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The Virgin.


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HE Things that make a Virgin please,

She that seeks, will find then there;
A Beauty not to Art in debt,

Rather Agreeable, than Gr
An Eye wherein at once do meet
The Beams of Kindness, and of W
An undissembl’d Innocence,
Apt not to give, nor take Offenc
A Conversation, at once free
From Pallion, and from Subtilty
A Face that's modest, yet ferene,
A fober, and yet lively Mien;
The Virtue which does her Adorn,
By Honour guarded, not by Scorn:
With such wise Lowlinefs indu’d,
As never can be mean, or rude ;
Whom prudent Negligence does enrich,
And times her Silence, and her Speech ;
Whofe equal Mind does always move,
Neither a Foe, nor Siave to Love
And whose Religion's strong and plain,
Not fuperftitious, nor prophane.

Mrs. Philips.





Irtue, dear Friend, needs no Defence,
No Arms, but its own Innocence ;

Quivers and Bows, and poison'd Darts,
Are only us'd by guilty Hearts.

An honest Mind, safely alone,
May travel thro the burning Zone,
Or thro the deepest Scythian Snows,
Or where the fam'd Hydafpes flows.

While (ruld by a resitless Fire)
Our Great Orinda I admire,
The hungry Wolves, that see me stray
Unarm'd and single, run away,

Set nie in the remotest place,
That ever Neptune did embrace,
When there her Image fills my Breast,
Helicon is not half so bleft.

Leave me upon fomie Lybian Plain,
So she my Fancy entertain,
And when the thirsty Monsters meet,
They'll all pay Homage to my Feet.

The Magick of Orinda's Name,
Not only can their Fierceness tame,
But if that mighty Word I once rehearse,
They seem submislively to roar in Verse.

Earl of Roscommon to Mrs Philips, cal'dOrinda in Imitation of Horace. Integer Vitæ, dc.Ode 22.lib.8.

III. The Story of Pboebus and Dapbne applied. THirsis, a Youth of the inspired Train,

Fair Sacharifa lov'd, but lov'd in vain:
Like Phoebus sung the no less am'rous Boy;
Like Daphne she, as lovely and as coy :
With Numbers he the Aying Nymph pursues,
With Numbers such as Phæbus self inight use.
Such is the Chace, when Love and Fårey leads,
O'er craggy Mountains, and thro How'ry Meade i
Invok'd to testify the Lover's Care,
Or form fome Image of his crusl Fair
Urg'd with his Fury like a wounded Deer,
O'er these he fled, and now approaching near,
Had reach'd the Nymph with his harmonious Lay,
Whom all his Charms cou'd not incline to stay;
Yet what he sung in his immortal Strain,

Tho unsuccessful, was not sung in vain ;
All but the Nymph, that shou'd redress his Wrong,
Attend his Passion, and approve his Song.
Like Phæbus thus, acquiring unfought Praise,
He catch'd at Love, and filli'd his Arms with Bays.

Mr. Waller

IV. On my Lady Isabella playing on the Lute. Such Uch moving Sounds, from such a careless Touch,

So unconcern'd herself, and we so much; What Art is this, that with so little Pains, Transports us thus, and o'er our Spirits reigns !


B 2

The trembling Strings about her Fingers crowd,
And tell their Joy for every Kiss aloud :
Small Force there needs to make them tremble fo,
Touchd by that Hand, who would not tremble too?
Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the Ear,
Empties his Quiver on the listning Deer ;
Mulick so softens and disarms the Mind,
That not an Arrow does Resistance find.
Thus the fair Tyrant celebrates the Prize,
And acts herself the Triumph of her Eyes.
So Nero once, with Harp in Hand, survey'd
His flaming Rome, and as it burnt, he play'd.



A Defcription of King Saul's two Daughters. SAi's Royal Houe two beaut’ous Daughters gracid,

Merab the first, Michal the younger narui'd, Both equally for different Glories fained. Merab with spacious Beauty fill'd the Sight, But too much Awe chastis'd the bold Delight. Like a calm Sea, which to th' enlarged View, Gives Pleasure, but gives Fear and Rev'rence too. Michal's tweet Looks clear and free Joys did move, And no less strong, tho much more gentle Love; Like virtuous Kings whom Men rejoice t'obey, Tyrants themselves less abfolute than they. Merab appear'd like some fair Princely Tower, Michal fome Virgin Queen's delicious Bower. All Beauties Stores in Little and in Great; But the contracted Beams fhoc fiercest Heat.




Of a Lady who writ in Praise of Mira. WH

HILE she pretends to make the Graces known,

Of matchless Mira, fhe reveals her own;
And when she wou'd another's Praise indite,
Is by her Glass instructed how to write.



Under a Lady's Picture. SUCH Helen was; and who can blame the Boy,

; That in fo bright a Flame confuni'd his Troy? But had like Virtue shin'd in that fair Greek, The ani'rous Shepherd had not dar'd to feek, Or hope for Pity, but with silent Moan, And better Fate, had perished alone.



To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing. CHloris, your self you fo excel,

When you vouchsafe to breath my Thought, That like a Spirit with this Spell Of my own Teaching I am caught. B 3


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