IV.

Thou reigneft o'er our earthly gods; Uncrown'd by thee, their other crowns are loads ;

One beauty's fmile their meanest courtier brings
Rather to pity than to cnvy kings;

His fellow flaves he takes them now to be,
Favour'd by love perhaps much less than he.
For love, the timorous bafhful maid
Of nothing but denying is afraid;

For love the overcomes her fhame,
Forfakes her fortune, and forgets her fame;
Yet, if but with a conftant lover bleft,
Thanks Heaven for that, and never minds the
reft.

V.

Love is the falt of life; a higher taste
It gives to pleasure, and then makes it laft.
Thofe flighted favours which cold nymphs dif-
pense,

Mere common counters of the fense,
Defective both in metal and in measure,
A lover's fancy coins into a treasure.
How vaft the fubject! what a boundless flore,
Of bright ideas fhining all before!

The Mufe's fighs forbid me to give o'er !
But the kind god incites us various ways,
And now I find him all my ardour raise,
His precepts to perform, as well as praise.

move;

Worthy our grief! more worthy of our love. You, while fo fair (do Fortune what the please) Can be no more in pain than we at ease; ⚫ Unless, unfatisfied with all our vows, Your vain ambition fo unbounded grows, That you repine a husband should efcape Th' united force of fuch a face and fhape. If fo, alas! for all thofe charming powers, Your cafe is just as defperate as ours. Expect that birds fhould only fing to you, And, as you walk, that ev'ry tree fhould bow; Expect thofe ftatues, as you pass should burn, And that with wonder men fhould ftatues turn; Such beauty is enough to give things life, But not to make a húfband love his wife:

Then fhall my hand, as changeless as my mind,
From your gla eyes a kindly welcome find;
Then, while this note my conftancy affures,
You'll be almost as pleas'd, as I with yours.
And truft me, when I feel that kind relief,
Abfence itself awhile fufpends its grief:
So may it do with you, but strait return;
For it were cruel not fometimes to mourn
His fate, who this long time he keeps away,
Mourns all the night, and fighs out all the day;
Grieving yet more, when he reflects that you
Muft not be happy, or must not be true.
But fince to me it feems a blacker fate
To be inconftant, than unfortunate;
Remember all those vows between us past,
When I from all I value parted last ;
May you alike with kind impatience burn,
And fomething mifs, till I with joy return;
And foon may pitying Heaven that blefling give,
As in the hopes of that alone I live.

GR

LOVE's SLAVERY. RAVE fops my envy now beget, Who did my pity move; They, by the right of wanting wit, Are free from cares of love. Turks honour fools, because they are By that defect secure From flavery and toils of war, Which all the reft endure. So I, who fuffer cold neglect

And wounds from Celia's eyes, Begin extremely to respect

Thefe fools that feem fo wife. 'Tis true, they fondly fet their hearts On things of no delight; To pafs all day for men of parts, They pafs alone the night. But Celia never breaks their reft; Such fervants the difdains; And fo the fops are dully bleft, While endure her chains.

4

R

THE DREAM.

EADY to throw me at the feet.

Of that fair nymph whom I adore,
Impatient thofe delights to meet
Which I enjoy'd the night before;
By her wonted fcornful brow,
Soon the fond mistake I find;
Ixion mourn'd his error fo,

When Juno's form the cloud refign'd.
Sleep, to make its charms more priz'd
Than waking joys, which most prevail,
Had cunningly itself difguis'd

In a fhape that could not fail.
There my Celia's fnowy arms,

Breafts, and other parts more dear,
Expofing new and unknown charms,
To my ranfported foul appear.
Then you so much kindnefs show,
My defpair de luded flies;
And indulgent dreams bestow
What your cruelty denies.
Blush not that your image Love
Naked to my fancy brought:
'Tis hard, methinks, to disapprove
The joys I fee: without your fault.
Wonder not a fancy'd blifs

Can fuch griefs as mine remove;
That honour as fantastic is,

Which makes you flight fuch constant love.

The virtue which you value fo,

Is but a fancy frail and vain ;

Nothing is folid here below,

Except my love and your difdain.

TO ONE WHO ACCUSED HIM OF BEING TOO

SENSUAL IN HIS LOVE.

THINK not, my who to adores,

HINK not, my fair, 'tis fin or flame,

Nor give fo hard, unjust a name

16 all thofe favours he implores..

Beauty is Heaven's most bounteous gift efteem'd, Because by love men are from v ce redeem'd.

Yet with not vainly for a love

From all the force of nature clear:

hat is referv'd for thofe above,

And 'tis a fault to claim it here.

For fenfual joys ye fcorn that we should love ye, But love without them is as much above ye.

THE WARNING.

Then learn betimes, the love which crowns Our cares is all but wiles Compos'd of false fantastic frowns, And foft diffembling smiles. With anger, which fometimes they feign, They cruel tyrants prove; And then turn flatterers again, With as affect d love.

As if fome injury was meant

To thole they kindly us'd,
Thofe lovers are the most content

That have b en ftill refus'd.
Since each has in his bofom nurst
A falfe and fawn ng foe,
'Tis just and wife, by striking first,
To 'fcape the fatal blow.

In paffion's fond extremes,

Who dream of women's love and truth,

And doat upon your dreams :

I should not here your fancy take
From fuch a pleasing state,

Were you not fure at laft to wake:
And find your fault too late.

When honour does the foldier call

To fome unequal fight,

Refolv'd to conquer, or to fall,
Before his general's fight;
Advanc'd the happy hero lives;

Or if ill fate denies,

The noble rafhnefs Heaven forgives, And gloriously he dies.

INCONSTANCY EXCUSED.

I

SON G.

MUST confess, I am untrue
To Gloriana's eyes,

But he that's smil'd upon by you,
Muft all the world despise.

In winter, fires of little worth

Excite our dull defire;

But when the fun breaks kindly forth, Those fainter flames expire.

Then blame me not for flighting now
What I did once adore;

O, do but this one change allow,
And I can change no more:
Fixt by your never-failing charms,
Till I with age decay,
Till languishing within your arms,
I figh my foul away.

SON G.

OH, conceal that charming creature From my wondering, wishing eyes!

Every motion, every feature

Does fome ravifh'd heart surprise;
But oh, I fighing, fighing, see
The happy Twain! the ne'er can be
Falfe to him, or kind to me.
Yet, if I could humbly show her,

Ah! how wretched I remain ;
'Tis not, fure, a thing below her,
Still to pity fo much pain.

The gods fome pleasure, pleasure take,
Happy as themselves to make
Those who fuffer for their fake.
Since your hand alone was given

To a wretch not worth your care;
Like fome angel fent from heaven,

Come, and raise me from despair.
Your heart I cannot, cannot mifs,
And I defire no other bliss;
Let all the world befides be his.

This rage within my veins

No reason can remove;

Of all the mind s most cruel pains,
The sharpeft, fure, is love.

Yet while I languish so,

And on thee vainly call;

Take heed, fair caufe of all my woe.
What fate may thee befall.
Ungrateful, cruel faults
Suit not thy gentle fex;
Hereafter, how will guilty thoughts
Thy tender confcience vex!

When welcome Death fhall bring
Relief to wretched me,

My foul enlarg'd, and once on wing,
In hafte will fly to thee.

When in thy lonely bed

My ghoft its moan fhall make,
With faddeft figns that I am dead,
And dead for thy dear fake;
Struck with that confcious blow,
1 hy very foul will start:
Pale as my fhadow thou wilt grow,
And cold as is thy heart.

Too late remorfe will then
Untimely pity fhow,

To him, who, of all mortal men,
Did moft thy value know.

Yet, with this broken heart,

I wish thou never be

Tormented with the thousandth part Of what I feel for thec.

ON APPREHENSION OF LOSING WHAT HE HAD NEWLY GAINED.

S

IN IMITATION OF OVID.

URE I of all men am the firft
That ever was by kindness curft,
Who must my only bliss bemoan,
And am by happiness undone.

Had I at distance only feen
That lovely face, I might have been
With the delightful object pleas d
But not with all this paffion feiz'd.

When afterwards fo near I came
As to be scorch'd in beauty's flame;
To so much softness, so much sense,
Reafon itself made no defence.

What pleafing thoughts poffefs'd my mind, When little favours thew'd you kind! And though, when coldnefs oft prevail'd, My heart would fink, and spirits fail'd, Yet willingly the yoke I bore, And all your chains as bracelets wore: At your lov'd feet all day would lie, Defiring, without knowing why; For, not yet bleft within your arms, Who could have thought of half your charms?

Charms of fuch a wondrous kind,

Words we cannot,

Yet I'll defy the worst of harms;

Such are your charms,

Tis worth a life to die within your arms.

must not find, A body worthy of your mind. Fancy could ne'er fo high refleЯ, Nor love itfelf fuch joys expect.

After fuch embraces past, Whofe memory will ever laft, Love is ftili reflecting back; All my foul is on a rack: To be in hell's fufficient curse, But to fall from heaven is worse. I liv'd in grief ere this I knew, But then I dwelt in darkness too. Of gains, alas! I could not boast; But little thought how much I lot. Now heart-devouring eagerness, And sharp impatience to poffefs; Now reftlefs cares, confuming fires, Anxious thoughts, and fierce defires, Tear my heart to that degree, For ever fix'd on only thee: Then all my comfort is, I fhall Live in thy arms, or not all.

THE RECONCILEMENT.

SONG.

NOME, let us now refolve at last To live in love and quiet; We'll tie the knot so very fast,

That Time fhall ne'er untie it.

The trueft joys they feldom prove,
Who free from quarrels live;
"Tis the most tender part of love,
Each other to forgive.

When least I seem'd concern'd, I took
No pleasure, nor no reft;
And when I feign'd an angry look,
Alas! I lov'd you best.

Own but the same to me, you'll find

How bleft will be our fate;

Oh, to be happy, to be kind,

Sure never is too late.

TO A COQUET BEAUTY.

FROM wars and plaque fl of charms,

ROM wars and plagues comes no fuch harms,

So much sweetnes in her face,
In her motions fuch a grace,
In her kind inviting eyes
Such a foft enchantment lies;
That we please ourselves too foon,
And are with empty hopes undone.
After all her softness, we

Are but flaves, while he is free;
Free, alas from all defire,
Except to fet the world on fire.

Thou, fair diffembler, doft but thus
Deceive thyself, as well as us.
Like a reftlefs monarch, thou
Wouldft rather force mankind to bow,
And venture round the world to roam,
Than govern pea eably at home.
But trust me, Celia, trust me, when
Apolio's felf infpires my pen,

One hour of love's delight outweighs
Whole years of univerfal praife;
And one adorer, kindly us'd,
Gives truer joys than crowds refus'd.
For what does youth and beauty serve?
Why more than all your fex deserve?
Why such soft alluring arts

To charm our eyes, and melt our hearts?
By our lofs you nothing gain:
Unless you love, you please in vain.

IKE children in a starry night, When I beheld thofe eyes before, d with wonder and delight, Infenfible of all their power.

I gaz

I play'd about the flame fo long,
At last i felt the scorching fire;
My hopes were weak, my paffion strong,
And I lay dying with defire.

By all the helps of human art,

I just recover'd so much sense,
As to avoid, with heavy heart,

The fair, but fatal, influence.
But, fince you fhine away defpair,
And now my fighs no longer fhun,
No Perfian in his zealous prayer

So much adores the rifing fun.
If once again my vows displease,
There never was fo loft a lover;
In love that languishing disease,
A fad relapfe we ne'er recover.