the swelling Vine Ripe to be cut and ready to be press'd Her full cheek'd beauties very well appear And a year's fruit she loses e'ery year Wanting a man t' improve her to the best Full fain she would be husbanded and yet Alass she cannot a fit Lab'rer get To cultivate her to her own content Fain would she be God wot about her task And yet forsooth she is too proud to ask And which is worse too modest to consent Sonnet II. MArg'ret of humbler stature by the head Is as it oft falls out with yellow hair Than her fair Sister yet so much more fair As her pure white is better mixt with red This hotter than the other ten to one Longs to be put unto her Mothers trade And loud proclaims she lives too long a Maid Wishing for one t' untie her Virgin Zone She finds Virginity a kind of ware That 's very very troublesome to bear And being gone she thinks will ne'er be mist And yet withall the Girl has so much grace To call for help I know she wants the face Though ask'd I know not how she would resist Sonnet III. MAry is black and taller than the last Yet equal in perfection and desire To the one's melting snow and t'other's fire As with whose black their fairness is defac'd She pants as much for love as th' other two But she so vertuous is or else so wise That she will win or will not love a prize And but upon good terms will never doe Therefore who her will conquer ought to be At least as full of love and wit as she Or he shall ne'er gain favour at her hands Nay though he have a pretty store of brains Shall only have his labour for his pains Unless he offer more than she demands Sonnet IV. MArtha is not so tall nor yet so fair As any of the other lovely three Her chiefest Grace is poor simplicity Yet were the rest away she were a Star. She 's fair enough only she wants the art To set her Beauties off as they can doe And that 's the cause she ne'er heard any woo Nor ever yet made conquest of a heart And yet her bloud 's as boiling as the best Which pretty soul does so disturb her rest And makes her languish so she 's fit to die Poor thing I doubt she still must lie alone For being like to be attack'd by none
flat And make her squeeze to death her dying fraight Sometimes she on a Mountain's ridge would ride And from that height her gliding Keel then slide Into a Gulf yawning and deep as Hell Whilst we were swooning all the while we fell Then by another billow rais'd so high As if the Sea would dart her into th'Sky To be a Pinnace to the Argosie Then down a precipice so low and steep As it had been the bottom of the Deep Thus whilst we up and down and to and fro Were misâ—â—ably toss'd and bandi'd so 'T was strange our little Pink though ne'er so tight Could weather't so and keep her sâ—lf upright Or was not funk with weight of our despair For Hope alas could find no ank'ring there Her Prow and Poop Star-board and Lar-board side B'ing with these Elements so hotly pli'd 'T was no less than a Miracle her seams Not ripp'd and open'd and her very Beams Continu'd faithfull in these loud extremes That her tall Masts so often bow'd and bent With gust on gust were not already spent That all or any thing indeed withstood A Sea so hollow such a high wrought Floud Here where no Sea-man's Art nor strength avails Where use of Compass Rudder or of Sails There now was none the Mariners all stood Bloudless and cold as we or though they cou'd Something perhaps have help'd in such a stress Were ev'ry one astonish'd ne'ertheless To that degree they either had no heart Their Art to use or had forgot their Art. Meanwhile the miserable Passengers With sighs the hardest the more soft with tears Mercy of Heav'n in various accents crav'd But after drowning hoping to be sav'd How oft by fear of dying did we die And every death a death of cruelty Worse than worst Cruelties provok'd impose On the most hated most offending Foes We fansi'd death riding on every Wave And every hollow seem'd a gaping Grave All things we saw such horrour did present And all of dying too were so intent Ev'ry one thought himself already dead And that for him the tears he saw were shed Such as had not the courage to behold Their danger above deck within the Hosd Utter'd such groans in that their floating Grave As even unto terrour terrour gave Whilst those above pale dead and cold appear Like Ghosts in Charon's Boat that sailing were The last day's dread which none can comprehend But to weak fancy only recommend To form the dreadfull Image from sick fear That fear and fancy both were height'ned here With such a face of horrour as alone Was fit to prompt Imagination Or to create it where there had been none Such as from under Hatches thrust a head T' enquire what news seem'd rising from the dead Whilst those who stai'd above bloudless with fear And gastly look as they new risen were The bold and timorous with like horrour struck Were not to be distinguish'd by their look And he who could the greatest courage boast Howe'er within look'd still as like a Ghost Ten hours in this rude Tempest we were toss'd And ev'ry moment gave our selves for lost Heav'n knows how ill prepar'd for sudden death When the rough winds as they 'd been out of breath Now seem'd to pant and panting to retreat The Waves with gentler force against us beat The Sky clear'd up the Sun again shone bright And gave us once again new life and light We could again bear sail in those rough Seas The Sea-men now resume their offices Hope warm'd us now anew anew the heart Did to our cheeks some streaks of bloud impart And in two hours or very little more We came to Anchor Faulcon-shot from shoar The very same we left the Morn before Where now in a yet working Sea and high Untill the wind shall veere we rolling lie Resting secure from present fear but then The dangers we escap'd must tempt agen Which if again I safely shall get through And sure I know the worst the Sea can doe So soon as I shall touch my native Land â—'ll thence ride Post to kiss your Lordship's hand ODE IS' t come to this that we must part Then Heav'n is turn'd all cruelty And Fate has neither eyes nor heart Or else my Sweet it could not be She 's a blind Deity I 'm sure For woefull sights compassion move And Heav'nly minds could ne'er endure To persecute the truest love Love is the highest attribute Of pow'rs unknown we Mortals know For that all homage we commute From that all good and Mercies flow And can there be a Deity In those eternal seats above Will own so dire a Cruelty As thus to punish faithfull Love Oh Heav'nly Pow'rs be good and just Cherish the Law your selves have made We else in vain in Vertue trust And by Religion are betray'd Oh! punish me some other way For other sins but this is none Take all the rest you gave away But let my dearest Dear alone Strip me as into th' World I came I never shall dispute your will Or strike me dumb deaf blind or lame But let me have Chlorinda still Why was she given me at all I thought indeed the Gift too great For my poor Merit but withall I always knew to value it I first by you was worthy made Next by her choice let me not prove Blasphemous if I 'm not afraid To say most worthy by my love And must I then be damn'd from Bliss For valuing the Blessing more Be wretched made through Happiness And by once being rich more poor This Separation is alass Too great a punishment to bear Oh! take my life or let me pass That liâ—e that happy liâ—e with her O my Chlorinda couldst thou see Into the bottom of my heart There 's such a Mine of Love for thee The Treasure would supply desert Let the King send me where he please Ready at Drum and Trumpet 's call I 'll fight at home or cross the Seas His Soulder but Chlorinda's Thrall No change of Diet or of Air In me can a Distemper breed And if I fall it should be fair Since 't is her bloud that I 'm to bleed And sitting so I nothing fear A noble she of living fame And who shall then be by nay hear In my last groans Chlorinda's Name But I am not proscrib'd to die My Adversaries are too wise More rigour and less Charity Condemns me from Chlorinda's eyes Ah cruel Sentence and severe That is a thousand deaths in one Oh! let me die before I hear â— sound of Separation And yet it is decreed I see The Race of men are now combin'd Though I still keep the Body free To persecute a Loyal mind And that 's the worst that Man can doe To banish me Chlorinda's sight Yet will my heart continue true Maugre their power and their spight Mean while my Exit now draws nigh When Sweet Chlorinda thou shalt see That I have heart enough to die Not half enough to part with thee 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Paraphras'd
from Anacreon THe Earth with swallowing drunken showers Reels a perpetual round And with their Healths the Trees and Flowers Again drink up the Ground The Sea of Liquor spuing full The ambient Air doth sup And thirsty Phoebus at a pull Quaffs off the Ocean's cup. When stagg'ring to a resting place His bus'ness being done The Moon with her pale platter face Comes and drinks up the Sun. Since Elements and Planets then Drink an eternal round 'T is much more proper sure for men Have better Liquor found Why may not I then tell me pray Drink and be drunk as well as they On Christmas-day Hymn I. RIse happy Mortals from your sleep Bright Phospher now begins to peep In such apparel as ne'er dress'd The proudest day-break of the East Death's Sable Curtain 'gins disperse And now the blessed Morn appears Which has long'd and pray'd for him So many Centuries of years To defray th'arrears of sin Now through the joyfull Universe Beams of Mercy and of Love Shoot forth comfort from above And Choires of Angels do proclaim The Holy Iesus blessed Name II. Rise Sheepherds leave your Flocks and run The Soul 's great Sheepherd now is come Oh! wing your tardy feet and fly To greet this dawning Majesty Heaven's Messenger in tidings bless'd Invites you to the Sacred place Where the blessed Babe of Joy Wrapp'd in his Holy Father's Grace Come's the Serpent to destroy That lurks in ev'ry humane Breast To Iudah's Beth'lem turn your feet There you shall Salvation meet There in a homely Manger hurl'd Lies the Messias of the World. III. Riding upon the Morning's wings The joyfull Air Salvation sings Peace upon Earth tow'rds men good will Ecchoes from ev'ry Vale and Hill For why the Prince of Peace is come The glorious Infant who this Morn By a strange mysterious Birth Is of his Virgin Mother born To redeem the Seed of Earth From foul rebellious heavy doom Travel Magi of the East To adore this sacred Guest And offer up with reverence Your Gold your Myrrhe and Frankincense IV. At th'teeming of this Blessed Womb All Nature is one Joy become The Fire the Earth the Sea and Air The great Salvation do declare The Mountains skip with Joy's excess The Ocean 's briny billows swell O'er the surface of their Lands And at this Sacred Miracle Flouds do clap their liquid hands Joy's Inundation to express Babes spring in the narrow rooms Of their tender Mothers Wombs And all for Triumph of the Morn Wherein the Child of bliss was born V. Let each religious Soul then risâ— To offer up a Sacrifice And on the wings of Pray'r and Praise His gratefull heart to Heaven raise For this that in a Stable lies This poor neglected Babe is he Hell and Death that must controll And speak the blessed Word be free To ev'ry true believing Soul Death has no sting nor Hell no prize Through his Merits great whilst we Travel to Eternity And with the Blessed Angels sing Hosannah's to the Heav'nly King. Chorus RIse then O rise and let your voices Tell the Spheres the Soul rejoyces In Beth'lem this auspicious Morn The Glorious Son of God is born The Child of Glory Prince of Peace Brings Mercy that will never cease Merits that wipe away the sin Each Humane Soul was forfeit in And washing off the fatall stain Man to his Maker knits again Joyn then your gratefull Notes and sing Hosannah's to the Heav'nly King. Saphick Ode HOw easie is his Life and free Who urg'd by no necessity Eats chearfull Bread and over night does pay For 's next day 's Crapula No suitor such a mean estate Invites to be importunate No supple flatt'rer robbing Villain or Obstreperous Creditor This man does need no Bolts nor Locks Nor needs he start when any knocks But may on careless Pillow lie and snoar With a wide open door Trouble and Danger Wealth attend An usefull but a dang'rous Friend Who makes us pay e'er we can be releas'd Quadruple Interest Let 's live to day then for to morrow The Fool 's too provident will borrow A thing which through Chance or Infirmity 'T is odds he ne'er may see Spend all then e'er you go to Heaven So with the World you will make even And men discharge by dying Nature's score Which done we owe no more The Morning Quatrains I. THe Cock has crow'd an hour ago 'T is time we now dull sleep forgo Tir'd Nature is by sleep redress'd And Labour 's overcome by Rest. II. We have out-done the work of Night 'T is time we rise t' attend the Light And â—'er he shall his Beams display To plot new bus'ness for the day III. None but the slothfull or unsound Are by the Sun in Feathers found Nor without rising with the Sun Can the World's bus'ness e'er be done IV. Hark! Hark! the watchfull Chanticler Tells us the day's bright Harbinger Peeps o'er the Eastern Hills to awe And warn night's sov'reign to withdraw V. The Morning Curtains now are drawn And now appears the blushing dawn Aurora has her Roses shed To strew the way Sol's steeds must tread VI. Xanthus and Aethon harness'd are To roll away the burning Carr And snorting flame impatient bear The dressing of the Chariotier VII The sable Cheeks of sullen Night Are streak'd with Rosie streams of light Whilst she retires away in fear To shade the other Hemisphere VIII The merry Lark now takes her wings And long'd-for days loud wellcome sings Mounting her body out of sight As if she meant to meet the light IX Now doors and windows are unbar'd Each-where are chearfull voices heard And round about Good-morrows fly As if Day taught Humanity X. The Chimnies now to smoke begin And the old Wife sits down to spin Whilst Kate taking her Pail does trip Mulls swoln and stradl'ing Paps to strip XI Vulcan now makes his Anvil ring Dick whistles loud and Maud doth sing And Silvio with his Bugle Horn Winds an Imprime unto the Morn XII Now through the morning doors behold Phoebus array'd in burning Gold Lashing his fiery Steeds displays His warm and all enlight'ning Rays XIII Now each one to his work prepares All that have hands are Labourers And Manufactures of each trade By op'ning Shops are open laid XIV Hob yokes his Oxen to the Team The Angler goes unto the stream The Wood-man to the Purlews highs And lab'ring Bees to load their thighs XV. Fair Amarillis drives her Flocks All night safe folded from the Fox To flow'ry Downs where Collin stays To court her with his Roundelays XVI The Traveller now leaves his Inn A new days Journey to begin As he would post it with the day And early rising makes good way XVII The slick-fac'd School-boy Sachel takes And with slow pace small riddance makes For why the haste we make you know To Knowledge and to Vertue 's slow XVIII The Foreâ—horse gingles on the Road The Waggoner lugs on his Load The Field with busie People snies And City rings with various