mock our Eyes And in a Scoff Salute SONG By the same Author LOVE still has something of the Sea From whence his Mother rose No time his Slaves from doubt can free Nor give their Thoughts repose They are becalm'd in clearest Days And in rough weather tost They wither under cold delays Or are in Tempests lost One while they seem to touch the Port Then straight into the Main Some angry Wind in cruel sport Their Vessel drives again At first Disdain and Pride they fear Which if they chance to scape Rivals and falshood soon appear In a more dreadful Shape By such degrees to Joy they come And are so long withstood So slowly they receive the Sum It hardly does them good 'T is Cruel to prolong a Pain And to defer a Bliss Believe me gentle Hermione No less Inhumane is And Hundred Thousand Oaths your Fears Perhaps would not remove And if I gaz'd a Thousand Years I could no deeper Love 'T is fitter much for you to guess Than for me to explain But grant O grant that Happiness Which only does remain A DIALOGUE BETWEEN AMINTAS and CELIA By the same Author Celia AMintas I am come alone According as I said But whither is thy Honour flown I fear I am betray'd The Looks are chang'd and in the place Of Innocent Desires Methinks I see thy Eyes and Face Burn with unusual Fires Amintas Sees not my Celia Nature wear One Countenance in the Spring And yet another Shape prepare To bring the Harvest in Look on the Eagle how unlike He to the Egg is found When he prepares his Pownce to strike His Prey against the ground Fears might my Infant Love become 'T were want of kindness now Should Modesty my Hope benum Or check what you allow Celia Amintas hold What could you worse To worst of Women do Ah! How could you a Passion nurse So much my Honour's Foe Amintas Make not an Idol of a Toy Which every breath can shake Which all must have or none enjoy What course so e'er we take Whil'st Women hate or Men are vain You cannot be secure What makes my Celia then a pain So fruitless to endure Celia Could I the World neglect for Thee Thy Love though dear it cost In some unkind Conceit of me Would be untimely lost Thou would'st thy own Example fear And every heedless word I chance let fall beyond thy Care Would some new doubt afford Amintas If I am Jealous 't is because I know not where you Love With me fulfil Love's gentle Laws And all my Fears remove Celia Women like things at second hand Do half their Value lose But whilst all Courtship they withstand May at their Pleasure choose Amintas This were a fine Discourse my Dear If we were not alone But now Love whispers in my Ear There 's somewhat to be done She said she never would forgive He Kissing swore she should And told her she was mad to strive Against their Mutual Good What farther past I cannot tell But sure not much amiss He vow'd he Lov'd her dearly well She answered with a Kiss THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMIAH By Mrs. Wharton CHAP. I. The ARGUMENT Verse 1. The Miserable Estate of Jerusalem by reason of her Sin 12. She Complaineth of her Grief 18. And confesseth God's Judgments to be Righteous 1. HOW doth the Mournful Widow'd City bow She that was once so great Alas how low Once fill'd with Joy with Desolation now 2. Tears on her Cheeks and Sables on her Head She mourns her Lover's lost and Comfort 's Dead Alas alas lost City where are those So proud once to be Friends now turn'd her Foes 3. Judah is gone alas to Bondage gone Amongst the Heathen Judah mourns alone Griev'd and in Servitude she finds no rest Follow'd by none but those by whom opprest 4. The Feasts of Zion no one now attends Unhappy Zion destitute of Friends Her Priests still Sigh and all her Virgins Mourn Because her Gladness now finds no return 5. Her Enemies are great and ever nigh Still Fortunate because her Crimes were high Her Captiv'd Children still her guilt upbraid Who Mourn whilst their Insulting Foes Invade 6. Her Beauty which excell'd is now no more That brightness which all Nations did Adore Here Princes are like hunted Harts become Breathless and Faint whilst the Pursuit goes on Alas for Zion all their Strength is gone 7. Jerusalem then thought upon the Hour When she was Crown'd with Peace Delight and Power Thoughts once so Joyful Mournful now and Vain The Foe Insults whilst she no help sustains Mocking both at her Sabbaths and her Pains 8. Her Crimes have caus'd her to be far remov'd Jerusalem who was so well belov'd All those who in her Pride admir'd her Fame Despise her now because they 've seen her Shame Sighing she turns away with Shame distrest Amaz'd Despis'd Deserted and Opprest 9. Circl'd with Guilt and Shame she cannot fly Her Comforts far remov'd her End too nigh She vainly think on that 't is now too late Behold those Griefs which no one can repeat Her Fall is steep and all her Foes are great 10. Her Sanctuary is by them betray'd All her Delights they carelesly invade Even the Heathen of whom God had said They should not in her Holy Temple tread 11. Her hungry People sigh and give away For Bread their Treasures lest their Lives decay Consider Lord see her with Cares bow'd down For I am Vile and Zion left alone 12. All you who pass this way behold and see Are my Griefs small Do others grieve like me Are not these Sorrows under which I bow With which the Lord hath brought my Soul so low Turn back and Mourn with me because my Lord In his fierce Anger doth no Peace afford 13. He from above hath Flames and Horrour sent Circling my Soul with Pain and Discontent His Snares alas my weary Feet betray Whilst Desolate and Faint I Mourn all Day For Zion lost her Glory thrown away 14. Our Sins have brought those Chains which his Command Hath fastn'd now who can his Power withstand Now they are link'd by his Almighty Hand The Lord forsakes and I am now the scorn Of Enemies because of God forlorn He was my Strength and now alas 't is gone 15. My Mighty Men are all by him cast down They 're crush'd by numbers and I 'm left alone Whilst silently thy Virgin Daughters Mourn Unhappy Mournful Judah left Forlorn 16. For this I Weep and waste my self in Tears Because her Help 's far off and Sorrow's near Ah wretched Judah where is now thy hope Thy Foes still triumph whilst thy Children droop 17. Zion spreads forth her Arms to be reliev'd But who can Comfort whom the Lord hath Griev'd Her Enemies increase and flourish still By his Command by his all-powerful Will Ah wretched City scorn'd and sham'd by all Who can enough lament thy dreadful Fall 18. Yet he is Just for I am Guilty found The Lord with Righteousness is always
new-born Hopes his antient Fears o'recame The Mighty Enemies now met at length With equal Fury though not equal Strength For now too late the Conqueror did find That all was wasted in him but his Mind His Courage in his Weakness yet prevails As a bold Pilot steers with tatter'd Sails And Cordage crackt directs no steddy Course Carry'd by Resolution more than Force Before his once scorn'd Enemy he reels His Wounds encreasing with his Shame he feels The others Strenght more from his Weakness grows And with one furious push his Rival throws So a tall Oak the pride of all the Wood That long th' Assault of several Storms hath stood Till by a Mighty Blast more pow'rfully push't His Root 's torn up and to the Earth he rusht Yet then he rais'd his Head on which there Grew Once all his Power and all his Title too Unable now to rise and less to Fight He rais'd those Scepters to demand his Right But such weak Arguments prevail with none To plead their Titles when their Power is gone His Head now sinks and with it all desence Not only rob'd of Power but Pretence Wounds upon Wounds the Conqueror still gives And thinks himself unsafe while t'other Lives Unhappy State of such as wear a Crown Fortune does seldom lay'em gently down Now to the most scorn'd Remedy he flies And for some Pity seems to move his Eyes Pity by which the best of Virtue 's try'd To wretched Princes ever is deny'd There is a Debt to Fortune which they pay For all their Greatness by no Common way The flatt'ring Troops unto the Victor fly And own his Title to his Victory The faith of most with Fortune does decline Duty 's but Fear and Conscience but Design The Victor now proud in his great success Hastes to enjoy his fatal Happiness Forgot his Mighty Rival was destroy'd By that which he so fondly now enjoy'd In Passions thus Nature her self enjoys Sometimes Preserves and then again destroys Yet all Destruction which Revenge can move Time or Ambition is supply'd by Love TO CELIA By Sir Charles Sedley YOU tell me Celia you approve Yet never must return my love An answer that my hope destroys And in the Cradle wounds our joys To kill at once what needs must die None would to Birds and Beasts deny How can you then so cruel prove As to preserve and torture Love That Beauty Nature kindly meant For her own Pride and our Content Why shou'd the Tyrant Honour make Our greatest torment Let us break His Yoke and that base power disdain Which only keeps the good in pain In Love and War th' Impostor do's The best to greatest harms expose Come then my Celia let 's no more This Devil for a God adore Like foolish Indians we have been Whose whole Religion is a sin If we the Laws of Love had kept And not in Dreams of Honour slept He wou'd have surely long ere this Have Crown'd us with the highest Bliss Our Joy had then been as compleat As now our Folly has been great Let 's lose no time then but repent Love welcomes best a Penitent ANSWER By the same Author THyrsis I wish as well as you To Honour there were nothing due Then would I pay my Debt of Love In the same Coin that you approve Which now you must in Friendship take 'T is all the Payment I can make Friendship so high that I must say 'T is rather Love with some allay And rest contented since that I As well my self as you deny Learn then of me bravely to bear The want of what you hold most dear And that which Honour does in me Let my Example work on thee TO CELIA By the same Author PRinces make Laws by which their Subjects live And the high Gods Rules for their Worship give How should poor Mortals else a Service find At all proportion'd to their mighty Mind Had it been left to us each one would bring Of what he lik'd himself an Offering And with unwelcome Zeal perhaps displease Th' offended Deity he would appease All powers but thine this Mercy do allow And how they wou'd be serv'd themselves do shew A rude Barbarian wou'd his Captiv'd Foe Fully instruct in what he 'd have him do And can it be my Celia that Love Less kind than War shou'd to the vanquish't prove Say cruel Fair then would you that my flame Shou'd for a while move under Friendship 's Name Or may it boldly like it self appear And its own Tale deliver to your Ear Or must it in my tortur'd Bosome live Like Fire in quiet Elints and no Light give And only then humbly send forth a small Spark when your self does on that Subject fall My Passion can with any Laws comply And for your sake do any thing but Die TO CHLORIS By the same Author CHloris I justly am betray'd By a Design my self had laid Like an old Rook whom in his Cheat A Run of Fortune does defeat I thought at first with a small Sum Of Love thy heap to overcome Presuming on thy want of Art Thy gentle and upractis'd Heart But naked Beauty can prevail Like open force when Plots do fail Instead of that thou hast all mine And I have not one Stake of thine And like all Winners do'st discover A willingness to give me over And though I beg thou wilt not now 'T were better thou should'st do so too For I so far in Debt shall run Even thee I shall be forc't to shun My Hand alas is no more mine Else it had long ago been thine My Heart I give thee and we call No Man unjust that parts with all What a Priest says moves not the mind Souls are by Love not Words combin'd To a Lady who told him he could not Love By the same Author MAdam though meaner Beauties might Perhaps have need of some such slight Who to excuse their Rigour must Say they our Passions do mistrust And that they wou'd more pity shew Were they but sure our Loves were true You shou'd those petty Arts despise Secure of what is once your Prize We to our Slaves no Frauds address But as they are our Minds express Tell me not then I cannot Love Say rather you it ne'er can move Who can no more doubt of your Charms Than I resist such pow'rful Arms Whose numerous force that I withstood So long was not through any hope I cou'd Escape their pow'r but through despair Which oft makes Courage out of fear I trembling saw how you us'd those Who tamely yielded without blows Had you but one of all them spar'd I might perhaps have been ensnar'd And not have thus e're I did yield Call'd Love's whole Force into the Field Yet now I 'm Conquer'd I will prove Faithful as they that never strove All flames in matter where too fast They do not seize the longer last Then blame not mine for moving slow Since all things durable are so The Oak that 's for three hundred
Tear And if in vain I court thy Love Let mine at least thy pity move Ah while I scorn vouchsafe to woo Methinks you may dissemble too Streph. Ah Phillis that you wou'd contrive A way to keep my Love alive But all your other Charms must fail When Kindness ceases to prevail Alas No less than you I grieve My dying flame has no reprieve For I can never hope to find Shou'd all the Nymphs I Court be kind One Beauty able to renew Those Pleasures I enjoy in you When Love and Youth did both conspire To fill our Breasts and Veins with fire 'T is true some other Nymph may gain That Heart which merits your Disdain But second Love has still allay The Joys grow aged and decay Then blame me not for losing more Than Love and Beauty can restore And let this truth thy comfort prove I wou'd but can no longer Love THE DIVIDED HEART By the same Author AH Celia that I were but sure Thy Love like mine cou'd still endure That Time and Absence which destroy The Cares of Lovers and their Joy Cou'd never rob me of that part Which you have giv'n me of your Heart Others unenvy'd might possess Whole Hearts and boast that Happiness 'T was Nobler Fortune to divide The Roman Empire in her Pride Than on some low and barb'rous Throne Obscurely plac'd to rule alone Love only from thy Heart exacts The several Debts thy Face contracts And by that new and juster way Secures thy Empire and his sway Fav'ring but one he might compel The hopeless Lover to rebel But shou'd he other Hearts thus share That in the whole so worthless are Shou'd into several Squadrons draw That strength which kept entire cou'd awe Men would his scatter'd Powers deride And conqu'ring Him those spoils divide To Mr. J. N. on his Translations out of French and Italian By the same Author WHile others toil our Country to supply With what we need only for Luxury Spices and Silk in the rich East provide To glut our Avarice and feed our Pride You Foreign Learning prosperously transmit To raise our Virtue and provoke our Wit Such brave Designs your Gen'rous Soul inflame To be a bold Adventurer for Fame How much oblig'd are Italy and France While with your Voice their Musick you advance Your growing Fame with Envy can oppose Who sing with no less Art than they Compose In these Attempts so few have had success Their Beauties suffer in our English Dress By Artless Hands spoil'd of their Native Ayr They seldom pass from moderately fair As if you meant these Injuries to atone You give them Charms more Conqu'ring than their own Not like the dull laborious Flatterer With secret Art those Graces you confer The skilful Painters with slight stroaks impart That subtil Beauty which affects the Heart There are who publickly profess they hate Translations and yet all they Write Translate So proud they scorn to drive a Lawful Trade Yet by their Wants are shameless Pirates made These you incense while you their Thefts reveal Or else prevent in what they meant to steal From all besides you are secure of praise But you so high our Expectation raise A gen'ral Discontent we shall declare If such a Workman only should repair You to the Dead your Piety have shewn Adorn'd their Monuments now build your own Drawn in the East we in your Lines may trace That Genius which of old inspir'd the place The banish'd Muses back to Greece you bring Where their best Airs you so Divinely sing The World must own they are by you restor'd To sacred shades where they were first ador'd Virtue 's Urania By the same Author HOpeless I languish out my Days Struck with Vrania's Conqu'ring Eyes The Wretch at whom she darts these rays Must feel the Wound until he dies Though endless be her Cruelty Calling her Beauties to my Mind I bow beneath her Tyranny And dare not murmur she 's unkind Reason this tameness does upbraid Proff'ring to arm in my defence But when I call her to my aid She 's more a Traytor than my sense No sooner I the War declare But strait her succour she denies And joyning Forces with the Fair Confirms the Conquest of her Eyes SYLVIA By the same Author THe Nymph that undoes me is Fair and Unkind No less than a Wonder by Nature design'd She 's the Grief of my Heart the Joy of my Eye And the cause of a Flame that never can die Her Mouth from whence Wit still obligingly flows Has the Beautiful Blush and the Smell of the Rose Love and Destiny both attend on her Will She wounds with a Look with a Frown she can kill The Desperate Lover can hope no redress Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess In Sylvia they meet so unhappy am I Who sees her must Love and who Loves her must die TO CELIA By Sir Charles Sedley AS in those Nations where they yet adore Marble and Cedar and their aid implore 'T is not the Workman nor the precious Wood But 't is the Worshipper that makes the God So cruel Fair tho Heaven has giv'n thee all We Mortals Virtue or can Beauty call 'T is we that give the Thunder to your Frowns Darts to your Eyes and to our selves the Wounds Without our Love which proudly you deride Vain were your Beauty and more vain your Pride All envy'd Beings that the World can shew Still to some meaner thing their greatness owe. Subjects make Kings and we the numerous Train Of Humble Lovers Constitute thy Reign This difference only Beauties Realm may boast Where most it favours it enslaves the most And they to whom it is indulgent found Are ever in the rudest Fetters bound What Tyrant yet but thee was ever known Cruel to those that serv'd to make him one Valour 's a Vice if not with Honour joyn'd And Beauty a Disease when 't is not kind THE SUBMISSION By the same Author AH Pardon Madam if I ever thought Your smallest Favours could too dear be bought And the just greatness of your Servant's Flame I did the poorness of their Spirits Name Calling their due attendance Slavery Your power of Life and Death flat Tyranny Since now I yield and do confess there is No way too hard that leads to such a bliss So when Hippomanes beheld the Race Where Loss was Death and Conquest but a Face He stood amazed at the fatal strife Wondring that Love shou'd dearer be than Life But when he saw the Prize no longer staid But through those very dangers sought the Maid And won her too O may his Conquest prove A happy Omen to my purer Love Which if the honour of all Victory In the resistance of the Vanquisht lie Though it may be the least regarded Prize Is not the smallest Trophy of your Eyes CONSTANCY By the same Author FEar not My Dear a Flame can never die That is once kindled by so bright an Eye Look on thy self and measure thence my Love
Think what a Passion such a Form must move For though thy Beauty first allur'd my Sight Yet now I look on it but as the Light That led me to the Treasury of thy Mind Whose inward Virtue in that Feature shin'd That knot be confident will ever last Which Fancy ty'd and Reason has made fast So fast that time although it may disarm Thy Lovely Face my Faith can never harm And Age deluded when it comes will find My Love remov'd and to thy Soul assign'd The Passion I have now shall ne'er grow less No though thy own Fair Self should it oppre I could e'en hazard my Eternity Love but again and 't will a Heaven be THE INDIFFERENCE By the same Author THanks Fair Vrania to your scorn I now am free as I was born Of all the Pain that I endur'd By your late Coldness I am Cur'd In losing me proud Nymph you lose The Humblest Slave your Beauty knows In losing you I but throw down A Cruel Tyrant from her Throne I must confess I ne'er could find Your equal or in Shape or Mind Y 'ave Beauty Wit and all things know But where you shou'd your Love bestow I unawares my Freedom gave And to those Tyrants grew a Slave But would y 'ave kept what you have won You should have more Compassion shewn Love is a burthen which two Hearts When equally they bear their parts With pleasure carry but no one Alas can bear it long alone I 'm not of those who Court their Pain And make an Idol of Disdain My hope in Love does ne'er expire But I lose also the Desire Nor yet of those who ill receiv'd Would gladly have strange things believ'd And if your Heart you do defend Their Force against your Honour bend Whoe'er does make his Victor less His own low weakness does confess And whiles her pow'r he does defame He poorly doubles his own shame Even that Malice does betray And speak concern another way And all such scorn in Men is but The Smoak of Fires ill put out He 's still in Torment whom the Rage To Detraction does engage In Love Indifference is sure The only sign of perfect Cure Yet Cruel Fair if thou canst prove As happy in some other Love As I could once have done in thine The Sun on Happier does not shine A Pastoral Dialogue By the same Author Thyrsis STrephon O Strephon Once the Jolliest Lad That with shrill Pipe did ever Mountain glad While'ome the formost at our Rural Plays The Pride and Glory of our Holy-days Why dost thou now sit musing all alone Teaching the Turtles yet a sadder Groan Well'd with thy Tears why does the Neighb'ring Brook Bear to the Ocean what she never took Why do our Woods so us'd to hear thee Sing With nothing now but with thy Sorrows ring Thy Flocks are well and fruitful and no Swain Than thee more welcome to the Hill or Plain Strephon. No loss of these or care of those are left Hath wretched Strephon of his Peace bereft I could invite the Wolf my Cruel Guest And play unmov'd while he on all did Feast I could endure that every Swain out-run Out-threw Out-wrestl'd and each Nymph shou'd shun The hapless Strephon But the Gods I find To no such trifles have this Heart design'd A feller grief and sadder loss I plain Than ever Shepherd or did Prince sustain Bright Galatea in whose matchless Face Sate Rural Innocence with Heavenly Grace In whose no less to be adored mind With equal light even distant Virtues shin'd Chaste without pride though gentle yet not soft Not always cruel nor yet kind too oft Fair Goddess of these Fields who for our sports Though she might well become despised Courts Belov'd of all and loving one alone Is from my fight I fear for ever gone Now I am sure thou wondrest not I grieve But rather art amazed that I Live Thyrsis Thy Case indeed is pitiful but yet Thou on thy loss too great a price dost set Women like Days are Strephon some be far More bright and glorious than others are Yet none so wonderful were ever seen But by as Fair they have succeeded been Strephon. Others as Fair and may as worthy prove But sure I never shall another Love Her bright Idea wanders in my Thought At once my Poyson and my Antidote The Stag shall sooner with the Eagle soar Seas leave their Fishes naked on the shoar The Wolf shall sooner by the Lambkin die And from the Kid the hungry Lyon flie Than I forget her Face what once I Love May from my Eyes but not my Heart remove To a Lady who fled the Sight of him By Sir George Etherege IF I my Celia cou'd perswade To see those Wounds her Eyes have made And hear whilst I that Passion tell Which like her self does so excel How soon we might be freed from Care She need not fear nor I despair Such Beauty does the Nymph protect That all approach her with respect And can I offer Violence Where Love does joyn in her defence This Guard might all her Fears disperse Did she with Savages Converse Then my Celia wou'd surprize With what 's produc'd by her own Eyes Those matchless Flames which they inspire In her own Breast shou'd raise a fire For Love but with more subtil Art As well as Beauty charms the Heart To a Lady asking him how long he would Love her By the same Author IT is not Celia in our power To say how long our Love will last It may be we within this Hour May lose those Joys we now do taste The Blessed that Immortal be From Change in Love are only free Then since we Mortal Lovers are Ask not how long our Love will last But while it does let us take care Each Minute be with Pleasure past Were it not madness to deny To Live because w' are sure to Die TO Mr. G. Granville ON HIS VERSES TO THE KING By Mr. Edmund Waller AN Early Plant which such a Blossom bears And shows a Genius so beyond his Years A Judgment which could make so fair a Choice So high a Subject to employ his Voice Still as it grows How sweetly will it sing The growing Greatness of our Matchless King TO Mr. WALLER By Mr. G. Granville WHen into Lybia the Young Grecian came To Talk with Hammon and Consult for Fame When from the Sacred Tripod where he stood The Priest inspir'd Saluted him a God So own'd by Heaven less glorious far was he Great God of Verse than I thus Prais'd by Thee Whoe'er their Names can in thy Numbers show Have more than Empire and Immortal grow Ages to come shall scorn the Pow'rs of Old When in thy Verse of Greater Gods they 're told Our Beauteous Queen and Martial Monarch's Name For Jove and Juno shall be plac'd by Fame Thy Charles for Neptune shall the Seas Command And Sacharissa shall for Venus stand Greece shall no longer Boast nor Haughty Rome But think from Britain all the
Gods did come ON MYRA's Singing By the same Author THE Syrens once Deluded Vainly Charm'd Ty'd to the Mast Vlysses Sail'd un-harm'd Had Myra's Voice Entic'd his List'ning Ear The Greek had stop't and wou'd have Dy'd to hear When Myra Sings we seek th' Enchanting Sound And Bless the Notes which do so sweetly Wound What Musick needs must dwell upon that Tongue Whose Speech is Tune-full as another's Song Such Harmony such Wit a Face so fair So many pointed Arrows who can bear The Slave that from her Wit or Beauty flies If she but reach him with her Voice he Dies Like Soldiers so in Battle we succeed One Peril scaping by another Bleed In vain the Dart or glittering Sword we shun Condemn'd to Perish by the Slaughtering Gun IN Praise of MYRA. By the same Author I. TUNE thy Harmonious Lyre Begin my Muse What Nymph What Queen What Goddess shall we chuse Whose Praises shall we Sing What Charmer's Name Transmit Immortal down to Fame Strike strike thy Strings let Echo take the Sound And bear it far to all the Mountains round Pyndus again shall hear again rejoyce And Haemus too as when th' Enchanting Voice Of Tuneful Orpheus Charm'd the Grove Taught Oaks to Dance and made the Cedars move II. Nor Venus nor Diana will we Name Myra is Venus and Diana too All that was feign'd of them apply'd to her is true Then Sing my Muse let Myra be our Theam As when the Shepherds do their Garland make They search with pains the Fragrant Meadows round Plucking but here and there and only take The Choicest Flow'rs with which some Nymph is Crown'd In Framing Myra so Divinely Fair Nature has taken the same care All that is Lovely Noble Good we see All-beauteous Myra all bound up in Thee III. Where Myra is there is the Queen of Love Th' Arcadian Pastures and the Cyprian Grove When Myra Walks so Charming is her Meen In every Movement every Grace is seen When Myra speaks so just's the sense and strong So Sweet the Voice 't is like the Muse's Song Place me on Mountains of Eternal Snow Where all is Ice all Winter Winds that blow Or cast me underneath the Burning Line Where everlasting Sun do's shine Where all is scorcht Whatever you decree Ye Gods whereever I shall be Myra shall still be Lov'd and still Ador'd by Me. SONG By the same Author PRepar'd to Rail Resolv'd to Part When I approach the Perjur'd Maid What is it awes my Timorous Heart Why is my Tongue afraid With the least Glance a little kind Such wondrous Pow'r have Myra's Charms She drives my Doubts Enslaves my Mind And all my Rage disarms Forgetful of her broken Vows when gazing on that Form Divine Her Injur'd Vassal trembling bows Nor dares the Slave Repine SONG By the same Author SO Smooth and so Serene but now What means this Change on Myra's Brow Her Aguish Love now glows and burns Then chills and shakes and the Cold Fit returns Mockt with deluding Vows and Smiles When on her Pity I depend My airy hope she soon beguiles And Laughs to see my Labours never end So up the Steepy Hill with pain The weighty Stone is rowl'd in vain Which having toucht the top recoils And leaves the Labourer * Sisyphus to renew his Toils VERSES Sent from an Unknown Hand To Mr. G. GRANVILLE In the Countrey WHY G I le is thy Life confin'd To Shades Thou whom the Gods design'd In publick to do credit to Mankind Why sleeps the Noble Ardour of thy Bloud Which from thy Ancestors so many Ages past From Rollo down to Bevil Floud And then appear'd again at last In Thee whom thy Victorious Lance Bore the Disputed Prize from all the Youth of France In the first Tryals which are made for Fame Those to whom Fate Success denies If taking Counsel from their Shame They modestly Retreat they 're Wise But why should you who still succeed In all you do whether with Graceful Art you lead The fiery Barb or with as Graceful Motion tread At shining Balls where all agree To give the highest Praise and the first Place to Thee So Lov'd and Prais'd whom all Admire Why why should you from Courts or Camps retire If Celia is unkind if it can be That any Nymph can be unkind to Thee If Pensive made by Love you thus retire A wake your Muse and string your Lyre Thy tender Song and thy Melodious Strain Can never be addrest in vain She needs will Love and we shall have Thee back again SONG By Sir George Etherege TEll me no more you Love in vain Fair Celia You this Passion feign Can they pretend to Love who do Resuse what Love perswades them to Who once has felt his Active Flame Dull Laws of Honour will disdain You wou'd be thougth his Slave and yet You will not to his Pow'r submit More Cruel then those Beauties are Whose Coyness wounds us to despair For all the kindness which you shew Each Smile and Kiss which you bestow Are like those Cordials which we give To Dying Men to make them Live And Languish out an Hour in pain Be Kinder Celia or Disdain To Her EXCELLENCE the MARCHIONESS OF NEW-CASTLE After the Reading of Her Incomparable POEMS By the same Author Madam WIth so much Wonder we are struck When we begin to Read your matchless Book A while your own excess of Merit stays Our forward Pens and does suspend your Praise Till Time our Minds does gently recompose Allays this Wonder and our Duty shews Instructs us how your Virtues to proclaim And what we ought to pay to your Great Fame Your Fame which in your Countrey has no Bounds But wheresoever Learning 's known resounds Those Graces Nature did till now divide Your Sexes Glory and our Sexes Pride Are joyn'd in you and all to you submit The brightest Beauty and the sharpest Wit No Faction here or fiery Envy sways They give you Myrtle while we offer Bays What Mortal dares dispute those Wreaths with You Arm'd thus with Light'ning and with Thunder too This made the Great New-Castle's Heart your Prize Your Charming Soul and your Victorious Eyes Had only pow'r his Martial Mind to tame And raise in his Heroick Breast a Flame A Flame which with his Courage still aspires As if Immortal Fuel fed those Fires This Mighty Chief and your Great Self made One Together the same Race of Glory run Together in the Wings of Fame you move Like yours his Vertue And like yours his Love While we your Praise endeav'ring to rehearse Pay that great Duty in our Humble Verse Such as may justly move your Anger You Like Heaven forgive them and accept them too But what we cannot your brave Hero pays He builds those Monuments we strive to raise Such as to after Ages shall make known While he records your Deathless Fame his own So when an Artist some rare Beauty draws Both in our wonder share and our applause His skill from Time secures
the Glorious Dame And makes himself Immortal in her Fame EPILOGUE TO TARTUFF Spoken by Himself By a Person of Honour * MAny have been the vain attempts of Wit Against the still-prevailing Hypocrite Once and but once a Poet got the day And vanquish'd Busie in a Puppet-play But Busie rallying arm'd with zeal and rage Possest the Pulpit and pull'd down the Stage To laugh at English Knaves is dang'rous then While English Fools will think them Honest Men But sure no Zealous Brother can deny us Free leave with this our Monsieur Ananias A Man may say without being call'd an Atheist There are Damn'd Rogues among the French and Papist That fix Salvation to short Band and Hair That belch and snuffle to prolong a Pray'r That use t' enjoy the Creature to express Plain Whoring Gluttony and Drunkenness And in a decent way perform them too As well nay better far alas than you Whose Fleshly Failings are but Fornication We Godly pharse it Gospel-Propagation Just as Rebellion was call'd Reformation Zeal stands but Cent'ry at the Gate of Sin Whilst all that have the Word pass freely in Silent and in the dark for fear of Spies You march and take Damnation by surprize There 's not a Roaring Blade in all this Town Can go so far tow'rds Hell for Half a Crown As I for Six Pence for we know the way For want of Guides Men often go astray Therefore give ear to what I shall advise Let every Married Man that 's Grave and Wise Take a Tartuff of known Ability To teach and to instruct his Family Who may so settle lasting Reformation First get his Son then give him Education THE Imperfect Enjoyment By Sir George Etherege AFter a Pretty Amorous Discourse She does resist my Love with a pleasing force Mov'd not with Anger but with Modesty Against her will she is my Enemy Her Eyes the rudeness of her Arms excuse Whilst those accept what these seem to refuse To ease my Passion and to make me blest Th' obliging Smock falls from her whiter Breast Then with her lovely Hands she does conceal Those Wonders Chance so kindly did reveal In vain alas her nimble Fingers strove To shield her Beauties from my greedy Love Guarding her Breasts her Lips she did expose To save a Lilly she must lose a Rose So many Charms she has in ev'ry place A hundred Hands cannot defend each Grace Sighing at length her force she does recal For since I must have Part she 'll give me All. Her Arms the joyful Conqueror embrace And seem to guide me to the sought-for place Her Love is in her sparkling Eyes exprest She falls o' th' Bed for Pleasure more than rest But Oh strange Passion Oh Abortive Joy My Zeal does my Devotion quite destroy Come to the Temple where I shou'd Adore My Saint I Worship at the sacred Door Oh cruel Chance The Town which did oppose My Strength so long now yields to my Dispose When overjoy'd with Victory I fall Dead at the foot of the surrender'd Wall Without the usual Ceremony we Have both fulfill'd the Am'rous Mystery The Action which we shou'd have joyntly done Each has unluckily perform'd alone The Union which our Bodies shou'd enjoy The Union of our eager Souls destroy Our Flames are punish'd by their own excess W'd had more Pleasure had our Loves been less She Blush'd and Frown'd perceiving we had done The Sport she thought we scarce had yet begun Alas said I Condemn your Self not Me This is th' effect of too much Modesty Hence with that peevish Virtue the Delight Of both our Victories was lost i' th' Fight Yet from my Shame your Glory does arise My Weakness proves the Vigour of your Eyes They did consume the Victim e're it came Unto the Altar with a purer Flame Phillis let then this Comfort ease your Care Y'd been more Happy had you been less Fair. A PROLOGUE Spoken at the Opening of the Duke 's New Play-House By the same Author 'T IS not in this as in the former Age When Wit alone suffic'd t' Adorn the Stage When things well said an Audience cou'd Invite Without the hope of such a Gaudy Sight What with your Fathers took wou'd take with you If Wit had still the Charm of being New Had not Enjoyment dull'd your Appetite She in her homely Dress wou'd yet delight Such stately Theatres we need not raise Our Old House wou'd put off our dullest Plays You Gallants know a fresh Wench of Sixteen May drive the Trade in Honest Bombarine And never want good Custom shou'd she lie In a Back-Room two or three Stories high But such a Beauty as has long been known Though not decay'd but to Perfection grown Must if she mean to thrive in this lewd Town Wear Points Lac'd-Petticoats and a rich Gown Her Lodgings too must with her Dress agree Be hung with Damask or with Tapestry Have China Cabinets and a great Glass To strike respect into an Am'rous Ass Without the help of Stratagems and Arts An old Acquaintance cannot touch your Hearts Methinks 't is hard our Authors shou'd submit So tamely to their Predecessors wit Since I am sure among you there are few Wou'd grant your Grandfathers had more than you But hold I in this business may proceed too far And raise a storm against our Theatre And then what wou'd the wise Adventurers say Who were in a much greater Fright to day Than ever Poet was about his Play Our apprehensions none can justly blame Money is dearer much to us than Fame This thought on let our Poets justifie The Reputation of their Poetry We are resolv'd we will not have to do With what 's between those Gentlemen and you Be kind and let our House have but your praise You 're welcome every to damn their Plays Falling in Love with a Stranger at a Play By Sir Charles Sedley FAir Amarillis on the Stage whilst you Behold a feigned Love you gave a true I like a Coward in the Amorous War Came only to look on yet got a Scar Fixt by your Eyes I had no power to flie They held me whil'st you gain'd the Victory I thought I safely might my sight content To which the power to like not Love I lent And if I ventur'd on some slight Discourse It should be such as could no Passion nurse Led by the treacherous lustre of your Eyes At last I plaid too near the Precipice Love came disguis'd in Wonder and Delight And I was Conquer'd e're I knew him right Your words fell on my Passion like those showers Which swell and multiply the rising Flowers Like Cupid's self a God and yet a Child Your Looks at once were awful and yet mild Methoughts you Blush'd as Conscious of my Flame Whil'st your strict Vertue did your Beauty blame But rest secure y' are from the guilts as free As Saints Ador'd from our Idolatry And Love a Torment does for me prepare Beyond your Rigour in my own Despair Indifference Excused
is ours THE PLATONICK By Sir Charles Sedley FAIR Octavia you are much to blame To blow the fire and wonder at the flame I did converse 't is true so far was mine But that I Lov'd and hop'd was wholly thine Not hop'd as others do for a return But that I might without offending burn I thought those Eyes which every hour enslave Could not remember all the Wounds they gave Forgotten in the Crowd I wisht to lie And of your Coldness not your Anger die Yet since you know I Love 't is now no time Longer to hide let me excuse the Crime Seeing what Laws I to my Passion give Perphaps you may consent that it should live First It never shall a hope advance Of waiting on you but by seeming chance I at a distance will Adore your Eyes As awful Persians do the Eastern Skies I never will presume to think of Sex Nor with gross Thoughts my Deathless Love perplex I tread a pleasant path without design And to thy care my Happiness resign From Heaven it self thy Beauty cannot be A freer Gift than is my Love to Thee TO A Devout Young Woman By the same Author PHillis this mighty Zeal asswage You over-act your part The Martyrs at your tender Age Gave Heaven but half their Heart Old Men till past the Pleasure ne'er Declaim against the Sin 'T is early to begin to fear The Devil at Fifteen The World to Youth is too severe And like a Treacherous Light Beauty the Actions of the Fair Exposes to their sight And yet this World as old as 't is Is oft deceiv'd by 't too Wise Combinations seldom miss Let 's try what we can do SONG By the same Author WHEN Aurelia first became The Mistress of his Heart So mild and gentle was her Reign Thyrsis in hers had part Reserves and Care he laid aside And gave his Love the Reins The headlong course he now must bide No other way remains At first her Cruelty he fear'd But that being overcome No second for a while appear'd And he thought all his own He call'd himself a happier Man Than ever Lov'd before Her Favours still his Hopes out-ran What Mortal can have more Love smil'd at first then looking grave Said Thyrsis leave to boast More joy than all her kindness gave Her Fickleness will cost He spoke and from that fatal time All Thyrsis did or said Appear'd unwelcome or a Crime To the Ungrateful Maid Then he dispairing of her Heart Would fain have had his own Love answered such a Nymph could part With nothing she had won On the Lamented DEATH Of the Late Countess of DORSET By N. Tate Servant to Their Majesties HOME Shepherds to your Cottages retire Your Dorset Mourns no more the Pipe inspire Your Mirth is done your Care is vain what need To Tend those Flocks that will no longer Feed Nature her self concern'd for Him appears Sables for his and her lost Darling wears She Sighs in Storms and Weeps in Seas of Tears Ev'n Earth that does the precious Relicks shround Laments the Treasure that shou'd make her Pround Alone exempted from the gen'ral Care The Skies rejoyce to have regain'd their Star Profane Disease The Crime had been too great In only Batt'ring of so fair a Seat Which spightfully thou quite hast undermin'd Because the bright Remains would still have shin'd So Envious Rome no Method cou'd employ Fair Carthage to Subdue but to Destroy Mute are the Groves where Happy Shepherds sung And Philomel once more has lost her Tongue The Palm and Myrtle Glades no longer please Cypress and Yew are now the only Trees The ruthfull'st Objects most Endearments have The Uncouth Vale Delights and gloomy Cave Can please because it represents the Grave Tears our Refreshment are our sole Relief To give Despair free scope To set the Sluces ope And Rowl with the Impetuous Tide of Grief Let the next Age the costly Tomb prepare To her shrin'd Image come and seek her there The Present rears beyond the Pow'r of Art A breathing Monument in ev'ry Heart What Rhet'rick can divorce what Charms of Verse The Sighing Mother from her Darling's Hearse To trace her Features and her Virtues paint In Form an Angel as in Life a Saint Are Themes ill suited to a Parent 's Grief The Food of Sorrow an unkind Relief One only Sov'raign Balm sick Nature bears A Sympathizing Royal Mourners Tears Though Gods nor Goddesses may Fate reverse Our Goddess Weeping Consecrates the Hearse Behold forlorn the Muses Patron laid With Mourning Cupids in the Cypress shade Of Fate nor cruel Skies he once complains But inwardly the Conflict deep sustains The strugling Tumult in his Breast restrains O DORSET cou'd our Worthless Live presented Whose Comforts only on thy Smiles depend To Bribe thy Griefs how pleas'd cou'd we resign Our Breaths compounding for one Pang of thine Our Useless Breaths are tender'd now in vain Science Tuneful Notes no more must chear the Plain Let Numbers cease for whom shou'd they relieve That can no Comfort to their Patron give Yet DORSET Live in pity to the Age That to Condole thy Loss forgets its Rage The Impious Age still from one Crime is Free Mad with Intestine Strife we all agree As in Admired in Lamenting Thee Let those dear Pledges Intercede at least The Living Relicks of of Fair Deceas'd Till Infant Beauty to full Bloom arrives The Mother's Virtues and her Charms receives Till Dawing Buckhurst to his Zenith rise And gild like you and warm our Northern Skies Till then Indulge our dearest Wishes scope Next Age's DORSET Britain's second Hope To CHLORIS By Sir Charles Sedley CHloris I cannot say your Eyes Did my unwary Heart surprize Nor will I swear it was your Face Your Shape or any nameless Grace For you are so entirely Fair To Love a part injustice were No drowning Man can know which drop Of water his last breath did stop So when the Stars in Heaven appear And join to make the Night look clear The Light we no one's Bounty call But the united work of all He that both Lips or Hands adore Deserves them only and no more But I Love all and every part And nothing less can ease my Heart Cupid that Lover weakly strikes Who can express what 't is he likes SONG By the same Author AVrelia Art thou mad To let the World in me Envy Joys I never had And censure them in Thee Fill'd with grief for what is past Let us at length be wise And the Banquet boldly taste Since we have paid the price Love does easie Souls despise Who lose themselves for Toys And Escape for those devise Who taste his utmost Joys To be thus for Trifles blam'd Like theirs a Folly is Who are for vain Swearing Damn'd And knew no higher Bliss Love should like the Year be Crown'd With sweet variety Hope should in the Spring be found Kind Fears and Jealousie In the Summer Flowers should rife And in the Autumn Fruit His Spring doth else but
Crown'd Ye that pass by see me with Sorrows Drown'd My weight of Sin hath press'd me to the Ground Who is it now my Freedom can restore My Youth and Captive Virgins are no more 19. I call'd for all my Friends but they were gone Friendship grows cold when Misery comes on With Hunger pin'd my Priests and Rulers Dy'd Within my Walls perish'd my Strength and Guide 20. My Crimes were great so are my Sorrows now Behold my Lord see the Afflicted bow Abroad th' unwearied Sword bereaves of Breath And Grief at Home is a more Cruel Death 21. All round me hear my Sighs and see my Tears Whilst there is none that can relieve my Cares My Foes hear and rejoyce at what is done But thou wilt surely Lord at last return And then the Enemy like me will Mourn 22. Their Crimes are great turn Mighty Lord and see Afflict 'em then as thou Afflictest me My Griefs are great turn therefore and Relent My Sighs are many and my Heart is Faint TO CELIA By an Vnknown Hand ALL things submit themselves to your Command Fair Celia when it does not Love withstand The power it borrowed from your Eyes alone All but himself would yield to who has none Were he not blind such are the Charms you have He 'd quit his Godhead to become your Slave Be proud to act a Mortal Hero's part And throw himself for Fame on his own Dart But Fate hath otherwise dispos'd of things In different Bonds Subjecting Slaves and Kings That Fate like you resistless does ordain That Love alone should over Beauty Reign By Harmony the Universe does move And what is Harmony but Mutual Love See gentle Brooks how quietly they glide Kissing the rugged Banks on either side Whil'st in their Crystal Stream at once they show And with them feed the Flowers which they bestow Though prest upon by their too rude Imbrace In gentle Murmurs they keep on their pace To their Lov'd Sea for even Streams have Desires Cool as they are they feel Love's Pow'rful Fires And with such Passion that if any force Stop or molest 'em in their Am'rous Course They swell with Rage break down and Ravage o'er The Banks they Kiss'd the Flowers they fed before Who would resist an Empire so Divine Which Universal Nature does enjoyn Submit then Celia e're you be reduc'd For Rebels Vanquisht once are vilely us'd And such are you when e're you dare obey Another Passion and your Love betray You are Love's Citadels by you he reigns And his proud Empire o'er the World maintains He trusts you with his Stratagems and Arms His Frowns his Smiles and all his Conquering Charms Beauty 's no more but the dead Soil which Love Manures and does by wise Commerce improve Sailing by Sighs through Seas of Tears he sends Courtship from Foreign Hearts For your own Ends Cherish a Trade for as with Indians we Get Gold and Jewels for our Trumpery So to each other for their useless Toys Lovers afford Inestimable Joys But if you 're fond of Trifles be and Starve Your Gugaw Reputation preserve Live upon Modesty and empty Fame Foregoing Sense for a Fantastick Name SONG By a Person of Honour * AS he lay in the Plain his Arm under his Head And his Flock feeding by the fond Celadon said If Love 's a Sweet Passion why does it Torment If a Bitter said he whence are Lovers Content Since I suffer with Pleasure why should I complain Or grieve at my Fate when I know 't is in vain Yet so pleasing the Pain is so soft is the Dart That at once it both Wounds me and Tickles my Heart To my self I sigh often without knowing why And when Absent from Phillis methinks I could Die But Oh! what a Pleasure still follows my Pain When kind Fortune do's help me to see her again In her Eyes the bright Stars that foretel what 's to come By soft stealth now and then I examine my Doom I press her Hand gently look languishing down And by Passionate Silence I make my Love known But Oh! how I 'm Blest when so kind she do's prove By some willing Mistake to discover her Love When in striving to hide she reveals all her Flame And our Eyes tell each other what neither dare name A SONG By Mrs. Wharton HOW hardly I conceal'd my Tears How oft did I complain When many tedious Days my Fears Told me I Lov'd in vain But now my Joys as wild are grown And hard to be conceal'd Sorrow may make a silent Moan But Joy will be reveal'd I tell it to the Bleating Flocks To every Stream and Tree And Bless the Hollow Murmuring Rocks For Echoing back to me Thus you may see with how much Joy We Want we Wish Believe 'T is hard such Passion to Destroy But easie to Deceive ON THE STORM BETWEEN Gravesend and Diepe Made at that Time By the same Author WHen the Tempestuous Sea did foam and roar Tossing the Bark from the long-wish'd for Shore With false affected fondness it betray'd Striving to keep what Perish'd if it stay'd Such is the Love of Impious Men where e're Their cruel Kindness lights 't is to ensnare I toss'd in tedious Storms of troubled Thought Was careless of the Waves the Ocean brought My Anchor Hope was lost and too too near On either hand were Rocks of sad Despair Mistaken Seamen prais'd my fearless Mind Which sunk in Seas of Grief could dare the Wind. In Life tempestuous Life is dread and harm Approaching Death had no unpleasing Form Approaching Death appeases ev'ry Storm TO Mrs. A. BEHN On what she Writ of The Earl of Rochester By the same Author IN pleasing Transport rap't my Thoughts aspire With humble Verse to Praise what you Admire Few living Poets may the Laurel claim Most pass thro' Death to reach at Living Fame Fame Phoenix like still rises from a Tomb But bravely you this Custom have o'ercome You force an Homage from each Generous Heart Such as you always pay to just Desert You prais'd him Living whom you Dead bemoan And now your Tears afresh his Laurel crown It is this Flight of yours excites my Art Weak as it is to take your Muse's part And pay loud Thanks back from my bleeding Heart May you in every pleasing Grace excel May Bright Apollo in your Bosome dwell May yours excel the Matchless Sappho's Name May you have all her Wit without her Shame Tho' she to Honour gave a fatal Wound Employ your Hand to raise it from the ground Right its wrong'd Cause with your Inticing Strain Its ruin'd Temples try to build again Scorn meaner Theams declining low desire And bid your Muse maintain a Vestal Fire If you do this what Glory will insue To all our Sex to Poesie and you Write on and may your Numbers ever flow Soft as the Wishes that I make for you TO MELPOMENE AGAINST COMPLAINT By the same Author IN soft Complaints no longer ease I find That latest refuge of a
Tortur'd Mind Romantick Heros may their Fancy please In telling of their Griefs to senceless Trees 'T is now to me no pleasure to rehearse A doleful Tale in Melancholy Verse Men are more Deaf than Trees more Wild than Seas Complaints and Tears will sooner Storms appease Than draw soft pity from an Humane Breast All Sooth the Happy and Despise the Opprest Each Man who lives of sorrow hath his share Or else of Pride and cannot pity spare For those whose weight is more than one can bear All who are happy do their Merit boast Think Heaven ows'em more and Heav'n is Just Still they observe the Opprest with Partial Eyes And think their Crimes draw Vengeance from the Skies But were they gentle pitiful and mild Not as they are rough unconcern'd and wild What Joy can pity bring on other's Grief For what I feel affords me no relief To see another's Eyes with pity melt For wretched me would add to what I felt Since in Complaints there can no ease be found For such an Heart as mine in sorrow drown'd Sleep sleep Melpomene thou mournful Muse For of my Torments I will thee accuse I 'll say thou keep'st 'em waking with thy Charms And drives soft slumbers from my Longing Arms. Sleep sleep my Muse and let my Cares alone But if thou wilt not since thy Harp is strung Attend a while and like a dying Swan My latest Accents shall be sweetly sung WIT 's ABUSE By the same Author I Ask not why Astraea fled away But wonder more why any Vertues stay In such a World where they are made a scorn Oppress'd by numerous Vice mangled and torn Wounded by Laughter and by Wit forlorn I mean not here by Wit what 's truly so But that false Coin which does for Current go 'T is certain but a few can Judgment make Of such a gift which but a few partake Ignorant Judges may decide a Cause Sooner against than for Concealed Laws This is Wit 's Pledge but few those Preoepts know Which many false Pretenders over-throw And yet amongst those very few there are Some who betray that Glorious Character Whilst low-born Falshood goes for Heavenly Wit How many aim at what so few can hit The Trade of Hell was never hard to get Thus these Intruders double ends pursue Rooting out Wit they root out Vertue too Soft pity passes now for Servile Fear A generous scorn of Life for mean despair Truth and Sincerity the Fools proclaim Which witty falshood always load with shame An Active Soul affected Notions prove Out-flying common Thoughts or private Love Thus tho' each Vertue in it self they hate They love to make it add to a Deceit Undress'd 't is scorn'd but favour'd and allow'd When to the Neighbouring Vice it lends a Cloud Thus the Inconstant Empress of the Night Tho' foul and spotted cloaths her self with Light And can with borrow'd Beams be always bright MY FATE By the same Author RAising my drooping Head o'er charg'd with Thought Having each Scene of Life before me brought I chid my self because I durst repine At Nature's Laws or those that were Divine Throughout the whole Creation 't is the same The Fuel is devoured by the Flame Each peaceful harmless unoffending thing Is to the Offender made an Offering Even God himself Hold my aspiring Thought Descend my Muse thy flight too high is wrought Tell not how He all peaceful and all kind Was offer'd for the vilest of Mankind A Victim for the vilest was design'd Descend I say my Muse low things afford Theams high enough for thee Touch not the Word Till he hath touch'd thy Wings with Grace Divine Then only his thou shalt the World decline The harmless Dove the Faloon doth betray The Lamb is to the Wolf become a Prey And Men to whom free will Heaven doth impart To follow still the Counsels of his Heart If wrack'd with doubt if harmless he designs Peace to his Heart and still his Wish confines Justice to Peace and Love to Quiet joyns Why then the Dove-like Fate will sure be his Short is his Life unsettled is his Bliss Hard Fate that choice we eagerly pursuo Is or to be undone or to undo ON THE DEATH OF Mr. Abraham Cowley AND HIS BURIAL IN Westminster-Abbey By the Earl of Orrery OUR Wit till Cowley did its lustre raise May be resembled to the first Three Days In which did shine only such streaks of Light As serv'd but to distinguish Day from Night But Wit breaks forth in all that he has done Like Light when 't was united in the Sun The Poets formerly did lie in wait To rifle those whom they would imitate We Watch'd to rob all strangers when they writ And learnt their Language but to steal their Wit He from that need his Country does redeem Since those who want may be supply'd from him And Foreign Nations now may borrow more From Cowley than we could from them before Who though he condescended to admit The Greeks and Romans for his Guides in Wit Yet he those Ancient Poets does pursue But as the Spaniards great Columbus do He taught them first to the New World to steer But they possess all that is precious there When first his Spring of Wit began to flow It rais'd in some Wonder and Sorrow too That God had so much Wit and Knowledge lent And that they were not in his Praises spent But those who in his Davideis look Find they his Blossoms for his Fruit mistook In diff'ring Ages diff'rent Muses shin'd His Green did Charm the Sense his Ripe the Mind Writing for Heaven he was inspir'd from thence And from his Theam deriv'd his Influence The Scripture will no more the Wicked fright His Muse does make Religion a Delight Oh how severely Man is us'd by Fate The Covetous toil long for an Estate And having got more than their Life can spend They may bequeath it to a Son or Friend But learning in which none can have a share Unless they climb to it by Time and Care Learning the truest Wealth which Man can have Does with his Body perish in his Grave To Tenements of Clay it is confin'd Tho' 't is the Noblest Purchace of the Mind Oh why can we thus leave our Friends possest Of all our Acquisitions but the best Still when we study Cowley we lament That to the World he was no longer lent Who like a Lightning to our Eyes was shown So bright he shin'd and was so quickly gone Sure he rejoyc'd to see his flame expire Since he himself could not have rais'd it higher For when wise Poets can no higher flie They would like Saints in their perfection die Though Beauty some Affection in him bred Yet only Sacred Learning he would wed By which th' Illustrious Off-spring of his Brain Shall over Wit 's great Empire ever Reign His Works shall Live when Pyramids of Pride Shrink to such Ashes as they long did hide That Sacrilegious Fire which did last Year Level
those Piles which Piety did rear Dreaded near that Majestick Church to flie Where English Kings and English Poets lie It at an awful distance did expire Such pow'r had Sacred Ashes o'er that Fire Such as it durst not near that Structure come Which Fate had order'd to be Cowley's Tomb And 't will be still preserv'd by being so From what the rage of future Flames can do Material Fire dares not that place infest Where he who had immortal Flame does rest There let his Urn romain for it was fit Amongst our Kings to lay the King of Wit By which the Structure more renown'd will prove For that part bury'd than for all above ON THE DEATH OF King CHARLES II. Writ at that Time By the Honourable Charles Montague FArewel Great Charles Monarch of blest Renown The best Good Man that ever fill'd a Throne Whom Nature as her highest Pattern wrought And mixt both Sex's Vertues in one Draught Wisdom for Councils Bravery in War With all the mild Good-nature of the Fair. The Womans sweetness temper'd Manly Wit And Loving Power did Crown'd with Meekness sit His awful Person Reverence engag'd Which mild Address and Tenderness asswag'd Thus the Almighty Gracious King above Does both command our Fear and win our Love With Wonders born by Miracles preserv'd A Heavenly Host the Infants Cradle serv'd And Men His healing Empire's Omen read When Sun with Stars and Day with Night agreed His Youth for valorous Patience was renown'd Like David persecuted first then Crown'd Lov'd in all Courts admir'd where e'er he came At once our Nation 's Glory and its Shame They blest the Isle where such great Spirits dwell Abhorr'd the Men that could such worth expel To spare our Lives He meekly did defeat Those Sauls whom wand'ring Asses made so great Waiting till Heaven's Election should be shown And the Almighty should His Vnction own And own He did His powerful Arm display'd And Israel the Belov'd of God obey'd Call'd by His Peoples Tears He came He eas'd The groaning Nation the black Storms appeas'd Did greater Blessings than He took afford England it Self was more than He Restor'd Unhappy Albion by strange Ills opprest In various Feavers tost could find no rest Quite spent and wearied to His Arms She fled And rested on His Shoulders her fair bending Head In Conquests Mild He came from Exile kind No Climes no Provocations chang'd His Mind No Malice show'd no Hate Revenge or Pride But Rul'd as Meekly as His rather Dy'd Eas'd us from endless Wars made Discords cease Restor'd to Quiet and maintain'd in Peace A mighty Series of new Time began And rowling Years in joyful Circles ran Then Wealth the City business fill'd the Port To Mirth our Tumults turn'd our Wars to Sport Then Learning flourish'd blooming Arts did spring And the glad Muses prun'd their drooping wing Then did our flying Towers improvement know Who now command as far as Winds can blow With Canvass Wings round all the Globe they fly And built by Charles His Art all Storms defie To ev'ry Coast with ready Sails are hurl'd Fill Us with Wealth and with our Fame the World From whose Distractions Seas do us divide Their Riches here in floating Castles ride We reap the swarthy Indian's Sweat and Toil Their Fruit without the mischiefs of their Soil Here in cool Shades their Gold and Pearls receive Free from the heat which does their lustre give In Persian Silks eat Eastern Spice secure From burning Fluxes and their Calenture Under our Vines upon the peaceful Shore We see all Europe tost hear Tempests roar Rapine Sword Wars and Famine rage abroad While Charles their Host like Jove from Ida aw'd Us from our Foes and from our selves did shield Our Towns from Tumults and from Arms the Field For when bold Factions Goodness could disdain Unwillingly He us'd a straiter Rein In the still gentle Voice He lov'd to speak But could with Thunder harden'd Rebels break Yet though they wake't the Laws His tender Mind Was undisturb'd in Wrath severely Kind Tempting His Power and urging to assume Thus Jove in Love did Semele consume As the Stout Oak when round his Trunk the Vine Does in soft wreaths and amorous foldings twine Easie and slight appears The Winds from far Summon their noisie Forces to the War But though so gentle seems his outward form His hidden strength outbraves the loudest storm Firmer he stands and boldly keeps the Field Showing stout Minds when unprovok'd are mild So when the Good Man made the Crowd presume He show'd himself and did the King Assume For Goodness in Excess may be a sin Justice must tame whom Mercy cannot win Thus Winter fixes the unstable Sea And teaches restless Water constancy Which under the warm influence of bright days The fickle motion of each Blast obeys To bridle Factions stop Rebellion's course By easie Methods vanquish without force Relieve the Good bold stubborn Foes subdue Mildness in Wrath Meekness in Anger shew Were Arts Great Charles His Prudence only knew To fright the Bad thus awful Thunder rolls While the bright Bow secures the Faithful Souls Such is thy Glory Charles thy lasting Name Brighter than our proud Neighbour's guilty Fame More noble than the Spoils that Battles yield Or all the empty Triumphs of the Field 'T is less to Conquer than to make Wars cease And without fighting awe the World to Peace For proudest Triumphs from Contempt arise The vanquisht first the Conquerours Arms despise Won Ensigns are the gaudy marks of scorn They brave the Victor first and then adorn But peaceful Monarchs Reign like Gods while none Dispute all Love bless Reverence their Throne Tigers and Bears with all the Savage Host May Boldness Strength and daring Conquest boast But the sweet Passions of a Generous Mind Are the Prerogative of Humane kind The God-like Image on our Clay imprest The Darling Attribute which Heaven loves best In Charles so Good a Man and King we see A double Image of the Deity Oh! Had He more resembled It Oh why Was He not still more like and could not die Now do our Thoughts alone enjoy His Name And faint Ideas of our Blessing frame In Thames the Ocean's Darling England's Pride The pleasing Emblem of his Reign does glide Thames the support and Glory of our Isle Richer than Tagus or Aegyptian Nile Though no rich Sand in him no Pearls are found Yet Fields rejoyce his Meadows laugh around Less Wealth his Bosom holds less guilty stores For he Exhausts himself t' enrich the Shores Mild and Serene the peaceful Current flows No angry foam no raging Surges knows No dreadful Wreck upon his Banks appears His Crystal Stream unstain'd by Widow's Tears His Chanel strong and easie deep and clear No Arbitrary Inundations sweep The Plowman's Hopes and Life into the deep The Even Waters the old Limits keep But oh He Ebbs the smiling Waves decay For ever Lovely Stream for ever stay To the black Sea his silent course does bend Where the