COUNSEL. AH! what advice can I receive! For who would physic-potions give A little puff of breath, we find, Now whilst you speak, it moves me much, THE CURE. COME, doctor! use thy roughest art, There is no danger, if the pain Should me to a fever bring; Compared with heats I now sustain, A fever is is so cool a thing (Like drink which feverish men desire) That I should hope 'twould almost quench my fire. THE SEPARATION. Ask me not what my love shall do or be What after death the soul will do ; "Twill last, I'm sure, and that is all we know. The thing call'd soul will never stir nor move Not that love will fly away, my But still continue; as, they say, Sad troubled ghosts about their graves do stray. THE TREE. I CHOSE the flourishing'st tree in all the park, With freshest boughs and fairest head; I cut my love into his gentle bark, And in three days, behold! 'tis dead: My very written flames so violent be, They've burnt and wither'd up the tree. How should I live myself, whose heart is found With the large history of many a wound, With art as strange as Homer in the nut, Love in my heart has volumes put. What a few words from thy rich stock did take As a strong poison with one drop does make Love (I see now) a kind of witchcraft is, Pardon, ye birds and nymphs, who loved this shade; I thought her name would thee have happy made, And blessed omens hoped from thee: "Notes of my love, thrive here," said I, "and grow; And with ye let my love do so." Alas, poor youth! thy love will never thrive! Go, tie the dismal knot (why shouldst thou live?) HER UNBELIEF. 'Tis a strange kind of ignorance this in you! That you your victories should not spy, Victories gotten by your eye! That your bright beams, as those of comets do, Should kill, but not know how, nor who! That truly you my idol might appear, Whilst all the people smell and see The odorous flames I offer thee, Thou sitt'st, and dost not see, nor smell, nor hear, Thy constant, zealous worshipper. They see't too well who at my fires repine; Nor does the cause in thy face clearlier shine, Fair infidel! by what unjust decree I, by thy unbelief, am guiltless slain : And raise me from the dead again! Meanwhile my hopes may seem to be o'erthrown; But lovers' hopes are full of art, And thus dispute-That, since my heart, Though in thy breast, yet is not by thee known, Perhaps thou may'st not know thine own. THE GAZERS. COME, let's go on, where love and youth does call; Alas! how far more wealthy might I be To show such stores, and nothing grant, For love to die an infant's lesser ill, We 'ave both sat gazing only, hitherto, But the' armour at last improved; Beauty to man the greatest torture is, do too. Beyond the tyrannous pleasures of the eye; too serious a cruelty, It grows Unless it heal, as well as strike: I would not, salamander-like, In scorching heats always to live desire, Mark how the lusty sun salutes the spring, His loving beams unlock each maiden flower, The sun himself, although all eye he be, THE INCURABLE. I TRY'D if books would cure my love, but found I' apply'd receipts of business to my wound, |