His Conquest gain And make the stubborn Heifer bow â—ts Neck to th' Yoke and labour at the Plow CHORVS Then he wants Faith who sighs and whines And at his present Ill repines For Man should strive 'Gainst all Afflictions to apply This Vniversal Remedy To hope and live III. Thus sang a Smiling Courtier t' other Day Under the Covert of a Spreading Tree And to his Song upon his Lute did play By whom an Ass you might attentive see The Ass in Scorn drew nearer him and bray'd And arguing thus methought in Answer sayd If this Green Grass on which I fed but now To be of Hope the Symbol you allow And if the Asses proper Meat be Grass Sure He that lives on Hope feeds like an Ass. Finding Cynthia in Pain and crying A Sonnet WHY Idol of my Heart these mournful Cryes And so much Grief on those fair Cheeks appears From whence proceed those envious Showres of Tearâ— Dark'ning the Lustre of thy Beautious Eyes How dares bold Sorrow labour to remove So many Graces from their proper Place Ah Cynthia Pain endeavours in thy Face To poyson all the sweetest Charms of Love Sense of thy Grief my Soul with Anguish fills Which out of Pity into Tears distills And for thy Ease would sain endure thy Woe But this Affliction sure thy Heart sustains That Cruel Thou being sensible of Pains May'st to thy Constant Martyr Pity show Cynthia sleeping in a Garden A Sonnet NEAR a cool Fountain on a Rose-bed lay My Cynthia sleeping in the open Air Whom Sol espy'd and seeing her so Fair Gaz'd till his wanton Coursers lost their Way The proudest Flowers were not asham'd to find Their Scent and Colour rivall'd in her Face Her bright curl'd Hairs were toss'd from Place to Place On Neck and Bosom by the Amorous Wind. Her Smiles were animated by her Breath Which still as soon as born receiv'd their Death Being Mortal made in Pity to Mens Hearts Poor Lovers then did lye and take their Rest For the Blind Boy who does our Peace molest Had in her sleeping Eyes hid all his Darts Lesbia's Complaint against Thyrsis his INCONSTANCY A Sonnet I Lov'd thee Faithless Man and love thee still Thou Fatal Object of my Fond Desires And that which nourishes these Amorous Fires Is Hope by which I love against my Will Great was the Passion thou didst late express Yet scorn'st me now whom long thou didst adore Sporting with others her thou mind'st no more Whom thou hast call'd thy Heav'n and Happiness Think not by this thy Lesbia thee invites To spend thy Years in Dalliance and Delights 'T is but to keep her Faith in Memory But if to grieve my Soul thou only strive To thy Reproach and to my Boast I 'll live A Monument of thy INCONSTANCY On Lydia distracted A Sonnet WIth Hairs which for the Wind to play with hung With her torn Garments and with naked Feet Fair Lydia dancing went from Street to Street Singing with pleasant Voice her foolish Song On her she drew all Eyes in ev'ry Place And them to Pity by her Pranks did move Which turn'd with gazing longer into Love By the rare Beauty of her charming Face In all her Frenzyes and her Mimickries While she did Natures richest Gifts despise There active Love did subt'ly play his part Her antick Postures made her look more gay Her Ragged Cloaths her Treasures did display And with each Motion she insnar'd a Heart The Four Seasons SPRING WHEN Winter 's past then ev'ry Field and Hill The SPRING with Flowers does fill Soft Winds do cleanse the Air Repel the Fogs and make the VVeather fair Cold Frosts are gone away The Rivers are at Liberty And their just Tribute pay Of liquid Pearls and Crystal to the Sea To whom each Brook and Fountain runs The stable Mother of those stragling Sons CHORVS But then In a short space WINTER returns agen E're Sol has run his annual Race But Ah! When Death 's keen Arrow flyes And hits Poor MAN Do what he can He dyes Returns to Dust a Shadow and a Nothing lyes SUMMER WHEN Flow'ry May is past The Spring is o're Then our cool Breezes end For Aeolus does send His soultry Blasts from off the Southern Shore The Sun bows down his Head And darts on us his siery Rays Plants droop and seem as dead Most Creatures seek for Shade their diff'rent ways All things as if for Moisture cry Even Rivers with the common Thirst grow dry CHORVS But then In a short space The SPRING returns agen E're Sol has run his Annual Race But Ah! When Death 's keen Arrow flyes And hits Poor MAN Do what he can He dyes Returns to Dust a Shadow and a Nothing lyes AUTUMN WHen Summer 's done green Trees begin to yield Their Leaves with Age decay They 're stript of their Array Scarce can the Rains revive the Russet Field The Flowers run up to Seed Orchards with Choice of Fruit abound Which Sight and Taste do feed The grateful Boughs even kiss their Parent Ground The Elm's kind Wife the tender Vine Is pregnant with her Heavenly Burden Wine CHORVS But then In a short Space SVMMER returns agen E're Sol has run his Annual Race But Ah! When Death 's keen Arrow flies And hits Poor MAN Do what he can He dyes Returns to Dust a Shadow and a Nothing lyes WINTER WHen Autumn's past sharp Eastern Winds do blow Thick Clouds obscure the Day Frost makes the Currents stay The Aged Mountains Hoary are with Snow Althô the Winter rage The wronged Trees Revenge conspire Its Fury they asswage Alive they serve for Fence when dead for Fire All Creatures from its Out-rage fly Those which want Shelter or Relief must dye CHORVS But then In a short Space AVTVMN returns agen E're Sol has run his Annual Race But Ah! When Death 's keen Arrow flyes And hits Poor MAN Do what he can He dyes Returns to Dust a Shadow and a Nothing lyes A Sonnet Translated out of Italian Written by Sig. Fra. Gorgia who was born as they were carrying his Mother to her Grave UNhappy I came from my Mother's Womb As She Oh Blessed She who gave me Breath Having receiv'd the Fatal Stroak of Death By weeping Friends was carryed to her Tomb. The Sorrow I exprest and grievous Cries Love's Tribute were for her to Heav'n was gone My Coffin and my Cradle both were one And at her Sun-set mine began to rise Wretch how I quake to think on that sad Day Which both for Life and Death at once made way Being gave the Son and Mother turn'd to Earth Alas I dye Not that Life hasts so fast But that to me each Minute seems the last For I in Death's cold Arms receiv'd my Birth The Scholar of his own Pupil The Third Idyllium of Bion Englished Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I Dreamt by me I saw Fair Venus stand Holding Young Cupid in her Lovely Hand And said Kind Shepherd I a Scholar bring My Little Son to
keep it so was it to take Homer's Verses and make them his own This is an Art which to perform it very well but few attain to the Skill and is not only allowed of but commended by Horace in his Art of Poetry If I should be blamed for thus exposing my self when so many of our Ingenious Poets have of late published their Works with such general Applause I hope I may be allowed without being thought arrogant to say as some of those might with Theognis 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 And if for the Credit of my several Authors whom I have here promiscuously shuffled in with mine own Things Together with the Genius of the Age which seems to be delighted with such Variety shall make this Piece acceptable to the Iudicious Reader I shall not care for the Bolts of those Censurers who make it their Business to cry down every thing which comes to their hands and which they many times understand not to such I shall apply this of the afore-recited Author 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To Philip Ayres Esq On his POEMS AS when with utmost Skill some Architect Designs a Noble Structure to erect Searches what e'er each Country does produce For outward Ornament or inward Vse So Friend from divers Books thy lab'ring Thought Has all the huddled am'rous Notions sought And into form shape the unlickt Cubs has brought Here Proteus Love thou shew'st in various Dress From Gawdy France to more Mejestick Greece Something thou gather'st too from Roman Ore And Spain contributes to thy well-got Store Whence each by thee refin'd in English Mold Verse smooth as Oyl does slow and pure as Gold Thus the laborious Bee with painful Toil From various Flowers of a various Soil Duly concocting the abstracted Iuice In plenty does th'Ambrosial Food produce C. Dartiquenave Lyric Poems The PROEM To LOVE A Sonnet LET others sing of Mars and of his Train Of great Exploits and Honourable Scars The many dire Effects of Civil Wars Death's Triumphs and Encomiums of the Slain â—sing the Conflicts I my self sustain With her Great Love the Cause of all my Cares Who wounds with Looks and fetters with her Hairs This mournful Tale requires a Tragick Strain â—yes were the Arms did first my Peace controul Wounded by them a Source of Tears there sprung â—unning like Blood from my afflicted Soul Thou Love to whom this Conquest does belong â—eave me at least the Comfort to condole And as thou wound'st my Heart inspire my Song The REQUEST To LOVE A Sonnet O Love who in my breast 's most noble part Didst that fair Image lodge that Form Divine In whom the Summ of Heavenly Graces shine And there ingrav'dst it with thy golden Dart. Now mighty Work man Help me by thy Art Since my dull Pen trembles to strike a Line That I on paper copy the Design By thee express'd so lively in my Heart Lend me when I this great Attempt do try A Feather from thy wings that whil'st to write My hand 's imploy'd my thoughts may soar on high Thy Torch which fires our hearts and burns so bright My darker Fancy let it's Flame supply And through my numbers dart celestial Light The COMPLAINT A Sonnet NOW angry Iuno sends from Heaven in spight Rivers and Seas instead of moderate showres Horror invests the World and the bright Hours â—f Delos God are chang'd to dismal Night â— crowds of anxious Thoughts on ev'ry side Invade my Soul and through my restless Eyes I shed such streams of Tears my Heart e'en tryes â—eath's pangs whilst I by force in Life abide â—â—t the brisk Gales which rising by and by â—here Sol at night in Thetis Lapp shall ly Will make Heaven clear and drive away the Rain 〈◊〉 Cynthia That the blasts of Sighs I vent â—â—uld ease my Breast of cloudy Discontent Which still with fresh Assaults renews my Pain From Girolamo Preti out of Italian on a Race-Horse SON of the Air Rival of Winds when high Swift Courser thou that without Wings dost fly Quicker than Arrows from a Parthian Bow Compar'd to thee Iove's Thunderbolts are slow Men come from Lands remote thy Race to see But when thou' rt pass'd no Eye can follow thee Thine far exceeds the Motion of the Sphears Thought cannot equal thee in thy Carrears Thy Feet shake th' Earth whilst Sparks do thee surround Yet tread not on the Flints nor touch the Ground Thee for his Charrot Sol would have away But that he knows thy Speed would shorten Day Invites Poets and Historians to write in Cynthia's Praise A Sonnet COME all ye Wits that with Immortal Rhymes Glory to others and your selves create And you that gratifie the future Times Whilst Tales of Love and Battles ye relate â—ome turn your Studies and your Eyes this way This Theme will crown your heads with lasting Bays T is Cynthia's Beauty Heavenly Cynthia Come swell your Volumes all with Cynthia's Praise â—osterity will then your Works admire And for her sake shall them as Jewels prize 〈◊〉 things to Cynthia's Glory must conspire She shall be worshipp'd with the Deities To her make foreign Lands pay Honours due Thus shall you live by her and she by you Cynthia on Horse-back A Sonnet FAIR Cynthia mounted on her sprightly Pad Which in white Robe with silver Fringe was clad And swift as wind his graceful steps did move As with his Beauteous Guide he 'd been in love Though fierce yet humble still to her command Obeying ev'ry touch of her fair hand Her golden Bitt his foaming mouth did check It spread his Crest and rais'd his bending Neck She was the Rose upon this Hill of snow Her sparkling Beauty made the glorious Show Whence secret Flames men in their bosoms took The Graces and the Cupids her surround Attending her while cruel she does wound With Switch her Horse and Hearts with ev'ry Loâ— On the Death of Cynthia's Horse A Sonnet WHate're the World could boast of fair or good Thy back with pride has born thou happy Horse By which thou' rt fall'n in middle of thy course Too feeble to sustain so great a Load Oh happy Fall Oh dying full of Bliss Whilst she that guided Love did guide thy Head Big with this thought thou willingly art dead Scorning another burden after this A Heaven of Beauty over-press'd thy Back This might have made Alcides shoulders crack And Atlas truckl'd under such a weight Heav'n thee amongst its Horses long'd to see As here the World was late in love with thee When carrying her who to the Sun gave light On a Fountain and its Architect A Watry Heap by a fresh Torrent fed Hoary with Froth lifts up its reverend Head Whence various Currents falling their Recoyl Makes them when cold as Ice appear to boyl Out from his Temples in an artful Crown Clear Drops like strings of Pearls come trickling down Which quickly caught
Being blind I see not having voice I cry I wish for Death while I of Life make choice I hate my self yet love you tenderly Do feed of Tears and in my Grief rejoice Thus Cynthia all my Health is but Disease Both Life and Death do equally displease Invites his Nymph to his Cottage ON you ' Hill's Top which this sweet Plain commands Fair Cynthia all alone my Cottage stands 'Gainst Storms and scorching Heats well fortify'd With Pines and spreading Oaks on ev'ry side My Lovely Garden too adjoyning lyes Of sweetest Flowers and of the richest Dyes The Tulip Jas'min Emony and Rose Of which we 'll Garlands for thy Head compose Nature to make my Fountain did its Part Which ever flows without the help of Art A faithful Mirroir shall its Waters be Where thou may'st sit beneath a shady Tree Admiring what above the World I prize Thy self the Object of thine own fair Eyes And which is greatest let the Spring proclaim Thy Powers of Love or this my Amorous Flame 'T is hard to follow Vertue I Rais'd sometimes my Thoughts and fixt them right Where Vertue and where Glory did invite And in the Steps of Few and Best have trod Scorning to take the Vulgar Beaten Road. But him who aims at Glory they deride He 's one 'gainst most and worst must stemm the Tide Since now on sordid Wealth this Age so blind As on its Chiefest Good has fixt its Mind For the Great Things the World has in its Hand Are Gold and Silver Jewels and Command These are the Gifts which Fortune does dispence And may be got by Theft and Violence Yet from this Lethargy thô I arise And shake the Clouds of Error from my Eyes Reject the wrong and Right to chuse begin Than change my Course I sooner can my Skin ENDYMION and DIANA An Heroick Poem Written in Italian by Allessandro Tassoni I. ON Bed of Flowers Endymion sleeping lay Tir'd with the Toyl of a long Summers-day Whilst softest Winds and Season of the Year Agree to make his Graces all appear The wanton Cupids in a Troop descend Play with his Horn and do his Bow unbend And Love this small Assembly came to grace Wond'ring to see the Shepherd's charming Face II. The Air to view him could not chuse but stay And with his Locks upon his Forehead play The Cupids round about him were employ'd While some did into Curls his Hair divide Others of Flowers of which they 'd pic'kd and brought Their Hands-full many various Fancies wrought Fetters as if they would his Feet restrain Wreaths for his Head and for his Wrists a Chain III. This with his Lips compar'd a Piony Another a Vermilion Emony Then at his Cheeks a Rose and Lily try'd The Rose it faded and the Lily dy'd Still was the Wind the Meadow Field and Grove The very Waters were not heard to move All things were hush'd and did a silence keep As some had whisper'd Peace here 's Love asleep IV. When the bright Goddess of the lowest Orb â—eck'd with the Rays of Sol her absent Lord Of Heav'n the dusky Mantle did unfold And silently Earth's wondrous Scene behold Then having first disperst in little Showres The Pearly Dew upon the Grass and Flowres Spying this place which such delights could yield Came down to take the Pleasure of the Field V. Quickly the little Cupids disappear â—o soon as e're the Goddess drew but near Who seeing the sleeping Youth alone she stays With Passion on his lovely face to gaze Till Virgin Modesty quench'd her bold Flame Of Folly then convinc'd she blush'd for shame And just was turning to have quit the place But was recall'd by that alluring Face VI. â—n through her Eyes a Spark slid to her Heart Which fir'd her Soul Nor could she thence depart But nearer by degrees her steps does guide Till she sate down close by the Shepherd's side And of the Flowers with which the Cupids plaid When Gyves and Fetters they in Sport had made Such Snares she wove her self was in them ta'ne And as the Shepherd's Captive wore his Chaine VII Straight on his hand an eager Kiss she prest Then thousand on his Lips Cheeks Eyes and Breast Nor in this Transport could her self contain 'Till she with Kisses wak'd the sleeping Swain Who being amaz'd at that Coelestial Light With Reverence trembled at the Glorious Sight He would have gone when fre'd from his Surprise But tho' he strove she would not let him rise VIII Fair Sleeper would'st thou go said she so soon Be not afraid Behold it is the Moon That comes to sport with thee in this sweet Grove Guided by Fate Necessity and Love Be not disturb'd at this unusual Sight We silently in Joys will spend the Night But if thou tell what I to thee have sed Expect Heav'ns utmost Vengeance on thy Head IX Goddess of Night that take'st from Sol thy Flame I said the Youth a silly Shepherd am But if thou promise me in Heav'n a Place To be translated hence from Humane Race Then of my Faith thou may'st assured live Of which this Mantle as a Pledge I 'll give The same my Father Etho gave the Night That he his Faith to Calice did plight X. This said his Mantle quickly he unbound That was with Flowers of Pearl embroyder'd round Which then he wore o're his left shoulder flung And with two Ends beneath his right Arm hung Save it the Goddess who had now thrown by All Sence of Honour and of Modesty And like a Frost-nip'd Flower she by his Charms Being thus o'â—come dropt down into his Arms. XI â—ever more closely does the tender Vine â—bout the shady Elm her Lover twine â—or the green lvie more Affection bring â—hen she about her Pine does kindly cling â—han these two vigorous Lovers there exprest â—â—ve having shot his Fire through eithers Breast With all their Art and Industry they strove How they might then enjoy their fill of Love XII â—â—us Whilst in Wantonness they spend the Night â—â—d use all Skill that might promote delight â—â—w â—â—r'd with what before they ne'er had try'd â—â—ese happy Lovers rested satisfy'd â—hen Fair Diana lifting up her Eyes â—â—cused her cruel Stars and Destinyes That her so long through so much Error drew And let her rather Beasts than Love pursue XIII Ah Fool said she How I too late repent That to the Woods I e're a Hunting went How many Years have I consum'd since then Which I must never think to see agen How many pretious Minutes ev'ry Day Did I in that mad Pastime fool away And how much better is one sweet Embrace Than all the toylsome Pleasures of the Chase From an Ode of Horace Beginning Vides ut alta stet nive candidum SEE how the Hills are candy'd o're with Snow The Trees can scarce their Burdens undergo Frost does the Rivers wonted course retain That they refuse their Tribute to the Main Winds Frost and Snow against our Lives conspire Lay on more Wood my Friends
the Pain To love as you may be belov'd again All things should contribute to the Lover's Assistance An Idyllium of Moschus Englished Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 OF Loving Venus O Coelestial Light Hesperus Usher of the sable Night Thô paler than the Moon thou dost as far Transcend in Brightness ev'ry other Star To my Dear Shepherdess my Steps befriend â—â— Luna's stead do thou thy Conduct lend With waining Light not long before the Sun â—he rose and now by this her Course has run No base Intriegue this Night I undertake No Journey I for Common Bus'ness make Love and bear within me Cupid's Fire And all things should to Lovers Aid conspire CUPID turn'd Plowman An Idyllium of MOSCHUS 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ONCE for his Pleasure LOVE would go Without his Quiver Toâ—ch or Bow He took with him a Ploughman's Whip And Corn as much as fill'd his Scrip Upon his shoulders hung the Load And thus equipp'd he went abroad With Bulls that often Yoaks had worn He plow'd the Ground and sow'd his Corn Then looking up to Heav'n with pride Thus mighty Iove he vilify'd Now scorch my Field and spoil my Seed Do and you shall repent the deed Europa's Bull I 'll make you bow Your haughty Neck and draw my Plow Love's Subtilty An Idyllium of Moschus Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 BY Pisa's Walls does Old Alpheus flow To Sea and thence to 's Arethusa goe With Waters bearing Presents as they move â—eaves Flowers and Olive-Branches to his Love And of the Sacred Dust the Heroes raise When at Olympic Games they strive for Bays â—e sinks and dives with Art beneath the Sea â—nd to Sicilia does his Streams convey â—â—t still will he his Purity retain â—or is his Course obstructed by the Main â—Twas Love whose subtil Tricks will ne'er be done That taught the Am'rous River thus to run Love makes the best Poets An Idyllium of BION Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 DArts Torch or Bow the Muses do not fear They love and follow Cupid ev'ry where And him whose Breast His Arrows cannot reach They all avoid refusing him to teach But if Love's Fire begin to warm a Heart They straight inspire it with their Sacred Art Let none with subtil Logick this deny For I too well the Truth can testify If Men or Gods I strive to celebrate My Musick 's Discord and my Verse is flat For Love or Lyciâ— when my Vein I show My Viol 's tun'd and sweetest Numbers flow The Death of ADONIS 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of Theocritus Englished WHEN VENVS her ADONIS found Just slain and weltring on the Ground With Hair disorder'd gastly Look And Cheeks their Roses had forsook She bad the Cupids Fetch with speed The Boar that did this horrid Deed They to revenge Adonis Blood As quick as B0irds search'd all the Wood And straight the murd'rous Creature found Whom they with Chains securely bound And whilst his Net one o'er him flung â—o drag the Captive Boar along Another follow'd with his Bow â—ushing to make him faster go Who most unwillingly obey'd â—or he of VENVS was afraid No sooner she the Boar espy'd â—ut Oh! Thou cruel Beast she cry'd That hadst the Heart to wound this Thigh How couldst thou kill so sweet a Boy Great Goddess said the Boar and stood Trembling I swear by all that 's Good By thy Fair Self by Him I 've slain These pretty Hunters and this Chain I did no Harm this Youth intend Much less had Thought to kill your Friend I gaz'd and with my Passion strove For with his Charms I fell in Love At last that naked Thigh of his With Lovers Heat I ran to kiss Oh Fatal Cause of all my Woe 'T was then I gave the heedless Blow These Tusks with utmost Rigour draw Cut break or tear them from my Jaw 'T is just I should these Teeth remove Teeth that can have a Sense of Love Or this Revenge if yet too small Out off the Kissing Lips and all When Venus heard this humble Tale Pitty did o'er her Rage prevail She bad them straight his Chains unty And set the Boar at Liberty Who ne'er to Wood return'd again But follow'd Venus in her Train And when by Chance to Fire he came His Am'rous Tusks sing'd in the Flame Love a Spirit I Told Iacinta t'other Day As in a pleasant Bow'r we sate Sporting and Chatting Time away Of Love and of I know not what That Love 's a Spirit some maintain From whom say they we 're seldom free He gives us both Delight and Pain Yet him we neither touch nor see But when I view said I your Eyes I can perceive he thither skips He now about them hov'ring flyes And I can feel him on your Lips Commends the SPRING A Paraphrase on an Idyllium of BION Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 CLEODEMVS and MYRSON CLEO. WHICH Season Myrson does most Pleasure bring The Summer Autumn Winter or the Spring Does not the SUMMER When the Joyful Swain Pays Ceres Rights and fills his Barns with Grain Or is the AUTUMN best in your Esteem That drives no Shepherd to the distant Stream To quench his Thirst Or wanting common Food To range for Nuts and Acorns in the Wood. For then our Vines their Nectar Juice afford And Orchards with Ambrosian Fruits are stor'd Or can you the Cold WINTER more admire When Frost and Snow confine you to the Fire With Wine and Feasting Musick and Delights And pleasant Tales to shorten tedious Nights Or give you for the Flowry SPRING your Voice Pray tell me for I long to hear your Choice MYR SINCE God at first as we from Poets hear Distinguish'd these Four Seasons of the Year â—acred to Deities to whom we bow Our Judgment of them they will scarce allow Yet Cleodemus answ'ring your Request â—'ll tell my Thoughts which I esteem the best â—UMMER offends when Sol with fiercest Ray â—n my tir'd Limbs does Fainting Heats convey â—nd me as little can moist AUTUMN please â—ngendring Fogs That Season's all Disease â—uch less could I delight in WINTER's Snow 〈◊〉 Nipping Frosts or Tempests when they blow â—â—t Oh the SPRING Whose Name delights the Ear. Would a Continual Spring were all the Year 〈◊〉 th'others brought no Damage yet the Spring With purer Air makes Birds in Concert sing â—cloaths our Fields our Gardens and our Bowers Fresh Array adorn'd with various Flowers makes the Fruitful Earth when pregnant long â—ing forth and kindly nurse her Tender Young â—â—ds leave their Fodder and in Pastures keep â—â—d Day is equal to the Time of Sleep When God from Nothing made the Heav'ns and Earth And first gave all his Creatures Life and Birth Sure it was Spring and gentle Winds did blow And all Earth's Products full Perfection show To sweet Meat soure Sauce An Imitation of Theocritus or Anacreon AS Cupid from the Bees their Hony-stole Being stung he in the Anguish of his Soul Fled with his Dear-bought Purchace which he laid On Cynthia's
fume with richest Sacrifice â—ouths mind their active Sports they often meet â—evel and dance with Maydens in the Street â—he useless Shield serves to adorn the Hall â—hence Spiders weave their Nets against the Wall â—antlets and Spears lye cover'd o'er with Dust â—nd slighted Swords half eaten up with Rust 〈◊〉 Trumpets sound no ratling Drums we hear 〈◊〉 frightful Clamours pierce the tim'rous Ear â—â—r weary Eyes enjoying nat'ral Rest â—â—fresh the Heart when 't is with Cares opprest â—â—ys steal away in Feasting and Delight â—â—d Lovers spend in Serenades the Night An Ode of ANACREON Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 MY Hairs are hoary wrinkled is my Face I lose my Strength and all my Manly Grace My Eyes grow dim my Teeth are broke or gone And the best part of all my Life is done I 'm drown'd in Cares and often sigh and weep My Spirits fail me broken is my Sleep Thoughts of the gaping Grave distract my Head For in its Paths ' wake or asleep we tread None can from it by Art their Feet restrain Nor back thô wide its Gates can come again Then since these Ills attend the Life of Man Let 's make their Burden easy as we can Cares are no Cares but whilst on them we think To clear our Minds of such dull Thoughts let 's drinâ— The Musical Conqueress LED by kind Stars one Ev'ning to the Grove I spy'd my Cynthia in the Walk of Love Her Heav'nly Voice did soon salute my Ears I heard methought the Music of the Sphears Those Notes on all the Birds had laid a Spell And list'ning 'mongst the rest was Philomel Who thinking she in Credit suffer'd wrong Strove thô in vain to equal Cynthia's Song But when her self in Voice out-done she knew Being griev'd she ceas'd and from her Rival slew â— stay'd and saw my Fair walk round the Tree And sing her Triumph for the Victory Thus whilst my Ears were feasted with Delight My Eyes no less were charm'd at her Angelic Sight A Nymph to a Young Shepherd insensible oâ— LOVE WHY dost thou fly me thus Oh cruel Boy I am no Wolf that would thy Life destroy But a fond Nymph Admirer of thy Face As Echo once of fair Narcissus was Thou e'en in Dangers dost thy Fancy please Striving with Toyl the hunted Game to seise While wretched me who languish for thy sake When in thy Net thou dost refuse to take But I alas in vain attempt to sind Effects of Pity in a hard'ned Mind As soon the Hare its Hunters may pursue As I with Prayers thy cruel Heart subdue My Pow'r I see cannot thy Steps retain Thus led by Sports and wing'd by thy Disdain Compares the Troubles which he has undergone for Cynthia's Love to the Labours of Hercules NOT Hercules himself did undertake Such toylsome Labours for his Mistress sake As I for many Years with endless Pain The Slave of Love Love's grand Fatigues sustain Thô he slew Hydra From th' Infernal King Did the three-headed yelping Porter bring Tyrants destroy'd Nemaean Lyon tare And Atlas Burden on his Shoulders bare â—o stand the Scorns of an Imperious Brow 〈◊〉 such Hate as would no Truce allow â— stubborn Heart by patient Suff'ring tame â—nd with weak Rhythms exalt her Glorious Name â—re Acts shall more the World with Wonder sill â—han his who did so many Monsters kill â—onquer a crafty Bull Disturb Hell's Court â—h ' Hesperian Garden rob and Heav'n support The TROPHY NOW now my Heart 's my own again The Vict'ry's won no more I 'll grieve My Mind 's at Peace 't is eas'd of Pain And now I shall with Pleasure live Lovers from your IDOL fly He 's the common ENEMY Let him flatter let him smile All his Drifts are to beguile His Poison he distills By cunning ARTS Into our HEARTS And then with torment kills Trust not his deluding FACE Dang'rous is his kind Embrace Believe not what you hear or see For He 's made up of TREACHERY Nor be by TRICKS into his Ambush charm'd The more He naked seems the more He 's arm'd CLAVDIAN In Sphaeram Archimedis Englished JOVE saw the Sphere Old Archimedes made And to the other Gods he laughing said Such wondrous Skill can crafty Mortals get Of my great Work to make the Counterfeit Heav'n's and Earth's Constitutions fixt by Fate This Syracusans Art does imitate His various Planets their just Order have Keeping by Springs the Motions which he gave Thrô the twelve Signs his Sun compleats its Years And each new Month his Mock-New-Moon appears Pleas'd with his World this Artist unconfin'd Boldly rules Heav'n in his aspiring Mind No more Salmoneus Thunder I admire Here 's one has ap'd all Nature's Works entire The Frailty of Man's Life THE Life we strive to lengthen out Is like a Feather rais'd from Ground A while in Air 't is tost about And almost lost as soon as found If it continue long in sight 'T is sometimes high and sometimes low Yet proudly aims a tow'ring Flight To make the more conspicuous Show The Air with ease its Weight sustains Since 't is by Nature light and frail Seldom in quiet State remains For Troops of Dangers it assail And after various Conflicts with its Foes It drops to Earth the Earth from whence it rose Posidippus the Comic Poet Of the Miseries attending Mankind Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 OH Mis'ry of Mankind For at the Bar Are Strifes and Quarrels At our Houses Care In Fields hard Labour Dangers on the Sea Who travels rich can ne'er from Fears be free Grievous is Want Marriage Eternal Strife A Single is a Solitary Life Children bring Care and Trouble To have none The Happiness of Wedlock is not known Our Youth is Folly E'er we can grow wise We 're Old and loaded with Infirmities So we may wish who have th' Experience try'd That we had ne'er been born Or soon as born had dy'd Metrodorus the Athenian Philosopher Of the Blessings attending Mankind Contradicting the former Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 HAppy Mankind For where we six to live The Gods a Blessing to that Station give If at the Bar it be our Lot to plead There Wisdom reigns and there is Justice weigh'd Or if at home we would our selves maintain We there by Industry may Riches gain Of Nature's Bounty Fields the Prospect show From Sea the Merchant knows his Treasures flow Who travels rich with Honour does appear Who has least Wealth hath still the less to fear If married thou may'st rule as Lord at home If single hast the Liberty to roam Children the Comfort of our Lives procure If none we are from thousand Cares secure To Exercise and Sports is Youth inclin'd Old Age does ever Veneration â—ind So we may those Imprudent Fools deride That wish they 'd ne'er been born or soon as born had di'd From Menander the Athenian To make a Married Life happy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 A Brisk young Wife who did a Fortune bring Proves to her
King to mind Who quit his Throne himself of sight depriv'd Became more wretched still the more he liv'd Till Sorrow brake his Heart which scarcely cou'd Atone â—or Incest and his Father's Bloud Thy Son if dead or was in Battel slain A greater Loss did Niobâ— sustain She saw her fourteen Children slaughter'd ly A Punishment for her IMPIETY Who great Latona's Off-spring had defy'd By whom thus Childless drown'd in Tears she dy'd On Phâ—â—octetes think should'st thou be lame He a most pow'rful Prince endur'd the same To conquer Troy he shew'd the Greeks a Way To whom he did the Fatal Shafts betray His Foot disclos'd the Secret of his Heart For which that treach'rous Foot endur'd the Smart Hast thou thy Life in Ease and Pleasure led Till Age contract thy Nerves and bow thy Head Then of thy greatest Joy on Earth bereft O'erwhelm'd in Sorrow and Despair art left So old King OEneus lost his valiant Son For Slights himself had to Diana shown Slain by his Mother when he had destroy'd The Boar which long his Father's Realm annoy'd Which Actress in this Mischief felt her share Her self becoming her own Murtherer The Father losing thus his Son and Wise Ended in Cryes and Tears his wretched Life Are Kings thus forc'd to yield to rig'rous Fate It may Thy lesser Ills alleviate FINIS THE TABLE Page THE Proem To Love 1 The Request To Love 2 The Complaint To Cynthia 3 On a Race Horse From Girolamo Preti 4 Invites Poets and Historians to write in Cynthia's Praise 5 Cynthia on Horse-back 6 On the Death of Cynthia's Horse 7 On a Fountain and its Architect 8 Describes the Place where Cynthia is sporting her self 9 His Retirement 10 To his Honoured Friend William Bridgman Esq 11 A Sonnet of Love 12 On the Picture of Lucretia stabbing her self 13 Complains being hindred the sight of his Mistress 14 The Pleas'd Captive 15 The Incurable ib. On a Fair Beggar 16 A Sonnet writ by a Nymph in her own Bloud from Claudio Achillini 17 The Rose and Lily 18 A Defiance returning to the place of his past Amours 19 Distance no Cure for Love 20 On Sig. Pietro Reggio his setting to Musick several of Mr. Cowley's Poems 21 From a Drinking Ode of Alcaeus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 22 An Epitaph on a Dutch Captain ib. On Cynthia singing a Recitative Song 23 On the Picture of Cavalier Guarini 24 On Old Rome 25 Revenge against Cynthia 26 Loves Contrariety 27 Invites Cynthia to his Cottage 28 'T is hard to follow Vertue 29 Endymion and Diana An Heroick Poem taken out of the 8th Canto of Alessandro Tassoni his La Secchia Rapita 30 From an Ode of Horace Vides ut alta stet nive candidum c. 34 A Complaint against Cynthia's Cruelty 35 Loves Garden From Girolamo Preti 36 Seeing his own Picture discourses of his Studies and Fortune 37 Petrarc On the Death of Laura 38 Another of Petrarc on Laura's Death 39 Complains of the Court 40 Being retired complains against the Court 41 To Cynthia 42 The Withered Rose 43 On the Death of Sylvia 44 To the Winds 45 The Silent Talkers 46 'T is dangerous jesting with Love 47 On Wine From a Fragment of Hesiod 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 48 A Dream 49 The Restless Lover 50 The Resolution Out of Italian 51 Invokes Death 52 A Hint from the Beginning of the third Satyr of Juvenal Laudo tamen c. 53 A Contemplation on Mans Life Out of Spanish 54 The Nightingale that was Drowned 55 On a Child sleeping in Cynthia's Lap 56 Cure for Afflictions From an Imperfect Ode of Archilochus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 57 Cynthia sporting 58 The Fly and Frog Out of Spanish from Don Francisco de Quevedo 59 On Gold 61 To his Grace the Duke of Northumberland 62 Loves New Philosophy 63 The vanity of unwarrantable Notions Out of Portugueze from Luis de Camoens 67 To the Nightingale 68 Apollo and Daphne 70 A Sestina in Imitation of Petrarc 71 A Sonnet of Petrarc giving an account of the time when he fell in Love with Madonna Laura 73 A Sonnet of Petrarc showing how long he had lov'd Madonna Laura 74 Petrarc going to visit M. Laura remembers she was lately dead 75 Petrarc laments the Death of M. Laura 76 Petrarc on Laura's Death 77 Constancy of Love to Cynthia 78 To his Viol 79 Hope Out of Italian from Fr. Abbati 80 Finding Cynthia in Pain and Crying 82 Cynthia sleeping in a Garden 83 Lesbia's Complaint of Thyrsis his Inconstancy 84 Lydia Distracted 85 The Four Seasons SPRING 86 SVMMER 87 AVTVMN 88 WINTER 89 A Sonnet written in Italian by Sig. Fra. Gorgia who was Born as they were carrying his Mother to her Grave 90 The Scholar of his own Pupil The third Idyllium of Bion Englished 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 91 An Epitaph on a Ridiculous Boaster 92 The Danger of the Sea A Latin Song taken out of the 13th Book of the Macaronics of Merlin Cocalius Infidum arridet saepe imprudentibus Aequor 93 An Expostulation with Love A Madrigal 94 On the Art of Writing 95 The Morn Out of French from Theophile 96 To his Ingenious Friend Mr. N. Tate 97 Less Security at Sea than on Shore An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 98 Platonic Love 99 Out of Latine Jovianus Pontanus In Praise of the Fountain Casis 100 To Cynthia going into the Country 101 Soneto Espanol de Don Felipe Ayres En alabanza de su Ingenioso Amigo Don Pedro Reggio uno de los Mayores Musicos de su tiempo 102 On Cynthia Sick 103 The Turtle Doves From Jovianus Pontanus 104 An Essay towards a Character of his Sacred Majesty King James II. 105 Sleeping Eyes A Madrigal 107 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To the Swallow 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 108 Love so as to be belov'd again An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 110 All things should contribute to the Lovers Assistance An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 111 Cupid at Plow An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 112 Loves Subtilty An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 113 Love makes the best Poets An Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 114 The Death of Adonis 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 115 Love is a Spirit 117 Commends the Spring A Paraphrase on an Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 118 To sweet Meat soure Sauce In Imitation of Theocritus or Anacreon 120 The Young Archer that mistook his Game An Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 121 Cupid's Nest 122 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To himself 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 123 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To his Mistress 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 124 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To Love 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 125 On a Death's-Head covered with Cobwebs kept in a Library and said to be the Scull of a King-Done out of Spanish from Don Luis de Gongora 126 From an imperfect Ode of Hybrias the Cretan 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 127 A Complaint of the shortness of Life An Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 128 Being sick of a Fever complains of the Fountain Casis Out of Latine from Jovianus Pontanus 129 His Heart into a Bird 131 In Praise of a Countrey-Liâ—e An Imitation of Horace's Ode Beatus ille 132 Mortal Iealousie 134 The Innocent Magician Or a Charm against Love 135 The Happy Nightingale 136 On Fame 137 Leander drowned 138 To Sleep when sick of a Fever 139 An Epigram on Woman 140 A Paraphrase on Callimachus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of Learning beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 141 Cynthia return'd from the Countrey 142 A Paean or Song of Triumph translated into a Pindaric supposed to be of Alcaeus of Sappho or of Praxilla the Sycionian Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 143 Beauty makes us happy 144 To John Dryden Esq Poet Laureat and Historiographer Royal 145 To a Singing Bird 146 The Happy Lover ibid The Paean of Bacchylides 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of Peace Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 147 An Ode of Anacreon beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 148 The Musical Conqueress 149 A Nymph to a Young Shepherd insensible of Love 150 Compares the Troubles which he has undergone for Cynthia's Love to the Labours of Hercules 151 The Trophy 152 An Epigram of Claudian Englished In Sphaeram Archimedis 153 The Frailty of Man's Life 154 Posidippus the Comic Poet On the Miseries of Mankind beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 155 Metrodorus the Athenian Philosopher Of the Blessings attending Mankind Contradicting the former beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 156 From Menander the Athenian To make a married Life Happy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 157 Simonides 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 On Man's Life Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 158 From two Elegies of Mimnermus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 The Contempt of Old Age. The first being imperfect begins 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 159 From Anaxandrides the Rhodian Poet in Praise of Old Age beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 160 From Crates the Philosopher On the same beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ibid The Timely Memento 161 On Good Fryday the Day of our Saviour's Passion 162 Rhianus the Cretan 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of Imprudence 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 163 Timocles the Athenian His Remedies against the Miseries of Man's Life beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 163 The End of the Table Books Printed for H. Herringman and sold by J. Knight and F. Saunders at the Blue Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New-Exchange MR Cowley's Works Mr Dryden's Plays in 2. Vol. Mr Beaumont and Fletcher's Plays Mr Shakespear's Plays Sir Avenant's Works Mrs Phillips's Poems Mr Waller's Poems Sir Denham's Poems Sir Suckling's Poems Sir Fanshaw's Il Pastor Fido. Dr Donn's Poems
love A Sonnet The Rose and Lily COurted by Cupids and the Amorous Air Upon a shady Throne at her Repose She sate than whom none e're so sweet or fair It was the Queen of Flowers the Blushing Rose With no less pride upon his Bed of State A Lily pale with Envy look'd that way With humble Flowers encompass'd round he sate And scorn'd the Scepter at her Feet to lay To Arms with Thorns and Prickles they prepare And each designs to try it out by War Till on good Counsel they in Rule combine So in your Face the lovely White and Red Cynthia I see all Quarrels banished And Rose and Lily do in Empire joyne A Defiance returning to the Place of his past Amours A Heart of Ice did here my Heart inflame Bound with loose Hairs a Pris'ner I became â—ere first sweet Love thô bitter in the end â—latter'd with Spight with Kindness did offend â—ut from Assaults a new Defence I 'm taught â—nd my past Ills an Antidote have brought â—o the poor Bird that once escape has made â—eturns with caution where the Net is laid â—ith my late Damp all Sparks of Love expire My Feet approach yet does my Soul retire â—hô near her Presence I can justly say My Eyes and Mind tend quite another way With her my Lute could no Attention find â—ow will I please my self not sing to th' Wind With Laurel here where Cypress late I wore â—ll triumph more than e're I griev'd before DISTANCE FAR from the Fire I burn and run in vain Slowly from winged Love to 'scape the Pain So the swift Arrows flying quick as Wind Wound them that run when th'Archer stays behind Love tho' I strive with Art to shun the Blow Fiercely assaults my Heart where e're I go As he can best a mortal Stroak command Who has most compass for his striking Hand Hoping to 'scape I as the Bird do fare That has his Foot entangled in a Snare Fears Death or in a Prison to be cast Flutters its Wings and strives but still is fast So I with all my Toyl no Ease have got My Strugling does but faster tye the Knot For Cynthia imitating Heavens swift Ray Near or at distance can her Flames convey A Sonnet On Signor Pietro Reggio his setting to Music several of Mr. Cowley's Poems â—F Theban Pindar rais'd his Country's Fame Whilst its great Deeds he does in Odes rehearse And they made greater by his Noble Verse Gratitude are Trophies to his Name â—hen English Pindar shall for ever live Since his Divine and Lofty Poetry Secur'd Great Reggio by thy Harmony â—all to it self Immortal Glory give â—he World 's amaz'd to hear the sweet Consent â—â—wixt thy charming Voice and Instrument They 'd stop the Bays which from Apollo fled â—â—y skilful Notes would make in full Carreer â—â—â—ebus the God of Musick stay to hear And with his Daphne crown thy Rival Head From a Drinking Ode of Alcaeus Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 DRink on thô Night be spent and Sun do shine Did not the Gods give anxious Mortals Wine To wash all Care and Sorrow from the Heart Why then so soon should Jovial Fâ—llows part Come let this Bumper â—or the next make way Who 's sure to live and drink another Day An EPITAPH On a Dutch CAPTAIN HERE lies a Souldier not oblig'd to Fame Being forc'd his own Atchievements to reherâ—â— He dy'd not rich yet I would tell his Name Could I but comprehend it in my Verse On Cynthia singing a Recitative Piece of Musick O Thou Angelick Spirit Face and Voice Sweet Syren whose soft Notes our Souls rejoice â—et when thou dost recite some Tragick Verse Thy Tone and Action make it sweetly fierce â—â— thou soft loud sad or brisk Note dost hit â—â— carries still our Hearts along with it Thou canst heat cool grieve us or make us smile â—ay stab or kill yet hurt us not the while Thy Gesture Shape and Mien so pleasing are With thee no Humane Being can compare Thy Passions all our Passions do excite And thy feign'd Grief does real Tears invite â—â—istning to thee our Bodies seems as dead â—or our rapt Souls then up to Heav'n are fled â—o great a Monarch art thou that thy Breath â—as power to give us either Life or Death A Sonnet On the Picture of Cavalier Guarini Author of Il Pastor Fido painted by the Famous Borgianni and set up in his Funeral Pile at Rome YOU who to Fam'd Guarini now he 's dead Your Verses consecrate and Statues reare For that sweet Padan Swan your Tears have shed Sweetest that ever did or will sing here Behold this Picture on his Fun'ral Pile Your mournful Spirits 't will with Joy revive Tho' th'Artist cheats your Senses all the while For 't is but Paint which you would swear does live This serves to keep our Friend in Memory Since Death hath robb'd us of his better Part And that he so might live as ne're to dye He drew himself too but with diff'rent Art Judge which with greatest Life and Spirit looks Borgianni's Painting or Guarini's Books On old Rome HERE was old Rome that stretch'd her Empire far In Peace was fear'd triumphant was in War Here 't was for now its place is only found All that was Rome lyes buried under Ground These Ruines hid in Weeds on which Man treads Were Structures which to Heav'n rais'd their proud Heads Rome that subdu'd the World to Time now yields With Rubbish swells the Plains and strews the Fields Think not to see what so Renown'd has been Nothing of Rome in Rome is to be seen Vulcan and Mars those wasting Gods have come And ta'ne Romes Greatness utterly from Rome They spoyl'd with Malice e're they would depart What e're was rare of Nature or of Art It s greatest Trophies they destroy'd and burn'd She that o're turn'd the World to Dust is turn'd Well might she fall 'gainst whom such Foes conspire Old Time Revengeful Man and Sword and Fire Now all we see of the Great Empress Rome Are but the Sacred Reliques of her Tomb. A SONG Revenge against Cynthia SEE Cupid we have found our lovely Foe Who slights thy Pow'r and does my Flame despise Now thou art arm'd with all thy Shafts and Bow And she at Mercy 'twixt two Enemies Asleep she 's laid upon this Bed of Flowers Her Charms the sole Defence to save her Breast Thoughtless of injur'd me or of thy Powers Oh that a Guilty Soul can take such rest Now may'st thou eas'ly with a single Dart Revenge thy self and me upon her Heart A Sonnet Love's Contrariety I Make no War and yet no Peace have found With heat I melt when starv'd to death with cold I soaâ— to Heav'n whilâ— groveling on the Ground Embrace the World yet nothing do I hold I 'm not confin'd yet cannot I depart Nor loose the Chain thô not a Captive led Love kills me not yet wounds me to the Heart Will neither have m' alive nor have me dead
To interweave the Olive with the Bays When tir'd with Arts to tune Apolo's Lyre To merit Honours e're he them desire These Fruits which others bring with Art and Time Your Blooming Age does yield before your Prime Love's New Philosophy I. WHO'e're a Lover is of Art May come and learn of me A New Philosophy Such as no Schools could e'er impart â—ove all my other Notions does controul â—nd reads these stranger Lectures to my Soul II. This God who takes delight to lye Does Sacred Truths defame And Aristotle blame Concluding all by Subtilty â—is Syllogisms with such Art are made â—ot Solomon himself could them evade III. So wondrous is his Art and Skill His Reasons pierce like Darts Mens Intellects and Hearts Old Maximes he destroys at will â—nd blinded Plato so he made him think â—was Water when he gave him Fire to drink IV. That Water can extinguish Fire All Ages did allow But Love denyes it now And says it makes his Flame rage higher Which Truth my self have prov'd for many Years Wherein I 've wept whole Deluges of Tears V. At the Sun's Rays you Cynthia know The Ice no more can melt Nor can the Fire be felt Or have its wonted Influence on Snow By your relentless Heart is this exprest Your Eyes are Suns the Fire is in my Brest VI. When Soul and Body separate That then the Life must dye This too I must deny My Soul 's with her who rules my Fate Yet still my Organs move a Proof to give That Soul and Body can divided live VII Remove the Cause th' Effects will cease This is an Errour too And found by me untrue My Fair when near disturbs my Peace But when she 's furthest off no Tongue can tell The raging Pangs of Love my Heart does feel VIII All Creatures Love not their own Kind I this new Axiom try And that all fear to dye By Nature a Mistake I find â—or I a Man do a Fierce Creature love â—nd such I know that will my Murd'ress prove IX Here two Extreams are eas'ly join'd Joy and Grief in my Brest VVhich give my Soul no Rest Both to torment me are combin'd â—or when I view the Source of all my Wrong â— sigh my Musick mix with Tears my Song X. That all things like Effects produce I readily can prove A Paradox in Love And my Conclusion hence deduce Cold Cynthia to my Zeal yields no Return Though Ice her Heart she makes my Heart to burn XI Whilst in this Torment I remain It is no Mystery To be and not to be I dye to Joy and live to Pain So that my Fair I may be justly sed To be and not to be Alive and Dead XII Now go my Song yet shun the Eyes Of those ne'er felt Love's Flame And if my Cynthia blame Thy Arguments as Sophistries Tell her this is Love's New Philosophy Which none can understand but such as try The Vanity of Unwarrantable Notions Done out of Portugueze from Lewis de Camoëns TRUTH Reason Love and Merit may endure Some Shocks to make us think our selves secure But Fortune Time and Destiny do still Dispose all Humane Matters at their Will What various strange Effects perplex the Mind For which we can no certain Causes find We know we live but what succeeds our End Man's Understanding cannot comprehend Yet Doctors will their Notions justify And vouch for Truths what no Man e'er could try Doubt Real Things as if no such had been And Things believe which never yet were seen These Men are proud to have their Madness known Believe in Christ and let the rest alone To the NIGHTINGALE Why Little Charmer of the Air Dost thou in Musick spend the Morn Whilst I thus languish in Despair Opprest by Cynthia 's Hate and Scorn Why dost thou sing and hear me cry Tell wanton Songster tell me why I. WILT thou not cease at my Desire Will those small Organs never tiâ—e Nature did these close Shades prepare Not for thy Musick but my Care Then why wilt thou persist to sing Thou Beautiful Malitious Thing When Kind Aurora first appears She weeps in pity to my Tears If thus thou think'st to give Relief Thou never knew'st a Lover's Grief Then Little Charmer c. That dost in Musick c. II. Thou Feather'd Atome where in thee Can be compris'd such Harmony In whose small Fabrick must remain What Composition does contain All Griefs but mine are at a stand When thy surprising Tunes command How can so small a Tongue and Throat Express so loud and sweet a Note Thou hast more various Points at VVill Than Orpheus had with all his Skill Then Little Charmer c. That dost in Musick c. III. Great to the Ear thô Small to Sight The Happy Lovers dear Delight Fly to the Bow'r where such are lade And there bestow thy Serenade Haste from my Sorrow haste away Alas there 's Danger in thy Stay Lâ—st hearing me so oft complain Should make thee change thy cheerful Strain Thy Songs cannot my Grief remove Thou harmless Syren of the Grove Then cease thou Charmer of the Air No more in Musick spend the Morn With me that languish in Despair Opprest by Cynthia 's Hate and Scorn And do not this Poor Boon deny I ask but Silence whilst I dye APOLLO and DAPHNE PAnting for Breath towards her Parent Brook Like the tyr'd Deer before an eager Chase Fair Daphne ran nor durst behind her look With winged Feet and with a blub'red Face The Beardless God who taken with her Charms Had long pursu'd by his hot Passion led Straight saw her stop and upward stretch her Arms On Pencus Banks where she for Aid had sled He saw her Nimble Feet take Root and grow And a rough Bark her Tender Limbs enclose Her Hairs which once like Curls of Gold did show Chang'd Green and in a Shade of Boughs arose To the resistless Tree He Courtship makes And wâ—th vain Kisses his Fond Love deceives Then of her Bays by force a Chaplet takes So stead of Fruit He only gathers Leaves A Sestina In Imitation of Sig. Fra. Petrarca I. SO many Creatures live not in the Sea Nor e'er above the Circle of the Moon Did Man behold so many Stars at Night Nor little Birds do shelter in the Woods Nor Herbs nor Flow'rs e'er beautify'd the Fields As anxious Thoughts my Heart feels ev'ry Day II. â— wishing Death pray each may be the Day And seek in vain for Quiet in the Fields My Griefs succeed like Waves upon the Sea â—uch Torments sure no Man beneath the Moon â—'er felt as I 'T is known amongst the Woods Where to complain I oft retire at Night III. â— never could enjoy a quiet Night And do in Pain and Sorrow spend the Day â—ince Angry Cynthia drove me to the Woods â—et e'er I quit my Love I 'll weep a Sea The Sun his Light shall borrow of the Moon And May with Flowers refuse to deck the Fields IV. Restless I wander
up and down the Fields And scarce can close my Eyes to sleep at Night So that my Life 's unstable as the Moon The Air I fill with Sighs both Night and Day My Show'rs of Tears seem to augment the Sea Make the Herbs green and to refresh the VVoods V. I hating Cities ramble in the VVoods And thence I shift to solitary Fields I rove and imitate the troubled Sea And hope most Quiet in the silent Night So that I wish at the Approach of Day The Sun would set and give his place to th' Moon VI. Oh that like him who long had lov'd the Moon I could in Dreams be happy in the VVoods I 'd wish an End to this most Glorious Day Then should I meet my Cynthia in the Fields Court her and entertain her all the Night The Day should stop and Sol dwell in the Sea But Day nor Night Sea Moon nor Wood nor Field Now Cynthia frowns can Ease or Pleasure yield A Sonnet of Sig. Francesco Petrarca Giving an Account of the Time when he fell in Love with Madonna Laura WILL spurs me on Love wounds me with his Dart. Pleasure does draw me Custom pulls me too Hope flatters that I should my Ends pursue And lends her Right Hand to my Fainting Heart My wretched Heart accepts nor yet espyes The Weakness of my blind disloyal Guide My Passions rule long â—ince my Reason dyde And from one fond Desire still others rise Vertue and Wealth Beauty and Graceful Meen Sweet Words and Person fair as e'er was seen Were the Allurements drew me to her Net 'T was Thirteen hundred twenty sev'n the Year April the sixth this Nymph did first appear And ty'd me so I ne'er shall Freedom get A Sonnet of Petrarc Shewing how long he had lov'd Madonna Laura PLeasure in Thought in Weeping Ease I find I catch at Shadows grasp Air with my Hand On Seas I float are bounded with no Land Plow Water sow on Rocks and reap the Wind. The Sun I gaz'd so long at I became Struck with its Dazling Rays and lost my Eyes I chase a Nimble Doe that always flyes And hunt with a Dull Creature Weak and Lame Heartless I live to all things but my Ill Which I 'm sollicitous to follow still And only call on Laura Lovâ— and Death Thus Twenty Years I 've spent in Misery Whilst only Sighs and Tears and Sobs I buy Under such hard Stars first I drew my Breath A Sonnet of Petrarc Going to visit M. Laura remembers she is lately dead OH Eyes Our Sun 's extinct and at an End Or rather glorify'd in Heav'n does shine â—here shall we see her there does she attend â—nd at our long Delay perchance repine Alas my Ears the Voice you lov'd to hear Is now rais'd up to the Coelestial Choire And you my Feet she 's gone that us'd to stear Your Course where you till Death can ne'er aspire Cannot my Soul nor Body yet be free 'T was not my Fault you this Occasion lost That Seeing Hearing Finding her y' are crost Blame Death or rather blest be ever He Who binds and looses makes and can destroy And when Life 's done crowns with Eternal Joy A Sonnet Petrarc laments for the Death of M. Laura THIS Nightingale that does so much complain Robb'd of her tender Young or dearest Maâ—â—â— And to the Fields and Heav'ns her Tale relate In such sad Notes but yet Harmonious Strain Perhaps this Station kindly does retain To join her Griefs with my unhappy State 'T was may Assurance did my Woe create I thought Death could not have a Goddess slain How soon deceiv'd are those who least mistrust I ne'er could think that Face should turn to Dust Which than all Humane Beauties seem'd more pure But now I find that my malicious Fate Will to my Sorrow have me learn too late Nothing that pleases here can long endure A Sonnet Petrarc on Laura's Death HOLD Treacherous Thoughts that dare my Rule despise Is 't not enough 'gainst me in War are join'd Love Fortune and Grim Death but I must find Within me such Domestick Enemies And thou my Heart that dost my Peace oppose Disloyal thou wilt give my Soul no Rest But harb'ring still these Thoughts within my Brest Keep'st Correspondence with my Deadly Foes To thee Love all his Messages conveys Fortune my now departed Pomp displays Death in my Mind does all my Grieâ—s express That my Remains fall by Necessity My Thoughts with Errors arm themselves in thee Thou art the Cause of my Unhappiness CONSTANCY PLace me where Sol dryes up the Flow'ry Fields Or where he to the Frosty Winter yields Place me where he does mod'rate Heat dispense And where his Beams have a kind Influence Place me in humble State or place me high In a dark Clime or a serener Sky Place me where Days or Nights are short or long In Age mature or be it Old or Young Place me in Heav'n on Earth or in the Main On a high Hill low Vale or lâ—vel Plain Let me have vigorous Parts or Dulness have Place me in Liberty or as a Slave Give me a Black or an Illustrious Fame As I have liv'd I 'll ever live the same Where I at first did fix my Constant Love Nothing from Cynthia can it e'er remove To his VIOL I Tun'd my Viol and have often strove In MARS's Praise to raise his humble Verse And in Heroick Strain his Deeds reherse â—ut all my Accents still resound of Love â—n Foreign Countries or on English Ground Love for my Theme does dictate Cynthia's Charms Nor will he let me sing of other Arms Than those with which he Lovers Hearts does wound This Viol then unfit for rougher Notes My Muse shall tune to its accustom'd Way So shall it may Harmonious Points obey â—or it to Cynthia all its Tunes devotes Then to my Soft and Sweetest Stroakes I keep Whilst angry Mars his Fury may lay by He listning to my Song will quietly And in his Cytherea's Bosome sleep HOPE Out of Italian from Fra. Abbati I. GRieve no more Mortals dry your Eyes And learn this Truth of me Fate rowls and round about us flyes But for its Ills carries a Remedy The Leaveless Boughs on all those Stocks With Green shall beautifie their Locks And straight Such Store â—f various Fruits shall yield That then â—ough Backs shall truckle with the weight For in a little space Winter shall give to Spring its Place And with Fresh Robes Hopes Emblem cloath the Field CHORVS He has no Faith who sighs and whines And at his present Ill repines For we should strive 'Gainst all Afflictions to apply This Vniversal Remedy To hope and live II. Hope does our Future Joys anticipate It eases all our Pains For in the present Ill that raigns Endurance only triumphs over Fate Young Colts fierce and untaught In time submit For they to yield are brought Their Backs to Burdens and their Mouths to th' Bit With Patience also will the Country Swain