Then he despairing of her Heart,

Would fain have had his own.
Love answer'd, such a Nymph could part

With nothing she had won.

LIII.

The Prophet's Song: THey fung how God spoke out the World's vaft Ball;

From Nathing, and froni no where call'd forth all. No Nature yet, or Place for't to possess, But an unbottom'd Gulf of Emptiness. Full of Himself, th' Almighty fát, hisown. Palace, and without folitude alone. But he was Goodness whole, and all Things willid; Which e'er they were, his active woord fulfill'd; And their astonish'd Heads o'th? sudden rear'd, An unshap'd kind of Something first appear'd, Confessing its new Being, and undrest As if it stept in haste before the rest. Yet buried in this Matters darkfome Womb; Lay the rich Seeds of ev'ry thing to come. From hence the chearful Flame leapt up fo high; Close at its Heels the nimble Air did Hy; Dull Earth, with his own weight did downwards

(pierce, To the fixt Navel of the Universe, And was quite lost in Waters: Till God faid To the proud Sea, thrink in your insolent Head, See how the gaping Earth has made you place; That durst not murniur, but shrunk in a-pace. Since when his bounds are set, at which in vain He Foam, and Rages, and turns back again.

With richer stuff he bad Heav'ns Fabrick shine, And from him a quick Spring of Light Divine Swelld up the Sun, from whence his Cher'shing

(Flame, Fills the whole World, like Him from whom it came. He smooth'd the rough-cast Moon's imperfect Mold, And comb'd her Beamy Locks with Sacred Gold: Be thou, said he, Queen of the mournful Night, And as he spoke, th' arose clad o'er in Light, With thousand Stars attending on her Train; With her they rise, with her they set again. Then Herbs peep'd forth, new Trees admiring stood, And smelling Flom’rs painted the infant Wood. Then Flocks of Birds through the glad Air did fee, Joyful, and safe before Man's Luxury, Teaching their Maker in their untaught lays: Nay the mute Fish witness no less his praise; For those he made, and cloath'd with silver Scales, From Minoesą to those Living Inands, IV hales. Beats too were his command: what could he more! Yes, Man he could, the bond of all before; In him he all Things with strange order hurlid; In him, that full Abridgement of the World.

Cowley, David. l. I.

LIV;

WE allow'd you Beauty, and we did fubmit

To all the Tyrannies of it ;
Ah! Cruel Sex, will you depose us too in Wit?

Orinda does in that too reign,
Does Man behind her in proud Triumph draw,
Arid cancel great Apollo's Salick_Law.

We our old Title plead in vain,
Man may be Head, but Woman's now the Brain.

Verse was Love's Fire-Arnis heretofore,
In Beauties Camp it was not known.
Too many Arms besides that Conqu’ror bore :

'Twas the great Cannon we brought down.

To aflault a stubborn Town ; Orinda first did a bold Sally make,

Our strongest Quarter take,

And so successful prov'd, that she
Turn'd upon Love himself his own Artillery..

2.

Woman, as if the Body were their whole

Did that, and not the Soul
Transmit to their Posterity,
It in it fome time they conceiv'd,

The abortive iflue never liv'd.
It were frame and pity, Orinda, if you
A Spirit so rich, lo noble, and so high

Should unmanur'd, or barren lye..
* Mrs. Catharine Philipse

But

But thou industriously haft fow'd and tillid

The fair, and fruitful Field?
And 'tis a strange increase, that it does yield.

As when the happy Gods above
Meet altogether at a Feaft,

A secret Joy unspeakable does move
In their great Mother Cybele's contented Breast :

With no less Pleasure thou methinks should see
This thy no less inimortal Progeny.
And in their Birth thou no one touch do'st find
Of the ancient Curse to Woman kind,

Thou bring'st not forth with pain,
It neither Travail is, nor labour of the Brain,
So easily they from thee come,

And there is so much rooma
In the unexhausted and unfathom'd Wonib,

That like the Holland Countess thou may'st bear A Child for every Day of all the fertile Year.

3. Thou do'st my Wonder, would'st my Envy raise, If to be prais'd, I lov'd more then to praise

Where e're I see an excellence, I must admire to see thy well-knit Sense, Thy Numbers gentle, and thy Fancies high, Those as thy Forehead smooth, these sparkling as

(thine Eye. 'Tis folid, and 'tis manly all, Or rather 'tis Angelical,

For, as in Angels, we # Do in thy Verses see

Both improv'd Sexes eniinently meet: They are than Man more strong, and more than

(Woman sweet.

4. They talk of Nine, I know not who, Feniale Chimera's, that o're Poets reign,

I ne'r could find that fancy true,

Bu

But have invok'd them oft I'nı fure in vain :
They talk of Sappho, but alas, the shame!
III Manners foil the lustre of her Fame:
Orinda's inward Virtue is so bright,
That like a Lanthorn's fair inclosed Light,
It through the Paper shines, where she does write,
Honour

and Friendship, and the generous Scorn

Of things for which we were not born,
(Things that can only by a fond Disease,
Like that of Girls, our vicious Stomacks please)
Are the instructive Subjects of her Pen,

And as the Roman Victory
Taught our rude Land, Arts, and Civility,
At once the overcomes, enslaves, and betters Men

s. But Rome with all her Arts could ne'r inspire

A Female Breast with fuch a Fire, :

The warlike Amazonian Train,
Who in Elysium now do peaceful Reign,
And Wits mild Empire before Arms prefer,
Hope'twill be settled in their Sex by her.
Merlin, the Seer (and sure he would notly

In such a sacred Company)
Does Prophecies of learn'd Orinda show
Which he had darkly spoke so long ago,

Ev'n Boadicid's angry Ghost
Forgets her own Misfortune, and Disgracey

And to her injured Daughters now does boast, That Rome's o’recome at last, by a Wonian of her

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