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
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
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