POEMS ON Several Occasions.
Platonick Love.
I.
SO Angels Love and all the rest is dross,
Contracted, selfish, sensitive and gross.
Unlike to this, all free and unconfin'd,
Is that bright flame I bear thy brighter mind.
II.
No stragling wish, or symptom of desire,
Comes near the Limits of this holy fire;
[Page 2]Yet 'tis intense and active, tho so fine;
For all my pure immortal part is thine.
III.
Why should I then the Heav'nly spark controul,
Since there's no brighter Ray in all my Soul,
Why should I blush to indulge the noble flame,
For which even friendship's a degrading name.
IV.
Nor is the greatness of my Love to thee,
A sacriledge unto the Deity,
Can I th' enticing stream almost adore,
And not respect its lovely fountain more?
HUMANE LOVE: By a Country GENTLEMAN, In Answer to PLATONICK LOVE.
I.
SO Angels love, So let them love for me;
As mortal, I must like a mortal be.
My Love's as pure as their's, more unconfin'd;
I love the Body, they but love the Mind.
II.
Without enjoyment, Can desire be ill?
For that which wou'd a Man with pleasure fill;
This more intense and active, sure must be,
Since I both
Soul and Body give to thee.
III.
This flame as much of Heaven as that contains,
And more, for unto that but half pertains:
Friendship one Soul to th' other doth unite,
But Love joins all, and therefore is more bright.
IV.
Neither doth—
Humane Love— Religion harm,
But rather us against our Vices arm:
Shall I not for a charming Mistress dye?
When Heaven commands
increase and mulitply.
To Mr.—on his POEM.
I.
SOme Tuneful Being now my Breast inspire
With Thoughts as Gay and Noble as Celestial Fire;
For
Clitus is my Theam;
But ah in vain born on
Pindarick Wings,
My ventrous Muse
The mighty Aim pursues;
For to his Native Skies still
Clitus mounts and Sings,
And we are distant still to an extream.
II.
Behold the
Heavenly Charmer, how he keeps aloft;
While Angels Crowd, and Listen to his Song;
And not an
Angel-Critick in the throng
That durst correct a Thought.
So Nobly are they Drest,
And Gracefully exprest;
So smoothly glide the Numbers from his Tongue;
So well his Touch the Charming Strings obey,
That all his
Heavenly Auditors Admire,
To hear him weild an equal Theam with as much skill as they.
His
Voice and Theam did even their Harps inspire;
And the Glad Anthem they repeat agen,
"Glory to God, Peace and Good-will to Men.
TO Mrs. MARY FRIEND; Knowing her but by Report.
'T Were both unjust and stupid to refuse
To so much Worth, the Tribute of my Muse;
Tho Saints, as well, may those Bright Forms express,
That in a Rapture they conceive of Bliss;
As I can give such Wondrous Charms their due,
Or, Dress in Words, my Brighter Thoughts of You:
Charming, and Gay, your
Fair Idea seems
As Gay, as if compos'd of Love and Beams;
Such Heavenly Rays adorn your Lovely Eyes,
That, by
Imagination, they surprize,
And, at your Feet, a Female Victim lies:
[Page 8]But how,
Fair Nymph, will your Approaches Fire,
If
Distant Charms such gentle thoughts inspire.
PARAPHRASE
On Joh. 3. 16— For God so loved the World, that he gave his only begotten Son, &c.
I.
YEs;
so God loved the World; But where
Are this Great Loves Dimensions?
Even Angels stop; for, baffled here
Are their vast Apprehensions.
In vain they strive to Grasp the
boundless thing;
Not all their Comments can explain the mighty Truth I Sing.
II.
Yet still they pause on the Contents
Of this Amazing Story;
How he that fill'd the
wide extents
Of Uncreated Glory?
He whom the Heaven of Heavens cou'd not contain;
Shou'd yet within the Sacred Maids
contracted Womb remain.
III.
They see him Born, and hear him Weep,
To aggravate their Wonder;
Whose Awful Voice had shook the Deep,
And Breath'd his Will in Thunder:
That Awful Voice, chang'd to an
Infant's Cry;
Whilst in a Feeble Woman's Arms he seems constrain'd to lye.
IV.
A
God (Ah! Where are Humane boasts?)
Extended in a Manger?
The Lord of all the Heavenly Hosts
Expos'd to Scorn and Danger?
The Onely Blest, the All-sufficient Weeps:
But Oh, who Guides the
Staggering World, while its Protector Sleeps?
V.
And canst thou Man ungrateful prove.
When 'twas for thy Salvation,
He left those Splendid Seats above,
His late bright Habitation?
Where all his Deity Shone,
without the Allay
Of a Seraphick Vehicle, or deficated Clay.
VI.
Where he Transcendently possest
The Fullness of Perfection:
Tho here benighted and opprest,
The Type of all Dejection.
[Page 11]He asks for Food, that gave the
Ravens Bread;
And the Great Founder of the World
wants
where to lay his Head.
VII.
But Oh what Dark Catastrophe
Does Hell at last Conspire!
Behold! upon a
Cursed Tree
The Lord of Life Expire:
From this, Amaz'd, the Sun withdraws his Eye,
Afraid to see his Maker Bleed, and the Eternal Dye.
VIII.
The Seraphims that throng'd about,
'Twixt Hope and Consternation;
Now Blaze the Wondrous News throughout
The Radiant Corporation:
Who vainly strive the Mistery to scan,
And Fathom the Stupendious Depths of this
Great Love to Man.
IX.
He on the Rights of Justice stood,
With their
Exalted Nature,
That now, through Streams of Sacred Blood
Wafts the Terrestial Creature;
Wafts Dufty-Man to that Felicity,
Which the
Apostate Son of Light must never hope to see.
THE Expostulation.
I.
HOw long, great God, a
wretched captive here,
Must I these hated marks of bondage wear?
How long shall these
uneasy chains controul
The willing flights of my impatient Soul?
[Page 13]How long shall her
most pure intelligence
Be strain'd through an infectious screen of gross, corrupted sence?
II.
When shall I leave this
darksome house of clay;
And to a brighter mansion wing away?
There's nothing here my thoughts to entertain,
But one Tyr'd revolution o're again:
The Sun and Stars observe their wonted round,
The streams their former courses keep:
No Novelty is found.
III.
The same curst acts of
false fruition o're,
The same wild hopes and wishes as before;
Do men for this so fondly life caress,
(That airy huss of splendid emptiness?)
Unthinking sots: kind Heaven let me be gone,
I'm tyr'd, I'm sick of this
dull Farce's repetition.
To my Lady CARTERET.
TOo great your Power, and too soft my Breast:
The charming Inspiration to resist:
But Oh in what bold Strain shall I begin,
To breathe th' unusual Potent Instinct in?
Such pleasing looks, in midst of Spring, adorn
The Flowry Fields;
so smiles the Beauteous Morn:
But, What are these dull Metaphors to you?
Or, What is all, my Fancy has in view?
A Form more fine, more accurately wrought,
Was ne'r conceiv'd by a Poetick Thought?
So mild your eyes, so beautiful and bright,
That lovelier eyes did ne'r salute the Light;
With such a gentle look, and such an air;
So lovely, so exceeding sweet, and fair,
To us, the Heavonly Messengers appear:
[Page 15]Whilst Man too feeble for their bright extreams,
With such soft Smiles as yours they'r forc't to allay their Beams.
‘And, though after my Skin, Worms destroy this Body, yet in my Flesh shall I see God,’
Job 19. 26.
WHat tho my Soul rent from the close imbrace
Of this
material consort, take its flight,
(Exil'd the Confines of her Native place)
And leave these eyes clos'd in a Dismal Night:
She shall agen resume the dear abode,
And, cloath'd in Flesh, I shall behold my God.
II.
Tho in the Gloomy Regions of the Grave,
Forgotten, and insensible I lye;
That tedious night shall a bright morning have,
The welcome
dawnings of Eternity.
[Page 16]My Soul shall then resume her old abode,
And cloath'd in flesh, I shall behold my God.
III.
Altho resolv'd unto my Native dust,
Its proper part, each Element refine;
Yet at my awfull Makers breath they must
The Individual Particles resign:
And then my Soul shall take her old abode,
And cloath'd in Flesh, I shall behold my God.
TO Sir CHAREES SEDLEY.
BVt stay 'tis Sedley— and it were a crime
For me to grasp a Subject so sublime:
Since nothing but his own Coelestial lays
Are fit the Authour of such flights to praise,
Nor dare my thoughts make the unequal choice
My Infant-muse has yet, but try'd her tender voice.
To the Honourable Mrs. E—Stretchy.
THe Artful hand of Nature ne'r display'd
More skill, then when your
Charming Self was made:
A Shape, a Face, and Meen so rare, that we
Think you her boasted Master-piece to be;
Whilst that
Bright Soul that Heaven has plac't within,
Makes every Charm with
double-lustre shine:
But since I on my Lyre can touch no String,
Equal to those great Merits, I would Sing,
Hopeless, to give such mighty Charms their due,
I'll leave the World to
Brighter Thoughts of you.
A Pindarick POEM on HABBAKUK.
I.
WHen God from
Teman came,
And cloath'd in
Glory from Mount-
Paran shone,
Drest in th' unsufferable
Flame
That hides his
dazling Throne,
His
Glory soon
eclips'd the once bright
Titan's Rays,
And fill'd the trembling
Earth with
Terror and
Amaze.
Resplondent
Beams did crown his
awful Head,
And shining
brightness all around him spread;
Omnipotence he graspt in his strong
Hand,
And
listning Death stood waiting on his
dread Command;
Waiting 'till his
resistless Bolts he'd
throw;
Devouring Coals beneath his
Feet did
glow:
And with his
Hand he the vast
Globe did mete;
The frighted
Nations scattered,
And at his sight the
bashful Mountains sled,
The
everlasting Hills their Founder's Voice obey,
And stoop their
lofty Heads to make th'
Eternal way.
The distant
Ethiops all
Confusion are,
And
Midian's trembling
Curtains cannot
hide their Fear:
When thy swift
Chariots pass'd the yielding
Sea,
The
blushing Waves back in
amazement flee,
Affrighted
Iordan stops his
flowing Vrn,
And bids his forward
Streams back to their
Fountain turn.
(2.)
Arm'd with thy
mighty Bow,
Thou marchedst out against thy
daring Foe:
[Page 20]And very
terrible thou didst appear
To them, but thus thy
darling People cheer.
"Know,
Iacob's Sons, I am the God of Truth,
"Your Father
Iacob's God, nor
can I break my Oath.
The
Mountains shook as our dread Lord advanc'd,
And all the little
Hills around 'em
danc'd:
The neighb'ring
Streams their verdant
Banks o'reflow,
The
Waters saw and trembled at the
sight,
Back to their
old Abyss they go,
And bear the News to
everlasting Night:
The
Mother Deep within its hollow
Caverns roars.
And beats the
silent Shores.
The
Sun above no longer dares to strive,
Nor will his frighted
Steeds their wonted
Iourney drive.
Grew
pale, and curb'd her
sable Reins for Fear,
Thy
threatning Arrows gild their
flaming way,
And at the
glittering of thy
Spear the
Heathen dare not stay;
The very
sight of thee did them
subdue,
And arm'd with
Fury thou the
Vict'ry didst pursue.
So now, great God, wrapt in avenging
Thunder,
Meet thine and
William's Foes, and tread them
groveling under.
The ATHENIANS
To the Compiler of the Pindarick now Recited.
(1.)
WE yield! we yield! the
Palm, bright
Maid! be
thine!
How vast
a Genius sparkles
in each Line!
How
Noble all! how
Loyal! how
Divine!
[Page 22]Sure thou by
Heaven-inspir'd, art sent
To make the
Kings and
Nations Foes repent,
To
melt each
Stubborn Rebel down,
Or the Almighty's
hov'ring Vengeance show,
Arm'd with his
glittering Spear and
dreadful Bow,
And yet more dreadful Frown.
Ah wou'd they
hear! ah wou'd they
try
Th'
exhaustless Mercy yet in store
From
Earths and
Heavens offended
Majesty,
Both calmly ask,
Why will they dye?
Ah! wou'd they yet
Repent, and
sin no
more!
(2.)
How
bless'd, how
happy we,
Cou'd all we
write one
Convert make,
How gladly
New Assronts cou'd take
One Convert to dear
Virtue, and dear
Loyalty?
Tho' the
full Crop reserv'd for
thee.
Oh
Virgin! touch thy
Lyre:
[Page 23]What
Fiend so stubborn to refuse
The
soft, yet
powerful Charms of thy Celestial
Muse?
What
gentle Thoughts will they
inspire!
How will thy
Voice, how will thy
Hand,
Black
Rebel-Legions to the
Deep Command!
Black
Rebel-Legions murmuring take their flight,
And sink away to conscious Shades of
everlasting Night:
While those they
left, amazed stand,
And scarce
believe themselves, themselves to find
Cloath'd, calm, and in a
better Mind.
(3.)
Begin, begin, thy
Noble Choice,
Great
William claims thy
Lyre, and claims thy
Voice,
All
like himself the
Hero shew,
Which
none but
thou canst
do.
And
Twenty thousand Deaths upon the slippery ground:
Now, now the dreadful
Shock's begun,
Fierce
Luxemburg comes
thundering on:
They charge, retreat, return
and fly,
Advance, retire, kill, conquer, dye!
Tell me, some
God, what
Gods are those
Enwrapt in Clouds of
Smoak and
Foes,
Who oft the
tottering Day restore?
'Tis
William and
Bavaria, say no more!
William— that lov'd, that dreadful
Name!
Bavaria! Rival
of his Fame.
A
third comes
close behind, who shou'd he be?
'Tis
Ormond! mighty
Ormond! sure 'tis he:
'Tis nobly fought-they must prevail;
Ah no, our
Sins weigh down the doubtful
Scale.
Or never cou'd have
miss'd the
Victory:
With high
Disdain from the
moist Field they go,
And dreadfully
Retreat, yet
Face the
trembling Foe.
(4.)
Thus Sing,
Bright Maid! thus and yet
louder Sing,
Thy
God and
King!
Cherish that Noble
Flame which warms thy
Breast,
And be by
future Worlds admir'd and
bless'd:
The
present Ages short-liv'd
Glories scorn,
And into
wide Eternity be born!
There Chast
Orinda's Soul shall meet with
thine,
More
Noble, more
Divine;
And in the
Heaven of Poetry for ever shine:
There all the
glorious few,
To
Loyalty and
Virtue true,
Like
her and
you.
[Page 26]'Tis that, 'tis that alone must make you
truely great,
Not all your
Beauty equal to your
Wit,
(For sure a
Soul so
fine
Wou'd ne'r possess a
Body less
divine)
Not all
Mortallity so loudly
boast,
Which
withers soon and
fades,
Can ought avail when
hurry'd to th' uncomfortable
Coasts,
Where wander wide
lamenting Ghosts,
And thin
unbody'd Shades.
'Tis
Virtue only with you goes,
And guards you thro' Ten thousand
Foes;
Hold fast of that, 'twill soon direct your flight
To
endless Fame and
endless Light;
If that you lose, you
sink away,
And take eternal leave of
Day.
Then fly false
Man, if you'd an
Angel prove,
And consecrate to
Heaven your Nobler
Love.
A Poetical Question concerning the Jacobites, sent to the Athenians.
'TWas nobly thought, and worthy—still;
So I resolv't' employ my Loyal Quill.
Virtue, and our unequall'd
Heroes praise!
What
Theams more glorious can exact my Lays
William! A Name my Lines grow proud to bear!
A Prince as Great, and wondrous Good, as e're
The sacred Burden of a Crown did wear.
Resolve me, then,
Athenians, what are those,
(Can there be any such?) You call his Foes?
His Foes, Curst word, and why they'd pierce his breast,
Vngrateful Vipers! where they warmly rest?
The Athenians Answer.
THeir
Name is Legion, grinning from a far
Against
the Throne, who wage
unequal War;
Tho'
nearer, on
perpetual Guard, attends
A far more numerous Host
of brighter Friends:
Around our Prince, Heav'ns Care, the sacred Band
With fiery Arms
in firm Battalia
stand:
To him mild Light,
and Lambent Beams
they show,
But Wrath
and Terror
to his harden'd Foe.
See the
black Phalanx melt, they melt away,
As guilty Ghosts
slink from approaching Day,
Behold their
Leaders, deckt in
horrid State,
Nor wonder
why they
Heav'n and
Caesar hate.
First mark their
haughty General, arm'd compleat
In Plates
of glowing Steel! '
tis Lucifer the great!
With
bloated Toads, an odious
Bearing, charg'd.
The ancient
Arms which once his
Shield adorn'd,
Tho' 'tis of late to
Flour-de-Lis's turn'd.
Blasphemous Belial!
next thy Squadrons
stand!
Lawless and
Lewd, a baffled blasted
band,
Each holds a kindled
Pamphlet in his
hand.
These make the
Gross, the rest we may dedespise,
(
Retailers they of
Treason, and of
Lies)
Lucifer's Friends,
and Caesars Enemies.
Ah were there
none but these, who wou'd not be
Proud
and Ambitious
of their Enmity!
There's one small
party, near, too near their
Line,
Which
hover yet, and scarce know which to
joyn.
No black, no ugly
marks of
Sin disgrace
Their nobler
Forms, no
malice in their
Face:
A
Duskier Gleam they wear then e're they
fell,
Their Plumes
just scorcht,
too near ally'd
to Hell.
[Page 30]What mad
mistaken bravery draws 'em in,
Where
Constancy's no Virtue but a Sin?
How can they still their
fallen Prince esteem?
When
false to
Heaven, why are they
true to
him?
O! must they
sink! a glorious
Starry Race!
They are almost too
good, for that
sad place.
That
waits their
Fall: It must not,
cannot be,
If
err we do, wee'l
err with
Charity,
Father! they may be
Sav'd! we'll
joyn with
Thee!
Vpon King William's passing the Boyn, &c.
WHat
mighty genious thus excites my Breast
With flames too great to manage or resist;
And prompts my humbler Muse at once to Sing,
(Unequal Task) the
Hero and the King.
[Page 31]Oh were the potent inspiration less!
I might find words its Raptures to express;
But now I neither can its force controul,
Nor paint the
great Ideas of my Soul:
Even so the
Priests Inspir'd, left half the Mind
Of the
unutterable God behind.
Too soft's my Voice the
Hero to express;
Or, like himself, the War-like Prince to dress;
Or, speak him Acting in the dreadful Field,
As Brave Exploits as e'r the Sun beheld;
(Secure, and Threatning as a
Martial God,
Among the thickest of his Foes he Rode;
And, like an Angry
Torrent forc't his way
Through all the Horrors that in Ambush lay:)
Or at the
Boyne describe him as he stood
Resolv'd, upon the edges of the Flood:
On, on, Great William; for no Breast but Thine,
Was ever urg'd with such a Bold Design:
[Page 32]Indulge the Motions of this Sacred Heat;
For none but thee
can weild a thought so great.
He's lanch'd, he's lanch'd; the foremost from the Shore;
The Noblest Weight that e'r the River Bore.
To smooth their Streams, the smiling
Naides hast;
And, Rising, did him Homage as he pass'd:
And all the shapes of Death and Horror—
No more—ah stay—though in a cause so good;
'Tis pitty to expend that Sacred Blood.
Why wilt thou thus the boldest Dangers seek,
And foremost through the Hostile Squadrons break?
Why wilt thou thus so bravely venture all?
Oh, where's unhappy
Albion, should'st thou fall?
Keep near him still, you
kind AEthereal Powers;
That Guard him, and are pleas'd, the Task is yours.
[Page 33]All the Ill Fate that threatens him oppose;
Confound the Forces of his Foreign Foes,
And Treacherous Friends less generous then those;
May Heaven success to all his Actions give,
And long, and long, and long, let WILLIAM live:
The Vanity of the World, In a Poem to the Athenians.
WHat if serenely blest with Calms I swam
Pactolus! in thy golden Sanded stream?
Not all the wealth that lavish Chance cou'd give
My soul from Death cou'd one short Hour reprieve.
When from my Heart the wandring Life must move
No Cordial all my useless Gold cou'd prove.
What tho' I plung'd in Ioys so deep and wide,
'Twou'd tire my Thoughts to reach the distant side,
Fancy it self 'twou'd tire to plumb the Abyss;
If I for an uncertain Lease of this
Sold the fair hopes of an eternal bliss?
[Page 34]What if invested with the Royal State
Of dazling Queens, ador'd by Kings I sat?
Yet when my trembling Soul's dislodg'd wou'd be
No Room of State within the Grave for me.
What if my Youth, in Wits and Beautys bloom
Shou'd promise many a flatt'ring Year to come:
Tho' Death shou'd pass the beauteous Flourisher,
Advancing Time wou'd all its Glory marr.
What if the Muses loudly sang my Fame,
The barren Mountains ecchoing with my Name?
An envious puff might blast the rising Pride.
And all its bright conspicuous Lustre hide.
If o're my Relicks Monuments they raise
And fill the World with Flattery, or with Praise,
What wou'd they all avail, if sink I must,
My Soul to endless shades, my Body to the dust?
The Athenians Answer.
NOthing, Ah nothing!
Virtue only gives
Immortal
praise that only ever
lives:
What
pains wait
Vice, what endless
Worlds of Woe
You
know full well, but may you
never know.
The RAPTURE.
1.
LOrd
[...] if one distant
glimpse of thee
Thus
elevate the
Soul,
In what a heighth of
Extasie
Do those bless'd
Spirits roll,
2.
Who by a fixt eternal
View
Drink in
immortal Raies;
To whom
unveiled thou dost shew
Thy
Smiles without
Allays?
3.
An Object which if
mortal Eyes.
Cou'd make
approaches to,
They'd soon esteem their
best-lov'd Toys
Not worth one
scornfull View.
4.
How then, beneath its
load of
Flesh
Wou'd the vex'd
Soul complain!
And how the Friendly
Hand she'd bless
Wou'd break her
hated Chain!
A Paraphrase on the CANTICLES.
CHAP. I.
(1)
WIlt thou deny the bounty of a
Kiss,
And see me
languish for the
Melting bliss?
More sweet to me than bright delicious
Wine,
Prest from the
Purple clusters of the
Vine:
Are the loud
Eccho's of thy matchless
worth;
Which makes the
Virgins, kindled by thy fame,
Wish to
expire in the Celestial
Flame:
Come then, display thy Lovely
Face, and we,
Drawn by
resistless Charmes, will follow thee;
Into thy
Royal Chambers brought, where I,
May see my Lord, and fear no Witness by.
I'm black, tis true, for scorching in the
Sun;
I kept anothers
Vine, and left my
own;
But tho thus
Clouded, the
reflecting Face
Of my Bright
Love shall all this
blackness chase.
Say then my
Dear, much dearer than my Soul;
Where feed thy
Milky Flocks? Vnto what cool
Refreshing Shade
dost thou resort? least I
Should (as I languish)
in thy absence
dye:
Say, Lovely Shepherd,
say, What happy Streams
Are gilded now with thy Illustrious Beams?
(2)
I'll tell thee,
Fairest of all
Women, how,
Thou maist my most frequented
Pastures know.
Follow the
Footsteps of my
Flocks, and there
I will not fail to Meet my Charming Fair.
Whom I, as
Mistress of my
Flocks will Grace,
And on her Brows immortal
Garlands Place.
(3)
The while my
Spicknard shall ascend, and Greet
My Charmer with its
Tributary Sweet:
Then, all the Night, upon my Panting Breast,
As Fragrant
Mirrh; let my
Beloved Rest.
So
Sweet he is, that
Mirrh, nor
Cypress ere
With such Delicious
Breathings fill'd the
Air.
When thy Two Lovely
Eyes Inflame my
Heart,
It leaps for
Ioy, and meets th' unerring
Dart.
(4)
Oh thou more
Fair, more vastly
bright, then all
The World did ever
Bright, or
Glorious call:
My
Verdant Love still flourishing, to thee
Shall sixt, as our Eternal Mansions be.
CHAP. II.
(1)
AT thy Approach, my
Cheek with Blushes glows,
And Conscious warmth, which with Thee comes and goes;
Like the Pale
Lilly joyn'd to
Sharon's-Rose;
And
Thorns to them I sooner would
compare,
Then other
Beauties to my
Darling Fair.
(2)
And I as soon would rank a
Fruitful Tree
With barren
shrubs, as Mortal
clods with
thee.
And of thy Royal
Banquet freely eat;
Whilst o'r my head a
Banner was display'd:
In which, oh Melting Sight, the God of Love did Bleed.
Excess of
Pleasure will my
Soul destroy;
I'm ev'n
opprest with the
Tyrannick Joy:
Oh therefore turn thy
Lovely Eyes away;
(Yet do not, for I
die unless they stay.)
I faint, I faint; alas! no Mortal yet,
With
eyes undazled half this
Splendor met:
But sure I cannot
sink, upheld by
Thee;
So would I
rest unto
Fternity.
And now I charge you,
Virgins, not to make
The least
disturbance, till my
Love awake,
(3)
What Charming
Voice is that
Salutes my Ear?
It must be my Beloved's; he is near:
He is, and yet
unfriendly stays without:
He
[...]ays, as if he did a Wellcome doubt.
[Page 41]But hark, methinks I hear him softly say;
Arise my
Fair, arise, and come away!
For loe the
Stormy Winter's past and gone;
And
Summer, Drest in all her
Pride, comes on:
The
Warbling Birds in Airy
Raptures Sing
Their glad
Pindaricks to the
Wellcome-Spring:
The
Fig-Trees sprout, the Chearful
Vines look Gay;
Arise my
Lovely Fair, and come away!
Come Forth, my
Dove, my Charming
Innocence;
How canst thou
Fear while I am thy
Defence?
(4)
Do thou the Spightful
Foxes then Destroy,
That would my Young
Aspiring Vines Annoy.
Not for the
World would I exchange my
Bliss,
While my
Beloved's Mine, and I am
His.
And till the
break of that Eternal
Day,
Whose
Rising Sun shall chase the
Shades away;
Turn, my
Beloved, turn again; and thy
Dear sight shall make the lazy Moments fly.
CHAP. III.
TWas in the deadness
of a Gloomy Night,
My
Love, more
pleasant than the wishtfor
Light,
O're all my
Bed I vainly sought; for there
My
Arms could
Grasp no more than
empty air:
Griev'd with my
Loss, through all the
streets I rove,
And every
Ear with soft
Complaints I move:
Then to the
Watch, Impatient, thus I Cry;
Tell me, O tell! Did not
my Love pass by?
When loe, a
Glimpse of my approaching
Lord,
A Heaven of
Ioy did to my Soul afford:
So the dark Souls consin'd to endless Night,
Would smile, and wellcome-in a beam of Light.
I
Clasps him, just as
meeting Lovers wou'd,
That had the stings of
Absence understood:
I held him fast, and
Centring in his
Breast,
My ravish'd
Soul found her desired
Rest.
[Page 43]Him to my
Mothers House I did convey;
Humble it was, and yet he
deign'd to stay.
And now I charge you,
Virgins, not to make
The least
disturbance, till my
Love awake.
(Bridegroom.)
Glorious as
Titan, from the
Eastern Seas
A
Beauty comes from yon
dark Wilderness:
So
Sacred Incense proudly rises up
In
cloudy Pillars of perfumed
smoak:
Compounded Spices of the greatest
cost
Could ne'r such
Aromatick sweetness boast.
(Bride.)
The Shining Courts of Princely
Solomon
Were nobly crowded with a Warlike Train:
All Arm'd compleatly, all
Expert in Fight,
To Guard him from the
Terrors of the
Night.
A Chariot
Royal too himself he had;
Its Pillars of
refined Silver made:
And, all the
bottom, softly
pav'd with
Love.
But loe, a
Prince then
Solomon, more
great;
On whom vast Toops of shining
Angels wait:
His
Crown more
bright, and fixt, than that which
shone
Upon the Nuptial brows
of Solomon.
CHAP. IV.
(Bridegroom.)
THo all the
lower World should
ransackt be,
There could be found no
parallel for thee:
Thy
Eyes like
Doves, thy fair intangling
Locks,
Curl'd, and
soft as
Gileads Milky
Flocks:
Like them thy
Pearly Teeth appear, for so
Vnsully'd from the
Christal Streams they go.
But oh! To what may I thy
Lips compare?
Since fragrant
Roses Bloom not half so fair.
When from the
Arms of
sooty Night she rusht.
The ripe
Pomgranates Scarlets are but
faint,
To those fresh
Beauties that thy Cheeks do
paint.
Thy
Neck and
Breasts, in Whiteness, do out-goe
Vngather'd Lillies, or descending
Snow.
And till the
dawn of that
expected Day,
When all my
Radiant Glories I display,
And Chase, at once, the Injurious
Shades away:
I'll on the
Hills of
Frankincense reside,
And pass the time with thee my
Charming Bride;
My
Love, in whom such vast
perfections meet,
As renders her
transcendently compleat:
Then, come with me, from
Lebanon, my
Spouse,
O come, and look beyond this Scene of
woes:
Thou may'st, and yet it is but
darkly, see
The
bright abodes I have prepar'd for thee:
So
sweet she looks, that in blest Transports I,
Meet the
believing glances of her eye;
Whom, from a Vast Etornity I chose:
Not Golden Goblets, Crown'd with noble Wine
E're gave such
Elevating Ioys as
Thine;
Such, as the soft expressions of thy Love;
So much those dear, those charming
accents move.
My
Love is like a
Flowry Mansion Wall'd,
Or some reserved
Chrystal Fountain seal'd;
Whose Waves, untouch't, through secret Channels slide,
Untainted, as the
Silver Streams, that glide
From Heaven, assaulting
Lebanon; and
fair,
As Beauteous
Edens Gilded Currents were.
(Bride.)
Were I a
Garden, every
Flower in me
Should proudly yield their
conscious Sweets to thee,
The
ruddy fruits should thy arrival great,
And
Smile, and gently
bend, thy
Lips to
meet.
Bridegroom.
So strongly thy kind Invitations move,
I will my
Garden see, my
Garden, and my
Love.
Not
Hybla's Hives such precious Sweets can yield,
Nor Clusters brought from rich
Engady's Field,
Which, to my lips, I'll raise with eager
hast;
My
Lips that long'd the Heavenly
Fruit to tast.
CHAP. V.
THe
Night her
blackest Vestments had put on,
And all the
fair remains of
day were gone:
When my dear Lord, as he had oft before,
With Speed and Love approach'd the bolted Door:
Arise, my Love, he cries, and with a Voice,
Divinely charming, pleads his
entrance thus;
My
Spouse, my
Sister, and my fairest
Love,
(Believing, sure, that Dialect would move;)
[Page 48]Arise, for loaden with the Midnight
Dew,
Disorder'd, all my streaming
Tresses flew:
I knew the Voice, the moving
Eloquence;
But ah! deluded by my
drowsie sence;
Careless, and
Soft, upon a Mossy
Bed,
I lean'd
Supine, with
Odorous Roses spread;
And long, with weak
Excuses, did delay,
Amazing him at my
unwonted stay.
Mov'd, with his Patience, my relenting
Breast,
Forgetting now to say, I am
Vndrest.
Unto the
Door, at length, I rusht, in spite
Of
Darkness, and the
Terrors of the
Night;
With
Rage, to break the guilty
Bars I try'd,
Which Entrance to my Lord so long deny'd:
But found the dear resenting Charmer fled,
I curs'd my
Sloth, and curs'd my conscious
Bed.
Yet such a
fragrant Sweetness fill'd the
Air
From his dear
Hands, I thought he had still been
And
louder still, but Ah! he wou'd not
hear.
Then thro' the
Streets, distracted with my
Grief
I wildly roving, begg'd of all,
relief.
At last I met th' ungentle
Watch, and they
Deride my
Tears, and for
[...]e my
Veil away.
Ye tender Virgins! you that know the
pain
A
Breast so
soft as mine must needs
sustain,
Robb'd of the once kind
Partner of my
Fires,
And still
dear Object of my rackt
desires;
I charge you, if you meet my
absent Love,
With all the
Rhetorick of our
Sex, to move
His deafn'd
Ears; and tell him, with a
Sigh,
Deep as my
Wounds, ah tell him how I
dy.
—Perhaps that
Tragick Word may force the dear
Relentless
Author of my
Grief to hear.
Daughters of Jerusalem.
What thy Beloved is, we first wou'd know,
Fairest of
Women! thou dost
charge us so.
What
Charms unequal'd in him dost thou see,
Impatient Fair! to raise these
Storms in thee?
Sponsa.
Commencing all
Perfection, he is such
Your most exalted
Thoughts can hardly touch,
Unsully'd heaps of
Snow are not so
white,
He's Fairer than condensed
Beams of
Light.
His Rosy
Cheeks of such a
lucent Dy,
As
Sol ne're
gilded on the
morning Sky.
His Head like
polish'd Gold, his
graceful Hair,
Dark as the
Plumes that
jetty Ravens wear.
How
soft! how
sweet! how powerfully they move!
He
breathes more
sweetness than the
Infant Morn,
When
Heavenly Dews the
Flowry Plains Adorn.
The Fragrant
Drops of Rich
Arabian Gums
Burnt on the
Altar, yield not such
Perfumes.
His
Hands, surpassing
Lillies, grac'd with
Gems
Fit to Enrich
Coelestial Diadems.
His
Breast smooth
Ivory, Enamel'd all
With
Veins, which
Saphirs 'twere
unjust to call
Divine his
Steps, with his Majestick
Air,
Not ev'n the
Lofty Cedars can
compare.
So sweet his
Voice, the listning
Angels throng
With silent
Harps to th'
Musick of his
Tongue,
—He's altogether—
Lovely, This is
He,
Now, Virgins!
Pity, tho' you
envy Me.
CHAP. VI.
(Virgins.)
BUt where, ah where can this bright
wonder be
For, till we see
Him, we are all
on Fire;
We'll find
Him out, or in the search
Expire.
(Bride.)
If my
Prophetick Hopes can rightly guess,
The Lovely
Wanderer in his
GARDEN is
Among the
Lillies, and the
Spices; He
Is now perhaps kindly
expecting Me;
Oh 'tis a
Heaven of
Ioy to think him
Mine.
(Bridegroom.)
And who can see those
Eyes and not be
thine?
Where Majesty doth
Virgin-softness greet:
Ah turn away those Fair Approachless
Eyes;
I
Love, but cannot bear the kind
Surprize.
Hide, hide the
intangling glories of thy
Hair;
More bright than
Streams of
Fluid Silver are:
Expose no more thy
Pearly Teeth, the while
Those
Rosie Cheeks put on kind looks and smile:
Such
genuine charmes, how strongly they allure
My
Soul, and all their
rivalls beams obscure.
They'r numberless, my
Spouse, my
Darling Fair;
But one, the
Choice, and all her
Mother bare.
The
Royal Beauties saw, the blest the
Sight;
And
Setting, wonder'd at a
Star so
Bright.
Who is't, they say, Fair as the
breaking Morn,
When ruddy
beams the bashful
Skys adorn?
Dazling
as Sols
unsufferable Light:
Gentle,
but awfull,
as a Scene
of War;
At once her
Graces conquer and
Indear.
And could'st thou think, my Love, I e're design'd
To leave a Spouse so
Beautiful and
Kind?
I went but down into the
Almond-grove,
A Lone-
recess, indulgent to my Love;
Thence rang'd the pleasant
Vale, whose Spreading Vine
May quit my care perhaps with
Bounteous Wine:
Where the
Pomgranets Blooming-
Fruits display
More Sanguine-Colours then the
Wings of
Day:
[Page 55]Or e're I was aware, my
happy Eyes
Met Thee, a Juster
Object of
surprize;
Fair as a Vision breaking from the Skyes:
Scarce could my
Breast my
leaping heart retain;
Scarce could my
Soul the unweildy Joy sustain,
When I beheld those
Wellcome Eyes again.
But why that
Discontent upon the
Brow?
Thou wilt not leave me, Cruel
Beauty, now!
Injurious Charmer, stay—What needs this
Art,
To try the
Faith of a Too-constant heart:
Return again; let my
Companions see
The Sweet
Inspirer of my
Flames in Thee.
Return, my Dear,
return, and shew the most
Victorious
Face that e're the
World could boast.
THE FABLE of PHAETON Paraphrased From OVID's METAMORPHOSIS.
WIth swelling thoughts fixt on his great intent,
Now
Phaeton had climb'd the Suns ascent;
And to his radiant Father's Pallace came;
Whose heavenly seat lookt blazon'd all with flame:
On Stately Pedestalls erected high
Above the Convex of the utmost Sky:
Its Glorious Front, dazled, yet pleas'd the sight,
With vigorous sallys of AEthereal Light.
The entrance, all divinely deckt, was wrought,
Beyond the invention of a humane thought;
[Page 57]With various figures exquisite and bold,
As the Amazing Novelties they told.
Here awful
Neptune rises from the deep,
Around the peaceful
Billows seem to
sleep:
Here dreadful
VVhales the Blust'ring
Tritons stride,
And raise a
Silver Tempest as they
glide:
In mighty
shells the lovely
Nereids swim,
And blewish
gods the lofty
billows climb.
Wide from the Shore a pleasant
scene of Land,
With careless
Beauty did it self expand:
Here Mountains, Valleys, Springs, and
Sacred Groves,
Flocks, Herds, Unpolish'd Shepherds, and their
Loves;
The Dryads, Satyrs, Silver Gods, and Fawns,
Had here their Rural Pallaces and Lawns.
Above all this, appear'd the blest abodes,
And gay-Pavilions of th' Immortal Gods:
Upon a Painted-Zodiack brightly shone
With Glittering Emralds
Sols refulgent Throne:
Here sate in Purple the
Bright God of Day,
(Whom
Phaeton now trembles to survey:)
Smooth were his Cheeks, most lovely eyes, his brows
Adorn'd with
rays, and his own sacred
boughs:
Around, the
days, the
months, and
years attend,
While, at his
feet, the crooked
Ages bend:
The beauteous Spring (more
gay than all the rest,)
Stood smiling by, clad in a Flowry Vest:
Summer, with
Ears of
Corn, her
temples bound,
And Autumn with
Luxuriant Clusters crown'd:
In order next old hoary-
Winter stood;
His Aspect
horrid, and congeal'd his
blood.
Surrounded thus with Majesty and State,
Bold
Phaeton's Illustrious
Father sate:
The God his ventrous Off-spring now espyes;
Amaz'd! demands, What urg'd his enterprize?
And what great Embassy cou'd bring him to the Skies?
Monarch of
Light, the doubtful Youth returns,
Whose absence
Life it self and
Nature mourns:
Most splendid Ruler of the wellcome
Day,
Serenest
Spring of all that's
fair and
gay—
If bolder I may speak—if e're—if e're
The Thoughts
of Love and Clymene were dear;
—Then grant a certain sign, that may on
Earth
Resolve the
question'd grandeur of my
Birth,
My best-lov'd-Son, great
Phoebus made Reply,
(And back he casts the radiant Energy
Of his thick beams) my
Phaeton draw Nigh:
[Page 60]And doubt no longer my
Paternal rights;
For, by my
Clymene, by th' Intense delights
That gave thee Birth, so—now chuse a
sign,
And by the
Dark Infernal Lake 'tis thine.
Straight the
ambitious youth demands the sway
Of his hot
Steeds, and
Chariot of the
Day.
Amaz'd, the
lucent Deity shook his head,
Revolving his Tremendous
Oath, and said;
Vnthinking Phaeton what dost thou ask?
Not
Iove himself durst undertake the
Task:
Though not a God in the
Blew-Arch more great,
Yet even he'd decline our
Flaming Seat.
Can'st thou, a
Mortal, then supply my
Throne?
Curb my fierce Steeds, and pass the
Intemperate Zone?
So hard and difficult, the
ascent of day
Scarce with
fresh Horses vanquish I the way:
We from the
Zenith's dismal heighth look down
The steep
Descent; from thence we swiftly roul:
Nor here our headlong
Coursers Brook controul.
Even Lovely
Thetis sees my
Fall with dread,
Though every Night she expects me to her
Bed.
Besides, thou'lt meet a Thousand rugged Jarrs
From the incountring Motions of the
Stars;
Scarce our Immortal
Efforts stem their force:
Betwixt the Bulls sharp hornes then lies thy course,
By
Sagitarius, and the
Scorpion's Claws,
The Gastly
Crab, and
Leo's dreadful Jaws.
Expect no
Groves, nor Flowry
Mansions there,
Nor Gods, nor Nymphs; but Monsters every where,
[Page 62]Then let a Father's timely Care perswade,
And yet retract the dangerous
Choice thou'st made
Be wise, and urge no more this fatal
Sign;
Alas, my
Grief, too sadly, speaks thee
Mine.
Of all the Earths, or Seas rich Bosoms hide,
Or
Treasures which in upper Air abide;
Ask what thou wilt, or dar'st (besides) to wish;
Do,
Phaeton, ask any thing but
this;
And, by my former Sacred
Oath, 'tis thine.
But the
hot Youth, fixt on his rash design,
With such an Enterprize, the more
inflam'd
His anxious
Father's Oath, now boldly claim'd,
Who forc'd to yield. The nimble
hours soon brought
His
Chariot forth in hot
Vesuvio wrought,
By crafty
Vulcan, and the
Cyclops Art,
Who'd shown immortal skill in every part:
Bright as those
Lucid Tracts in which they roul'd:
The
Harness all Emboss'd with
Crysolites,
And twinkling
sparks of
wondrous colour'd Lights.
But now
Aurora from her Eastern Bed,
Had, o'er the Expanse her Dewy Mantle spread,
The Sickly Moon the Hemisphere resigns;
And, with her Waning,
Lucifer declines.
The
Dawning grew more
fair and
ruddy still,
And
Sol officious now against his will:
With
Sacred Compounds his fierce
Orb allays,
Then crowns the Joyful
Hero with his
Rays:
With tender Speeches caution'd thus the while,
Let not Presumption thy fond Thoughts beguile'
To give my hot unruly Steeds their course,
But use the
Reins, with utmost care and force,
[Page 64]Along a beaten, broad, and oblique way,
Far from the
Poles, now lies the
Road of Day.
Avoid the
Altar, and the hissing
Snake,
Both
opposite, betwixt them keep the Track;
Observe a careful distance from the
Skyes,
Lest thou assront the awful
Deities;
Nor near the Earth approach,
the mean is best;
To
Destiny with
hope I leave the rest.
For, loe the pale
Commandress of the
Night
Resigns her
Empire to th' expected
Light.
Take up the
Reins; or yet, or yet be
wise,
And graspa more
proportion'd enterprize:
But
Phaeton, as
resolute as
great,
Undaunted, leaps into the
Blazing Seat;
Pleas'd with his glorious charge, nor doubts his Skill
To manage it, he Mounts th'
Olympick Hill.
[Page 65]Aloud th' Immortal Steeds begin to Neigh,
And strike their Fiery
Hoofs, and make
new Day;
As through she clouds they cut their
sparkling way:
And finding now the Reeling
Chariot fraught
With nothing congruous to
Celestial weight;
Unruly grow, and heedless of the
Rein,
Its feeble
Checks, and trembling
Guide disdain;
And, all disorder'd,
careless of their
way,
Through
Paths unknown to
Sol himself, they
stray:
Now near the Fair
Triones, who, in vain,
Implor'd more Temperate Quarters in the Main
With Heat reviv'd, see the fierce
Serpent roul,
Tho' fix'd his Station near the Frozen Pole.
Bootes sweats, and drives his
Lazy Team
A nimble
pace; untry'd before by them,
[Page 66]As much distress'd, unhappy
Phaeton
From Great
Olympus arched Top looks down:
Black
horror now, and aggravating
fear,
Through all his Conscious thoughts triumphant were:
He Curst his
Pride, conspicuous Seat, and Birth,
And covets the obscurest place on
Earth;
To be the Son of
Meropes, safe below,
Unknown to Gods and Men, would please him now;
So, all confus'd, the hopeless
Pilot Raves,
And yields, at last, to the relentless
Waves.
What can he do? much of the
Glowing East
Is yet Unconquer'd; more he dreads the
West,
That dangerous
Fall; nor one clear
Track can fin'd
In Heaven; nor call his Horses
Names to mind:
VVho now near where the dreadful Scorpion lay,
Hurryd the shatter'd Chariot of the Day:
[Page 67]Proud of the
Reins, which from his trembling hands
Now faintly
drop, no
obstacle withstands
Their furious
course; but through the
blazing Sky
They
foam, and
rave, and all disorder'd fly.
Now upward, to the Stars, a
Path they rend,
Then down agen the frightful
Steeps descend:
Below, her
own Diana from afar,
With wonder, views her radiant
Brothers Car:
The exhaled Earth down to its Centre dry,
Wants
Iuice, her fainting
Products to supply:
Assaulted with the too prevailing rays,
In fatal Flames, whole
Towns and Mountains blaze:
High
Athos, Oete, and the Pin'y top
Of pleasant
Ida into Cinders drop:
Old
Tmolus, the
Cicillian Mount, and high
Parnassus, smoak up to the darkned Sky:
Vesuvio roars, more fierce its entrails glow;
Nor work the
Cyclops at their Anvils now.
[Page 68]Steep
Othrys, Cynthus, Erix, Mimas, flame
Nor
Rhodopean Snows the fiercer Fire can tame.
Cauoasus frys,
Dindyma chaps, and burns
Her kindling Grove; fair
Aphrodites mourns.
The Airy
Alps, and Gloomy Appenine,
With
Ossa, in the
conflagration shine:
Surrounded thus with Smoak, and Wrathful Fires,
Unhappy
Phaeton almost
expires:
Despair within, and
Terror all without,
By's surious Steeds, at pleasure, hurl'd about;
Gasping, and saint, still hurried round, nor more,
Tho prop't by Fate, a
Mortal could have bore:
They say, the
Ethiopians now with heat
Adust, and scorch't, diffus'd a Sable Sweat;
And all the wasted
Fountains sadly ring
Of some fair
Nais, Mourning for her
Spring.
[Page 69]Nor from the Mightyer Streams the Flame recoils,
For in its
Channel antient
Tana'is boyls.
Xanthus, whose Waves agen that Fate must know;
Maeander, whose wild Waters, circling flow.
Melas, Eurotas, Ister, and the Fair
Euphrates, Torrents, half exhausted are.
Orontes, Phasis, and the cooler Stream
Of
Sperchius now like boyling
Chaldron's Steam;
Alpheus, Ganges, and the flowing Gold,
That in the Rich
Pactolus Channel roul'd:
The
Muses Mourn; their
Swans, who, as they dye
In Charming
Notes, breath their own
Elegy:
Deep, in his utmost Subterranean
Bed,
Great Nilus hides his
undiscover'd Head.
And Plague the
howling Ghosts with worse extreams:
The exhausted
Ocean leaves a
Field of
Sand;
Nor does vext
Neptune one cool
Wave command.
He has lost his share of the grand
Monarchy,
And vainly lifts his
forked Trident high.
The Lovely Sisters melt upon the
Rocks,
While Aged
Doris tares her Silver
Locks:
The
Phocoe dye; the
Dolphins vainly dive
In scalding
streams, to keep themselves alive.
As much the Goddess of the
Earth distrest,
With trembling
Lips the King of Gods addrest;
If thou the Groaning
World's Destruction mean,
(Incensed
Iove) VVhy sleep thy
THVNDERS then?
[Page 71]If thou the cause of this
Calamity;
Or if 'tis some less potent God then
thee:
VVhere's all thy
goodness, all thy
gentle care
For Mortals now-that should these Ills repair?
Have I for this thy Sacred
Victims fed
In Hecatombs, to thy high
Altars led?
Those
Altars, which with thy bright
Temples smoak,
VVhile
Iove, in vain, the gasping-
Priests Invoke:
And loe the Mighty
Poles begin to
fume;
And, Wher's thy
Starry Seat should they
consume?
Tyr'd
Atlas sweating, of his
load complains,
And scarce the
burning Axletree sustains:
But, fainting here, she stop'd, and shrinks her
head
Below the gloomy
Lodgings of the Dead.
Iove calls the Gods (with him, whose daring Son,
Too fond of Glory, had this
Mischief done:)
To view the
dreadful flames; then mounts on high,
[Page 72]The lostyest
Turret that commands the Sky;
From whence he us'd to shade the sultry
Air,
And with kind
Showers the Parched
Earth to chear:
But throws his
Flood-gates open now in vain,
And prest the light
transparent clouds for
Rain:
At which incens'd, his ruddy Thunder glows,
Nor durst the
God of
beams himself oppose.
See the wing'd Vengeance now, see where it breaks,
On the rash cause of those lamented
Wrecks;
And sends the bold Usurper breathless down
To the scorch't Earth from his
affected Throne:
So strike the
Gallick Tyrant, that has hurl'd
As guilty
flames through the complaining VVorld.
So awful
Iove, so Strike him from his
Seat,
And all his
Aims, and all his
Hopes defeat.
THE WISH, IN A POEM TO THE ATHENIANS.
WOu'd some kind Vision represent to me
How bright thy Streets, Celestial
Salem! be;
I'd trace thy shining pearly Faths, and tell
How bless'd are those that in thy Temple dwell:
How much more bright than e're proud Phoebus shed
Are those vast Rays the Eternal Sun does spread!
Cou'd I the chiefest of ten thousands view,
Wou'd Angels me their Admiration shew,
[Page 2]I'd tell the Virgins, tell 'em o'reagen
How fair he lookt to the black Sons of men:
Might I, but ah, while clogg'd with sinful Flesh,
In vain I breath out the impatient Wish!
But have a glimpse of those fair Fields of Bliss,
Where dress'd in Beams, the shining Saints do move
More gay then all the fancy'd shades of Love:
Where still from pure exhaustless fountains, to
Bright Silver streams the Chrystal Waters flow;
Where the true Son of Glory ne're declines,
But with unclouded Vigour always shines.
Where endless Smiles coelestial Faces wear,
No Eye eclips'd with a rebellious Tear,
For Greif is an unheard of Stranger there.
Say then, if ought of that bless'd place you know,
Describe its Bliss, its dazling Glories show!
The Athenians Answer.
AH! Bright
Vnknown! you
know not what you ask!
Angels wou'd
bend beneath the
unequal Task.
Were that
bless'd World disclos'd, 'twou'd seem so
fair,
Who wou'd not leap
Lifes Barriers to be there?
Yet see a Glimpse, all, Heav'n permits to see,
And learn the rest from Faith and Extasie.
The
Paradise of God, those happy
seats which cost
Far more than that fair
Eden we have lost;
Exceeds
luxuriant Fancies richest dress,
And Beggers
Rhime and
Numbers self t' express.
—No, were we lost in that primaeval Grove
Where Father
Adam with his New-born Bride
Walkt careless, walkt and lov'd, nor Want, nor Sin,
Nor jealous Rage, nor curst tormenting Hopes
Their Sacred Verge approaching cou'd we pierce
As the blind Bard, with intellectual sight
Thro' those first happy Mortals
Sylvan shade,
[Page 4]Thro'clust'ring Vines whose swelling Purple Grapes
With generous Juice invited the bless'd Pair
To taste, nor fear to dye; were all the Springs
That from some easie Mountains mossy side
Or hoary Rock ran gently murmuring,
A thousand Flour's upon the bending Banks,
A thousand Birds upon the fragrant Trees,
And
Eve her self all smiling ioyn'd the Quire,
With blissful Hymns of chast and holy Love
Were these and more united to compose
A Poets Heaven to the true Heaven 'twou'd be
A Barren Wilderness, nay worse, a World.
—Not Reasons self, a Ray of the divine
Off-spring, and Friend of God, when manacled
In sinful mortal mold, altho' it trace,
No Sister Truth thro' each
Dedalean maze,
And builds on Sense with well poiz'd Argument,
Not that can tell us what we there shall see,
Or have or know, or do, or ever be.
Nay tho' with nobler Faiths more perfect Glass,
[Page 5]We look beyond the Christal starry Worlds,
We know but
part, sunk in our
darksom selves,
And from Life's dungeon wish the glim'ring Light,
Coasters of Heav'n we
beat along the
shore,
Some Creeks and Landmarks found, but know no more.
The Inland Country's undiscover d still,
The glorious City of th' eternal King,
Yet of coelestial Growth we bear away,
Some rich immortal Fruit, Joy, Peace and Love,
Knowledge and Praise, Vision and pure Delight,
Rivers of Bliss, ay-dwelling from the Throne
Of the most high, exhaustless Fund of Light.
There, there is Heav'n, 'tis he who makes it so,
The Soul can hold no more, for God is all,
He only equalls its capacious Grasp,
He only o're fills to spaces infinite,
Ah! who can follow?—That shall only those
Who with intrepid
Breasts the
World oppose.
Tear out the
glitt'ring Snake, tho' ne're so close it
twine,
And part with
mortal Ioys for
Ioys Divine.
To one that perswades me to leave the Muses.
FOrgo the
charming Muses! No, in spight
Of your ill-natur'd Prophecy I'll write,
And for the future
paint my thoughts at large,
I waste no paper at the
Hunderds charge:
I rob no
Neighbouring Geese of Quills, nor slink
For a collection to the Church for ink:
Besides my
Muse is the most gentle thing
That ever yet made an attempt to
sing:
I call no Lady
Punk, nor Gallants
Fops,
Nor set the
married world an edge for Ropes;
Yet I'm so seurvily inclin'd to Rhiming,
That undesign'd my thoughts
burst out a chiming;
My
active Genius will by no means sleep,
And let it then its proper channel keep.
I've told you, and you may believe me too,
That I must this, or greater mischiefe do;
[Page 7]And let the world think me
inspir'd, or mad,
I'le surely write whilst paper's to be had;
Since Heaven to me has a
Retreat assign'd,
That would inspire a less
harmonious mind.
All that a Poet loves I have in view,
Delight some Hills, refreshing Shades, and pleasant Valleys too,
Fair spreading Valleys cloath'd with lasting green,
And Sunny Banks with gilded
streams between,
Gay as Elisium, in a Lovers Dream,
Or
Flora's Mansion, seated by a stream,
Where free from sullen cares I live at case,
Indulge my Muse, and wishes, as I please,
Exempt from all that looks like want or strife,
I smoothly glide along the Plains of Life,
Thus Fate conspires, and what can I do to 't?
Besides, I'm
veh'mently in love to boot,
And that there's not a
Willow Sprig but knows,
In whose sad shade I breathe my direful woes.
But why for these dull Reasons do I pause,
When I've at hand my genuine
one, because!
And that my Muse may take no counter Spell,
I fairly bid the
Boarding Schools farewel:
No
Young Impertinent, shall here intrude,
And vex me from this blisful solitude.
Spite of her heart,
Old Puss shall damn no more
Great
Sedley's Plays, and never look 'em o're;
Affront my
Navels, no, nor in a Rage,
Force
Drydens lofty Products from the Stage,
Whilst all the rest of the
melodious crew,
With the
whole System of
Athenians too,
For Study's sake out of the Window flew.
But I'to Church, shall fill her Train no more,
And walk as if I sojurn'd by the hour.
To
Stepwel and his Kit I bid adieu,
Fall off, and on, be hang'd and
Coopee too
Thy self for me, my
dancing days are o're;
I'le act th'inspired
Bachannels no more.
Eight Notes must for another Treble look,
In
Burlesque to make Faces by the book.
And pretty Cupid, in the Glass adieu,
And since the dearest friends that be must part,
Old Governess farewell with all my heart.
Now welcome all ye
peaceful Shades and
Springs,
And welcome all the
inspiring tender things;
That please my
genius, suit my make and years,
Unburden'd yet with all but lovers cares.
A POEM
Occasioned by the report of the Queens Death.
When
fame had blown among the
Western swains,
The
saddest news that ever reacht their Plains,
Like Thunder in my ears the sound did break;
The
killing accents which I dare not speak.
Less was I toucht with that
pernicious Dart,
That peirc'd through mine to reach my
Daphnes Heart,
[Page 10]From off my Head the
Florid wreath I tore,
That I, to please the fond
Orestes, wore;
And quite
o're charg'd with Grief upon the ground,
I sunk my Brows, with mournful
Cypress Crown'd;
My trembling Hand sustain'd my drooping Head,
And at my feet my
Lire and
Songs were laid;
'Twas in a
gloomy Shade, where o're and o're
I'de mourn'd my Lov'd Companions loss before;
But now I vainly strove my Thoughts t'expose,
In
Numbers kind, and sensible as those
For, ah! the
Potent ills that fill'd my Breast,
Were much to vast and black to be exprest
Pharaphrase on John 21. 17.
YEs, thou that knowest all, dost know I love thee,
And that I set no Idol up above thee,
To thy unerring censure I appael,
And thou that knowest all things, sure canst tell,
I Love thee more then
Life or
Interest,
Nor hast thou any
Rival in my Breast;
[Page 11]I Love thee so, that I would calmly bear;
The Mocks of Fools, and bless my happy Ear
Let me from thee but one kind whisper hear;
I Love thee so, that for a smile of thine,
Might this, and all the brighter Worlds be mine,
I would not pause, but with a noble Scorn,
At the unequal slighted offer spurn;
Yes, I to Fools these trifles can resign,
Nor envy them the World, whilst thou art mine;
I love thee as my Centre, and can find
No Point but thee to stay my doubtful mind;
Potent and uncontroul'd its Motions were,
Till fixt in thee its only congruous Sphere.
Urg'd with a thousand
specious Baits, I stood,
Displeas'd, and sighing for some
distant good,
To calm its genuine Dictates—but betwixt
Them all, remain'd suspended and unfixt.
I love thee so, 'tis more than Death to be,
My Life, my Love, my all, depriv'd of thee;
[Page 12]'Tis Hell, 'tis Horror, shades and darkness then,
Till thou unveil'st
thy Heavenly Face agen;
I Love thee so, I'de kiss the Dart should free
My
flatterring Soul, and send her up to thee;
O would'st thou break her Chain, with what delight
She'd spread her Wings, and bid the world goodnight.
Scarce for my bright conductors would I stay,
But lead thy flaming Ministers the way,
In their known passage to eternal day.
And yet the Climes of Light would not seem fair,
Unless I met my bright Redeemer there;
Unless I saw my
Shining Saviours Face,
And cop't all Heaven in his sweet embrace.
Paraphrase on Cant. 5. 6. &c.
OH! How his
Pointed Language, like a Dart,
Sticks to the
softest Fibres of my Heart,
Quite through my Soul the charming Accents slide,
That from his
Life inspiring Portals glide;
And whilst I the inchanting sound admire,
My melting Vitals in a Trance expire.
Oh Son of
Venus, Mourn thy baffled Arts,
For I defye the proudest of thy Darts:
Undazled now, I thy weak Taper View,
And find no fatal influence accrue;
Nor would
fond Child thy feebler Lamp appear,
Should my bright
Sun deign to approach more near;
Canst thou his Rival then pretend to prove?
Thou a false Idol, he the God of Love;
Lovely beyond Conception, he is all
Reason, or Fancy amiable call,
[Page 14]All that the most exerted thoughts can reach,
When sublimated to its utmost streach.
Oh! altogether Charming, why in thee
Do the vain World no Form or Beauty see?
Why do they Idolize a dusty clod,
And yet refuse their Homage to a God?
Why from
a beautious flowing Fountain turn,
For the Dead Puddle of a narrow
Urn?
Oh Carnal Madness! sure we falsly call
So dull a thing as man is, rational;
Alas, my shining Love, what can there be
On Earth so splendid to
out-glitter thee?
In whom the brightness of a God-head Shines,
With all its lovely and endearing Lines;
Thee with whose light Mortallity once blest,
Would throw off its dark Veil to be possest;
Then altogether Lovely, why in thee
Do the vain World no Form or Beauty see.
A Pindarick, to the Athenian Society.
I.
I'VE toucht
each string, each muse I have invok't,
Yet still the mighty theam,
Copes my unequal praise;
Perhaps, the
God of Numbers is provok't.
I grasp a Subject fit for none but him,
Or
Drydens sweeter lays;
Dryden! A name I ne're could yet rehearse,
But straight my thoughts
were all transformed to verse.
II.
And now methinks I rise;
But still the
lofty Subject baulks my slight,
And still my
muse despairs to do great
Athens right;
Yet takes the
Zealous Tribute which I bring,
The early products of a Female muse;
Untill
the God, into my breast shall
mightier thoughts infuse.
[Page 16]When I with more Command, and
prouder voice shall sing;
But how shall I describe the matchless men?
I'm lost in the
bright labirinth agen.
III.
When the
lewd age, as ignorant as accurst,
Arriv'd in vice and error to the worst,
And like
Astrea banisht from the stage,
Virtue and Truth were ready
stretcht for slight;
Their numerous foes,
Scarce one of eithers Champions ventur'd to oppose;
Scarce one
brave mind, durst openly engage,
To do them right.
Till prompted with a generous rage;
You cop't with all th' abuses of the age;
Unmaskt and
challeng'd its abhorred crimes,
Nor fear'd to
dash the darling vices of the times.
IV.
Successfully go on,
T' inform and bless mankind as you've begun,
[Page 17]Till like your selves they see;
The frantick world's imagin'd Joys to be,
Vnmanly, sensual and effeminate,
Till they with such exalted thoughts possest;
As you've inspir'd into my
willing Breast,
Are
charm'd, like me, from the impending fate.
V.
For ah!
Forgive me Heaven, I blush to say't,
I with the vulgar world thought
Irreligion great,
Tho fine my breeding, and my Notions high;
Tho train'd in the
bright tracts of strictest piety,
I' like my
splendid tempters soon grew vain,
And laid my slighted innocence a side;
Yet oft my nobler thoughts I have bely'd,
And to be ill was
even reduc'd to feign.
VI.
Untill by you,
With more Heroick sentiments inspir'd,
I turn'd and
stood the vigorous torrent too,
[Page 18]And at my former
weak retreat admir'd;
So much was I by your
example fir'd,
So much the
heavenly form did win:
Which to my eyes
you'd painted virtue in.
VII.
Oh, could my verse;
With
equal flights, to after times rehearse,
Your
fame: It should as bright and Deathless be;
As that immortal flame you've rais'd in me.
A flame which time:
And Death it self, wants power to controul,
Not more sublime,
Is the
divine composure of my Soul;
A friendship so exalted and immense,
A
female breast did ne're before commence.
Paraphrase on Revel. chap. 1. from v. 13. to v. 18.
I.
WHo could, and yet out-live the Amasing sight!
Oh, who could stand the stress of so much Light!
Amidst the Golden Lamps the Vision stood,
Form'd like a Man, with all the awe and lustre of a God.
II.
A Kingly Vestre cloath'd him to the ground,
And Radiant Gold his sacred breasts surround;
But all too thin the Deity to shrow'd;
For heavenly Rays expresly shone through the unable Cloud
III.
His head, his awful head was grac'd with hair,
As soft as snow, as melted silver fair;
And from his eys such active Glories flow.
The conscious Seraphs well may veil their dimmer faces too.
IV.
His Feet were strong and dreadful, as his Port
Worthy the Godlike Form they did support;
His Voice resembled the Majestick Fall
Of mighty Waves: 'Twas awful, great, divine, and solemn all.
V.
His powerful hand a Starry Scepter held,
His mouth a threatning two-edg'd sword did wield,
His face so wondrous, so divinely fair,
As all the glorious Lights above had been contracted there.
VI.
And now my fainting spirits strove in vain
The uncorrected splendor to sustain,
Unable longer such bright Rays to meet,
I dy'd beneath the Ponderous Load, at the great
Vision's Feet.
VII.
Till he that doth the springs of Life contain,
Breath'd back my soul, and bid me live again;
And thus began (but Oh with such an Air,
That nothing but a power divine had made me live to hear.)
VIII.
From an unviewable Eternity
I was, I am, and must For ever be:
I have been dead, but live for ever now.
Amen—And have in Triumph led the Kings of Darkness too.
To a very Young Gentleman at a Dancing-School.
I.
SO when the Queen of Love rose from the Seas,
Divinely Fair in such a blest amaze,
Th' inamour'd watry Deities did gaze.
II.
As we when charming
Flammin did suprize,
More heavenly bright our whole
Seraglio's Eyes;
And not a Nymph her Wonder could disguise.
III.
Whilst with a graceful Pride the lovely boy
Pass'd all the Ladies (like a
Sultan) by,
Only he lookt more absolute and coy.
IV.
When with an Haughty air he did advance,
To lead out some transported she to dance,
He gave his hand as carelesly as Chance.
V.
Attended with a Universal sigh,
On her each Beauty cast a Jealous Eye,
And quite fall out with guiltless Destiny.
To the same Gentleman.
AH lay this cruel Artifice aside,
This barbarous distance, and affected Pride;
Or else resign my heart, which is too great
For you in this imperious way to treat.
I know you'r gay and charming as the Spring,
And that I ne'r beheld a lovelier thing,
But know as well the influence of my Eyes,
Nor can you think my heart a vulgar prize.
A PASTORAL.
Daphne.
WHy sigh you so, What Grievance can annoy,
A Nymph like you? Alas, why sighs my Joy?
My
Philomela, why dost bend thy Head,
Hast lost thy Pipe, or is thy Garland dead?
Thy flocks are fruitful, flowry all thy Plain;
Thy Father's Darling, why should'st thou complain?
Philomela.
Unfriendly thus, when I expect Relief,
To mock the weightier causes of my grief.
Daphne.
Thou dost abuse my Love: How should I guess
The unknown Reason of thy Tears, unless
[Page 25]Thy Birds are fled, or else the Winds have blown,
This stormy Night, your tallest Cypress down?
Thy Shepherd's true, or I had nam'd him first.
Philomela.
Ah! were he so, I would contemn the rest.
Daphne.
Why dost thou fear it? Not a truer Swain
E're drove his Sheep to this frequented Plain.
Philomela.
Like thee in Ignorance, how blest were I?
But Nymph, a falser thing did never sigh:
Curse on his Charms; accurst the unlucky day,
He sought by chance his wandred flocks this way;
When gay and careless, leaning on my Crook,
My roving Eyes this fatal Captive took,
Well I remember yet with what a grace
The Youthful Conquerer made his first address;
How moving, how resistless were his sighs;
How soft his Tongue,
how very soft his Eyes.
[Page 26]When spight of all my Natural Disdain,
I fell a Victim to the smiling Swain!
Ah, how much blest, how happy had I been,
Had I his lovely killing Eyes ne're seen!
In these delightsome Pastures long I kept
My harmless flocks, and as much pleasure reapt,
In being all I hop'd to be, as they,
Whose awful Nods subjected Nations sway.
The Shepherds made it all their care to gain
My heart, which knew no passion but disdain,
Till this Young Swain, the Pride of all our Grove,
Into my soul infus'd the bane of Love.
TO CELINDA.
I.
I Can't,
Celinda, say, I love,
But rather I adore,
When with transported eyes I view,
Your
shining merits o're.
II.
A fame so spotless and serene.
A vertue so refin'd;
And thoughts as great, as e're was yet
Graspt by a
female mind.
III.
There love and honour drest, in all,
Their
genuin charms appear,
And with a pleasing force at once
They conquer and indear.
IV.
Celestial flames are scarce more bright,
Than those your worth inspires,
So Angels love and so they burn
In just such
holy fires.
V.
Then let's my dear
Celinda thus
Blest in our selves contemn
The treacherous and deluding Arts,
Of those
base things call'd men.
Thoughts on Death.
I.
I'm almost to the
fatal period. come,
My forward Glass has well nigh run its last;
E're a
few moments, I shall hear that doom
Which ne're will be recall'd, when once 'tis past.
II.
Methinks I have
Eternity in view,
And dread to reach the edges of the shore,
Nor doth the
prospect, the less dismal shew,
For all the
thousands that have lanch'd before.
III.
Why weep my friends, what is their loss to mine,
I have but one
poor doubtful stake to throw,
And with
a dying prayer my hopes resign,
If that be lost, I'm lost for ever too.
IV.
'Tis not the painful agonies of Death,
Nor all the
gloomy horrors of the Grave;
Were that the worst, unmov'd I'de yield my breath
And with a
smile the King of Terrors brave.
V.
But there's an
after day, 'tis that I fear:
Oh, who shall hide me from that angry brow;
Already I the dreadful
accents hear,
Depart from me, and that for ever too.
THE Female Passion,
I.
A Thousand great resolves, as great
As reason could inspire,
I have commenc'd; but ah how soon
The daring thoughts expire!
II.
Honour and Pride I've often rouz'd,
And bid 'em bravely stand,
But e're my charming foe appears
They cowardly disband.
III.
One dart from his
insulting eyes,
Eyes I'm undone to meet,
Throws all my boasting faculties
At the lov'd Tyrant's feet.
IV.
In vain alas, 'tis all in vain,
To struggle with my fate,
I'm sure I ne're shall cease to love,
How much less can I hate!
V.
Against relentless destiny,
Hopeless to overcome,
Not
Sisiphus more sadly strives
With his Eternal Doom.
TO STREPHON.
TO me his sighs, to me are all his vows,
But there's my hell the depth of all my woes,
We burn alike, but oh the distant bliss,
A view of that my greatest torment is;
[Page 32]Accurst ambition, groveling interest,
Such heated crimes as yet did never rest
Within my Soul, must now unjustly keep
Me from my Heaven would they may sink as deep,
As that black
Chaos whence they sprung, and leave
Those mortals wretched which they now deceive.
Paraphrase on Malachy 3. 14.
IN vain ye Murmur, we have serv'd the Lord,
As vainly listned to his flattering word,
He has forgot, or spake not as he meant;
Else why are we thus Idly penitent?
Ye call the haughty blest, erecting those
That dare my Judgements impiously oppose,
And own, nay, almost boast themselves my foes,
Whose crimes would (were I not a God) command
The scarlet bolts from my unwilling hand;
Then they that fear'd my great and awful name,
The only sew that dar'd oppose the stream,
[Page 33]Unmov'd against the vulgar torrent stood,
In spight of numbers resolutely good,
Not taxing with undecent insolence
The dark Enigma's of my providence.
But saw me still illustrious through the same,
And lov'd and spake,
spake often of my name,
As oft I closely listned, nor shall they
Pass unrewarded at the last great day,
When all their pious services I'll own,
For in my records I shall find 'em down,
Their brows I'll Crown with wreaths of victory;
Whilst Mon and Angels stand spectators by;
A loud I'll then, aloud proclaim them mine,
And 'mongst my brightest treasures they shall shine
Their frailty with more tenderness, than e're
A father did his only son's I'll spare,
And then, but ah! too late you'll find it then,
Who were the wise, the only thinking men;
Then you shall nothing but derision meet,
Whilst Angels them with loud applauses greet.
On Mrs. Rebecka.
I.
SO brightly Sweet
Florina's eyes,
Their
rising beams display,
That as the scorched
Indians, we
Even dread the comeing day.
II.
For if her
morning rays with such
Unusual vigour streams,
How must the unhappy world be scorcht,
With her
meridian beams?
III.
If now she
Innocently kills
With an
an-aiming dart,
Who shall resist her when, with skill,
She levels at a heart?
IV.
If with each smile the pretty Nymph,
Now captivates the sence,
What when her
glories at the heighth
Will be their influence?
By Dispair.
WHen the intruding horrors of the night,
Had just depriv'd our hemisphere of light
And sable foldings seem'd to imitate,
The blackness and confusion of my fate,
As by a Rivers side I walkt along,
Uncurl'd and loose my artless tresses hung.
Dispair and love were seated in my face,
And down I sunk, upon the bending grass,
There to the streams, my mournful griefs relate,
Cursing the spightful Stars that rul'd my fate;
[Page 36]To see my tears the gentle floods swell high,
The Rocks relent, and groan as oft as I,
The winds less deaf, than my ungreatful Swain,
Listen and breath o're all my sighs again,
Ah, never, never, said I with an Air;
That poor complacent eccho, griev'd to hear,
And softly fearing to increase my pain,
No, never, never, she reply'd again,
Then all things else, as trifles I dispise,
Said I, and smiling clos'd my wretched eyes.
TO ORESTES.
TO vex thy Soul with these unjust alarms,
Fye dear mistrustful, can'st thou doubt thy charms;
Or think a breast so young and soft as mine,
Could e're resist such charming eyes as thine?
Not love thee! witness all ye powers above,
(That know my heart) to what excess I love,
How many tender sighs for thee I've spent,
I who ne're knew what serious passion meant.
Till to revenge his slighted Votaries,
The God of love, coucht in thy beauteous eyes,
[Page 38]At once inspir'd and fixt my roving heart,
Which till that moment sconr'd his proudest dart,
And now I languish out my life for thee,
As others unregarded do for me;
Silent as night, and pensive as a dove,
Through shades more gloomy than my thoughts I rove,
With downcast eyes as languishing an Air,
The Emblem I of Love, and of Dispair.
The Athenians Answer, to the Foregoing Poem.
WHat
Charms to two such
Feuds wou'd equal
prove?
You are
possest with
Poetry and
Love.
Fruitless experiments no more wee'll try;
Lost to advice,
Rime on,
Love on, and
dye!
Paraphrase on Canticles, 7. 11.
I
COme thou most
charming object of my love,
What's all this
dull Society to us,
Let's to the peaceful
Shades and
Springs remove,
I'm here uneasy tho I linger thus.
II.
What are the
triffles that I leave behind,
I've more then all the
valu'd world in thee,
Where all my Joys and Wishes are confin'd,
Thou'rt Day and Life and Heaven it self to me.
III.
Come my beloved then let us away,
To those
blest Seats where we'll our flames improve,
With how much heat shall I carress thee there,
And in
sweet transports give up all my love.
Paraphrase on Micha. 6. 6, 7.
I.
WHerewith shall I approach this
awful Lord,
What shall I bring,
What sacrifice
Will not so
great a deity despise;
Tell me you
lofty spirits that fall down,
The nearest to his throne,
Oh tell me how,
Or wherewithal shall I before my own, and your dread maker bow.
Will
Carmels verdant top afford,
No equal offering,
Ten thousand rams, a bounteous offering 'tis,
When all the flocks upon a
thousand spacious hills are his,
Will
Streams of fragrant oil his wrath controul;
[Page 42]Or the more precious flood,
Of my first born's blood,
Compound for all my debts and make a full Attonement for my Soul.
II.
If not
great God what then dost thou require,
Or what wilt thou daign to accept from me,
All, that my own thou giv'st me leave to call,
I willingly again resign to thee.
My youth and all its blooming heat,
My muse and every raptur'd thought, to thee I dedicate,
('Tis fit the islues of that
sacred fire,
Should to its own celestial orb retire)
And all my
darling vanities,
For thee I'll sacrifice,
My
favourite lust and all,
Among the rest promiscuously shall fall;
No more that
fond beloved sin I'll spare,
Than the great Patriarck would have
done his heir,
And this great God altho a worthless prize,
Is a sincere, intire, and early sacrifice.
The Reflection.
WHere gilde my thoughts,
rash inclinations stay,
And let me think what 'tis you fool away,
Stay ere it be to late, yet stay and take,
A short review of the great prize at stake.
Oh! stupid folly 'tis eternal Joy,
That I'm about to barter for a toy;
It is my
God oh dreadful hazard where,
Shall I again the boundless loss repair!
It is my
Soul a Soul that cost the blood,
And painful agonies of an humbled God,
Oh blest occasion made me
stay to think,
Ere I was hurri'd off the dangerous brink,
Should I have took the charming venom in,
And cop'd with all
these terrors for a sin,
How equal had my condemnation been?
A SONG.
HE's gone the bright way that his honour directs him,
Oh all
ye kind powers let me beg you protect him.
He's gone my Dear—and left me here mourning;
But hang these dull thoughts, I'le fancy him returning.
Returning, I'le think the great
Hero Victorious,
With joy to my Arms as faithful as Glorious.
Against his bright Eyes, I am sure there's no standing;
He looks like a God, and moves as Commanding.
With a Face so Angelick the Foe will be charmed
The Conquest were his tho he met'em disarm'd.
[Page 45]They could not
(be sure) of a rational nature,
That wou'd not relent at so moving a feature.
Venus disguis'd he'el be thought by his Beauty;
And spar'd from the sense of a
generous Duty.
Yet when I reflect on the Wounded and Dying,
In spight of my Courage it sets me a sighing.
But the
resolute brave no danger can stay him,
Tho' I us'd all my Charms and Arts to delay him.
Yet oh ye kind powers you are bound to protect him,
Since he'es gone the bright way that Glory directs him.
To Madam S—at the Court.
I.
COme prethee leave the Courts
And range the Fields with me;
A thousand pretty Rural sports
I'le here invent for thee.
II.
Involv'd in
blissful innocence
Wee'l spend the shining day,
Untoucht with that mean influence
The duller world obey.
III.
About the flowry Plains wee'l rove,
As gay and unconsin'd:
As are inspir'd by thee and love
The saleys of my mind.
IV.
Now seated by a lovely Stream,
Where beauteous Mermaids haunt;
My Song while
William is my Theam,
Shall them and thee inchant.
V.
Then in some gentle soft retreat;
Secure as Venus
Groves,
We'l all the charming things repeat,
That introduuc'd our loves.
VI.
I'le pluck fresh Garlands for thy brows,
Sweet as a Zephirs
breath.
As fair and well design'd as those
The Elisyum Lovers wreath.
VII.
And like those happy Lovers we,
As careless and as blest;
Shall in each others converse be
Of the whole world possest.
VIII.
Then prethee
Phillis leave the Courts,
And range the Fields with me;
Since I so many harmless sports
Can here procure for thee.
The Vision. To Theron.
NOw gentle sleep my willing Eyes had clos'd,
And this gay Scene the smiling God impos'd;
Methought I in a Mirtle shade was plac'd,
My Tresses curl'd, my Brows with Laurel grac'd
Fresh was the Air, serenely bright the Day,
And all around lookt ravishingly Gay,
Active my Thoughts, my Lyre was in my hand,
And once more
Theron did my Voice command;
Once more the charming
Hero did inspire
My daring Muse with an Heroick Fire;
The smiling
Cupids softly flutter'd round,
Till animated with the generous sound,
Like fighting Gods, each shook his Dart and frown'd.
[Page 50]The listning streams inchanted with my Song,
Scarce drove their still preceeding waves along;
Whil'st o're and o're complaisant eccho bears,
Through every cavern the immortal Airs;
About my Lips th' impatient Zephirs hung,
To snatch the tuneful Numbers from my Tongue;
And the pleas'd Graces crowded round to hear their Darling Sung.
The Queen of Beauty, and her Doves, stood by,
When I, to please the Lovely Deity,
Told her, what Looks, what Eyes, and Smiles he had,
Not her own Charms more fatally betray'd:
At every strain the wounded Goddess sighs,
Strains, sweet and powerful, as her own fair Eyes.
Then, smiling, towards her own bright Orb she flew,
And, with her, all the Sanguine Visions drew.
A Pastoral Elegy.
Philomela.
SO, gentle Destinies, decide the strife;
Ah! spare but hers, and take my hated Life.
Daphne.
Cease, cease, dear Nymph, the Fates ordain not so.
Philomela.
The more ungentle they; But wilt thou go?
Daphne.
I must; and wish my
Epilogue were done,
That from this tiresome stage I may be gone.
Philomela.
Ah me! ah me! this breaks my feeble heart:
But find'st thou no Reluctancy to part?
Daphne.
[Page 52]
Without the least Reluctance, all below,
Save thee, dear Nymph, I willingly forego:
My Swain, my Mates, my Flocks and Garland too.
In those blest shades, to which my soul must flee,
More beauteous Nymphs, and kinder Shepherds be;
Who ne're reflect on what they left behind,
Rapt with the Joys they in
Elysium find.
By Silver streams, through blissful shades they rove,
Their Pleasures to Eternity improve.
There all the Smiling Year is cloth'd with Green;
No Autumn, but Eternal Spring is seen.
[Page 53]There the wing'd Choir in Loud and Artful strains
Transmit their Eccho's to the happy Plains:
And thither
Strephon will my Soul pursue,
When he, like me, has bid the World adieu.
There, if her Innocence she still retain,
My
Philomela I shall claspe again;
And there, when Death shall stop his Noble Race,
With a more Godlike and Heroick Grace,
Thou shalt behold the matchless
Theron's Face.
But now farewel, my latest Sands are run,
And
Charon waits impatient to be gone.
Farewel, poor Earth; from thy unhappy shore
None ever launch'd more joyfully before.
Not Death's Grim Looks affright me, tho so near;
Alas! why should the Brave and Vertuous fear:
Philomela.
[Page 54]
She's gone, she's gone, my dear Companion's gone,
And left me in this desert World alone;
Unfore't, her Beauteous Soul has took its flight,
Serene, and Glittering to Eternal Light.
More blind than Love, or Chance, relentless Death,
Why didst thou stop my charming
Daphnes Breath?
The best the brav'st, and faithful Friend alive;
Fate-cut my Thread, I'll not the loss survive.
Alas! Why rises the unwelcome Sun?
There's nothing worth our sight now
Daphne's gone.
Go smile on some blest Clime, where thou'st not see
A loss so vast, nor Wretch so curst as me;
[Page 55]Whom Grief hath wrapt in so condens'd a shade,
As thy intruding beams shall ne're invade:
For, What avails thy Light now
Daphne's gone,
And left me Weeping on the Shore alone?
Yet could the
Gentle Fair but see me mourn,
From that Blest Place she would perhaps return.
But vain, alas! are my Complaints; she's gone,
And left me in this desert VVorld alone.
For ah! depriv'd my dearer Life of thee,
The World is all a Hermitage to me:
No more together we shall sit or walk,
No more of
Pan, or of
Elysium talk:
No more, no more shall I the fleeting Day
In kind Endearments softly pass away:
[Page 56]No more the Noblest height of Friendship prove,
Now
Daphne's gone, I know not who to Love.
Mourn all ye Groves and Streams, mourn every thing,
You'l hear no more the pretty
Syren Sing.
Tune, Shepherds, tune your Pipes to Mournful strains;
For we have lost the Glory of our Plains.
Let every thing a sadder Look put on;
For Daphne's
dead, for the Lov'd Nymph is gone.
Parthenea, an ELEGY.
WIth
Singing Angels hence she
posts away,
As
Lovely now and
excellent as they:
For one short Moment
Death's Grim Looks she bore,
But ne'r shall see his
Gastly Visage more.
Releast from her dull
Fetters; as the
Light,
Active, and Pure,
Parthenia takes her
flight;
And finds, at last, the awfull
Secrecy,
How Spirits act, and what they do, and be.
But now she's
swallow'd in a
flood of
Light,
And scarce indures the
Splendour of the
Sight:
Dear Shade, whom
Heaven did so soon remove
From these
Cold Regions to the
Land of
Love;
[Page 58]To endless
Pleasures, and Eternal day;
How
glittering now? How
satisfy'd and
gay
Art thou? methinks I do but
half lament
The Lovely Saint from my
Embraces rent:
Nor can to those fair
Mansions cast my eyes,
To which she's
[...] and not recall my
sighs.
My
grief so,
[...] were as
unjust, as
vain,
If from that
Bliss 'twould hurry her again:
For tho' the
Charming'st Friend on Earth I've lost,
Yet she the while may the
advantage boast:
And should her pure
unfetter'd Soul but daign
A
careless glance on these
dark coasts again,
'Twould
Smile, as Conscious, where she left her
Chain;
And smile agen at the surprizing odds
Of her late
dwelling, and those
bright abodes;
Those
bright abodes where now, securely blest,
She Sings the
Anthems of
Eternal rest.
The Reply to Mr.—
NO: I'm unmov'd: nor can thy
charming Muse
One
tender Thought into my
Breast Infuse.
I am from all those
sensual motions Free;
And you, in vain, speak
pretty things to Me:
For through the Splendid Gallantrys of
Love,
Untouch'd, and careless, now I wildly rove,
From all th'
Attacques of those proud Darts secure,
Whose Trifling
Force too
Tamely you indure;
Nor ought, on Earth's so
delicate to move
My
Nicer Spirit, and exact my Love:
Even
Theron's Lovely and Inticeing Eyes,
Tho' arm'd with flames, I can at last despise;
With all the Genuine
charms and Courtly
Arts,
By which your Treacherous
Sex invade our
Hearts:
[Page 60]No more those little Things contract my
breast
By a Diviner Excellence possest;
And, should I yield agen, it dear must cost
My
Victor e're he shall the Conquest Boast;
For the Mad Venome's quite expell'd my Veins,
And calmer
Reason now Triumphant Reigns:
No more the
dearest object of my sight
Can move a
Soft Sensaetion of Delight;
Or force my lingring Blood a swifter pace,
Or Paint new
Smiles and
Blushes on my Face.
I've rent the
Charming Idol from my heart,
And banisht all from thence that took his part.
No more the
Smiling Beaux shall tempt me on
To
Gaze, and
Sigh, and think my self undone;
Whilst
Love, like some
Fierce Torrent unconfin'd,
Breaks in, o'f-spreads, and swallows up my Mind;
And with its black ungrateful streams controul
All the
Diviner Rays within my Soul.
[Page 61]No, No: I will, I will no more admire,
And urge the Sparks of the now dormant Fire:
Nor for a wild Fantastick Extasy,
Change the Dear
Ioys of this blest Liberty;
Free, as a wandring
Zephir, through the Air,
Methinks I range, and hate my former Sphear.
I meet the Noblest
Forms, yet scorn to pay
A Fond
Devotion to well-moulded Clay:
Nor would I even for my late splendid Chain
Forgo this Charming
Liberty again;
Which with so sweet a Calmness fill my
Breast
As cannot be in Words, no not in thine Exprest.
A Pastoral on the QVEEN.
(Phillis.)
WHy (
Philomela) sleep those chearful
Strains,
With which so much you
gratify'd the
Plains?
When every
murmuring stream and
pretty spring
Of some soft
Tale would stop to hear thee Sing
In
Notes, that all the
Nymphs and
Shepherds mov'd;
And
Theron too, had he been by, had
Lov'd.
But ah! unwellcome
Alteration, now
No pleasant
Smile, or
Wreath, adorns thy
Brow:
About the
Plains thy
Flocks neglected, stray;
And thou, as
careless and
forlorn as they:
In
hollow Rocks, and
Cypress Shades, alone,
Dost Teach the
Mournful Dove a sadder Mone.
For, all I heard from thee, when
listning by,
Were
broken Notes, of some sad
Elegy:
[Page 63]But such a great and
unaffected Air
Thy
Solitary Lamentations were,
I find, no selfish
Grief, or
Interest
Cou'd draw those
Generous Murmurs from thy
Breast.
'Tis sure, the
Publick Loss thou dost condole;
'Tis that which yet lies pressing on thy
Soul.
(Philomela.)
'Tis that indeed, our common loss and care,
Which, in my Breast, claims this
unvulgar share;
Too sadly claims it: Oh! the
Queen, the
Queen
Has left the
World: but Heaven! How black a Scene
Her
Exit makes it?—Oh
Illustrious Saint!
(By Death, from our most warm
Caresses rent;
Could I but speak thy Worth: But that's a
Theme
Too mighty for my boldest
Thoughts to
Stem:
Ev'n my own
Grief, I have no
words to Paint,
Nor find my
Love an Elegant
Complaint.
[Page 64]My
Lyre it self no more can give me ease,
(Nor the strong
Tumults of my
Soul appease;
No more can give my swelling
Breast relief,)
Then
Fate reverse the Subject of my
Grief:
'Tis all in vain—
Alass! the Royal
Shepherdess is gone;
And, with her, the Whole Sex's
Glory flown.
Oh! Could not all those
Heavenly Virtues Save
Divine
Maria from th'
Insatiate Grave?
Nor her's, and our Dear
Hero's Moving Tears?
Nor all the poor Lamenting Nations Fears?
No, no; they could not—She resigns Her
Breath;
The Charming
QVEEN a
Trophy falls to
Death.
A Farewel to LOVE.
WEll, since in spight of all that Love can do,
The dangerous steps of Honour thoul't pursue,
I'll just grow Wise and Philosophick too:
I'll bid these tender silly things Farewel;
And Love, with thy great Antidote, expel:
I'll tread the same Ambitious Paths with thee,
And Glory too shall be my Deity.
And now I'll once release my Train of Fools,
In
Sheer good Nature to the Loving Souls;
For Pity's-sake at last I'll set at rights
The vain conceits of the presumptuous Wights:
[Page 66]For tho' I shake off
Therons Chains, yet he
Is all that e'er deserv'd a Smile from me.
But he's unjust, and false; and I a part
Would not accept, tho' of
a MONARCH's heart.
And therefore flattering hopes, and wishes too,
With all Loves soft Concomitants, adieu:
No more to its Imperious Yoke I'll bow;
Pride and Resentment fortify me now.
My Inclinations are reverst; nor can
I but abhor the Slavery of Man,
How e'er the
empty Lords of Nature boast
O're me, their Fond Prerogative is lost:
For, Uncontroul'd, I thus resolve to rove,
And hear no more of
Hymen, or of
Love:
No more such Wild Fantastick things shall Charm:
My Breast; nor these Serener Thoughts Alarm.
[Page 67]No more for Farce; I'll make a Lover Creep,
And look as Scurvy as if he had bit a Sheep.
Nor with Dissembled Smiles indulge the Fops,
In pure Revenge to their Audacious hopes;
Tho' at my Feet a thousand Victims lay,
I'd proudly spurn the Whining Slaves away.
Deaf, as the Winds, or
Theron, would I prove,
And hear no more of
Hymen, or of
Love.
Like bright
Diana now I'll range the Woods,
And haunt the silent Shades and silver Floods
I'll find out the Remotest Paths I can,
To shun th' Offensive, Hated Face of Man.
Where I'll Indulge my Liberty and Bliss,
And no
Endimyon shall obtain a Kiss.
Now,
Cupid, Mourn; the inlargement of my fate
Thou'st lost a Politician in thy State:
I could have taught thee, hadst thou lost thy Arm
[...]
To fool the World with more delusive Ch
[...]
[Page 68]I could have made thy Taper burn more bright,
And wing thy Shafts with an unerring flight:
'Twas I directed that successful dart,
That found its way to the
Great—'s heart:
'Twas I that made the lovely
Fl—n bow,
A proud contemner of thy Laws, till now;
I Sung thy Power, and Inspir'd the Swains,
Or thou hadst been no Deity on the Plains,
Yet think no more my freedom to surprize,
VVhich nothing can controul but
Theron's eyes;
And every flattering Smile, and every Grace,
VVith all the Air of that Bewitching Face,
My Pride and Resolutions may deface:
For from those eyes for ever I'll remove,
To shun the Sight of what I would not love:
And then, tho every
Cyclop stretcht his Art,
To form the little angry God a dart,
I'll yet defy his rage to touch my Heart:
[Page 69]For tho my years compel me to disdain,
Of the false Charmer meanly to complain;
'Tis yet some satisfaction to my Mind,
I for his sake abandon all Mankind.
My Prouder Muse, to love no more a slave,
Shall Sing the Gust, the Fortunate and Brave,
And twine her
Promis'd Wreaths for
Theron's Brow,
The
Hero, not the faithless
Lover now.
More Blooming Glories mayst thou still acquire,
And urge my Breast with a more active fire.
May New Successes wait upon thy Sword,
And deathless Honour all thy Acts record.
May all thou dost thy Character compleat;
And, like thy self, be loyal still and great:
[...] in an equal Orb as free I move,
And think no more of
Hymen, or of
Love.
FINIS.