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
Joyn'd with the Horrour of a dismal Night To keep his word the brave Leander strove Honour his Convoy and his Pilot Love He long resists the envious Billows Rage Whose Malice would his generous Flame asswage At last his weary Limbs o'ercome with Pain No longer could the mighty Force sustain Then Thoughts of losing Hero made him grieve Only for Hero could he wish to live With feeble Voice a while to respite Fate He with his Foes would fain capitulate Whilst they against him still their Fury bend Nor these his dying Accents would attend Since to your greater Powers I must submit Ye VVinds and Seas at least this Prayer admit That with my Faith I may to her comply And at return let me your Victim dy To SLEEP When sick of a Fever HAppy are we who when our Senses tire Can slack the Chain of Thought check Desire Nature her Works does in Perfection frame Rarely producing any weak or lame She looks on Man with kindest Influence Does for one Ill a thousand Goods dispence Sleep blessed Sleep she gave our lab'ring Eyes Oh how I now those happy Minutes prize This Rest our Life's Cessation we may call The Ease of Toil of Care the Intervall For such Refreshment we from Sleep obtain That we with Pleasure fall to work again To Minds afflicted Sleep a Cure imparts Pouring its Sov'reign Balsom on our Hearts When Wounds or sharp Distempers rage and sting Kind Slumbers then some welcome Respites bring But waking kept by an Excess of Grief We from Eternal Sleep expect Relief So wretched I tormented to Despair With Pain my Body and my Soul with Care Implore thy Comfort Gentle Deity Whom none could e'er but with clos'd Eye-lids see An EPIGRAM On WOMAN SINCE Man's a Little World to make it great Add Woman and the Metaphor's compleat Nature this Piece with utmost Skill design'd And made her of a Substance more refin'd But wretched Man compos'd of Dust and Clay Must like all Earthly Things with Time decay While she may justly boast of what 's Eternal A Heav'nly Count'nance and a Heart Infernal A PARAPHRASE On CALLIMACHVS 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of LEARNING Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 THE Rosy Chaplets which my Head adorn And richest Garments on my Body worn â—n Beauty and in Substance must decay And by Degrees shall all consume away The Meats and Drinks which do my Life sustain Nature in certain hours expels again We of no outward Blessings are secure They cannot time 's nor Fortune's Shocks endure For all my Worldly Goods are subject still To a Thief 's Mercy or Oppressour's VVill But Sacred Learning treasur'd in the Mind VVhen all things else forsake me stays behind Cynthia returned from the Country IS Cynthia happily return'd Whose Absence I so long have mourn'd Or do I dream or is it she My Life's Restorer 't is I see Ah Fugitive that hadst the Heart Body and Soul so long to part Thy Presence is a sweet Surprize A welcome Dream to waking Eyes Who can such Joy in Bounds contain My Cynthia is come back again No notice of your Coming This Is just to surfeit me with Bliss You are as when you went unkind With such Extreams to charge my Mind This suddain Pleasure might destroy E'er Sorrow could make way for Joy The Eye is struck before the Ear VVe Lightning see e'er we the Thunder hear A Paean or Song of Triumph translated into a Pindaric supposed to be of Alcaeus of Sappho or of Praxilla the Sycionian Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 THIS Sword I 'll carry in a Myrtle Bough It is my Trophy now Aristogiton and Harmodius They bare it thus VVhen they the Tyrant had destroy'd Restoring Athens to those Liberties VVhich she so much does prize And which she anciently enjoy'd O Dear Harmodius Thou art not dead But in the Island of the Blest Dost live in Peace and Rest For so 't is sed Thou happy art in Company Of swift Achilles and fierce Diomede And dost Tydides see Therefore this Sword in a Green Myrtle Bough I carry as in Triumph now The brave Harmodius And fam'd Aristogiton bare it thus For when they had perform'd the Sacrifice To our great Patroness Minerva due They as he in his Grandeur sate The Tyrant Proud Hipparchus slew Who o'er th' Athenian State Without Pretence of Right did tyrannize Eternal Honours you on Earth shall gain Aristogiton and Harmodius You have the bloody Tyrant slain By which you do restore Your City to the Laws which govern'd it before Beauty makes us happy HAppy 's the Man who does thy Beauty see Yet Happier he who sees and sighs for thee But he does greatest Happiness obtain Who sighs for thee and makes thee sigh again Some powerful Star did govern at his Birth Who for the lov'liest Creature upon Earth Shall in Content his Eye and Wishes join And safely say of thee That Heart is mine To John Dryden Esq Poet Laureat and Historiographer Royal his Honoured Friend MY Muse when heated with Poetic Flame Longs to be singing thy exalted Name The noble Task she sets before my Eyes And prompts me to begin the Enterprise My eager Hand no sooner takes the Pen But seiz'd with Trembling lets it fall agen My tim'rous Heart bids stop and whisp'ring says What canst thou sing that may advance his Praise His Quill's Immortal and his Flights are higher Than Eye of Humane Fancy can aspire A lasting Fountain from whose Streams do â—low â—ternal Honours where his Works shall go â—rom Him the Wits their Vital Humour bring â—s Brooks have their first Currents from the Spring â—ould my unskilful Pen augment his Fame â— should my own eternize with his Name â—â—t hold my Muse thy Theme too great decline â—emember that the Subject is Divine â—â—s Works do more than Pen or Tongues can say â—â—ch Line does Beauty Grace and Wit display To a Singing BIRD DEAR prison'd Bird how do the Stars combine To make my am'rous State resemble thine Thou happy thou dost sing and so do I Yet both of us have lost our Liberty For him thou sing'st who Captive thee detains And I for her who makes me wear her Chains But I alas this disproportion find Thou for Delight I sing to ease my Mind Thy Heart 's exalted mine depress'd does lye Thou liv'st by Singing I by Singing dye The Happy LOVER HARK Lovers hark and I shall tell A Wonder that will please you well She whom I lov'd as my own Heart For whom I sigh'd and suffer'd Smart Whom I above the World admir'd When I approach'd who still retir'd Was so reserv'd but yet so fair An Angel to what others are Her self from Love escapes not free The Man belov'd 'T is happy I am He. The Paean of Bacchylides 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 On PEACE Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 GReat Goddess PEACE does Wealth on us bestow From her our Sciences and Learning slow â—ur Arts improve and we the Artists prize â—ur Altars
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
thou hast cut down in spight And scatter'd on the Ground its Fruit and Flowers Our Love 's extinct that with such Ardour burn'd And all my Hope of future Pleasure dyes Nature's chief Master-piece to Earth's return'd Deaf to my Passion and my grievous Cryes Sylvia the Tears which on thy Sepulchre Hereafter shall be shed or those now are Thô fruitless yet I offer them to thee Until the coming of th' Eternal Night Shall close these Eyes once happy with thy Sight And give me Eyes with which I thee may see To the WINDS A SONG I. YE Winds that in your hasty Flight Just kiss the Leaves and then away The Leaves that tremble with Delight And murmur at so short a stay Stop here and e're you further goe Give audience to a Lover's Woe II. Condoling Air to you I speak Since she is deaf to all my Grief You see my Heart will quickly break If careless She gives no Relief I 'm sure you 're troubled at my Pain For when I sigh you sigh again III. Go gentle Air fly to my Dear That thus with Love inflames my Breast And whisper softly in her Ear 'T is she that robs my Soul of Rest Express if possible such Moans May imitate my dying Groans IV. Or with thy rougher Breath make bold To toss the Treasure of her Hair Till thou dost all those Curls unfold Which cunningly Mens Hearts ensnare Try all thy Skill to break the Net That I like thee may Freedom get V. Then let some thicker Blasts arise And with her Face so sport and play Till the bright Rays of her fair Eyes Be qualify'd or ta'en away Make all those Charms which Men assail Of lesser force and less prevail The Silent Talkers PEACE Peace my Dear Corinna said To her enamour'd Corydon Lest we by Listners be betray'd And this our Happiness undone Our wishes answer ev'ry way And all my Thoughts center in thine If thou hast any thing to say Speak with thy Eyes I 'll speak with mine 'T is dangerous jesting with LOVE A SONG I. VEnture not with Love to jest Though he 's blind and but a Boy Whosoe'er would live at rest Must not dare with him to toy If you play he 'll seem to smile But conspire your Death the while II. â— my self was such a Sot Once to act a Lover's Part â—â—em'd to love but lov'd her not Sigh'd but sigh'd not from my Heart Long I did not this maintain E're my Play was turn'd to Pain III. â—s I gaz'd upon my Fair And of Love shew'd ev'ry Sign â—â—e play'd too the Flatterer With her Glances answering mine Till his Arrows Cupid took Pierc'd me with each Flatt'ring Look IV. Love the Jester will assail And when scorn'd the Mastry get Art I see can ne'e avail Him that plays the Counterfeit For I find now time is past Jest to Earnest turn'd at last V. Cupid drew with more desire Seeing me his Net despise Was more active with his Fire While he â—ound my heart was Ice Now my Sighs no pity â—ind But are scatter'd in the Wind. On WINE From a Fragment of Hesiod Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 WINE chears our Hearts and makes us glad When Grief and Cares have left us sad But more than Nature does suffice Will cast a Cloud before our Eyes 'T will bind the Tongue the Feet and Hands E're we perceive with strongest Bands And us its Drunken Slaves will keep Till we our Freedom get by Sleep A DREAM ONE Night with Sleep my Senses being opprest Fixt on that Thought which still o'er rul'd my Brest â— Mourning Dress with Silence did appear â—â—e of her Sex was to my Soul most Dear â—ynthia methought I said and gaz'd awhile Where 's thy accustom'd Look and cheerful Smile What sad Occasion thus disturbs thee now â—nd hangs that gloomy Sadness on thy Brow â—e only sigh'd and off'ring to depart â—natch'd her Hand and laid it to my Heart â—nd whilst I in this trembling Rapture stand â—e took and held me by my other Hand â—hought my Heart 'twixt Joy and Grief would break â—dding with Tears My Dear I prithee speak â—nd grasp'd her fast she struggling to be gone â—ll wak'd but then I found my self alone Oft have I griev'd to think what this might prove And gather'd hence ill Omens to my Love But since I may too soon the Mischief find I 'll strive to chase the Fancy from my Mind The Restless Lover THE Birds to wanton in the Air desire The Salamander sports himself in Fire The Fish in Water plays And of the Earth Man ever takes possession at his Birth Only unhappy I who born to grieve In all these Elements at once do live Grief does with Air of Sighs my Mouth supply My wretched Body on cold Earth does lye The Streams which from mine Eyes flow Night and Day Cannot the Fire which burns my Heart allay The RESOLUTION A Sonnet of Petrarc out of Italian OH Time Oh rowling Heavens that fly so fast And cheat us Mortals ignorant and blind Oh fugitive Day swifter than Bird or Wind Your Frauds I see by all my Suff'rings past But pardon me 't is I my self must blame Nature that spreads your Wings and makes you fly To me gave Eyes that I my Ills might spy Yet I retain'd them to my Grief and Shame Time was I might and Time is still I may Direct my Steps in a securer way And end this sad Infinity of Ill Yet 't is not from thy Yoke O Love I part But the Effects I will reclaim my Heart Vertue 's no Chance but is acquir'd by Skill Invokes DEATH COME Terrour of the Wise and Valiant Come And with a Sigh let my griev'd Soul have room Amongst the Shades then shall my Cares be gone All there drink Waters of Oblivion So went the Heroes of the World and so Or soon or late all that are born must go Thou Death to me art welcome as a Friend For thou with Life putt'st to my Griefs an End Of this Poor Earth and Blast of Breath ally'd How easily by thee the Knot 's unty'd This Spring of Tears which trickles from mine Eyes Is Natural and when I dye it dryes Matter for Sighs I drew with my first Breath And now a Sigh ushers my Soul to Death So Cares and Griefs determine by Consent This Favour owe I to my Monument A Hint from the Beginning of the Third Satyr of Juvenal Laudo tamen vacuis quod sedem figere Cumis Destinet atque unum Civem donare Sibyllae c. A Neighbour now shall Aged Sibyl have For I 'll withdraw to Cuma's Sacred Cave Where I Vesuvius like when Years attire My Head with Snow shall still maintain my Fire In Hatred of the World my Days I 'll spend Till with Despight my wretched Life shall end My haughty Plumes I 've clipp'd I 'll soar no more So the Fates cut what they had spun before I was when Bad of Vertuous Men despis'd And by the Scourge
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
her Game will chuse to dye Here tir'd and hot she sits and takes the Air Here bathes her Limbs and combs and dryes her Haâ—â— The Muses in their Songs thy Praise express Dryas by thee begins to trick and dress Oft to thy Streams Calliope retires And all the Beauties of thy Spring admires In whose close Walks while she from Heat does keep Charm'd with thy murm'ring Noise she falls asleep To Cynthia gone into the Countrey THO' the late Parting was our Joynt Desire It did with diff'rent Passions us inspire Thou wert o'erjoy'd opprest with Sorrow I Thy Thoughts did faster than thy Foot-steps fly But thô I strove and labour'd to depart Spight of my â—eet I follow'd with my Heart Since thus I griev'd my Loss it was unkind Not once to sigh for what thou left'st behind Soneto EspanÌ„ol de Don Felipe Ayres En alabanza de su Ingenioso Amigo Don Pedro Reggio vno de los mayores Musicos de su tiempo SI el Thebano Sabio en dulce Canto De su Tierra los Hechos escrivia Y en elegantes Versos los dezia Que viven y con embidia con espanto Tu Reggio ya con soberano encanto Del Pindaro Ingles con Armonia Assi exprimes la dulce Melodia Que la admiration suspende el llanto No es mucho pues que vençes lo mas fuerte Si ya tu voz merâ—ce eterna Palma Y tu Instrumento al mismo Apolo assombre Pues Logras dos Victorias en tu suerte Vna de la Armonia para L'alma Otra del Instrumento para el Nombre A Sonnet On CYNTHIA sick HELP Help Ye Nymphs whilst on the neighb'ring Plain Your Flocks do feed Come and Assistance bring Alas Fair Cynthia's sick and languishing For whom my Heart endures a greater Pain Ye Syrens of the Thames let all your Train Tune their shrill Instruments and to them sing And let its Flow'ry Banks with Echo's ring This may her wonted cheerful Looks regain Ye Herbs that richest Med'cines can produce Come quickly and afford such Sov'reign Juice As from her Heart may all the Pains remove But in her Face if Death would Paleness give And Fate ordain that she in Torment live Then let her suffer in the Flames of Love The TURTLE DOVES From Iovianus Pontanus YE Happy Pair of Turtle Doves Renewing still your former Loves Who on one Bough both sing one Song Have but one Care one Heart one Tongue Whilst our Loves varying as our Fate Can scarce sometimes be known from Hate You to your first Amours are true Would we could Pattern take by you What Force of Love amongst us tell Such Opposition can compel If from some powerful Fire it Spring Whence all this Cold and Shivering From Cold if Love's strange Force arise How are our Hearts his Sacrifice This Myst'ry I can ne'er unfold Why Love is rul'd by Heat and Cold. You might the Scruple best remove That are the Emblem of true-TRUE-LOVE An Essay towards a Character of His Sacred Majesty King JAMES the II. I Paint the Prince the World would surely crave Could they the Summ of all their Wishes have Pattern of Goodness Him on Earth we see Who knows He beaâ—s the Stamp of Deity He 's made by Nature fit for Sword or Gown And with undoubted Right enjoys his Crown As Gold by Fire He 's try'd by Suffering Preserv'd by Miracles to be a King Troubles were Foils to make his Glories shine Through all conducted by a Hand Divine Malice long strove his Fortunes to defeat Now Earth and Heav'n conspire to make him Great He of all Temp'ral Blessings is possest But in a Royal Consort doubly blest His Mind as Head with Princely Vertue crown'd To him no Equal can on Earth be found His ev'ry Action has peculiar Grace And MAJESTY appears in Mien and Face In Subjects Hearts as on his Throne he raigns Himself the Weight of all his Realms sustains Of a blest Statesmen ever seeks Advice And of best Councils knows to make his Choice Is taught by long Obedience to command His own best Gen'ral He for Sea and Land Loves Peace whilst thus for War and Action sit And Arms and Hate lays down when Foes submit Not of too open nor too frugal Mind In all things to the Golden Mean inclin'd Seems for himself not born but People rather And shews by 's Care that He 's their Common Father Lewdness expels both from his Camp and Court No Flatt'rers please nor Fools can make him Sport Grave in Discoursing in his Habit plain And all Excess endeavours to restrain As Fates decree so stands his Royal Word O'er all his Passions governs as their Lord Nicely does he inspect each Fair Pretence Justice alike to Friend and Foe dispense He 's the Retreat to which Opprest do fly Extending Help to those in Misery Gracious to Good to Wicked Men severe â—upports the Humble makes the Haughty fear To true Deserts in Mercy unconfin'd His Laws do more Himself than others bind At Sea his Naval Power He stretches far â—n Europe holds the Scales of Peace and War His Actions lasting Monuments shall frame None leave to Future Age so sweet a Name Add ten times more the Royal Image must Fall short of IAMES the Great the Good the Just. Sleeping Eyes FAIR Eyes ye Mortal Stars below Whose Aspects do portend my Ill That sleeping cannot chuse but show How wretched me you long to kill If thus you can such Pleasure take What would you if you were awake An Ode of Anacreon Englished 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To the SWALLOW Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I. DEAR Bird thy Tunes and Sportings here Delight us all the Day Who dwell'st amongst us half the Year And then art forc'd away II. Thou canst not Winter's Fury bear But cross the Southern Main To warmer Africk dost repair Till Spring return again III. But Ah! No Force of Storm or Art Drives Cupid from my Brest He took Possession of my Heart And in it built his Nest. This Bird there hatches all his Young Where each by Instinct led Learns of its Sire his Tricks and Song VVith Shell upon its Head V. And e'er these Loves have plum'd their VVings They multiply apace For as one plays or cryes or sings It propagates its Race VI. Now their Confusion's grown so loud It cannot be exprest I 've such Disturbance with the Crowd They give my Soul no Rest. Love so as to be belov'd again An Idyllium of Moschus Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 PAN lov'd his Neighbour Echo Echo strove To gain a nimble Satyr to her Love This Satyr had on Lyda fixt his Flame Who on another Swain had done the same As Echo Pan did Satyr Echo hate And Lyda scorn'd the Satyr for her Mate Thus Love by Contrarieties did burn And each for Love and Hatred took the turn For as these did the other's Flame despise As little those their Lovers Passions prise Then learn all you who never felt
Lips and thus in Anger said Here I 'm resolv'd shall a Memorial be Of this my sweet but punish'd Robbery Let him endure as great a Pain as this Who next presumes these Nectar Lips to kiss Their Sweetness shall convey revenging Smart Honey to 's Mouth but Torment to his Heart The Young Fowler that mistook his Game An Idyllium of BION 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 A Brisk Young Archer that had scarce his Trade In search of Game alone his Progress made To a Near Wood and as he there did rove Spy'd in a Box-Tree perch'd the God of Love For Joy did he his lucky Stars adore Ne'er having seen so large a Bird before Then in due Order all his Lime-twigs set Prepar'd his Arrows and display'd his Net Yet would the Crafty Bird no Aim allow But flew from Tree to Tree and Bough to Bough At which his strange Success for Grief he cry'd In Anger throwing Bow and Toyls aside And to the Man that taught him ran in Hast To whom he gave Account of all that past Making him leave his Plow to come and see And shew'd him Cupid sitting in the Tree The good Man when he saw it shook his Head Leave off Fond Boy leave off he smiling sed Hast from this Dang'rous Fowl that from you flies And follow other Game let me advise For when to riper Age you shall attain This Bird that shuns you now you 'll find again Then use your Skill 't will all your Art abide Sit on your Shoulders and in Triumph ride CUPID 's Nest. AH Tell me Love thy Nesting Place Is 't in my Heart or Cynthia's Face For when I see her Graces shine There art thou perch'd with Pow'r Divine Yet strait I feel thy pointed Dart And find thee flutt'ring in my Heart Then since amongst us thou wilt show The many Tricks thou Love canst doe Prithee for sport remove thy Nest First to my Face and then to Cynthia's Brest An Ode of ANACREON To HIMSELF 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 WHEN Fumes of Wine ascend into my Brain Care sleeps and I the Bustling World disdain Nor all the Wealth of Croesus I esteem â—â—ng of Mirth for Jollity's my Theme With Garlands I my Ruby Temples crown Keeping Rebellious Thoughts of Business down â—n Broyls and Wars while others take Delight 〈◊〉 with choice Friends indulge my Appetite Then fetch more Bottles Boy and charge us round We 'll fall to Bacchus Victims on the Ground Nor value what dull Moralists have sed I 'm sure 't is better to be drunk than dead An Ode of ANACREON To his Mistress 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 NEAR Latona's Rival makes her Mone Chang'd by the Gods into a Weeping Stone And ravish'd Philomel they say 't is true Became a Bird stretch'd out her Wings and flew But I could wish to be your Looking-Glass Thence to admire the Beauties of your Face Or Robe de Chambrè that each Night and Morn On those sweet Limbs undrest I might be worn Or else a Crystal Spring for your Delight And you to bathe in those cool Streams invite Or be some precious Sweets to please the Smell That in your Hand I near your Lips might dwell Or String of Pearls upon your Neck to rest Or Pendent Gem kissing your Snowy Brest E'en to your Feet would I my Wish pursue A Shoe I 'd be might I be worn by you To LOVE An Ode of ANACREON 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 'T IS sad if Love should miss a Heart Yet sadder much to feel the Smart But who can Cupid's Wounds indure And have no Prospect of a Cure We Lovers are not look'd upon For what our Ancestors have done Wit and good Parts have slight Regard No Vertue can obtain Reward They ask what Coyn our Purses hold No Object 's like a Heap of Gold But doubly be the Wretch accurst Who taught us to esteem it first This Thirst of Gold incites one Brother To ruine or destroy another Our Fathers we for Gold despise Hence Envy Strife and VVars arise And Gold 's the Bane as I could prove Of all that truly are in Love A Sonnet Out of Spanish from Don Luis de Gongora On a Death's-Head covered with Cobwebs kept in a Library and said to be the Scull of a King THIS Mortal Spoil which so neglected lies Death's sad Memento now where Spiders weave Their Subtil Webs which Innocence deceive Whose Strength to break their Toyls cannot suffice Saw it self Crown'd it self Triumphant saw With Mighty Deeds proclaiming its Renown Its Smiles were Favours Terrour was its Frown The World of its Displeasure stood in Awe Where Pride ordaining Laws did once preside Which Land should Peace enjoy which Wars abide There boldly now these little Insects nest Then raise not Kings your Haughty Plumes so high For in Death's cold Embraces when you lye Your Bones with those of common Subjects rest From an Imperfect Ode of Hybrias the Cretan Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 MY Riches are a Trusty Sword and Spear And a tough Shield which I in Battel wear This as a Rampart its Defence does lend Whilst with the others I my Foes offend With these I plow with these my Crops I reap With these for VVine I press the Juicie Grape These are unless I fall by Fickle Chance Machines which me to Dignities advance Oh thrice Beloved Target Spear and Sword That all these Heav'nly Blessings can afford Those who the Havock of my Weapons fear And tremble when of Blood and VVounds they hear They are the Men which me my Treasures bring Erect my Trophies stile me Lord and King And such while I my Conquests spread abroad Fall and adore me as they do their God Complains of the Shortness of Life An Idyllium of BION 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 THO' I had writ such Poems that my Name Deserv'd Enrollment in the Book of Fame Or thô my Muse could ne'er acquire the Bays VVhy thus in drudging do I spend my Days For should indulgent Heav'n prolong our Date Doubling the Term of Life prescrib'd by Fate That we might half in Care and Toyl employ And spend the other in Delights and Joy VVe then this sweet Assurance might retain To reap in Time the Fruits of all our Pain But since none can the Bounds of Life extend And all our Troubles have a speedy End VVhy do we wrack our Brains and waste our Health To study Curious Arts or heap up VVealth Sure we forget we came of Mortal Seed And the short Time Fate has for us decreed Out of Latine from Iovianus Pontâ—â—â—s Being sick of a Fever complains of the Fountain CASIS CASIS to craving Fields thou lib'ral Flood Why so remote when thou should'st cool my Blood From Mossie Rocks thy Silver Streams do glide By which the soultry Air is qualifi'd Tall Trees do kindly yield thy Head their Shade Where Choirs of Birds their sweet Retreats have made But
and blow the Fire 'Gainst their Assaults let us our Forces join Dissolve the Weather by the strength of VVine A COMPLAINT WHEN first I here to Cynthia spake my Mind Near these sweet Streams which to our thoughts were kind â—h then in perfect Harmony we met â—nd to our Concert joyn'd the Rivulet â—he Flowers Plants Echo's Craggy Rocks and Dales â—he pleasant Meads proud Hills and humble Vales â—em'd then o're-joy'd at my Felicity Which now condole with me in Misery â—t still the wing'd Inhab'tants of the Wood â—g as my Change they had not understood â—ô sure the Melancholy Tunes they vent â—e rather Notes of Grief than Merriment â— Nymphs that in these Crystal Streams do dwell â—d after Sport rest quiet in your Cell â—ce clear as yours a Happy Life I led â—ô now o'erwhelm'd with Grief and live as dead Thus we through various Turns of Fortune run And sind no certain Rest till Life be done Love's Garden Translated from Girolamo Preti I To Love's Garden came with my Attire Was wove with Herbs of Hope and of Desire Branches of Trouble too by me were worn VVhose Flowers and Fruit were Prejudice and Scort 'T was wall'd with Pain and Anguish round about And from a thousand places issu'd out VVater of Grief and Air of Sighs beside Deceit and Cruelty did there reside Pride was the Keeper and to cultivate VVas Jealousie who still with mortal Hate Tare up my Happiness e're it could grow VVhilst like a Madman thus I strive to sow Under the Shadow of a Thought that 's kind I plow in Stone dig VVater stop the VVind Seeing his own Picture discourses of his Studies and Fortune â—HIS which the Shadow of my Face does give VVhose Counterfeit seems true and Art alive â—ows but the part of Man's Infirmity â—hich to Age subject must decay and dye â—t the Internal Nature's Excellence â—hich does this Earthly Shadow influence 〈◊〉 haps some Image may on Paper draw 〈◊〉 ose Essence ne'er of Time shall stand in awe 〈◊〉 by my Muses Help I hope to build 〈◊〉 Monuments as ne'er to Time shall yield 〈◊〉 er than from these Colours can be had 〈◊〉 to my Years shall greater Numbers add â— when some Noble VVork I enterprize â—t might advance my Honour to the Skies â—envious Fortune strikes a thousand ways 〈◊〉 royes my Labours and so blasts my Bays A Sonnet of Petrarc On the Death of Laura I Fill with Sighs the Air when e're I stand On yon' high Hill and thence survey the Plain Where Laura she who could my Heart command Did in her Earthly Paradise remain For now she 's dead and left me here alone Griev'd for her loss that I could gladly dye Drowning my Eyes in making of my Moan My Tears have left no space about me dry There is no Stone upon that craggy Hill Nor these sweet Fields an Herb or Plant do bring Nor Flower 'mongst all that do the Valleys â—ill Nor any drop of Water from the Spring Nor Beasts so wild that in the Woods do dwell But of my Grief for Laura's Death can tell Another of Petrarc On Laura's Death OH Death How has thy utmost Malice sped Thou hast Love's Kingdom quite impov'rished â—ropt Beauty's Flower put out our chiefest Light â—nd one small Stone deprives us of her sight â—ur Joy's extinct we 're left in Discontent â—ript of our Honour and our Ornament â—ut to her Fame thou ne're canst put an end â—hy Power but o're her Body did extend â—â—r her pure Soul above is glorify'd â—s brightest Star she 's there the Heaven's Pride â—nd here her Vertuous Deeds shall never dye â—t be admir'd by all Posterity 〈◊〉 w Glorious Angel thou that dwell'st above 〈◊〉 d with more powerful Charms attractest Love 〈◊〉 y'st thou be vanquish'd by my Piety 〈◊〉 here thy Beauty triumph'd over me Complains of the Court. IN a Great Court near a Fam'd River's side With Hopes of Greatness sed I still reside But where to fix I ne'er shall understand Foll'wing what flies and shunning what 's at hand Others from me the Gifts of Heav'n retain The lucky Fool does still the Purchace gain At Air I grasp and after Shadows strive Live for my Foes if this be said to live I slight my self love him that injures me And in soft Words find greatest Treachery I Mortal Hatred under Smiles behold And starve for want amidst great heaps of Gold Now Envy's Stroaks then Fortune's I sustain And want a Friend to whom I might complain I see th' ensuing Storm and no Help nigh Grieve for one Loss and straight another spy Being retired complains against the Court. REmote from Court where after Toil we get More Hopes than Fruit I now have chang'd my Seat And here retir'd with calmer Thoughts abide As Lea more smooth than troubled Thames does glide I need not Great Men here with Flatt'ry please No Pride nor Envy shall disturb my Ease If Love ensnares my Heart I from its Net Or servile Chain at least my Freedom get Since my new Flame brake out my old is death With Falshood kindled and with Scorn 't was fed And here the greatest Rigour pleases more Than all dissembled Favours could before There Love 's all Counterfeit and Friendship too And nothing else but Hate and Malice true If here my Nymph be cross or prove unkind Vanquish'd I triumph fighting Peace I find To Cynthia HARK how the little Birds do vie their Skill Saluting with their Tunes the welcome Day Spring does the Air with fragâ—ant Odours fill And the pleas'd Fields put on their best Array With great Serenity the Heavens move The Amorous Planet rules in fullest power All things their Cruelty away remove And seem to know of Joy the Time and Hower Only my Cynthia still this Glorious Morn Retains the frozen Temper of her Heart Of Birds and Flowers does imitation scorn Nor from her wonted Rigour will depart Ah change my Fair that harsh and cruel Mind Why should your Looks and Humour disagree Let not my Love such Opposition find You 're wo'd by Heav'n and Earth to favour me The Withered Rose GO Fading Rose a Present to my Fair To whose ungrateful Breast I gave my Heart And thô my Grief could ne'er affect her Care To her do thou my dying Mind impart I late have seen thee Lovely Sweet and Gay Perchance the influence of her Looks on thee Now pale as Death thy Beauty 's gone away Thou art the Emblem of my Misery Say if to cast an Eye on thee she deign Since no Relief from her my Life receives My Body soon as Bloodless will remain As thy once fresh but now decaying Leaves And thou perchance the Benefit may'st find For thy pale Looks and Message understood To cure thy dying Spoils she may be kind With Water of my Tears or with my Blood A Sonnet On the Death of Sylvia OH Death without regard to wrong or right All things at will thy boundless Rage devours This tender Plant
learn of you to sing Then went away and I to gain her Praise Would fain have taught him all my Rural Lays How Pan found out the Pipe Pallas the Flute Phoebus the Harp and Mercury the Lute These were my Subjects which he still would slight And â—ill my Ears with Love-Songs Day and Night Of Mortals and of Gods what Tricks they us'd And how his Mother Venus them abus'd So I forgot my Pupil to improve And learn'd of him by Songs the Art of Love An EPITAPH On a Foolish Boaster HERE to its pristine Dust again is hurl'd Of an Inconstant Soul the little World He liv'd as if to some great things design'd With substance small boasting a Princely Mind Of Body crooked and distorted Face But Manâ—ers that did much his form disgrace In Broâ—ls his â—age pusht him beyond his Art Was kick'd would face again but wanted heart In his whole course of Life so swell'd with Pride That fail'd in all 's Intriegues for grief he dy'd Thus with ambitious Wings we strive to soar Flutter a while fall and are seen no more The Danger of the Sea From the Thirteenth Book of the Macaronics of Merlinus Cocalius Beginning Infidum arridet saepe imprudentibus Aequor THE treacherous Seas unwary Men betray Dissembling Calms but Storms in ambush lay Such who in bounds of safety cannot keep Flock here to see the Wonders of the Deep They hope they may some of the Sea Gods spy With all their Train of Nymphs and Tritons by But when their Eyes lose the retiring Shore Joyn Heaven with Seas and see the Land no more Then wretched they with Brains are swimming round Their undigested Meats and Choler drown Nor yet their boiling Stomachs can restrain Till they the Waters all pollute and stain When Aeolus inrag'd that Humane Race Should his old Friend the Ocean thus disgrace To punish it he from their hollow Caves With rushing noise le ts loose the Winds his Slaves Who up tow'rds Heav'n such mighty Billows throw You 'd think you saw from thence Heâ—â—s Vaults below Fools To whom Wrecks have of no Caution been By other Storms you might have this foreseen E'er your bold Sailers lanch'd into the Main Then y' had ne'er strove to reach the Shore in vain An Expostulation with Love THY Laws are most severe Oh Winged Boy For us to love and not enjoy What Reason is 't we should this Pain abide If love we must you might provide Either that our Affections we restrain From her we 're sure to love in vain Or after our Desires so Guide our Feet That where we love we may an equal Passion meet On the Art of Writing SURE 't was some God in kindness first to Men Taught us the Curious Art to use the Pen. â—Tis strange the speaking Quill should without Noise Express the various Tones of Humane Voice Of loudest Accents we no Sound retain Voice to its Native Air resolves again Yet thô as Wind Words seem to pass away By Pen we can their very Echoes stay When we from other Converse are confin'd This can reveal the Secrets of the Mind All Authors must to it their Praises own For 't was the Pen that made their Labours known Good Acts with bad Tradition would confound But what we writ is kept intire and sound Of this Ingenious Art Fame loudly sings Which gives us lasting Words and lasting Things The MORN WHEN Light begins the Eastern Heav'n to grace And the Nights Torches to the Sun give place Diana leaves her Shepherd to his Sleep Griev'd that her Horns cannot their Lustre keep The Boughs on which the wanton Birds do throng Dance to the Musick of their Chirping Song Whilst they rejoyce the Duskey Clouds are â—led And Bright Aurora rises from her Bed Then Fools and Flatterers to Courts resort Lovers of Game up and pursue their Sport With last Nights Sleep refresh'd the Lab'ring Swain Cheerfully settles to his Work again Pleas'd Hobb unfolds his Flocks and whilst they feed Sits and makes Musick on his Oaten Reed Then I wake too and viewing Lesbia's Charms Do glut my self with Pleasure in her Arms. To his Ingenious Friend Mr. N. Tate THRO' various paths for Pleasures have I sought Which short Content and lasting Trouble brought These are the Clouds obscure my Reasons Light And charge with Grief when I expect Delight Spight of all Letts thou Honour's Hill dost climb Scorning to spend in Empty Joys thy Time Thou in the foremost List of Fame dost strive Whose present Virtues Future Glory 's give With Myrtle I with Bays thou crown'st thy Head Thine still is verdant but my Wreath is dead The Trees I plant and nurse with so much Care Are barren thine the Glory of the Year â— only â—une my Pipe to Cynthia's Fame With Verse confin'd but constant as my Flame â—n thousand Streams thy plenteous Numbers fall Thy Muse attempts all Strains excels in all Less Security at Sea than on Shore An Idyllium of Moschus Englished Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 WHEN Seas are calm tost by no angry Wind What roving Thoughts perplex my easy Mind My Muse no more delights me I would fain Enjoy the tempting Pleasures of the Main But when I see the blust'ring Storms arise Heaving up Waves like Mountains to the Skies The Seas I dread and all my Fancy bend To the firm Land my Old and Certain Friend In pleasant Groves I there can Shelter take 'Mongst the Tall Pines the Winds but Musick make The Fisher's Boat 's his House on Seas he strives To cheat poor Fish but still in danger lives Sweetly does gentle Sleep my Eyes invade While free from Fear under the Plane-trees Shade I lye and there the Neighb'ring Fountains hear Whose Purling Noise with Pleasure Charms the Ear. A Sonnet PLATONIC LOVE CHAST Cynthia bids me love but hope no more Ne'er wish Enjoyment which I still have strove T' obey and ev'ry looser Thought reprove Without desiring her I her adore What Humane Passion does with Tears implore The Intellect Enjoys when 't is in Love With the Eternal Soul which here does move â—n Mortal Closet where 't is kept in Store Our Souls are in one mutual Knot combin'd Not Common Passion Dull and Unrefin'd Our Flame ascends That smothers here below The Body made of Earth turns to the same â—s Soul t' Eternity from whence it came My Love 's Immortal then and Mistress too Translated from Iovianus Pontanus Praises the Fountain Casis CASIS where Nymphs and where the Gods resort Thou art a Friend to all their am'rous Sport Often does Pan from his Lycaeus run In thy cool Shades to 'scape the Mid-days Sun With Musick he thy neighb'ring Hills does fill On his sweet Syrinx when he shews his Skill To which the Naïdes Hand in Hand advance And in just Measures tread their Graceful Dance By thee the Goats delight and browsing stray Whilst on the Rocks the Kids do skip and play Hither Diana chasing Deer does hye For on thy Banks
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
me a Fever here in Bed detains And Heat dries up the Moisture of my Veins For this did I with Flowers thy Banks adorn And has for this thy Head my Garlands worn â—ngrateful Spring 'T is I thy Tale have told And sang in Verses thy Renown of Old How on a Time Iove made in Heav'n a Feast To which each God and Goddess came a Guest Young Ganymede was there to fill the Bowl The Boy by 's Eagle Iove from Ida stole Who proud the Gods admir'd his Mien and Face And active in the Duty of his Place Turning in haste he made a careless Tread And from the Goblet all the Nectar shed Which pouring down from Heav'n upon the Ground In a small Pit it self had forc'd was found At which Iove smil'd and said my Lovely Boy I 'll make this keep thy Chance in Memory A Brook â—hall flow where first thy Liquor fell And Casis call'd which of thy Fame shall tell Then with a Kiss he did his Minion grace Making a Crimson Blush o'erspread his Face This flatt'ring Tale I often us'd to sing To the soft Musick of thy bubling Spring But thou to distant Vmbrians dost retire Forgetful grown of thy Aonian Lyre No Kindness now thou yield'st me as at first No cooling Water to allay my Thirst I have thy Image in my troubled Brain But to my Pallate no Relief obtain Whole Vessels in my Dreams I seem to drink And that I cool my raging Fever think My Sleep to me at least this Comfort yields Whil'st the fierce Dog-star chaps the parched Fields Some Help ye Muses to your Poet bring Let him not thirst that drinks your sacred Spring Persephon's Favour with your Songs implore Orpheus appeas'd her with his Harp before His Heart into a Bird. THE Tears o'erflow'd fair Cynthia's Eyes Her pretty Bird away was flown For this great Loss she made her Moan And quarrell'd with her Destinyes My Heart a secret Joy exprest As hoping Good from that Escape Took Wings and in the Fug'tive's Shape Got Shelter in her Snowy Brest Which prov'd a Fatal Resting-Place For she th'Impostor when she found Gave it with Spight a Mortal Wound Then pleas'd she laugh'd and dry'd her Face In Praise of a Countrey Life THE Bliss which Souls enjoy above He seems on Earth to share Who does Divine Retirement love And frees himself from Care Nor Thought admits which may his Peace controul But in a quiet State contents his bounded Soul Faction and noisy Routs he hates Fills not his Head with News Waits at no State-man's crouded Gates Nor servile Phrase does use From all false Meaning are his Words refin'd His sober Out-side is the Index of his Mind In pleasant Shades enjoys his Ease No Project spoils his Sleep With Rural Pipe himself can please And charm his wandring Sheep Till to his Cottage in some quiet Grove By dusky Night's Approach he 's summon'd to remove On tempting Gold and Baits of Gain With scorn he casts his Eyes As Mischief's Root and Virtue 's Bane Can their Assaults despise â—iches he sees our Liberty abuse â—nd to their slavish Yoke he does his Neck refuse Fruit-Trees their loaded Boughs extend For him to take his Choise His wholsome Drink the Fountains lend With pleasant purling Noise Notes untaught Birds that like him are free â—â—ive which shall most delight him with their Harmony Th' industrious Bee example shows And teaches him to live While she from Woodbine Pink and Rose Flies loaded to her Hive 〈◊〉 narrow bounds contain his Winter's Store 〈◊〉 Nature be suppli'd and he desires no more No Misery this Man attends Vice cannot him allure Each Chance contributes to his Ends Which makes his Peace secure Others may boast of their Luxurious Strife But happy He possesses more of solid Life Mortal Iealousie BEgon O thou distracting Care Partner of Sorrow and Despair Thy Poyson spreads to ev'ry Part Of this my poor tormented Heart If it be false with which of late Thou hast disturb'd my quiet State Why to affright me would'st thou bring So well compos'd a Monstrous Thing But if with Truth thou would'st delight To clear my long deluded Sight Under that Vail does Falshood lye 'T is Death thou bring'st not Jealousie The Innocent Magician or A Charm against LOVE A Great but Harmless Conjurer am I That can Love's Captives set at Liberty Hearts led astray by his deluding Flame â— to their peaceful Dwellings can reclaim Love's Wings I clip and take from him his Arms By the sole Virtue of my Sacred Charms His Empire shakes when I appear in Sight My Words the Wing'd and Quiver'd Boys affright Their close Retreats my boundless Power invades Nor can they hide them in their Myrtle Shades Their Sun 's bright Rays they now eclips'd shall find Whose fancy'd Light strikes giddy Lovers blind Rays of fair Eyes which they proclaim Divine And boast they can Sol's dazling Beams out-shine The Storms of Sighs and Rivers of their Eyes My Skill allays and their large Current dryes Hearts that are dead I from their Graves retrieve And by my Magick-Spell can make them live For know they 're only Tricks and subtil Arts With which the Tyrant Love ensnares our Hearts This Traytor plants his Toils to gain his Prize In Curls of Flaxen Hair and Sparkling Eyes In each soft Look and Smile he sets a Gin White Hands or Snowy Breasts can tempt us in Wholly on Mischief is his Mind employ'd His fairest Shows do greatest Dangers hide With Charming Sounds his Vot'ryes he beguiles Till he destroys them by his Syren's Wiles His Cunning Circes ev'ry where deceive And Men of Souls and Humane Shape bereave A thousand other Arts this Treach'rous Boy To heedless Lovers Ruine does employ Be watchful then and his Allurements shun So ends my Charm Run to your Freedom Run The happy NIGHTINGALE MELodious Creature happy in thy Choice That sitting on a Bough Dost sing Dear Mate my Dear Come to me now And she obeys thy Voice Ah could my Songs such Bliss procure For mine could Cynthia ne'er allure Nor have I Wings like thee to fly But must neglected lye I cannot her to Pity move She scorns my Songs and me While thou rejoycest all the Grove As well thou may'st with Melody For thou art happy in thy Love No Creature e'er could boast a perfect State Unless to thee it may belong Since Nature lib'rally supplies All thy Infirmities To thy weak Organs gave a pow'rful Song Thô small in Size thou art in Fortune great Compar'd to mine thy Happiness is most compleat On FAME THE Fame we covet is a wandring Air Which against Silence wages constant War For to be Mute does her so much displease That true or false she seldom holds her peace She but a while can in a place remain 'T is running up and down does her sustain Thô Dead she seem she quickly can revive And with a Thousand Tongues a Hydra live LEANDER drowned THO' Winds and Seas oppose their utmost Spight
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
and thence dispers'd again Seem like a Cloud burst into Showres of Rain As once Enceladus our Architect Great Heaps on Heaps of Marble does erect And like a second Moses when that 's done Commands fresh Springs of Water â—rom the Stone When Heav'ns are clear this Man a second Iove From Earth exhales the Waters up above And thence in Cataracts can make them pour When iâ— the Sky there 's neither Cloud nor Showr Describes the place where Cynthia is sporting her self BEhold you ' Hill how it is swell'd with pride And that aspiring Oak upon its side With how much scorn they overlook the Plain Proud of the lovely Guest they entertain See with what hast those Crystal Springs do flow T' incorporate with the Silver Brook below There does my wanton Cynthia sporting stand Printing her Footsteps on the yielding sand Look Thyrsis how she fills with Joy the place She Baths her Feet and views her Angels Face Sure I've a Rival of that amorous Hill And those are streams of tears which thence distill His RETIREMENT A Purling Brook glides by this place away It 's Tribute to the Royal Thames to pay Nature makes Arbours here and ev'ry Tree Disposes all it's Boughs to favour me The Birds sweet Notes here Echo's do repeat Here gentle Winds do moderate Summers heat Clear is the Air and verdant is the Grass My Couch of Flowers the Stream's my Looking-glass Ah Cynthia All the Birds that hear and see Seem in their Language to condole with mee And as I mourn they pretty Songs do sing T' express thy Rigour and my Suffering Whilst to the list'ning Air I make my moan And sigh and murmur sitting here alone The very Air sighs at my misery The Waters murmur too in Sympathy A Character of his Friend W. B. Esq TO raise up Vertue when 't is sinking down Toyâ— less for Wealth than to acquire Renown T' inrich the Mind and crown the Head with Bays Subdue the Passions and the Soul to raise T' increase in Glory as in years he grows To bear ripe Fruit e'en e're his Blossom blows Faster than Honours Merits to repeat Keep the Sense cold but â—ill the Soul with heat Not Arts neglect nor slight Apollo's Lute Whilst of Astrea he 's in hot pursute In antient Tongues new Eloquence rehearse To master both the Greek and Latine Verse 'Gainst Sloth perpetual Hatred to maintain But with the Muses Friendship still retain Here upon Earth all others to transcend 〈◊〉 still the labour of my Noble Friend A Sonnet Of LOVE IF Love it be not what is this I feel If it be Love what Love is fain I 'd know If good why the effects severe and ill If bad why do its torments please me so If willingly I burn should I complain If 'gainst my will what helps it to lament Oh living Death oh most delightful Pain How comes all this if I do not consent If I consent 't is madness then to grieve Amidst these storms in a weak Boat I 'm tost Upon a dangerous Sea without relief No help from Reason but in Error lost Which way in this distraction shall I turn That freeze in Summer and in Winter burn On the Picture of Lucretia stabbing her self LVcrece inflam'd with Anger Grief and Shame Despising Life yet careful of her Fame Wounds her fair Breast thô arm'd with Innocence Could suffer Death but could not the Offence Her Steel was sharp her End with Glory Crown'd She sought Revenge and valu'd not the Wound This so appeas'd her rage that being Dead She look'd like one reveng'd not injured 'T was Beauty sinn'd said she then let it dye That forc'd me to this last extremity Were 't not for Beauty I had guiltless been For it was that made lustful Tarquin sin So I to Violence a Prey was made No Tears avail'd when Vertue was betray'd Haughty he was my Beauty proud as he They made me Slave but thus my self I free Complains being hindred the sight of his Nymph TO view these Walls each night I come alone And pay my Adoration to the Stone Whence Joy and Peace are influenc'd on me For 't is the Temple of my Deity As Nights and Days an anxious Wretch by stealth Creeps out to view the place which hoards his Wealth So to this House that keeps from me my Heart I come look traverse weep and then depart She 's fenc'd so strongly in on ev'ry side Thought enters but my Footsteps are deny'd Then sighs in vain I breathe and Tears let fall Kiss a cold Stone sometimes or hugg the Wall For like a Merchant that rough Seas has crost Near home is shipwrack'd and his Treasure lost So toss'd in storms of sorrow on firm ground I in a Sea of mine own Tears am drown'd The Pleas'd Captive A SONG A Glorious Angel coming on the Wing From Heav'n descended near a River side Where me alone my Destiny did bring To view the pleasant Fields without a Guide A Net she 'd laid drawn by a silken String So hid in Grass it could not be espy'd There was I captive taken in her Snare But Cynthia's chains who would not chuse to wear The Incurable A SONG ONE amongst Flowers green Leaves and the cool Grass Takes his delight and pleasant hours does pass This in a Cave can rest or quiet Grove And that in Wars forgets the Thoughts of Love Some vent their Sighs to th' Air and ease do find A Spring may quench the fever of the Mind But to my Grief no Remedy can bring Flowers Leaves Grass Cave Grove Wars the Air nor Spring On a Fair Beggar BArefoot and ragged with neglected Hair She whom the Heavens at once made poor and fair With humble voice and moving words did stay To beg an Alms of all who pass'd that way But thousands viewing her became her Prize Willingly yielding to her conquering Eyes And caught by her bright Hairs whilst careless she Makes them pay Homage to her Poverty So mean a Boon said I what can extort From that fair Mouth where wanton Love to sport Amidst the Pearls and Rubies we behold Nature on thee has all her Treasures spread Do but incline thy rich and pretious Head And those fair Locks shall pour down showres oâ— Gold A Sonnet Out of Italian from Claudio Achillini Written by a Nymph in her own Blood SINCE Cruel Thyrsis you my Torments slight And take no notice of my Amorous Flame â—n these Vermilion Letters thus I write My bloody Reasons to confirm the same These of my Passion are the lively Marks Which from my Veins you here in Blood see writ Touch them your Breast will kindle with the Sparks The ardent Characters are reâ—king yet Nor can my Pen alone my Heart explain My very Soul o're-charg'd with grief I fain Would send enclos'd herein the truth to prove And if I 've been too sparing of my Blood This is the Reason why I stopp'd the Flood I would not spoil the Face I 'd have you
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