Poems upon several occasions by Benj. Hawkshaw ...

POEMS UPON Several Occasions.

By Benj. Hawkshaw, Student in St. John's Colledge in Cambridge; sometime Student in Trinity Colledge in Dublin.

—Stulta est elementia, cum tot ubi que Vatibus occurras, perituroe parcere chartae. Juven. Sat. 1.

LONDON, Printed by J. Heptinstall, for Henry Dickenson, Bookseller in Cambridge, 1693.

To the Learned and Ingenious Doctour Willoughby Physician in Dublin. SIR,

GIve me leave to present you with a few Lines, as a Testimony of my Respects for those singular Favours and Encouragements which I have formerly receiv'd from your Hands: I need not tell you they are the Essays but of a very young Pen, a few By-thoughts in my Vacancies from other Studies, a Vein of Youthfulness and Immaturity runs through the whole Piece, which nothing but the Protection of so great a Patron can secure from the Reflections and Censure of the World. I was the more ambitious they should be laid at your Feet, being very well assur'd of your Goodness and Candour in pardoning the rash Attempts of Youth, and the Defects that attend all first Endeavours; besides, 'twere the highest Piece of Ingratitude not to pay the First-fruits to that Sun, under whose kind Influence they ripen'd, and came to that little growth you now see them in. I dare not, Sir, presume to attempt a Strain of Panegyrick, lest when I have done my utmost Endeavours, the World should condemn me for speaking too little on so Eminent a Subject, whose worth, that I may not too much embase by this Dedication, I desire rather from thence to borrow Lustre to my youthfull Performances, which at least their Devotion may recommend to your candid Acceptance on the behalf of

Your Obliged and Humble Servant, B. H.

On the hopefull Author of these Ingenious Poems. WHen sent from Heav'n a more than common Guest Takes up his dwelling in a mortal Breast; And when a Soul of large Dimensions comes T' inform the human flesh—compacted Rooms, The gladsome Fabrick full of Beauty shows, No common Splendour from the Windows flows: A sacred Brightness doth the Seat attend, And th'Inmate prosp'rous Omens do befriend. Quick Worth, Praecocious Vertue, Early Grace, And ripe Perfection doth the Soul embrace. Inspired Wit fills the capacious Mind, And forward Sense, to lofty Flights enclin'd, Prevents the tedious Discipline of Schools, The Loyt'ring Art of Paedagogick Rules. Thus Fated to high Facts Amphitryon's Son, As soon as born, a wondrous Conquest won; The Warlike Babe did two fierce Dragons tame; Too small an hansel for his mighty Fame. Go on young Hawkshaw, to the World be kind: And with the Early Products of thy Mind, Enrich and entertain us at one Time, Expressing Native Wit without a Crime. Nor doat on Fame: 'Tis seldom justly given, And is too small a Prize for Souls of Heav'n. Look up!—A due Reward will come from thence, For him, who decks his Wit with Innocence. Joshua Barnes. Emanuel Collegde, Cambridge.

To the Ingenious Mr. Hawkshaw on the Publication of his Poems. Pindarick. I. MEthinks this looks like an untoward Age, Too gross, or too censorious to engage; For faith some Poems unregarded lye, That with their Authors merit Immortality: Others worse done, yet are approv'd by all, Because the Subjects more agreeable. But, Damon, you have wisely taken care, Of Sense, and Mode, to mix an Equal share; And with assurance may address: Already certain of success: Your Book must needs delight, but cannot cloy, Having that great Preservative, Variety. II. When Cowley dy'd we fondly did conceive, The Loss so vastly Great, 'twas past retrieve; The Lover then condemn'd his Lute, To be for ever, ever Mute: For why the mighty Charmer gone, The only Pow'r could influence his Song: He'd lost the pretty Arts that please, A Virgins tender'st part, Those soft becoming words that seize, The most unwilling heart: Despair and Silence cramp'd his Breast, And damn'd him to a dull uneasie Rest. III. But Damon does his Character renew, In him his Flights, his soft Address we view; Lovers no more repine at Fate, Nor call their Mistress false, ingrate; Learn by his Verse to raise desire, But that as chast, as Vestal fire: For in the whole true Modesty appears, Not one lewd Notion to betray his years; Nor does his Mistress all the rest excell, What e'er he pleases to express In whatsoever dress, The Beauty's Parallell. IV. If Eighteen can produce So Gen'rous, so Divine a Muse, Think what advantages he has, Who starts where others end their race: If Youth his worth cannot conceal, What Wonders will his riper Years reveal? Advance, dear Damon, as thou hast begun, Eternal Musick dwell upon thy Tongue; Let no rude cares thy Breast alarm, Such as may Sorrow move, But keep it always gently warm With Poetry and Love. And when malicious Fate Denies thy Life a longer Date, The Change will not be great: For why? their whole performances above, Are nothing else but Harmony and Love. St. John's Colledge. George Smit •…

To my Ingenious Friend Mr. Hawk▪ shaw, on the Advance of th •… Poetry. WHen yet the World was young and N •… ture ne •… E'er many Days had sprung from early Dew; When Beauty dawn'd, and did first Mankind war •… And Love it self was But an Infant Charm: We boast our Art, co-eval with the Stars, The Birds first taught it to the wondring Spher •… This the first Essay, Man at last was taught, He adds a Soul, and dresses it in Thought. From thence 'twas handed down by rolling Years, Th' allay of Grief and Enemy to Cares; Homer the Ancient'st, freshest Lawrel wore, The first Refiner of the Noble Ore; Thence many Bards commenc'd, and had their Reign, From Latin Virgil to our English Ben. But when great Cowley did the Age allure, We fear'd a Zenith, and the Muse Mature; But, Sir, We see, 'tis you are born t'improve, The Pitch of Fancy, and th'Extent of Love. To you the Lover will his Altars rear, Thank you in Incense for his soft'ned Fair, And make you half his Adoration share. Methinks I see the stubborn Celia glow, And blush, and wonder, what you mean to do; She fears each Line, yet still reads on and sighs, She starts! and feels a coming Passion rise, And sparkles happy Omens from her Eyes. Smooth as the Stroaks of softest Titian thows Each Verse, when how Adonis look'd, he shows. With such a Style the Noble Ovid strove, To charm the Heiress of the World to Love. The Royal Beauty slights an Emp'rour's Frown, T' admit a Lawrel she contemns a Crown, And does a Poet before Monarchs own. With such soft Verse he won the mighty fair, From Rival Scepters Verse, the Prize does bear 'Twas great, nor could Augustus this exceed, Not Actium Conquest was a Nobler deed. H' enjoys the Princess, and from Rome retreats, And with a Muse like theirs he charms the ru •… ged Gat •… Trinity Colledge. H. Den •…

To the Ingenious Author, now of the Colledge in Dublin. WHilst thy dear native Soil with smiling Face, Puts forth her Arms to catch the first Embrace; •… nd thy gay Friends in joyfull Tumults throng, •… o hear the well known Accents of thy Tongue; We can't but smile, when we new Pleasures find, 〈◊〉 this fair Off-spring which you left behind. 〈◊〉 kindly brib'd by thy resistless Wit, We lose your Absence, and our Griefs forget. Strange! that such tender Years so toughly wear, So young your self, and yet so tall your Heir: If forward Nineteen such a Ripeness show, What Wonders will a well knit Thirty do? Such was lov'd Cowley's Voice, so young his Pen, When the fleet Youth assur'd a second Ben: Such Thoughts did Ovid's angry Stars defeat, Soft'ning the Malice of the Cold retreat. Such was your Force, so orderly it broke, When your Friend lov'd, or drooping Count •… spok •… Pale was her Cheek and doubtfull was her Look, When Wars rough Arms the nodding Island shoo •… Now the full Streams of Joy around her flow, Grac'd with their Charge, a welcome Peace a •… Yo •… Her wither'd Branches gladly sprout again, Pleas'd to behold her Sons: A darling Train, That guard her Beauty, and her Glory raise, They crown'd with Conquest, These adorn wi •… Ba •… John Norton.

ECLOGA. •… n Amici mei Carmina Amatoria. O Cerebri foetus diversi! ô aurea proles! O linguae Numeri dulces! nitidi que lepores! •… t Cantu vincit sylvam Philomela loquacem, •… esertam & Phaebo Noctem modulamine mulcet; •… ic victi Druidae dudum cessere Britanni, •… amoni nostro, Damon quo Carmine ludit! •… aud dubitant tenero laurum submittere vales •… amoni aetate primi praevertitur Ille •… ii! tamen & tardos longo prior Intervallo •… tevolat, dum pulchra ineunt certamina versu. •… le animi nobis luctus solatur acerbos, •… eve ullum attingit telum lethale dolorum, •… entire attoniti solum Damona videmur. Perge modo Musis ô ter dilecte Britannis, •… laude nec ô Damon rivos, bella horrida, bella Insidunt terris, latè tuba vivida Martis Intonat, & vastis clangoribus aethera complet; Tu verò cantu potuisti tollere Curas: Quod cecinit Damon tantâ dulcedine captos Nos tenet, ut Martis tuba jam non verberet aures, Felices solum Damona audire videmur. Perge modo, Musis ô ter dilecte Britannis, Quem mea Musa feret, semper donabere Versu. Damona agrestes pueri, innuptae que puellae Cantabunt. Thyrsis coget pecus omne sub umbra, Damona gracili longè resonabit avenâ. Narrabit sylvis teneros Amaryllis honores Amplecti Damona ardens flagrantibus ulnis. Incipient omnes Damona ambire puellae, Perge modo, Musis ô ter dilecte Britannis. Culp. Tanne •… St. John's Colledge.

ON K. CHARLES IId^'s. Restoration. A Pindarick Ode. I. THAT Star whose sable mantle hurl'd, Had muffl'd up in Clouds the Western world Is risen now, and like the Planet Jove, Having run out his hidden course above, Visits our Gloomy Sphere once more; But lo! what does this Herauld bring? It brings with safety home an Exil'd King: A King whom Heaven lov'd so well, Spar'd nor a Miracle To bring him to his Native Shore. II. For your Return all Nature seems to be In one conspiring Jubilee; 'Tis hard to know who's most content, The People, or the Firmament. The floating Castles on the Sea around, Dance to their own Trumpets sound; The Ships together with the Tide, Swell with an unusual pride, Whilst some unerring Angels hand Moves and directs them to the Promis'd Land. III. Fair Albian stretching out her Arms to thee, Implores thy Aid to cure her Leprosie: To Thee the drooping heads of State draw nigh, To bear them up as Atlas does the Sky. Famine, Sword, and Fire, The Great Triumvirate of Desolation, Did with United Force conspire, To Ruine and Destroy the Nation. But the good Influence of Charles his wane, Dispers'd those Mists, and prov'd their final bane. IV. Return then Charles, with all the Joy that's due To the Serenest Peace and You; The Gomet's gone which o'er our Kingdom stood, And drench'd its Face in Royal Blood; He that usurp'd your Crown is now no more, As low in Fortune's Wheel, as high before: The hungry Meteor shall no more feed On the most precious Oil of Stuart's Head, Who on the Wings of Martyrdom Sh'has flown, And in Exchange of this got an Immortal Crown. V. The Isthmus which your Foes have made throw And walk on Beds of Roses to your Crown, [down, •… ind Heav'n did this sweet Seat of Rest prepare, •… o ease your Sorrows, and unbend your Care. Since You are come Triumphant Exile home, Peace in her welcome Streams shall flow, •… nd kindly chear the British World below: No more the People shall deplore their Fate, But only grieve this came too late.

The Dream that Night Limerick was surrendred. ME thoughts I heard the charming Eccho say, Arise my Love, from hence, and come a-way; Tho' the Waves rowl, the mighty Tempest's done, And all's concluding with the setting Sun; I'm come to lead thee to thy Port agen, And place thee in the lost Jerusalem. At this my feeble Pulse with Joy beat high, To see my Ancient Paradise so nigh; Then straight I hois'd up sail, and bore away, As swift as Eagles when they find a Prey; Here I presum'd more solid Joys to find, But Thoughts convey'd me back, tho' 'gainst the [Wind.

On the Death of the Young Lady I. S. AND is she gone? Unkind and Cruel Fate! Thus to deny the best a longer date. Old Age does your regardless Hand disdain, Still begs to die, because't must live in pain: Too partial Fate! the Noblest first decay, And Youth the richest Spoil becomes your prey; Curse on those Stars that did her Life surprize, And drew the Curtains o'er her brighter Eyes, Before the wrought, what Nature did design, When at her Birth, Fate cry'd, the Work is mine. Her Course scarce finish'd, but she's snatch'd away, Yet so she finish'd, that she liv'd each day: Too great a Blessing, to last long, was giv'n, Green in the Bud, and yet full ripe for Heav'n. But to what height can I my Temper screw? To pay, what to thy Life, what to thy Death, is due. Grief clouds my sadder Mind, when it should be, As free as unconcern'd, as calm as she. So like a dying Swan she did expire, The God's sent for Her to make up their Quire.

On Dr. G. refreshing himself 〈◊〉 Morning in St. John's Walks. WHEN Phoebus did his gilded Arms display And shot the Phython with the Darts of Day, The Skies were frightned, and the People run To see the Conquest of the New-born Sun; Ev'n so the Cambridge Vapours at thy Sight, Clear up a-while, and change their grosser Light. The Charming Syrens of the Air combine, To elevate those nobler Thoughts of thine: From Noise, from Trouble, and from Business free •… Scorning the World, tho' it admires thee; Happier than Kings in this secure retreat, Free from those Troubles that attend the great; Here thy serenest Breast no Tumult finds, Calm as Elysium which is void of Winds. In such blest Solitude of Old as this, Jacob was honour'd with a Scene of bliss. The smiling Violet, and the Lawrel-Tree, Think it an Honour to be pluck'd by thee; For since from thee they Life and Vigour have, They don't repine thy Hand shou'd be their Grave. Thrice happy! For if Angels were to change their Bliss, They'd scorn a spangl'd Grown, but value this.

The Good-Fellow. I. LEt's drink and revel whilst we may, And wisely prop our nodding Fate; The eager Minutes fly away, And then alas! 'twill be too late. II. Egypt is fruitful still the more The Channel of their Nile runs high, But when she leaves the beaten shore, The Meadows seem to •… ine and die. III. Nature is constant still in this, The very Gods themselves wou'd think Their Life but an imperfect bliss, Had they not nobler Wine to drink. IV. The Indian Princes scarce are found But in their drunken Fits to play, Like their great God they still go round, And rise much fresher ev'ry day.

On a Friend who desir'd me to make a Copy of Verses on his Name. HAD I the Pencil of Vandike to grace Each killing Feature of thy lovely Face, The Piece should speak the Dictates of my Mind, To better Rules of Art, than now confin'd. But why should I wish for his Pencil here? Poets with Painters in this Office share. Thy very Looks whilst I gaze on controul All the Joint Pow'rs of my wav'ring Soul, Whilst you but smile and in your Chair sit still The Members disobey the Master's Will; For where such Clusters of Perfections sit, Each would suffice to raise the Ghost of Wit. Than this what can a better Topick be, To convince Atheists there's a Deity? Return my Muse and let thy Crystal Stream, Flow to the Fountain-head from whence it came; Stop not so soon, but with a Noble Grace Describe the Hero's Name as well as Face; Jove's Ganymed let down from Beams on high, To tell us, that the Poets did not lie; So graceful in Discourse, as that you'd swear He'd brought the Manners of the Angels here; So amorous, so gay, his Life does prove, You'd think him brought up in the School of Love▪ 'Twas never known at once that Nature meant To mould a Subject, and an Accident. Thy Name and Nature do so well agree, Thy Name another Nature seems to be, And as we read we make it out in thee. The Letters to the Humour's so well set, They show the brightest in the Alphabet. Names may be chang'd, and many often do, But to change thine's to change your Nature too▪ Thy Name and Nature constitute a Bliss, Nothing but Love sure had a hand in this; Thy Name by mortal Man was never giv'n, But in a New-years-gift was sent from Heav'n.

An Allusion to Claudian's Epigra •… on Archimedes's Sphere. WHen Jove beheld the vast aetherial Worl •… In the small Compass of a Machin •… hurl' •… He smil'd, then turning to the Gods, said he, The Apish World pretends to copy me; The Laws of Nature so exactly giv'n, As if that Man had travell'd once in Heav'n.

Against Knowledge. I. IF none but Fools which are in Errour blest, Can truly here be said to hope for rest; Why do I then pursue, and try To read the Volumes of Philosopy? I say they're gaudy Non-sence all, And do like Flowers in the Autumn fall; There is no Knowledge in this World below, For all we've read, we scarce our selves can know. II. The thoughtless Man is never wrack'd by Cares, Tho' the Storm rise he entertains no fears, On any thing he can take hold, He cares not for the sparkling Gold, He never does the Metal slight, So that his Caesar's Image be on it; Altho' the Bark's but small, the Bottom's sound, And tho' he sleeps, she'll never run aground. III. The Man that did to high rais'd Sence pretend, Confess'd that after all it had no End, So much deceiv'd, he did repine, So lavishly he'd spent his time, Vowing that nothing here below, Brought so much Sorrow, as this thing to know, But we, as foolish Gamesters use to do, Still know the Trick, yet still are cheated too. IV. The Stagirite who knew all Nature's Laws, Prov'd the first Martyr in this silly Cause; But thou my Soul, with what thou'st seen Sit down, ne'er go behind the Screen Of Nature, for the Cause of things, T' observe the Motions, and the hidden Springs: Aspire not too high; if you'll improve •… our Time, be sure to spend it all in Love.

Translated from the Italian Poet Sannazarius. WHen Neptune saw the Virgin Venice stand Fix'd in the Waves, and give the Sea command, •… ow, Jove, says he, shall Rome compare with this? •… ome which you brag's the Worlds Metropolis; •… ook first on this, proud Jove, then that of thine, •… hat built by Men, this built by hands Divine.

An Apology for Rome in Answer to that from Venice, translated from a Latin Copy. WHen Rome had brought the neighbouring Kingdoms down, And made the Empire of the World her own, The Sea to Tybur did Obedience pay, And Rome her self the Universe did sway: 'Tis scarce worth bragging to relate she stands Secure, first founded by Diviner hands; This rises to a Pitch more high, to say The Gods themselves durst not but Rome obey.

A Morning's Thought. I. WHY should I grovel here below? Mistake that hopeful Bliss to come? At shadows grasp, as Heathens do, And never think of future Doom? II. No, I will break this House of Clay, Which clogs my fleeter Thoughts and Mind, My Guardian Angel bids away, Where I Eternal Bliss may find. III. While like the Lark I upwards fly, And leave this cloudy Magick Sphere, A Weight of Joys I there descry, And Streams of Happiness appear. IV. •… riumphant in this State I'll be, Enjoy the Mansions of the Blest, •… ll gaze upon the Deity, The very inmost Point of Rest.

To Mr. J. C. sometime School-Master in Dublin. WIth how much Wisdom you correct o •… Crime •… Laying in •… ore against the future Time •… You pluck those Weeds which in our Garden gro •… Then Seeds of Virtue you begin to sow; What greater Gifts could be bestow'd and giv'n? At once you both oblige our Earth and Heav'n; You've Conquer'd all the Science that's below, You study now to make us Live and Know.

Melancholy. WHen all was silenc'd, and in Peace w •… la •… When ev'n Revenge some Rest did ent •… ta •… The God of Sleep did then my Soul surprize, And cover'd with a Veil my wearied Eyes, The happiest Minute of Repose to me, Which from this living Death could set me free. But when Apollo re-salutes our Sphere, •… riving his Chariot through the travell'd Air, My Pains that slept a-while, begin to rise And ev'ry Ray that's darted, wracks mine Eyes. •… he loathsome Light my active Globes consound, •… nd ev'ry rising Sun renews the Wound. •… he fetter'd Slaves the Light are glad to see, •… hich for a-while diverts their Misery, •… re then the World was made for all but me. •… y poignant Pains do on the Sun attend, •… o whatsoever Tropick he does bend, •… nd tho' my dismal Thoughts like Planets rove, •… et in one Vortex with the Sun they move, •… s Influence creates new Pains, new Woe, 〈◊〉 the Moon makes the Waters ebb and flow. •… t when Sol's Coursers do begin to cool •… eir flaming Nostrils in the Crystal Pool, •… y Flames abate and to the Waters run, •… at they with greater Vigour may return. Oh strange! how much dismay'd I am to see, A Chain of Miseries entail'd on me, That glorious Light which all the World does prize Doth cast a Cloud of Sorrow on my Eyes; The worst of Adam's Sons, the only Heir, Born to be tortur'd by the Weight of Care.

On a Bee. I. THou pretty sweet laborious Bee, That suck'st the blooming Flowers fair By intellectual Chymistry, And by thy Notes canst ease thy Care. II. Did but the whole World copy thee, And search the Secrets of thy Art, In thee 'twould find a Treasury, Beyond what Logick can impart. III. This stately Edifice of thine Where Nature and her Sweets do stand, 〈◊〉 so transcendent and divine, It speaks an over-ruling hand.

Pre-existence. COndemn'd in this dark Prison must I here, Watch till the Trumpet strike mine Ear? Must I ne'er know thy Goodness and thy Love, •… ecause I did transgress thy Will above? Must Clouds and Vapours still obscure my Mind? Must I to this dark Sphere be thus confin'd? •… o, no, I will launch out, and wing away, •… nto the Regions of a brighter Day. •… ome Glances of a State that's past I find, •… ake up the Corners of my thoughtful Mind, •… s cover'd Embers when they're blown, create 〈◊〉 Flame, and represent my former State. The Flashings of such Joy do strike so strong My Temples, that I can't endure it long, I must dissolve and in these Thoughts expire, And like the Prophet's Coach ascend in Fire.

The Enjoyment. I. WAter'd with Heav'ns Dew I sit and sing, Laughing at those who're over-whelm with Car •… Of bliss I have an inexhausted Spring, Which makes me young, as Age my Life impai •… II. I neither pine nor languish in my Rage, Tho' I have scarce one single Spot of Ground; Some with vast Lands drag on a sullen Age, And their proud Thoughts no Limits e'er h •… [fou •… III. That Pearl which Cleopatra swallow'd down, Crowding whole Kingdoms in one single [draught, Advanc'd not Anthony to the Roman Crown, But poyson-like Death and Destruction [wrought. IV. •… ho' they •… y prostrate on the Beds of Sence, Yet Stings like Vipers on their Bosom lay, •… hat suck'd out all which Nature did dispence, Till they consum'd and wasted quite away. V. •… iches like Spirits when we grasp, retreat, Pleasure's a Blossom of the glorious Morn, Throne's a gilded Trifle, Honours Seat, These are the Blessings which the World adorn. VI. •… t since these swift wing'd Creatures make away, And I from all the World no pleasure have, Since they play Tricks, I'll like a Wise-man say •… There's no Enjoyment found this side the Gra •… VII. The younger Brother's in a happy State Did he what Part he was to act but know; Sleep on my Stars for I can rule my Fate, And be a King if I'll but think it so.

On a Fly that was drown'd in a Lad •… Mouth. HOW durst thou leave thy little home, Presumptuously to dare thy doom? Or would'st thou revel in the Air? Half drunk with sipping Flowers fair, And seek out for a Place of Rest Until the Morn, to ease thy Breast; Was it thy Pride to mount so high? To perish bravely in the Sky? Or did'st thou think to rival all? To out-do Phaeton in his fall? 'Twas nobly done, and thou shalt be Talk'd of by Posterity: Thy fellow Creatures that survive may have Ignoble life, but thou a Noble grave.

On the River Cam. WIth what sweet Streams the River Cam does glide, And clasps his Daughter in on ev'ry side; Others perhaps by Traffick, Riches vent, But this brings Peace the sweetest Ornament: Some do advance the natural Strength of Towns, And are like Battlements to falling Crowns; Yet this does flourish in a glorious State, When they lie conquer'd by the Hand of Fate. •… n Winter you supply our Wants, and now Pay Tribute to the Muse's pleasure too. The Trees do flourish in such Order here, As they were plac'd by Orpheus's tuneful Lyre; And if the Sun his scorching Beams display, Here is a Refuge from the Heat of Day; Had Phoebus ever Cam's great Virtue known, He'd fix •… d his Muses in the Neighb'ring Town; Cam is the greatest Blessing in our Eyes, He makes us happy, and he makes us wise.

The Retirement. I. HAil ye dear Groves, and silent Plains, Void of loud Tumult, Care and Strife; Here let me leave the last Remains, The Burthen of a troubl'd Life. II. Lodg'd by the Murmurs of a Stream, Let my loose Thoughts be scar'd away, Bent on no idle wand'ring Theme, But to refine this House of Clay. III. Let Visions of Seraphick Light My soaring Fancy entertain, Rais'd to a much more noble Height, Of Pleasure from so blest a Scene. IV. Flush'd with the Prospect of that State, Let me despise the World's decoys, Those formal Idols of the great, And fix upon more solid joys.

On Musick. MOngst all the Blessings that on Life attend, 'Mongst all the Blessings that the Gods can send, No Joy, no Bliss, my sullen Heart can find, Musick alone inslames my drooping Mind; Nay, she would mount her Wings, and fly away, Not be confin'd to this dull Lump of Clay, Did not the Charms of Musick most divine Unite, and things so wide, so close combine. I wonder where's the Fountain of this bliss, If Heav'ns Joy be here on Earth, 'tis this. Nay, without this the very Gods would be As much dissatisfied with Life, as we. What complicated Wonders in thee shine! The God-head is by thee made more divine. Could the Gods secret Whispers reach mine Ear, When I at their Tribunal shou'd appear; My panting Breath with Musick shou'd keep tim •… And with her latest Breath I'd yield up mine; I fear I should dissolve for very Joy, For Bliss it self o'er-charg'd can Life destroy.

On the Preservation of the Library i •… Dublin-College. WHen all was buried in one common Fat •… And made a Victim to the Popish Stat •… Some kinder Angel there did Centry stand, And with his Sword did guard the Muses Land; Land which no Tribute to her Monarch pays, But that of Homage, Reverence and Praise. How oft did these destructive Men conspire, To set the Temples of the Gods on fire? But some preventing Wonder still came in, Which blasted the Design, but not the Sin. Often the Jesuits did their Lords address, They might obtain our Wits Metropolis; Another Party full as strong put in, And claim'd as theirs, our Learnings Magazin; But held by hands Divine, our Pantheon stood, And bravely rode between two Seas of Blood. The French as often strove to steer this Ark, Where all the Irish Science did Embark To their own Coast, but all they did in vain, Some Eastern Wind still drove her back again; And having now escap'd th' intended Doom, In pomp Sh' out-braves the Vatican of Rome.

Tu ne quaesieris, out of Hor. Paraphras'd. SEarch not how far wise Homer's Chain can go, Whose Motion rules the infant World below On this the Fabrick of the World depends, And when Jove speaks, our Life begins or ends. Pray use no Spells, nor on the Planets call To tell you when the hopeful Tree may fall; The Gods don't think it fit that Man shou'd look Into the Leaves of Fates mysterious Book; Be wise, I say, take off that Glass of Wine, The Sun perhaps again may never shine; Live whilst you may divest your Life of Sorrow, And trust not to the Fool's Put-off to Morrow.

The Meditation. I. WHen Reason with her Robes ascends the Throne, And wisely all my scatter'd Thoughts calls home▪ The Messenger is so divine, Unto her Laws I must resign, For should I let these Thoughts but rove They'd fix upon Tyrannick Love; They'd transcend all the Bounds of Air, And like a blazing Comet wou'd inflame my Sphere. II. The main Spring of my Passion's rais'd so high, I fear 'twill break, e'er 'twill-comply; Some pure aetherial Flame Must melt this haughty Frame; For should I like the Earths bold Son Aspire, the Gods would send me down; In this low Element I'd rather die, Than suffer shipwrack in the floating Sky. III. I know that Pride's the bane of things, And buries in the Earth the Crowns of Kings; The Angels fell by this, From that Eternal bliss. Babel by this was built so high, As 'twould the lofty Clouds outvy, And thought the Heavens to have scal'd, But with those Mountains poorly fail'd. IV. When Moses did the flaming Mount ascend, Diviner powers did his Frame defend; But if you should presume Too soon you'd find the doom; Those dreadful Flashings hinder thee, The Light of that Felicity, Since you the Threatnings which attend you, know, Come down, the Scene is more transparent here below V. Suppose I could command the Bridle of the Sun, And round this mighty Globe of Pleasure run; Suppose I'd Liberty to see What's written in the Leaves of Destiny; Or knew I when the Weights of Time, Would tumble, and this World decline; Yet after all, what would my purchase be, Should I be lost for ever in a sad Eternity? VI. •… arewel Ambition and your gaudy Train, I'll never climb to be thrown down again; What-ever Vanities may lay, As Nets of Pleasure in my way, Like Hannibal I'll tread them down, and cut through all: For since no Pleasure can be found In the most beauteous Spot of Ground, By humble Thoughts my Fate I'll prove, Which leads me as a Star to the blest Seats above.

On the Popish Conspiracy. OH dismal Scene! the Fiends and Furies now Are Doves in Treachery compar'd with you: What but the Spawn of Hell cou'd thus design, Our Worlds great Ruine with the Royal Line? Had not that Eye, and Heav'ns peculiar Care Brought forth to Light what cunning Jesuits dare, Had this prov'd well their Malice struck so high, They would endeavour to invade the Sky. The Poets dream'r, and 'twas a Dream, as old, The Northern World was still benumb'd with cold But to our cost we find, tho' there's small Sun, Yet Streams of Heat do through her Bowels run; Here do the Popes the Devils Chymists play, And blow the treach'rous Fire night and day, Which springs from pious Zeal which warms them so And yet keeps Commerce with the World below; Who'd think the Popes that sit in Peter's Chair, Should open Hell to send the Furies here? 'Twas to repay their Master's vast Arrears, Who serv'd their Interest for many Years; And bravely done, it shall through Age to come Stand sacred in the Lists of Hell and Rome.

On the Shortness of Man's Life. I. THE Lamp of Life decays each Minute more, The better Substance's so far gone, The Flames the outward Case feed on; Who then can our lost Oil restore? Time does and will on all things prey, •… o hungry that at last, 'twill eat it self away. II. •… ome matter still the blazing Sun supplies, And satisfies that greedy Flame, Tho' he still wasts he's still the same, Feeding on all th' adjacent Skies; But when Man's press'd below the Line, •… e never sees again his Native Clime. III. •… wift as the Wind his Life runs fleeting on, Hurried by the Bent of Tide, In Charon's Boat to th' other Side, Before he knows his Life is gone; So bad his Inn, so short his Age, He doubts if e'er he'd been upon the Stage. IV. 'Tis vain to boast with Pride, he's Fortunes heir, That strength and pow'r from her is giv' •… To bribe the Messengers of Heav'n, Seeing the fatal Day's so near: So with these Fools blind Fortune plays, And whilst she smiles, unravels all their days. V. He lives a Nestor's Age, who lives this Day, And with each setting Sun His Stage in doing well has run, And trifles not his Time away; The best the longest Livers prove, And he is best who spends it most in Love.

A Dialogue between Reason and the Inferior Powers. Reason. WHat Tumult's here within? what Storms are these? I fear they are my home-bread Enemies I scarce have leasure to bewail my Fate, Th' unruly Faction presses on the Gate: Was ever Monarch so disturb'd as I? My Thoughts so dark, I'm sure some Storm is nigh; What Rebel leads this stubborn Faction on, Guards, Guards, or else I'm lost and quite undone? Where's Man's Prerogative? his best defence, Alas, must truckle to the sway of sence; I'm like a Captive Monarch bound in Chains, I bear the Title, but the People reigns. •… ife. If you're unhappy, overcharg'd with Woe, Blame your own Choice, not us, that made you so; If you let loose to Pleasure and Delight, You rob your self of your undoubted Right; If you with Prudence would your Pow'r maintain, We should live happy, and you happy reign: But you dissolv'd, melting in Pleasures lie, And like the Phoenix in your Spices fry: On your account our State to Ruine goes, And sinks much faster than it ever rose. Reas. Alas! Suppose I have not govern'd well, Must you on that take Arms; and then rebel? Princes are not confin'd to Laws, not I For ev'ry thing I do shall tell you why; My Pow'r is from Jove's transcendent Throne, My Patent's good; I'll rule and act alone. Infe. See how the haughty Monarch swells with Pride Thinking all Power to his Crown's ally'd; Nay, we our selves, and our Commission too Derive our Power from Heav'n as well as you Tho' Monarch of the lesser World you be, Yet we are Brothers of that Family, And when the Elder's mad, or proves a Drone, 'Tis fit that we should step into his Throne. Reas. I'm now well satisfied why you complain, You think you're injur'd 'cause you cannot reign: You're only envious at the Crown I wear, You fain would revel in a higher Sphere: But I'm resolv'd I'll curb your Faction so, Like Joseph's Slaves hereafter you shall bow; And where so e'er my Man of War you see, Be sure you lowre your bending Flag to me.

Contentedness. I Thank the Gods that in a Sphere I move Secure, but subject to the Darts of Love; I soar not on those Heights where Envy reigns But with Humility I court the Plains. Must I complain the Stars prove cross to me, 'Cause I was born in such a low Degree? Must I expect a Tribute from the West, 'Cause Alexander conquer'd all the East? Methinks I see Sejanus in the Clouds, Throng'd for a-while by the adoring Crouds; Upon the waxen Wings of Fame he flies, And darkens with his Train the glorious Skies: Thus like a Vapour he ascends in pain, But like a condens'd Cloud falls down again; The great 'cause, Fortune's blind, her Pow'r despise, But in her Kingdom she has Argus Eyes.

The Call. I. PEace ye imperious Charms of Love, Peace ye sweet Syrens of the Air, Not all your melting Notes can move My fleeting Soul, or keep it here. II. Diviner Eccho's bid me go To the refreshing Fields of Light, Altho' the Air is gross below, Yet nothing shall retard my flight. III. Lo! now I mount, and as I rise, Successive Scenes of new Delight Prepare my weaker Mortal Eyes To gaze on the Eternal Light.

From the Italian Poets. The Birth-Day. BRing me Aurelius, bring me Wine, Roses about my Temples twine, Make me a shady Grove which may. Damp the too pow'rful Heat of Day; I hate a splendid House, a Noble Seat, These are the Trappings of the Great; Come let us sit along the Ground, And let the Glass go freely round: So when I've fairly drank my share, In slumbers I will drown my Care; Thus I'll carouse and banish Sorrow, Who knows if he shall live to Morrow? 'Tis wise to revel whilst we may, Since Youth and Beauty fly away.

The Indifferency. WHo's Emperour, who's Pope, I'm not concern'd, I care not how the Helm of State is turn'd; The Planet of my Days did ne'er design A Crown for me, then why should I repine? Nay, were we born insulting Monarchs all; For something more unto the Gods we'd call? Grant that they would our Vows compleat, and say, Chuse ev'ry Man and ask now when you may; On greater Terms these fickle Men would stand, No place can fill their Minds, but Jove's Right-hand. O Vanity so weak that mounts so high, That must as surely fall as you and I! The partial Sea wracks their poor Ships alone, They prosper scarce abroad, and scarce at home: For whilst on Pinacles of great Renown They sit, they're seen a-while, then tumble down, In building Monuments they spend their days, And then gape for, the Poet's Manna, praise. Methinks against the Gates of these I see Death coming on with her Artillery, Whilst the Fam'd Scipio walks in his own Fields, Improving by his Art, what Nature yields; So taken up with these, that 'tis in vain, To strive to hale him to his Crown again. Learn then my Soul, on Heav'n to fix your Eye, Resolve to live, as you resolve to die; Ask of the Gods what's meet, that you may have A quiet Cottage, and a silent Grave; Venture not far into the dangerous deep, But on the Land an Equal prospect keep; The Ship is weak and small wherein we sail, And at the Mercy of each conqu'ring Gale: The Umbrage of a Middle-state I'll prize, In peace I'll live, in peace I'll close my Eyes.

The Hermit. I. AWay from me ye fulsome Joys, away, Make to some outward World, I say, I'm cloy'd, I'll see your Face no more, You're Idols all, your Cheats I'll ne'er adore. II. I'm now so well acquainted with you all, I'll never listen to your Call; I'll like Ulysses stop mine Ears, And never hear the Syren's Charming Pray'rs. III. My eager Spirit longs to disengage Her Powers from this worldly Cage, I'll for no Heav'nly Convoy stay, But fly and hasten on the Wings of Day. IV. No blest Contentment can with-hold my Mind, Eden it self is less refin'd, Were all the Universe my Seat, 'Twould never please me, tho'it made me great. V. To some dark silent Vault I will repair, Black as these Thoughts and Sorrows are, Where Monarchs are in Peace laid down, Conquer'd by Burthens that attend a Crown. VI. Here Hell it self shall not my Soul molest, Nor fill with anxious Cares my Breast, From Noise and Trouble here I'll cease, And keep one Sabbath of Eternal peace.

On the King's landing at Harwich, after he had been expos'd to many Dangers in his Voyage to Holland. AS the glad Persians, so the Britains run To pay their Homage to the Rising-sun; While Streamers and the swelling Sails foretel, Our dread Augustus is both safe and well: See on the silver Billows how they ride, Having so great a Charge they swell with Pride, Hoping some Midwife land would come so near, To take their Lord, and ease their Pious fear. With what full Joy does the glad Court embrace The Kingdom's Glory, and the Nation's Peace? Our Lives, our Fortunes, at your Seat we throw, A Complement to some, a Debt to you. The sacred Wishes which we kept in store, Contribute nothing to your Welfare more; Loud in your Praise the well-throng'd People show, The Gods attend our Caesar here below. When first he to the welcome Shore repair'd, He bravely dar'd that Death which all else fear'd; And when the Tempest rose, there was no place For vulgar Paleness in a Kingly face: Dark was the Cov'ring which the Seas o'er-spread, The Stars his Lamps, the restless Waves his Bed; Tho' Nature shew'd the ugliest Face of Night, His very Looks supply'd the absent Light. Go on Auspicious Prince, thy Life will raise An Everlasting Monument of Praise, And where thy Standards shall in pomp display, Thy Enemies shall tremble, fear, obey: Peace, Happiness, and all the Gods can send, Shall on your Kingdom, and your Court attend; Your Counsel is from Jove's transcendent Throne, By which you rule, and conquer all alone.

On Dr. G. Reducing the Years to Terms, which were requisite for them who took their Bachelours Degree. Pindarick. I. BE gone dull lazy Fame, why dost thou stay? Exalt him on the Wings of day; Speak with as many Tongues, as there shall be Kingdoms or Nations to be taught by thee; Inform the World what's done, What Course is taken here at home, To stock the World with learned Men, Tell it them o'er and o'er agen. Here Solomon is born once more, Who shall our lost and sleeping Wit restore; And if a Proselyte shall from a-far, Point to the West, be thou his leading Star. II. Since the unhappy Fall A Curse has been entail'd on all, Like younger Brothers w'are oblig'd to share Th' Estate of Learning, tho' the whole's but small; But to our great Professor's Chair All Learning is ally'd, and claims the Throne, As a vast Species alone. Happy I am that I was born to see The Phoenix, sitting on his spicy Tree. Noah restor'd the delug'd World, Who suffer'd Shipwrack in their Houses, hurl'd By one common Fate, but Gower alone is he Who Paradise when lost, restor'd the Tree; The Tree of Knowledge mighty fair, As what's engrafted on, must surely bear. III. Before you came the Oracles were silent all, None ever by this way did call; Wit in Consumption was, and ev'ry Clown With Liberty cou'd wear a Scholar's Gown. A Souldier could enlist his Name, And fly to Wars from which he lately came, A Lure cou'd call them all away, 'Twas four Years space at last that Crown'd the day But you, Lycurgus, like do now restore Much more than what we ever lost before; You are our Athen's Prop, our Muses's Friend, A happier Gift the Gods could never send.

The Golden-Age. IN pious Times of Old, in Saturn's Reign, Wherein no Strife, no Envy, no Disdain, Defac'd the Colour of that Candid Throne, Where Innocence unrivald sat alone; Where no forc'd Laws were in his Kingdom found, Before Ambition did divide the Ground: Virtue did then her brightest Light bestow, And sway'd the Motions of this World below. But since she did her Face unkindly shrow'd Behind the Curtains of a sable Cloud: Then Envy sprung those Vipers which did prey, On Innocence and Virtue Night and Day: Then she gave Laws to all the World beside, Taught Avarice to flow with ev'ry Tide; Into the Bowels of their State, which then Debauch'd the wisest and the best of Men; The World in Sin grew older ev'ry Day, And upstart Lights new Converts did convey To unknown Lands, where as they came and spread, Vice did in Triumph shew her daring head: I long to see the Threads of Time full spun, Hoping the Golden-Age may then come on; But oh, 'tis vain to think 'twill e'er fall out, Till Plato's mighty Year shall wheel about.

The Recantation. I. I Now, good Sir, present my humble Muse, Clad in those Mournings which her self did chuse, The fittest Garment for so foul a Sin, Her treacherous Bosome once conceiv'd within; But tho' she Mourns, she thinks her Pennance due, And courts her Sentence if it comes from you. II. A speaking Sadness in her Looks she wears, And like a frantick Sybil writes in Tears; Whole Clouds of Grief around her Temples play, And damp the Fierceness of the rising Day; Like tortur'd Men upon the Wrack she stands, Begging a swift Reprieve from your kind Hands. III. Ah foolish Creature now thy Wit's betray'd, Th' unhappiest Sally that you ever made; How durst you strike at an Almighty's Throne, Hurl'd by some Evil Genius of your own? For the forc'd Praises of a Worthless she, To rob the Treasure of Divinity. IV. Had you been wise and coasted well the Shore, You might with Safety seen already o'er; But when you strive to shoot the Gulph, you find A Chain of Dangers wait and stay behind; 'Tis hard upon the floating Waves to stand, Unless supported by th' Almighty hand. V. I might have travell'd in this Sea of Pride, Had you not check'd the Waves, and stopp'd the Tide; By your wise Counsels I am warm'd within, Like Ordeal-fire they have purg'd my Sin; So when benighted Pilgrims lose their way, They bless the Star that ushers in the Day. VI. I know the Blackness of that ugly Piece, Struck much more high than ever Rome or Greece; I'll stand my Post, and never more submit To the vain Tyrannies of foolish Wit: And all that's lost I shall retrieve again; For when the Act of Folly's finish'd clean, What should the Poet do, but shift the Scene?

From Sannarius. On a Trojan Lady. STop whosoe'er thou art that passest by, Poor Maximilla in this Vault does lie; With her the Beauty of the World expires, Her amorous Passions, and her gentle Fires; The fatal Clotho did this Tomb prepare To ease her Troubles, and interr her Care: The Fates her Friends no Nuptial Favours gave, But the sad Cypress that attends the Grave; You see, my Friend, all's subject to decay, And you perhaps must the next Call obey: All the rare Beauties that invest the Ball, Must in their timely Autumn flag and fall; Here the Original of Sweetness lies, Her Body fades, her Virtue never dies; Lamented by the amorous Boy, Lamented by the Maids of Troy.

On the unhappy State of Ireland, by reason of the Civil War. Pindarick. I. UNhappy Kingdom how thou'rt toss'd about, Since the first Sailors found thee out! That Peace which did the World forsake, And thither did her private Voyage make, Hoping to build her Nest In Privacy and Rest, Is now disturb'd and doom'd to be Like wand'ring Cain, shut out of all Prosperity. II. How art thou chang'd unhappy Isle! Now all thy Tenants are become Exile; In Plagues more fruitful than the River Nile: Surely Another Aaron's Rod, Mov'd by the Anger of a Hebrew God; Threatens the Kingdom's Fate, at whose Command Obedient Evils over-flow the Land. III. The Riches of the World beside Of old flow'd in to thee with ev'ry Tide, As high as Egypt's Pyramids in Pride: Learning and Force did thee compose As Soul, and Body us; But yet thy Noble and Majestick State, Made thee an easier Prey for Fate, I fear too soon thy Ruine, and thy Rise too late. IV. Thou like an Empty hulk at Sea, Void of a Pilot doest the Winds obey, Thy valued Lading thrown away: Pitied by thy Neighbours all, Thou floatest and wandrest on the watry Ball; Sad as the Place where Vulcan fell, Doom'd only by the Gods to make a Hell. V. But since thou'rt sunk so low into the Main, May Phoebus raise his Delos once again: May all the Pow'rs above, Make thee once more the Isle of Love: May no Egyptian Darkness rear Her sooty Wings to cloud this Air; May all thy Cares and Storms dissolve away, And rise thou bright and happy ev'ry Day.

Discontent. THE twinkling Stars that gild the Night, And chequer Blackness with their Light, Are in their State more blest than I: They can revel in their Sphere, And in their Rounds take pleasure there, Whilst here I pine and die. The Jolly Sun at ev'ry stage, With Liquor does his Thirst asswage, And in his State's more blest than I: Alike he rises ev'ry Day; Buxome, pleasant, fresh, and gay, Whilst here I pine and die. Fair Cynthia never goes to bed Without Endymion at her Head, And in her State's more blest than I: Fresh with the Joys of Love, She re-salutes the Stars above, Whilst here I pine and die.

The Consolation. PIne not too much, my Soul, nor mourn, 'Cause in this World you're left alone; Hereafter you will have, A much more noble Prize than they, Who only on their Pleasures prey, A Crown the other side the Grave. The vain Desire to be great, Is real hunger, but delusive Meat; They never stand to see The Precipice that's coming on, Till they are lost and quite undone, And bury'd in Eternity. These common and vexatious Cares, Which trouble and enlarge our Fears, Can ne'er the good annoy; For should that sink into the Main, There's one can buoy thee up again, And crown thee with Eternal joy.

On the Death of the most Renown' •… Pierce Brackenbury Doctour 〈◊〉 Physick, and Senior Fellow of S •… John's. Pindarick. I. AS Persians when their Monarch dies, Provide no cheap Solemnities; On Piles as Noble as his old abode, The Embalm'd Body of the Prince is laid, Convey'd in spicy Atoms to the Skies, And there ador'd like the great Sun their God; So we, great Soul, dare not prophane, With common Elegies thy sacred Name; In such high Strains we ought to sing, As Cowley did the Glories of the Hebrew King; Strains which the Muses owe, For all the good you 'mparted here below, A Tribute which is due, Since we receiv'd our second Birth from you, Our Athen's Healer and Instructor too. II. Pale envious Death could you not spare a-while, The Aesculapius of the British Isle? But she was Conscious, if You'd liv'd much more, You'd bauk'd her Appetite in ev'ry Prey, Which she expected to have snatch'd before, (Growing much wiser ev'ry Day;) So well acquainted with our State below, I dare not say you have Addition now: Nor was your Care and Labour less, You did your utmost Skill engage To prop the ruines of decaying Age. Had you in former Times been known, When Gods did frequently come down To visit, and to talk with Men, On ev'ry Altar you had seen, Which the more Zealous People raise, Continual Vows and Offerings of Praise. III. Methinks I see the Angels bear Thy Soul a-long the liquid Air, Whither St. Luke, and all the Rings Of Seraphins in Robes of Light appear, Rejoycing you at last are come Unto your blessed Ancient home: And if Physicians cannot bear the Load Of Flesh, but struggle still to get away From the Confinement of this Cage of Clay, Why should this Place be our Abode? Can we not borrow Wings From Virtue? Aiming at things above, Where we shall feed on Angel's Manna, Love; Surely the Place is fine, since he, Tho' he could cure his own Defect, Yet out of cold Respect To Earthly joys, forsakes the Realms of our Mortality

On the Earl of Danby's couragious Enterprise at La-Hogue, who set the French Ships on fire. REturn with all the Triumph that is due, Great Sir, to the most welcome Peace and You: Not young Augustus with more manly Rage, The numerous Fleet at Actium did engage; Than you the French, who proudly, tho' in vain, Claim'd the Dominion o'er the British Main: But when the most illustrious Danby came, (His Canon less commanding than his Name) Darting his awful Pow'rs, they soon gave way, And shrunk like Spirits at the sight of Day: So when great Jove of old resolv'd to quell Earth's stubborn Sons, that vainly did rebel; Himself engag'd in a more Tragick Play, Calls for Alcides to decide the Fray: They might have been destroy'd e'er this, 'tis true, But the kind Fates reserv'd that Work for you, England's Mecenas, and Agrippa too. We read the Fam'd Achilles ne're would go But arm'd with Vulcan's Shield to meet his Foe; Whilst your more noble Soul scorn'd all Defence, But that of Virtue and of Innocence; Scarce had our Cannons-mouths begun to roar, But the Pale French steer to the Gallick shore; And the brave English Courage led by you, Eager as Falcons to the Quarry flew; Where in Confusion the throng'd People stood, Your Men still pressing on, and you the leadin •… God And in compassion to those Men that fell, Gave them bright Tapers in their way to Hell; Here mighty Heaps of vulgar Souls did stand, Waiting to perish by so brave a hand; But you retir'd when the great Work was done, Whose brighter Flames eclips'd the gazing Sun; Let the fam'd Caesar and his Romans be •… t Dwarfs in Courage, when compar'd to Thee; •… o less a Hero could their Fury tame, •… ewis himself trembles to hear your Name: •… ow we despise the worst Assaults of Fate, •… ou guard the Sea, Carmarthen guards the State; •… illiam rides conquerour o'er the vanquish'd Ball, •… nd Mary's pow'rful Charms subdue us all.

The Consummation. HEav'ns King drives hard, the Writs are seal'd By Mercury to call a Parliament, [and sent •… h' officious Angels post away, •… nd at their sight the tow'ring Clouds give way; The Patent's pass'd the Seals, Great Jove will have One common Coffin, and one common Grave. Their Looks speak Terrour, and their dreaded Hands, 〈◊〉 Triumph bear their Master's great Commands: Thus whilst they speak, the World is at an end, And mighty Thundrings do the Scene attend: The fatal Clock has struck, and sounds all o'er, Time shall reverse its Wheels, and be no more; The Elements shall jarr, the Stars shall fall Upon the Surface of this Earthly Ball; The sweaty Clouds shall to the Center shake, And afterwards one blazing Comet make; Phoebus shall of his rigid Fate complain, And ne'er shall number out one Stage agen; But when he sees this World inflam'd he'll run, And grasp the Bridle of this Earthly Sun. The End of the First Part.

Love-Verses, SONGS AND TRANSLATIONS, By the same Hand.

The Second Part.

Ad mea formosoe vultus adhibete Puellae Carmina, purpureus quoe mihi diceat Amor. Ovid. Lib. Amor 2. Eclog. 1.

Destin'd to Love. I. PErhaps I shall be censur'd by the Wise, For feeding thus mine Eyes; Alas, 'tis Fate, I must adore, Each time I gaze on her much more, and more; From her bright Looks arise, Effluviums so well refin'd, As can almost restore the Man that's blind. II. For ought I know these Wise Men cannot see, The Happiness which we Hourly enjoy, they look a-seue, Scarcely discerning what is false from true: But what is this to me? I know that had I Argus's Eyes To view so bless'd a sight, they'd scarce suffice. III. Oh, could I love enough, I'd split each Vein, Till Nature fill'd 'em up again: Those do the greatest Monsters prove Of all Mankind, who are but Dwarfs in Love; All other things are frail, and vain, But Love is in it self compleat, Love in excess can make us wise and great. IV. Nor all th' Endeavours of a well stor'd Brain, Can ever break Lov's Chain; I sooner could reverse my Fate, And by what Thread my Soul is joyn'd relate, Than never love again; This is the Star that rules my Days, This is the Dove which brings my morning Bays.

A SONG. I. COrinna keep those Globes of Light, Within their proper Sphere; Reserve those brighter Stars for Night, What bus'ness have they here? II. The Gods did never yet design, Two Lights should rule the Day; Draw then the Curtains over thine, And when Night comes, then sport and play. III. When-ever I shall reel with Wine, And scarce can find my Way; Be sure Corinna then you shine, And turn my Night to Day. IV. But if I'm gone, and scarce can stand, Bind thou my roving Head; Embrace me with thy softer Hand, And lay me safe in Bed.

The Management. I. EAch Day I've liv'd, I've spent it all in Love, Each Day I've liv'd, I've courted three or four▪ Before one Foot into the Grave I move, I hope to love at least Five Hundred more. II. Extreams in other things I can't endure, I hate to go beyond wise Nature's Laws; But no Man can in Love be Epicure, I'm sure in this the World will plead my Cause III. Some travel round the mighty Globe in vain, Change their Religion with their Native Climes, Flush'd and encourag'd with the Hopes of Gain, They dive in Waters, and they dig in Mines. IV. But some Misfortunes still these Men o'er-take, Before they touch upon their Native Lands; Their well fraught Ships does either spring a leak, Or else they fall into the Pirate's Hands. V. •… ll spend my Time in Love as I begnn, What tho' my Mistriss never shou'd prove true? Yet still so ill a Race I cannot run, These lost their Labour, and their Riches too.

The Farewell. I. AND shall I bid adieu, My Dear, to you? Shall these full Streams which from our Fountains flow, For ever in divided Channels go? No, no, I hope at last they'll be, United in the Ocean of Eternity. II. Ah my bless'd Star said I, Where doest thou fly? When e'er the happy Fates shall seal my Doom, And call me to my blessed Ancient Home; I will be sure to ask for thee, Of those bless'd Guards that come to convoy me. III. Now thou art rock'd asleep, 'Tis vain to weep; It is no matter who must go before, We all at last shall reach th' expected Shore; But some perhaps this side the Grave, May not as you so calm a Voyage have.

Love Stifl'd. I. THese seven long Years with all my Skill, I've strove to hide my growing ill; The Magick Cures of Love I've often try'd, And healing Plaisters to my Wounds apply'd; For should these Flames break out, they may All my Designs to her betray. II. Should I inform her that I love, Perhaps it might my Ruine prove; 'Tis better like Aeneas first to shroud, Love's glorious Visage in a Cloud; And then with open Arms to run, As Phaeton embrac'd the Sun. III. But when the Gods for me shall call, Without request I'll tell her all; As some mistaken Zealots when they die, Reveal to Priests all their Impiety: But if she dart one pleasant Beam, I shall be vigorous again.

Her Nakedness. I. HAD I Briarius Hands, and Argus Eyes To view the Noon-day Sun, they'd scarc •… suffice Convey her hence, excessive Light does cloy, I'm over-whelm'd in these deep Floods of Joy: She than the Woody Queen more stately walks, And bigger than the Heav'nly Goddess talks; So glorious her Body seems to be, The very Shade it casts, enlightens me. II. Love in those twinkling Spheres does sit and play Sweet Kisses on her Lips for ever stray; Amongst the sweet Meanders of her Hair •… ove walks, and keeps his Living dwelling there; •… bout her Neck the God of Love does twine, •… oft as Embraces of the curling Vine; Here Cupid in his Mothers Arms lies down, And Envies not the Prince that wears the Crown. III. Bless me what snowy Arms she has, as fair, As beautiful as Wings on Angels are; O that these spreading Branches I could see, Unto Eternal Ages clasping me; On those soft pliant Globes I fain would lie, Not only sleep, but with Content I'd die: Two Noble Worlds I'd boast my Love had won, And laugh at him who thought there was but One.

Translated from the Italian Poets. To Celia. WIth so much Passion Celia I adore, No Youth can love a beauteous Mistress more; And I believe my Celia loves me too, As Virgins their Admirers use to do; When-e'er I saw her dart her Eyes around, As if too willing to impart a Wound; The Minute I improv'd, and prest it home, That she'd be mine for all the Years to come: At this she blush'd, and as she gaz'd, said she, Can I resist those Charms that spring from thee? No, no, and as thus spoke the trembling fair, Twisting the Locks of her divided Hair, Mixt with the Charms of Gold; her Eyes convey'd, Tokens as great as those her Hands had made: Accept, said she, this sacred Pledge of mine, To you, I with it, do my Soul resign. Take it, and try if it has pow'r to tame, Th'unruly Flushings of a Lover's flame: Alas, cry'd I, what have you, Celia, done? As well might Mortals their Meridian Sun Look in the Face, and scorn the baffl'd Ray, As this drive Fire from my Heart away. How can my Weakness bear the Hot Extreams? Fire's ill apply'd to quench my living Flames: Let these unhappy Spells be doom'd to Fire More hot, than ever was my fond Desire; On them let the corroding Burnings prey, For they have even eat my Soul away: But Celia, let the living Looks of Hair, Thrive as sweet Roses in a Southern Air; And be not angry that I've burnt your Hair, Tho' I dread Burnings, I adore the Fair.

The Disappointment. I. WHen I arriv'd at my long Journeys end, Some waiting Joys, said I, my Toils at tend▪ Whose gentle Hands my wearied Eyes might close▪ Soften my Troubles, and my Cares compose. II. But I perceiv'd when to the Goal I came, My Queen was fled with all her glorious Train; I fear I cannot over-take her more Than this Night can the Night that went before. III. In vain I strive to drive the Wheel so fast, She leads the Van, and I must still be last; And tho' in the same Wheel we're both turn'd round, Alas, she always keeps the foremost Ground. IV. Like the fixt Stars we move about the Frame Of Nature, yet the Distance's still the same; For whilst the one does mount the Eastern Sky, The other in the Western part must ly. V. The wandring Planets of the middle Air, Do sometimes meet, and in Conjunction are; But our two Spheres will never 'gree, Unless united by a Sympathy.

My Wish. WHat grateful Pleasures fill my rising Veins? What Agonies of Bliss my Soul contains? Where shall I fly to snatch some sacred Fire, T' allay the Fury of my warm Desire? I see that wish'd for Star in whose bright Rays, Fain would I bask, and wanton out my Days; As deep as Hannibal, I swear I'm he Who'll never make a peace in love with thee: But if I might my pleasing Thoughts reveal, Like wanton Jove into thy Lap I'd steal; On thy Transporting pleasures I would ly, And in those Raptures the whole World outvy; Life's a dull sottish thing if this be took away, Let me die ev'ry Night, as I live ev'ry Day.

All for Love. I. I Frown not at the Planet of my Days, That she can't still these troubled Seas; I don't repine, because I know, The Gods that rule the Waves will have it so. II. Why should I rail at the Almighty Pow'rs, 'Cause they won't send me golden Show'rs; I'm not as wretched Midas bold, To wish that all I touch may turn to Gold. III. I blame not Nature for her scanty Frame, I can't, with Alexander, hunt for Fame, A smaller Point will make me blest, Give me Love's Kingdom, and take all the rest.

Translated from the Italian Poets. Corinna and Celia. COrinna frowns, but Celia's kind and gay, One looks like Night, the other looks like Day; Time's Lesser Messengers they seem to be, One rises still, the other sets with me.

My DREAM, sent in a Letter to a Friend. AS on my Bed last Night I pensive lay, Wearing in Thoughts the tedious Night away, I dream'd the Image of the Saint we know Presented its fair self to me and you; Deckt in that Ev'ning Dress which Virgins prize, To satisfie and please their Lovers Eyes. About her Lips ambrosial Sweets did flow, And as we reap'd successive Joys did grow: At last methoughts she did her Rays display, And Drove the Horror of the Night away; The Bed around reflected Light just so As when the naked Winter's cloath'd with Snow; What follow'd did our Pleasures most inhance, We lodg'd a while in Extasie and Trance: So mimick Fancy then with me did play, What the Night gave, the Day now takes away.

A SONG. I. LET the ambitious Courtier be Promoted to the Helm of State; That Pill can ne're go down with me, 'Tis real slav'ry to be great. II. Let Kings puissant Armies raise, And speak like mighty Sons of Jove, Whilst I improve and spend my Days In the soft quiet Hours of Love. III. Let me have Venus and the Bays, These only are my chief Delights; The one can give me happier Days, The other yields me softer Nights.

On a Lady who always carried a Looking-Glass with her. WHat Incantations, and what wanton Spels About my conquering Gloriana dwells! So beauteous, so kind, so wond'rous fair, She with the Queen of Heav'n may compare, And this she knows so well, herself's dismay'd To see the God-like Part so well display'd. With every Feature so much pleas'd and charm'd And with her own inflaming Beauty warm'd, She falls in Love with her own taking Frame, And doats and feeds upon her amorous Flame. Had she an Emblem of Narcissus Fate Before her Eyes, her Pride would soon abate; He to the crystal Fountain often went, At last himself down to the bottom sent. No more about thee that false Mimick bear, Lest it reduce thy Beauty to despair; For should the Glass's Pow'r once fade, and shew A Form less wounding than we thine do know, The Traytor then against the Ground you'd fling, Who from your Face no truer News could bring: Then only in my Eyes your Beauty view, For there yourself you'd find, and please me too.

The VISION. I. I Dream'd, and lo, the lovliest Sight That ever pensive Thought could frame, Did in ethereal Robes of Light My mimick Fancy entertain. II. Me thought she swept the flowry Plains, Clad in a Garb of luscious Charms, My eager Soul, t'allay her Pains, Hug'd the Idea in her Arms. III. Lodg'd in the noblest Trance of Bliss, Possest of all her Joys I lay, I said there was no Heav'n but this, Could I enjoy it ev'ry Day. IV. But when th' exalted Pow'rs of Love Began to flag their Wings and die, A cheating Vision it did prove, Which I before thought Extasie. V. Strange we no solid Joys can find, Except in Dreams our Fancies rove, We still must wink and still be blind, To 'wake unto the Joys of Love.

The Incurable. I. TO what fair Doctress in the World shall I With Courtiers soothing Arts my self apply, To get for wounded Love a Remedy? II. I bleed, and all the Sluces of my Soul Cannot the Deluge of my Blood controul, I wallow'd in my Gore, and in the Torrent rowle. III. I'm too far gone, consumptive like I pine, I've made my Will, and now my Life resign, But not to her who did my Death design. IV. It works like lingring Poyson in the Womb, And each Day brings me nearer to my Tomb, My Magazin's consum'd by this unlucky Bomb. V. Medea now, nor all the Gods above, Can sift the Poyson that is mixt with Love, Death the best Remedy at last must prove. VI. If ever I expect a longer Date Of Life, I must reverse my rigid Fate, And, like a God, another Frame create.

On a Lady who slighted my Love. SO when all's calm, and no Clouds blind the Day, The Pilot hoises Sail and puts to Sea; But when he's gone, and lost the Sight of Shore, The Winds rise high and he is seen no more. I thought such sweetness in a Face, like thine, Would like the fixt Stars Splendor, ever shine; Such beauteous Order in thy Face was found, 'Twas that first drew me to the Fairy Ground, In that fair Spring I thought to quench my Fire, Fev'rish I came, more fev'rish I retire. Those former Wounds which I receiv'd from you At your Disdain gush out and bleed anew: The Arrows of your Love stick fast in me, You shot them in, and you must make me free: I've got within the Circle of your Heart, Th'enchantment must be broke e're I depart. From Love's destructive Brink I will retire, The Child once burnt still wisely dreads the fire. To what shall I this wicked Love compare? Mistress of endless Sorrow and despair; But justly I my ill laid Plots may blame, With too much fierceness I pursu'd the Game: Had I hood wink'd this metl'd Love of mine, E're now I'd seen the trembling Dove resign; But Love is like the Cockatrice's Eyes, If it first strikes it kills, if struck it dies.

A SONG. I. HAD the too tender Gods first made Men's Hearts as hard as Steel, Their Weakness ne're had been betraid By ev'ry stroak they feel. II. Scattered by Cupid's Darts we lye, And yet still call for more, Happier we ev'ry minute dye Than e're we liv'd before. III. Surely the generous Gods above Have Hearts as well as we, Nay they must passionately love, If we in Form agree. IV. But they alas more Pleasures find, Fixt to no World they rove, Whilst we are here to one confin'd, They pick and chuse their Love.

The Despair. I. ENtangled in my Thoughts, I laid me down, And dream'd I saw the Furies frown, Envy me thoughts advanc'd near me, The worst of all that Company, Me thoughts a knotted Whip she bore, Her Hands were stain'd with Streams of Human Gore. II. Her Threats like Peals of Thunder shook my room The Heralds of my dismal Doom, So black the Air, so dark the Sky, I thought the utmost Day was nigh, So heavy Nature seem'd to be, I dream'd the Fields and Floods did copy me. III. My Sighs, like Elegies of sad Despair, Were always eccho'd through the Air; The Waters that were rock'd asleep, For my hard Fate began to weep; The Friendly Birds o're-heard me cry, Ah wretched, wretched Youth am I! IV. Thus strangl'd in my Mind, I lay as dead, And wondred where my Soul was fled; But when the Frenzy went away, Which did about my Temples play, I paus'd a little while, and then I found my Soul returning home again. V. Ah fleeting Fool! said I, could you not be Pleas'd with the Charms of Liberty? When you were freed from this dull Cage, The Stings of Youth, the Dregs of Age, Why came you back to me again? The Slave deserves much Stripes who loves his Pain.

Her Influence. I. I Vow that thou alone art she, Who can revive the Sparks of Love in me; They in the inward Chambers of my Soul Lurkt for a while, till the reviving Beams, Did, like the Moon, my toyling Blood controul, And made it rise in higher Streams, To drown thee all in Poetry. II. That Star that carries Time within his Arms, And with its Morning Blush the World alarms, Strikes not so deep; when you begin to shine My World receives new Light from thine, And like a Planet moves about her Sphere; 'Twould fain, but yet durst not be medling there •… Lest, through the bold Assaults of Love, We both one blazing Comet prove. III. Oh let me ev'ry Day Some beauteous Object find, Who in a pleasing fit may say, Write on and I'll be kind; The Charms of Beauty so effectual prove, My Lines with her would sympathize in Love: So the great Sun that visits all, That sees and pierces through this earthly Ball, Unsullied with the Stage he run, With Peace does in the Waters lay him down, So pleas'd with that which Nature did display, He runs the same Stage over ev'ry Day.

Translated from the Italian Poets. ODE XXIV. To Marullus, who having forsaken his Studies, takes up with his Mistress Corinda. I. FArewel Apollo, and your sacred Train, Since I have tasted of the Sweets of Love, I'll never see your Face again. II. To None but Venus I'll Obedience pay, Who from a feeling Sense of my hard Fate accepted me the other Day. III. 〈◊〉 vain you tell the Joys that Learning yields, •… ne Glance of her's transports me more than all Pieria's flowry Fields. IV. Before my Spirits and my Warmth decay Some Hours with her I fain would spend, and with the pretty Graces play. V. Do you, Marullus, to your Prince's Praise (Big with infusion of Apollo's Fire) some Panegyrick Altars raise; VI. Whilst I in softer Numbers shall declare What pow'rful Spells I've us'd to gain Corinda most divinely fair.

Her Presence. I. THe Gods of old, which to our mortal View Came down, and stay'd, could do no more than you, Myriads of Blessings then were shed Upon th'astonisht People's Head; No less your Presence I am sure can do, You are my Doctress and my Med'cine too. II. One touch of Yours stops the fierce flux of Pain, One piercing Glance baffles the strongest chain; In your Bright Looks I fairly see Th'exactest Emblem of Divinity. If I gaze long, my Parts can't hold entire, Like melting Wax they drop before the Fire. III. In vain from Books can I expect Relief, Philosophy's dull Rules can't cure my Grief, Like Oy! put to my raging Fire, They but increase my vain desire; These cheat me all; but in their Looks I see My Fate resolv'd, and I will follow thee.

A SONG. I. FEel Phillis if my Pulse beats high, Loves Poyson runs through all my Veins: Let it have vent or else I dye A Lovers Death, the worst of Pains. II. No Blushes in my Face appear, The lovely Graces all are fled; No Cupid wantons in my Hair, But all's as dismal as the Dead. III. Oh quicken soon this Mass of mine, Dart through the gaping Chinks of Nature: No less than Miracles divine Can change or make me a new Creature.

The second Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullus, translated: Sulpitia's praise. To Mars. THe amorous Youths this Festival design, To consecrate with Mirth and Airs divine; Quit Heav'n a while, if you are wise, to see Sulpitia in a glorious pageantry: But have a Care lest her diviner Charms Melt down the Powers of your flagging Arms; Where'ere her killing Eyes are cast around, The Gods he conquer'd, and confess the Wound. Her Walk is so majestick and divine, A thousand Graces on her Carriage shine; If Nature looser in her Hair should play, Sulpitia's still most beautiful and gay; And if they're modell'd in a better Frame, Adorn'd with Art, Sulpitia's still the same. If cloath'd in Scarlet, she adorns the Plains, If cloath'd in white, she still the Vict'ry gains. Vortumnus so a thousand Shapes on high Assumes, yet not more grateful to the Eye Than those in which she's pleas'd to grace Mortality. Now all ye Nymphs confer on her what's due, Poetick Strains, and you Apollo too. Conclude the Day with Singing, and a Ball, I'm sure Sulpitia does deserve them all.

A Description of Mrs. E. T. as I saw her in the Exchange. WHen I did first this charming object view, Her Image in my Mind took Root & grew; So rare a Piece and so divinely fair, I wish'd the best of Painters had been there: As piercing lightnings when they strik the ground •… The Steel consum'd, the Scabbard Safe is found, So did she glide along my purer Veins, My Body's safe, my Soul still full of Pains; Her Hair as black as that which Angels prize, Before the Throne, veiling their weaker Eyes; Her Brows were black, declining like the Bow, Which Cupid, when he smil'd rejoyc'd to shew; In lovely Spheres her Globes of Light did rowle, And Man the strongest Planet did controul; About her Cheeks ten thousand smiles did play, Fair as the Beauties of the rising Day; About her milky Neck and snowy Arms There flow'd continual Rivulets of Charms; So soft her Hands, so long, so charming white, As might the chastest God from Heav'n invite; Here you might see her Soul in Raptures pass, Clear as the Lily in the Crystal Glass; Each Atome of her Body was so fine, In ev'ry part it had the Stamp Divine. The Greek that strove to make a piece so high, As might the Works of Nature's self out-vie; From all the rarest Patterns which he knew, The best Perfections, which they had, he drew: But after all it prov'd so ill, he swore, He'd never strive to perfect Nature more; Had he but seen that Piece that stood by me, He'd lookt no further for Divinity.

The FEVER. I. THE sparkling Embers of my hot desire, Tho' they were drench'd in Waves, will not expire, The very Sea itself some Oyl contains Which makes them rise again in greater Flames. II. The northern Zone is not too cold for me, Go where I will, Love will my Dog-star be; There like a Globe of Light he spreads his Rays, And turns my Winter Nights to Summer Days. III. Yet still I would not want this pleasing Pain, Of which to ev'ry listner I complain, The very Wheel of my short Life would stand, If not turn'd round by Love's Almighty Hand. IV. Nor would I that it should Abatement find, Love is the pleasant Frenzy of the Mind; So Frantick Men in their mad Actions shew A Happiness which none but Madmen know.

A SONG. I. STay thou seraphick Creature, stay, My Soul is in her melting Strains, So very fond to get away, She puts me to a thousand Pains. II. Trembling as Needles when they move, And only in the North can rest, So when she meets with thee, my Love, She's fix'd and infinitely blest. III. Sweet Angel, tho' you can't create, Yet you alone my Life can save; Your Sight's as prevalent as Fate, Then grant me that, 'tis all I crave. IV. My heavenly Bliss to antedate, For no base earthly Love I plead; For Souls have pow'r to penetrate, And on diviner Substance feed.

The BOLDNESS. I. ITs not the mighty Alps, tho' cloath'd with Snow Shall stop or hinder me from loving now: Resolv'd I am, I'll cut through all, I'll love as deep as Hannibal: Tho' this at last should prove my Doom, Yet I the more will venture on. He is an Ass who dares not fight For amorous Love, a Spark so bright: I'll stand my Ground, here shall my Colours be, I durst engage the stoutest Enemy. II. I'll found a Charge, among the Stars I see Castor and Pollux, Signs of Victory. Why do I stay? I must be gone, Cupid's Breast-plate I'll put on, His poyson'd Arrows I will bear, Stuck in the Bow he's us'd to wear; Clad with the Down of Cupid's Wings, The World shall hear of mighty things; For in my Hand as sure and fatal proves The Dart of Love, as Thunder shall in Jove's. III. The boisterous Billows of the raging Sea Roar as they will, their Voice I'll nere obey; Altho' Leander's Corps I view, Gushing out Blood anew; Altho' the dismal Voice I hear, Repeating still, forbear, forbear: The weeping Seas should not prevent My travelling in that Element; For the great Pow'r of Love's Almighty Wand Divides the Waves as well as that in Neptune's hand. IV. Should my wing'd Love fly to the Stygian Lake, The moving Harp of Orpheus I would take; The Harp I mean, whose mighty Strings Can at a Touch work mighty Things; When e're this Sound should strike her Ear, In spite of all the Devils there, I'd force her to this World again, Reverse the Sentence of her pain; And if these Charms by mortal Art could move The Woods, the Stones, what can't the Force of Love? V. Or if Astraea, like my Darling Love Should fly unto the utmost Worlds above, I'd build a Monument so high, The Clouds beneath me as I fly; Or else I would like th' Earth's bold Son Have Mountains heap'd, and built upon, And if the angry Gods with Fire Should quash the Motions of my vain Desire, In the same Flames I'd to my Love ascend, To thee, as Load-stones to the North, I'd bend. VI. But some poor Fools, in whose dull lump of Clay A spark of Love divine yet never lay. To tread the Depths, they think's too bold, For fear their puny Lòve take cold: I'm sure they're out, for beauty's Ray Can soon dissolve this Ice away; I'll never so false-hearted prove, There is no Medium between me and Love, Chill Neptune's Realms shall nere my Courage tame, For th' Hellespont did once create a Flame.

The Fourth Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullas, translated. To Phoebus. COme now Apollo, give the Virgin ease, Whose Soul's afflicted with a sad Disease: Make haste, I say, I'm sure you'l ne're repent, There's scarce a prettier in the Firmament; Prevent th'encroaching Evils of the Grave. Let her the same commanding Sweetness have, Let all her Pains, and her successive Cares Be swallow'd up, together with our Fears. Give her a Dose, and by some skilful Art, Stave off the Terrors that infect her Heart. Pity Cerinthus too, who'd fain appease With constant Vows the angry Deities; In doleful Strains he does his Fate deplore, And curses Heav'n, that she should be no more. But lay aside those Fears, and still be true, Cerinthus still love on, as she loves you, And then no Angel will from Heav'n destroy The Bands of Love, or interrupt your Joy. But now some noble Sacrifice to you, Who at a Touch could save two Souls, is due, At once the Lover and the Mistress too. Let Grief dissolve into the Shades of Night, And rise thou brighter by Sulpitia's Light: Tears can do nothing here, but when you find The fair Sulpitia's cruel and unkind. Now great Apollo you may dance and play, Before their Altars they both Incense pay. That powerful Art they so admire in you, Each God would wish himself Apollo too.

The DISCOVERY. I. THrough whatsoever part of Heav'n we pass We find the Marks of Galilaea's Glass; Sol's Motions are so clearly known, As if 'thad been his ancient Home; He knew where ev'ry Planet lies, And trac'd them thro' the Chambers of the Skies. II. I'll then be gone, I dread to stay at home, With Drake's Ship rigg'd, about the World I'll roam; I will discover something more Than what has been known heretofore; Wings for my Journey I'll prepare, I'll search the unknown Waves, the Earth, the Air. III. I'll touch each Pole, I'll cut the burning Line, I'll search the Limits of the utmost Clime, Till Loves great Kingdom I descry, Which in some hidden World must lye: Cowley Loves first Columbus was, and he Who best can trace his Footsteps next shall be. IV. Thus whilst I sail, my Hopes encrease to see The presence of some gracious Deity, Who might his Influence bestow To steer my Vessel here below; Through various Seas my Ship must ride, Propitious Love rule thou the Winds and Tide. V. But after all my Search, suppose I found The way that leads me to this happy Ground; Grant her Metropolis I see Swimming in Pride and gayety; Yet after all, what are my Gains, Should I like prying Spies be bound in Chains? VI. There Beauty's always fresh and can't decline, Her Form defies the eating Moths of Time; No Tyrant in their Kingdom reigns, None there of Falshood e're complains, All Lovers are united there, And dance and revel in that blessed Sphere. VII. What Bliss is this? what would I give to be A priviledg'd Member of this Society? This consummates a Lover's Bliss, If there be Elyzium, sure its this: But yet I fear my Fate will be, Ive searcht this Place for others, not for me.

Translated from the Italian Poets. To his Ring. THou little Ring, dearly belov'd by me, Kist by my Spouse as oft as I kiss thee, Altho thou'rt nobly deckt with sparkling Pride; Rich with the Relicks of the Indian Tide, Yet I on this account esteem thee more That she first wore thee on her Hand before, And when she first design'd this Gift for me, •… ighing, she said, scarce can I part with thee; Oh! I will always have thee in my Sight, •… nd for her Sake I'll kiss thee Day and Night; When ere I wash my Hands, my Breast shall be •… he only Place that I think fit for thee.

A SONG. I. WHilst on those blushing Cheeks I gaze, I tremble and am all on Fire, In pleasures of so blest amaze, Thy Glances do but fan Desire. II. Pity my Fault, dear Girl, if I Eager to grasp thy sunny Frame, Like an ambitious Meteor fly, To perish in so bright a Flame. III. Surely some Noble Hero fell In that most precious Sea of thine, And to reward his Courage well, Venus has made him there to shine. IV. Nor can this Beauty fade away, For want of any new Supplies, Regardless of the scorching Day, Fed by those living Springs thine Eyes.

The Third Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullas, translated. Sulpitia to Cerinthus. YE Savage Beasts, whom Nature entertains In the by-Lodgings of the Desart Plains, Pity my Boy, bent on some noble Prey, And thou kind Cupid at his Elbow stay. Perhaps, by Passion hurl'd, he's led so far, He'll want the Guidance of some gentle Star. Curse on the Woods and all that fordid Game, Let the Dogs faulter, and ne're find again: Why are you fond to visit ev'ry Cell, Where Death, with Fury charg'd, stands Centinel? Prithee forbear, see how the Briars hide Their crooked Heads in your most tender Side; But if I might Cerinthus chase with you, I'd be content to bear the Burthen too: The hated Woods would please me then, if I By the same hunting Nets with thee could lye: No Lion then would dare to threaten thee, He'd lose his Rage, as he still gaz'd on me, My very Eyes sufficient Charms would prove To melt his Springs of Fierceness into Love. But still remember poor Orion's State, Be chaste, and never boldly tempt your Fate. If any one should strive to disposess Our Souls of this Platonick Happiness; Let her for breaking of Diana's Laws, Fall a sure Victim to the Lion's Paws: But in the mean, my Boy, give o're that Game, And on my Breast quench your unruly Flame.

Platonick Love. I. I Courtier-like did once that Beauty prize, Which had no comely Shape or handsom Eyes; I valu'd any Love but that which came From Plato's great seraphick Brain: I wish the Vulgar did agree The Sensual was the Deity; But when I found the Cheat, I chang'd the Scene, And set up for an Isra 'lite again. II. I once obey'd th'imperious Charms of Love, My weaker Needle to that Point did move; But when the Transports of Diviner Light Did with some Pleasure entertain my Sight, I said, I'd ne're obey False Love's tyrannick sway, My Soul shall to Heav'n aspire, And joyn the Element of Fire III. This vicious Passion, 'll nere feed, But by the Roots I'll pluck the Weed; I'll quench her Fury with the Darts of Love, That bring their Power from the Seats above. Like bold Prometheus I will fly, And match the Fire from the Sky: To give Man Life he stole this Flame, But I to purifie my Frame. IV. By Methods of Ascent aspire my Soul, And to this End thy Haughtiness controul; Leave pleasing Sense to Epicurus Train, And be thou Plato's Proselyte again. Be gone, and stretch thy Pinions wide, Swim with the Current of th'etherial Tide, And then let them ascend above, A Place fit for platonick Love.

The Fourteenth Elegy of the Second Book of Propertius, translated. BLest be the Night, blest be the Bed where I Enclos'd with Pleasures, did securely lye; When all was silenc'd, when the very Sea In softer Murmurs did the Night obey, Her jar's the Prologue of ensuing Love, I to my private Pleasure did improve; Sometimes she touch'd me with her downy Breast, Which my more wanton Fingers often prest; Sometimes she stroak'd mine Eyes, and ask'd me why Did I so lazy and unactive lye? This mov'd me too, and fir'd my youthful Rage, Tho sure to lose, yet eager to engage. I kiss'd her Lips and rifl'd her all o're, So fierce my Sallies, I could kiss no more. Its said of old, so Paris dy'd away, When in his Arms the Grecian Beauty lay. Come lay aside this useless Garb of thine, It stops the Combat which I now design; Come now, my Dear, let's revel whilst we may, Perhaps we ne're shall live another Day. I wish the Fates could by some sacred Tye Joyn us so close, that we should never dye. The harmless Doves when e're they meet, they pair, Ty'd to no Laws their soft Embraces are. He's out, who thinks my Love shall cool, my Love Is as immortal as the Gods above: The Sun shall sooner change his Stage, and be Lost in the Ocean of Eternity; The lesser Springs, and Tybur's flowing Tide Back, with Confusion, to their Head shall glide, Before I'll leave thee: Witness Heav'n that I Will only on this Altar live and dye. Oh could I always have such Nights as these, Fit for the Bus'ness of my Love and Peace, I'd bath my self in this immortal Flood, And be each Night as happy as a God: If all, like me, could their whole Time improve, Spend all the Day in Wine, the Night in Love, You'd hear no Wars, no dismal Pris'ners Cries, Would daily eccho Pity through the Skies. Temples sometimes, and Tow'rs Jove's Thunder tears, But like himself always the Lover spares.

Translated from the Italian Poets. ODE XXXII. MY Dear, if my unruly Lips have prest With amorous Rage thy snowy Breast, Impute it unto ev'ry Grace, Thy killing Eyes, thy charming Face: But if you're loath to pardon me, Let me repair the Injury; Let me embrace and kiss again, That surely will inhance my pain; The Kisses which I stole away, On my rack'd Soul like Vultures prey; Lifeless, alas, and pale I grow, I'm just now going to the Shades below. But if you'l kiss again, then I Shall surely pine away and die: Come now, my Soul, let's kiss again, Its that will put me out of Pain; Its fit that I should live no more, For what I stole from thee before.

The Captivity. I. IF Wit, annex'd to Beauty's Charms, Could in a God create Desire, When Celia clasps me in her Arms, No wonder if I'm all on Fire. II. I must resign against my Will, My Pow'r's too weak to keep the Place, By ev'ry Smile she conquers still, Those fiery Arrows of her Face. III. If Beauties then such Conquests have, Surely their Charters are divine: I now submit to be thy Slave, Dear Celia, and for ever Thine.

Her Government. I. WE know, Great Love, thy gentle sway, Thy sovereign Word we all obey; Kings at thy sacred Feet lay down their Crowns, And triumph to be Vassals to thy Frowns; Great Alexander wish'd to be Conqu'rour of Worlds, but Slave to thee. II. So great's thy share, thou claim'st a part In the most rigid Stoick's Heart: And tho' he disallows thy Deity, The Tythes of all his Fruits he pays to thee: But we, as old Rome us'd to do, Own thee our Queen and Goddess too. III. Tribute to thee, as free we pay, As Indians Homage to the Day: Tax on, great Love, in taxing still be kind, Pray ease our Purses, to enrich our Mind: Like Martyrs we're in Love with Pains, We kiss and reverence our Chains.

My Love fled. I. HOW can I chuse but weep and mourn all (Day, Since she who fondly did impart A warmth and Vigour to my Heart, Has falsly borrow'd Wings and flown away? II. Ev'ry fair Object brings her to my Mind, And when I drop a Crystal Tear, Methinks I see her Image there, Beauteous and gay, if Love itself ben't blind. III. How shall I drag the future Autumns on? The Embers of my dying Fire; Do now successively expire, Since the Preservative of Life is gone. IV. Poor Ariadne cry'd, when left alone; But a God came to give Relief; The like would stop my flowing Grief, Would a fair Goddess my Addresses own.

The Advice. I. CHloe be kind, I say, Beauty has Wings as well as Time; To suffer either pass away Without Advantage, is a Crime. See, Heav'n itself with conscious Smiles approves The future Union of our tender Loves. II. Then why, my Dear, should you So fatal to your Beauties prove? Pay unto Nature what's her due, And then you'l ne're refuse my Love: Take my Advice, preserve that Vestal Fire, When it is doubl'd, it will ne're expire. III. Sweet Chloe, hear my call, And think to live no more alone; Tho' Man was born as Lord of all, Himself but odly fills a Throne; Eden was not compos'd of That or This, Woman and Man made up the Paradise.

The VANITY. I. POor fading Pleasures to pursue, I know 'tis base, as well as you; But whilst this Lump of Flesh I wear, From doing so I can't forbear; The old deceiving Serpent still Corrupts and vitiates my Will. II. From her blest Heart there flows a Line, Which Nature made, and grapples mine. Secret as that which tyes the Mind, When to the Body 'tis confin'd: If I love on, blame me no more, Can I with Nature run in score? III. When I reside in Egypt's Fields. My Soul must taste on what it yields; But when to Canaan I shall come, Canaan the lovely wish'd for Home, On nobler Objects I shall rove, And feed on a Diviner Love.

The Councel. I. AS some wise lesser Prince, who goes With all his Strength t'ngage his mightier Foes, Considers how, and when, and where he may Draw up the Battle in Array, On this the coming Fate of War depends, The Kingdom is by this made up, or ends. II. Ev'n so a Council I must call, •… f I must love her much, or not at all, •… n Reason's Ballance I am bound to weigh Whether I should obey Her Royal Will, and then lay down my Arms, Or else assault this rich Peru of Charms. III. Should I but love her in extreams, She'd rather still increase than quench my Flames, 'Twould please her cruel Vanity to see A Lover plung'd in Misery; Instead of cooling my incens'd Desire, With formal Smiles sh'd blow my wretched Fire. IV. And sooner I could change my Nature Than not adore and hug that lovely Creature. Propitious Stars tell me what Course to steer, Sylla is there, Charibdis here: Virtue consists in Mediocrity; But Love is always in Extremity. V. Well, to Leucadia I'll repair, Where miserable Lovers lose their Care; Sad Cephalus did first this Place approve, And quencht the flaming Torch of Love. Than this what can a better Council be? Here Love is swallow'd up in Victory.

The CHASE. SCorcht by the Heat one Day, I found a Shade, Which some kind Poplar and a Myrtle made; Stretcht here at length, in Ease my Body lay Swell'd with the Hopes of some luxurious Prey; Casting my Amorous Eyes around the Plain, Wild to possess, I spy'd a lovely Dame, Thrice I saluted her, and thrice I said, Peace to the lovely Nymph, peace to the lovely Maid: She, so surpriz'd at this, made no reply, But still survey'd me with a scrnful Eye; Jealous at last, turning away her Eyes, She calls for Help, but finding no Supplies, Takes to her Feet, and almost out of Breath, She scrietcht like Leverets in the Pangs of Death. Big with expectance of this nimble Prey, I spurr'd my Passion on, and made away; Swift as Desire, I leapt the strongest Fence, Having in Sight the noblest Game of Sense. Ere long I caught my Celia by the Hair, Whose wanton Locks perfum'd the beaten Air▪ O Heav'ns! what Charms her Beauty did inspire, Conquer'd at once with Wonder and Desire. Weary, we both sat down, and breath'n our Loves, Soft as the Whispers of two wounded Doves; Coucht on her Breast my Fancy sporting lay, And strove to scare her pensive Thoughts a way: Thus blest, sometimes I profer'd her a Kiss, Hopeing thereby to gain an after Bliss; Often my furious Hand did strive to know How was the glorious Valley spread below. Hot in pursuit, often I said, My Dear, Ah shall I, shall I but inhabit here? The Land is fruitful, grant me this one thing, And I'll be happier than the happiest King. No, cry'd she, no, prithee, kind Youth, forbear, The Crop's but small that you will gather here; And will you, will you do this pleasant Sin? Hereafter it will Torture you within. But all her Art such faint Resistance made, Herself was almost by herself betray'd; With so much Doubt and modesty she strove To give mine room she did her own remove: But when this usual Ceremony ceas'd, How was I glutted with the Sight, and pleas'd! Pleasures so great and tempting, that they cou'd Ev'n almost win to her Embrace a God. Oh, could I find such Objects ev'ry Day! I'd even Hunt and Chase my Life away.

The Looking-Glass. I. OH happy thing! what would I give to be My Mistress's Glass, instead of thee? Thou see'st the Glorious Image ev'ry Day, For which I hourly pine away. II. By thine own Light thou scarce her Form canst view; Thy very Light and Essence too Proceeds from her, as Phabus's borrow'd Ray, Reflects the Image of the Day. III. Would she but cast such quickning Beams on me, I should her living Image be; Look when she pleas'd, her Picture she would find Deeply imprinted in my Mind. IV. The faithless Glass ten thousand Forms does bear, When she alone should revel there, And, Courtier-like, to ev'ry one can say, Thou art the Beautiful and Gay. V. Be false to all the rest, be only true To her, and this I'd have thee do, Preserve th' Idea of my Saint in store, 'Till I shall see thy Face once more. VI. Then to thy Shrine a Reverence I'll pay, Like zealous Romans ev'ry Day; I'll hug the Relick with a Pious Fear, Because I know the Goddess's there. VII. But if she's charged thee, thou shouldst not trace The least Discovery of her Face, The strict Injunction ne're shall trouble me, Seeing ye're both Hypocrisie.

A Letter to a young Lady, who sent me a Box of Pills, when she heard I was ill. IF any Thanks from a Sick State are due To its Restorer and Supporter too, Then I, dear Madam, am oblig'd to you. If fair Aurora could obtain of Fate For her young Lover's Life a longer date; If the chaste Wishes of the Good and Fair Can pierce the Clouds and make the Heavens hear; Then I may hope, as you are kind, to live, Not by what Heat I have, but what you give. Now let the Monarchs of the World repine, Their Guardian Angels have less Pow'r than mine; Let them bewail their short-liv'd State below, That all their Pomp to Destiny must bow. Let the Terrestrial Gods blaspheme, while I So well upheld, must ask your leave to die. But tho your Baisom kindly cur'd my Wound, Tho my whole Body's safe, secure and sound, Yet let me tell you, You have shot a Dart, And made me mortal in my better Part; So would I have it, if you first design'd The Pills should cure my Body, you my Mind, And can you not, dear Life, to both be kind? O yes, I know you will; so you'l approve Your self one System of Angelick Love: So the kind Sun never vouchsaf'd a Ray, But Light and Heat, involv'd, together lay.

On a beautiful Lady who was going to kill herself, when she was at Supper, had she not been accidentally prevented by one of the Company. I. O Stop that Hand! kind Heav'ns forbid the Blow! See the Stars lurk behind the Screen of Night Unwilling to behold so sad a Sight, Lest we should tax them t'have been guilty too. No Comets in the Firmament, By bodeing Symptoms to thy Death consent, All is serene and gay, And can that Beauty, which out shines the Milky Way, Add a dark Blemish to the Day? What cruel Passion boil'd within thy Veins? What Legion harbour'd in thy Breast, That dispossess'd thy Soul of Rest, And put thee to Hyperboles of Pains, That thou shouldst vent such Accents of Despair? Void of all pious Fear, And then thy Cruelties display, Resolv'd to baulk Death in so rich a Prey, And make a quicker Passage for thy Soul away. II. For thy approaching Grief A speaking Sadness sat in ev'ry Eye, All strove to give Relief, As if they fear'd some Storm was high: Thy very Eyes their coming Fate confest, And their Resentment for thy Fall exprest. Thy Soul retir'd to her inmost Room, Dreading the Pressure of the Stroke to come: But see, Heav'ns peculiar Care Saves and protects the Fair; And often is at the Expence Of Miracles, to save such Excellence: So many Thoughts great Jove it cost To make a Piece most exquisitely Fine, He would not have the Copy lost By Death's unruly Hands; much less by thine. III. Was Love the Cause of this? Forbid it all ye Powers above, No Lover yet despis'd his Bliss, So as to jilt the Monarchy of Love. No Youth by thee could ever yet pass by, But still thou hadst the Tribute of his Eye: Thou'st Charms enough to set the World on Fire, And in the coolest Stoick raise Desire: So dear no Monarch ever priz'd a Crown, But to procure your Life would lose his own: What Passion then could blow that Flame, To vent your Anger on the noblest Frame? Perhaps too cruel you have been To some more Amorous Swain, Who now lyes Sighing, Gasping, Dying, Because you will not ease his Pain; And having now receiv'd the utmost Blow, You'd fain embrace him in the Shades below.

A SONG. I. THo the Mountains should shake, and Apollo look dim, Tho the Planets should tumble on the Ruins we stand; Tho the Globe of the Earth in the Ocean should swim, Without Hopes of ever arriving at Land. II. The Comets in Chariots of Diseases should ride, And burst on our Heads like Granadoes on fire, Yet they should not move me, but I'd stand by thy Side, Dear Phillis, and in thine Arms gladly expire. III. Believe me 'tis true, for the Powers of Love, Like Martyrs Opinions, persevere to the End; They grapple so close, 'twill be hard to remove, Tho dismantl'd of flesh, yet to thee they will bend IV. And can you then, Phillis, be unkind to such truth? See what Vows I have made, I'll for ever be thine, Do you but consent to the Pleasures of Youth, And vow the same Vows, that you'l ever be mine. V. Then in spight of the Fates we shall both be secure, No Isthmus shall part of much Kindness and Love, Tho the World be expiring, yet our flames shall endure, And feed on each other in the Mansions above.

A SONG. I. IT grieves me, Celia, when I think, That all those Glories of thy Face Must into Ruins sink, And ne're Return into their ancient Place. II. The Lilies have more Springs than one, They rise and perish every Year, But when thy Beauty's gone, Alas it never will again appear. III. All pluck the Roses whilst they may, For if some ruder Breath of Wind, Should kiss their Life away, They leave no Tokens of their Place behind. IV. 'Tis Time then, Celia, to improve, Because your Life's more short than theirs To taste the Joys of Love, And with an Hour's Bliss to poize an Ages Cares.

Translated from the Italian Poets. To his Mistress. WHen the Nights Beauties that surpass the Day, The watchful Virgins shall invite to play, To thee, through Guards of Dangers I'll advance, Arm'd with a Glass of Wine, I'll baffle Chance; But let the Door, the Entrance to our Joys, Be just so order'd, that it make no Noise: And when I shall approach with silent Fear, To crown my Joys, Corinna wait you there; As the fond Ivy round the Beech does twine, So let my Arms, dear Life, be clasp'd by thine. You cannot go amiss, oh let your Arms At ev'ry touch convey a thousand Charms. Let luscious Kisses and incentive Sips Of Pleasure, fasten on our balmy Lips. Let us in Kissing no dull Order show, But let successive Tides of Pleasure flow, As loth from us in so much haste to go. With faint Resistance my Requests deny, Pleas'd with an eager Importunity; With doubtful struglings and a modest meen, Seem to despise what you do most esteem, And in the midst of these delightful Wars, Wound me with harmless and with gentle Scars; Let ev'ry part b'employ'd, and let me rove Through all the hidden Mysteries of Love; Let our glad Eyes, sparkling with hot Desire, Portend, as Omens, we are both on Fire; And when you see my Passions all inflam'd, Willing to conquer, that they may be tam'd, Then open all your little Cheats to me, Th'Ingredients of a pleasing Fallacy: When I'm unwilling, urge me to be kind; When I am eager, shew an adverse Mind; Shed now and then a counterfeited Tear, And say, I cannot let your Hands be there; Then let me see you dart a pleasing Beam, As if you wholly not deny'd the Game; Then let a thousand Raptures spring and rise, Till à soft Slumber sits upon our Eyes, And when in Dreams our Thoughts more free shall rove, We'l act again the Comedy of Love.

The FAREWEL. I. LEave, wretched Hawkshaw, leave Thy self with airy Fantoms to deceive; There's no such thing as Love, Except it be amongst the Gods above; 'Tis an Empty Noise of Air, Whose Eccho brings back nothing but Despair. II. 'Tis a Lottery of Care, Wherein ten thousand Blanks, few Prizes are: And yet so mad are we, We hazard all at this poor Vanity; And commonly it happens so, We're cheated of our Time and Mony too. III. Let's at another's Cost be wise; Poor Cowley ran, and yet ne're won the Prize, And yet his Feet were made By the best Artist of Apollo's Trade; All his soft Words prov'd vain, Instead of breaking, they confirm'd his Chain. IV. A thousand Plots I've laid, But ne're could get the Virgin's Heart betray'd; Who ever yet could say, He'd brought his Love in Captive-chains away? So dismal now I prove, I am become a Skelleton in Love. V. Leave, Hawkshaw, leave once more, Court not the Wasp that sting'd thy Heart before; Use neither Spell nor Art, To bring the Tyrant back into thy Heart; Shake off the Chains of Love, No God in Heav'n does thy Fate approve. VI. Let not thy Army fall in vain Before a Place which you will never gain; The Bombs which you shot in Will ne're consume her well-stor'd Magazin; Tho' Cannon be brought down, Yet I am sure you ner'e will take the Town.

The Contents of the First Book. ON King Charles the Second's Restauration, Page 1 The Dream that Night Limerick was surrendred, 4 On the Death of the Young Lady J S. 5 On Dr. Gower's refreshing himself each Morning in St. John's Walks, 6 The Good Fellow, 7 On a Friend who desir'd me to make a Copy of Verses on his Name, 8 An Allusion to Claudian's Epigram on Archimedes his Sphere, 10 Against Knowledge, 11 A Translation from the Latin Poet Sannazius, 13 An Apology for Rome, in answer to that for Venice; translated from a Latin Copy, 14 A Morning's Thought, ibid. To Mr. J. C. sometime School-master in Dublin, 16 Melancholy, ibid. On a Bee, 18 Pre existence, 19 The Enjoyment, 20 On a Fly that was drown'd in a Lady's Mouth, 22 On the River Cam, 23 The Retirement, 24 On Musick, 25 On the Preservation of the Library in Dublin College, 26 Tu ne Quaesieris, from Ho. Paraphrased, 28 The Meditation, ibid. On the Popish Conspiracy, 31 On the shortness of Man's Life, 33 A Dialogue between Reason and the Inferior Powers, 35 Contentedness, 37 The Call, 38 A Translation from the Italian Poets, the Birth day, 39 The Indifferency, 40 The Hermit, 42 On the King's Landing at Harwich, after he had been expos'd to many Dangers in his Voyage to Holland, 44 On Dr. G. Reducing the Years to Terms, which were requisite for them who took their Batchelour's Degree, 46 The Golden Age, 48 The Recantation, 49 A Translation from Sannazius, on a Troian Lady, 52 On the Unhappy State of Ireland, by reason of the Civil War, 53 Discontent, 56 The Consolation, 57 On the Death of the most renowned P. Brackenbury. Dr. of Physick and Senior-Fellow of St. John's, 58 On the Earl of Danby's Couragious Enterprize at La Hogue, 61 The Consummation, 63

The Contents of the Second Book. DEstin'd to Love, 67 A Song, 69 The Management, 70 The Farewel, 71 Love stifl'd, 73 Her Nakedness, 74 A Translation from the Italian Poets, 76 The Disappointment, 78 The Wish, 79 All for Love, 80 Corrinna and Celia, translated from the Italian Poets, 81 My Dream sent in a Letter to a Friend, 82 A Song, 83 On a Lady who always carried a Looking-glass about her, 84 The Vision, 85 The Incurable, 87 On a Lady who slighted my Love, 88 A Song, 90 The Despair, 91 Her Influence, 93 A Translation from the Italian Poets, Ode XXIV. 95 Her Presence, 96 A Song, 98 The Second Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullus translated, 99 A Description of Mrs. E. J. as I saw her in the Royal Exchange, 100 The Fever, 102 A Song, 103 The Boldness, 105 The Fourth Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullus translated, 108 The Discovery, 110 Translated from the Italian Poets, 113 A Song, 114 The Third Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullus translated, 115 Platonick Love, 117 The Fourteenth Elegy of the Second Book of Propertius translated, 119 Translated from the Italian Poets, Ode XXXII. 121 The Captivity, 123 Her Government, 124 My Love fled, 125 The Advice, 126 The Vanity, 128 The Council, 129 The Chase, 131 The Looking-glass, 133 A Letter to a Young Lady, who sent me a Box of Pills when she heard I was ill, 135 On a Fair Lady who was going to kill herself, when she was at Supper, had she not been accidentally prevented by one of the Company, 137 A Song, 140 A Song, 141 A Translation from the Italian Poets, 143 The Farewel, 145 FINIS.