With due regard his voice I heard,
Then rofe, a ready lamp prepar'd,
And faw a naked boy below,
With wings, a quiver, and a bow;
In hafte I ran, unlock'd my gate,
Secure and thoughtlefs of my fate;
I fet the child an easy chair
Against the fire, and dry'd his hair;
Brought friendly cups of chearful wine,
And warm'd his little hands with mine.
All this did I with kind intent;
But he, on wanton mifchief bent,
Said, Dearest friend, this bow you see,
This pretty bow belongs to me:
Obferve, I pray, if all be right;
I fear the rain have spoil'd it quite.
He drew it then, and strait I found
Within my breaft a fecret wound.
This done, the rogue no longer ftaid,
But leapt away, and laughing faid,
"Kind Hoft, adieu! we now must part;
"Safe is my bow, but fick thy heart!"
PRAISING THE LADY HINCHINBROKE.
OF thy judicious Mufe's fenfe,
Young Hinchinbroke fo very proud is, That Sachariffa and Hortenfe
She looks, henceforth, upon as dowdies.
Yet fhe to one muft ftill fubmit,
To dear Mamma muft pay her duty,
She wonders, praifing Wilmot's wit,
Thou should't forget his daughter's beauty:
LYSANDER talks extremely well;
On any subject let him dwell,
His tropes and figures will content ye:
He should poffefs to all degrees
The art of talk; he practises
Full fourteen hours in four-and-twenty.
O good a Wife doth Liffy make, That from all company fhe flieth; Such virtuous courfes doth fhe take,
That she all evil tongues defieth; And, for her deareft Spouse's fake,
She with his Brethren only lieth.
PHILLIS, you boaft of perfect health in vain,
And laugh at thofe who of their ills complain :
That with a frequent fever Chloe burns,
And Stella's plumpness into dropfy turns!
O Phillis, while the patients are nineteen,
Little, alas! are their distempers seen.
But thou, for all thy feeming health, art ill,
Beyond thy lover's hopes, or Blackmore's fkill;
No lenitives can thy disease affuage,
I tell thee, 'tis incurable-'tis Age.
FORTUNE.
WHILST I in prifon or in court look down,
Nor beg thy favour, nor deferve thy frown,
In vain, malicious Fortune, haft thou try'd,
By taking from my ftate, to quell my pride:
Infulting girl! thy prefent rage abate;
And, would'st thou have me humbled, make me great.
LET others from the town retire,
And in the fields feek new delight;
My Phillis does fuch joys infpire,
No other objects pleafe my fight.
In her alone I find whate'er
Beauties a country landscape grace :
No shade fo lovely as her hair,
Nor plain fo fweet as in her face.
Lilies and rofes there combine,
More beauteous than in flowery field; Transparent is her skin fo fine,
To this each crystal stream must lead.
Her voice more fweet than warbling found,
Though fung by nightingale or lark;
Her eyes fuch luftre dart around,
Compar'd to them, the fun is dark.
Both light and vital heat they give;
Cherish'd by them, my love takes root;
From her kind looks does life receive,
Grows a fair plant, bears flowers and fruit.
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