Licensed,

November 27. 1676.
Roger L'Estrange.

POEMS.

BY N. TATE.

LONDON, Printed by T. M. for Benj. Tooke at the Signe of the Ship in St. Pauls, Church-yard, MDCLXXVII.

To The LEARNED and much HONOURED Dr. Walter Needham OF Charter-House.

A Dedication (according to the present Mode) must be an Harrangue on the Accomplishments of the Person to whom it is Addrest; But, Sir, though your general Ac­quaintance with the Sciences, and [Page] your happy Performances in the most usefull of them, invite me (on the first View) to embrace so excellent a Theam; yet when I reflect how that on this occasion no Rhetorick can be Pardonable that is not Extraordinary; and when I farther Consider how well your Excellencies are known to the World, I find that my best En­deavours can prove but an Imperti­nent Zeal. Besides, Sir, had I been able to do Justice to your worth and Fame, yet I have Reason to believe, [Page] that my Silence on that Subject would with you find better Wel­come, than the most Elaborate Pa­negyrick. As for the following Po­ems (which I have publisht on Rea­sons Satisfactory to my self, and my Friends) they are Fortunate enough, in having first been Pardon'd, and then receiv'd into your Favour. 'Twere Injury to the Publick to In­trude on those portions of your time that are employ'd in the Health of your Countrey; but if the best pro­ducts [Page] of my humble Fancy may have Access to your Leisure Hours, 'tis the highest Ambition of,

SIR,
Your devoted humble Servant, N. TATE.

THE CONTENTS.

  • THe Indispos'd Page 1.
  • On a Diseas'd old Man who Wept at Thought of Leaving the World 4
  • To Mr. Flatman on his excellent Poems 8
  • On the Present Corrupted state of Poe­try 14
  • The Search 19
  • The Prospect 24
  • [Page]The Request 26
  • The Installment 27
  • The Pennance 29
  • Laura's Walk 30
  • The Vsurpers 32
  • The Amusement. Dialogue, Strephon and Sylvia. 34
  • The Amorist 37
  • The Surprizall 38
  • The Vn-confin'd 39
  • Dialogue, Alexis and Laura 40
  • The Restitution 44
  • The Escape 45
  • [Page]The Politicians 47
  • The Vow-Breaker 48
  • The Tear 50
  • The Discovery 52
  • The Parting 55
  • On an old Miser that hoarded his Mo­ney in a steel Chest and Bury'd it 57
  • The Vision Written in a dangerous Fit of Sickness 58
  • Ode to my ingenious Friend Mr Flat­man. 67
  • The Banquet. 68
  • The Match. 69
  • [Page]The Disconsolate 71
  • Sliding on Scates in very hard Frost 73
  • Strephon's Complaint on quitting his Retirement 74
  • The Gold-Hater 78
  • The Ingrates 79
  • Disappointed 80
  • Some of Martials Epigrams Transla­ted and Paraphras'd. From Page 81 to Page 87
  • The Confinement 87
  • On Snow fall'n in Autumn, and dissolv'd by the Sun 88
  • [Page]Melancholly 89
  • On a Grave Sir's Retireing to write in order to undeceive the World 92
  • On a deform'd Old Beldam designing to have her Picture drawn 94
  • Advice to a Friend designing to publish his Poems 96
  • The Ignorant 97
  • The Beldam's Song 98
  • The Inconstant. A Paraphrase on the XV Epod of Horace 100
  • Of the Ape and the Fox. A Paraphrase on one of the Centum Fabulae. 102
  • [Page]The Round 104
  • The Male-Content 105
  • The Dream 106
  • Amor Sepulchralis 108
  • The 3 first Verses of the 46 Psalm Paraphras'd 109
  • The Mid-night Thought 131
  • The Counter-turn 113
  • The Voyagers 114
  • The Choice 115
  • On Sight of some Martyrs Sepulchres 116
  • Of the Few Adherents to Virtue 117
  • [Page]The Requitall 118
  • To a Desponding Friend Ibid.
  • Disswasion of an Aged Friend from quitting his Retirement 119
  • Recovering from a Fit of Sickness 120
  • The Challenge 122
  • The Cure 124
  • The Hurricane 131
  • The Gratefull Shepheard 132

ERRATA.

PAge 68 line 8. for Dairie's store read Dairies store, p. 70. l. 5. for yields r. yield. p. 71. l. 7. for sink r. sinks. p. 74. l. 3. for are restrain'd r. are now restrain'd. p. 89. l. 14. for Egyptian r. t'Egyptian. p. 91. l. 19. for springs in r. springs not in.

POEMS.

The Indispos'd.

I.
WHat tho th'unweary'd Sun
Already has his Race begun?
Already summon'd to their Pleasant Toyl
Th'Inhabitants o'th' open Soyl?
What Comfort in his Lustre can I find,
If yet no cheerful Glimpse begin
A Glorious Morn Within,
But Mists and Darkness still oppress my Mind?
II.
What Entertainment can it be
To hear the Tunefull Birds from ev'ry Tree,
With Grateful Songs the rising Day salute,
Unless my Fancy with the Musick suit?
If in my Thoughts I find no Harmony,
I shall (Alass!) as soon Rejoyce
At th'Ominous Ravens dolefull Voyce;
Or be diverted with the Bell,
That Rings my Own, or dearer Friends untimetly Knell.
III.
Whilst in my Breast the Weather's Fair,
I ne're enquire the Temper of the Air:
So Reason o're my Appetites bear sway,
I'm unconcern'd what Planet Rules the Day.
[Page 3]If husht and silent my fierce Passions lye,
The loudest Gusts that rend the Sky,
Invite Repose, and make my Sleep more sound:
The Tempest in my Brest
Alone can break my Rest;
Ev'n Hurricanes abroad are sound
To Dammage less than smallest Winds hatcht Un­der-ground.

On a Diseased Old Man, who Wept at thought of leaving the World.

I.
Shame on thy Beard! That thou canst Bug-bears dread!
Fear Death whom thou so oft hast seen,
So oft his Guest at Funerals been;
Thy self 'ith' Better Half already Dead!
'Tis strange to see that Frozen Head
Such Plenteous Moysture shed;
Whence can this Stream be fed?
The Tears were just, which at thy Birth did flow,
For then Alass! thou had'st t'engage
Life's Inconveniences, but now
Thou art allow'd to quit the Tragick Stage,
[Page 5]Now to be careful to prolong the Scen [...],
And Act thy Miseries o're agen,
Is Folly not to be forgiv'n in ev'n thy Doating Age.
II.
Full Fourscore Years ( Bless us! a dreadful Space)
The World has us'd Thee ill,
Abus'd Thee to Thy Face;
And Doatard canst Thou still
Sollicite her Embrace?
In vain Thou covet'st to enjoy
This haughty Dame, when Age and Pains
Have shrunk thy Nerves, and chill'd thy Veins,
Who to thy Flourishing Years, was so Reserv'd and Coy.
III.
Can Cramps, Catharrs, and Palsies be
Such ravishing Company,
That thou shou'd'st mourn the Loss of their Society?
What Pleasures can the Grave deprive
Thy Senses of? What Inconvenience give,
Which Thou'rt exempted from Alive?
At worst thou canst but have
Cold Lodging in the Grave;
Nor ly'st thou Warmer now tho cover'd o're
In Furr, till thy faint Limbs can bear no more:
Thou sleep'st each Night in so much Sear-cloth bound,
Thou'dst need no more wert thou to take thy Lodg­ing Under-ground.
IV.
Go; lay thy friv'lous Hopes of Health aside;
No longer Potions take,
No more Incisions make,
Let thy dull Flesh no more be Scarify'd:
Resign, resign thy Fated Breath,
Consult with no Physitian more, but Death:
When all thy Surgeons Instruments prove vain,
His never-failing Dart
Will Bleed thee gently at thy Heart,
And let out Life, the Sourse of all thy Pain:
Let then thy Funeral Pile be made,
With Rosemary and Cypress grac't,
Aloft on it thy Carcass plac't;
Beside thee there thy Crutches laid:
Those Utensills will thus oblige thee more,
Fomenting the kind Flame, then when they bore
Thy Crazy and Decrepit Limbs before!

TO Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN ON HIS Excellent POEMS.

STrange Magick of thy Wit and Stile
Which to their griefs mankind can Reconcile!
Whilst thy Philander's tuneful Voice we hear,
Condoling our Disastrous state,
Toucht with a sense of our hard Fate,
We sigh perhaps, or drop a Tear;
But he the mournful Song so sweetly sings,
That more of Pleasure than Regret it brings,
With such becoming Grief
The Trojan Chief
Troy's Conflagration did relate,
VVhil'st ev'n the Suff'rers in the Fire drew near,
And with a greedy Ear
Devour'd the story of their own subverted state.
II.
Kind Heav'n (as to her darling Son) to Thee
A double Portion did impart,
A Gift of Painting and of Poesie:
But for thy Rivals in the Painters Art,
If well they Represent, thy can effect
No more, nor can we more expect.
But more than this Thy happy Pencils give;
Thy Drafts are more than Representative;
For, if we'l credit our own eyes, they Live!
Ah! Worthy Friend, cou'dst Thou maintain the State
Of what with so much Ease thou do'st Create,
We might reflect on Death with Scorn!
But Pictures like th'Originals decay!
Of Colours Those consist, and These of Clay;
A like Compos'd of Dust, to Dust alike Return!
III.
Yet 'tis our Happiness to see
Oblivion, Death, and adverse Destiny
Encounter'd, Vanquish'd, and Disarm'd by thee.
For if thy Pencils fail,
Change thy Artillery,
And Thou'rt secure of Victory;
Employ thy Quill, and thou shalt still prevail.
The grand Destroyer greedy Time reveres
Thy Fancy's Imag'ry, and spares
The meanest things that bear
Th' Impression of thy Pen:
Tho' course and cheap their Natural Mettal were,
Stampt with thy Verse, he knows th'are sacred, then.
He knows them by that Character to be
Predestinate, and set a part for Immortality.
IV.
If native Lustre in thy Theams appear,
Improv'd by thee, it shines more clear:
Or if thy Subject's void of native Light,
Thy Fancy need but dart a Beam
To guild thy Theam,
And make the rude Mass beautiful and bright.
Thou vary'st oft thy Strains, but still
Success attends each Strain:
Thy Verse is alwayes lofty as the Hill,
Or pleasant as the Plain.
How well thy Muse the Pastoral Song improves!
Whose Nymphs and Swains are in their Loves,
As Innocent, and yet as Kind as Doves.
But most She moves our Wonder and Delight,
When She performs her loose Pindarick Flight;
[Page 12]Oft to their outmost reach She will extend
Her towring VVings to soar on high,
And then by just Degrees descend:
Oft in a swift strait Course she glides,
Obliquely oft the air divides,
And oft with wanton Play hangs hov'ring in the sky.
V.
VVhilst sense of Duty into my artless Muse,
Th' ambition wou'd infuse
To mingle with those Nymphs that Homage pay,
And wait on Thine in her tryumphant Way;
Defect of Merit checks her forward Pride,
And makes her dread t'approach thy Chariot side;
For 'twere at least a rude Indecency
(If not Prophane) t'appear
At this Solemnity,
Crown'd with no Lawrel Wreath (when others are.)
[Page 13]But this she will presume to do,
At distance to attend the show,
Officiously to gather up
The scatter'd Bayes, if any drop
From others Temples; and with those,
A plain Plebeian Coronet compose.
This, as your Livery, she'd wear, to hide
Her Nakedness, not gratifie her Pride!
Such was the Verdant dress,
Which the offending Pair did frame
Of platted Leaves, not to express
Their Pride i'th' Novel-garb, but to conceal their Shame.

ON THE Present Corrupted State OF POETRY,

I.
WRite thy own Elegy Apostate Art,
Thou Angel once of Light;
But, since thy Fall, a Fiend of Night,
Mankind endeav'ring to pervert.
At first, to th'Altars Service thou wert bound,
With Innocence instead of Lawrel Crown'd;
Anthems and Hallelujah's only did'st resound:
But now, forgetful of thy high Descent, meanly thou labour'st to foment
[Page 15]The Vanity and Vices of the Age;
Flatt'ring in Courts, and Rev'lling on the Stage.
That Poesie, that did at first inspire
Devotion and Seraphick Fire,
Degenerate now her Art imploy's
In Recommending Sensual Ioyes;
Bawd-like, contriving to excite
The wasted Letcher's Appetite;
And with forc'd Heat sustain Love's languishing Desire.
II.
The wisest and most potent Kings of Old, did not disdain
To leave their Royal Names Enroll'd,
With those of the Poetick Train:
They reapt more durable Renown
From Writing well,
Then when they did in Arms excell:
They priz'd their Poets Wreath above their Prince's Crown.
[Page 16]But then the Celebrated Nine,
Pious as Sybills, Chast as Vestals were,
The Graces were not more Divine;
But now Deform'd, and Bloated they appear;
Nyctimene sustain'd, no Change so fowl,
Transform'd into a glaring Owl;
Or when th' Audacious King a New-made Wolf did Houl.
III.
In Ages past, when Vertue was allow'd,
The Dignity of Verse was Understood:
'Twas then employ'd t'embalm some VVorthy 's Name:
Nought then cou'd purchase Elogies but Fame.
But Poetry now is Mercenary grown.
Encomiums she'll bestow
On Potentates, by their high Rank alone,
And singular Vices infamously known;
[Page 17]For, if no Paint or Varnish can disguise
Their gross Enormities,
Audaciously she'll Praise their Vices too!
Thus none more largely share in her Applause,
Than some grand Murtherer O'th' Field,
That boasts of Myriads kill'd,
Regardless of the Justice of his Cause.
If to Destroy can challenge Fame,
Famines and Plagues the largest Trophies claim;
But these the Muses Peccadillo's are,
And cannot with their blacker Crimes compare:
Long since they were Immodest grown, and Vain;
But are (Oh! Heav'n) at last become Profane!
Atheism and Blasphemy have dar'd to Preach,
Religion of Imposture to impeach;
Stiffling that Zeal, which first Themselves to the rude World did. Teach.
IV.
Time was when Pious Bards might safely Dream
By Helicon, or fair Pirene's Stream;
[Page 18]And fly their towring Wit at some Caelestial Theam:
But now, with Leaprous Fancies bathing there,
Those Springs so infamous are grown,
Chast Souls fear to approach the Muses Air;
And sacred Theams the Poyson'd Waters shun.
Nor has Heav'ns just Revenge regardless view'd,
Th' Enormities
Of these Apostate Votaries;
But them and their Confaed'rates too, with signal Rage pursu'd.
A constant Curse of Poverty attends
Th'Unfortunate Man, whom any Muse befriends.
All who in this deluding Art engage,
Set out with Pleasure, drooping reach their Stage;
Frollick in Youth, and Male-content in Age!
Thus (neer Learn'd Cam's fair Current Pensive laid)
Th'Ill-treated Cowley did his Muse upbraid:
Ah! who'd Credit that Surveys,
[Page 19]Th' Amours and Dalliance of their Youthful Dayes?
That ere this Peaceful Bard, and gentle Muse,
Cou'd Bicker thus, and mutually accuse?
So, whil'st some seeming Happy Pair
(who Hymens Fetters wear)
In Publick Fond as Turtles are,
Th' Unwed with Envy their Caresses View
But Ah! What wou'd they do,
If (as they see their open Loves) their private Feuds
They knew?

The Search.

I.
COnfess Ingenuously O Man,
The Upshot of thy Toyl and Pain,
The Product of thy Brain;
Since first thy buisie Race began.
[Page 20] Canst thou produce one Evidence,
Or plausible Pretence,
Thy boasted Reason to Evince?
Yes—Gradually each Age has been Refin'd
By the important Labours of Man-kind;
The Labours of their Hand, and of their Mind,
Ev'n Wilye Nature, with her Protean Shapes,
Rarely from their Inquisitive Search escapes;
Long she Resists; but strictly prest,
Resigns th' Arcanas of her Brest.
Bold Mortals Rob with Ease
Her Richest Cossers, be they laid
Deep i'th' Recesses of profoundest Seas,
Or to the Caverns of the Earth convey'd;
For rather than live Poor,
They'l dive in quest of Gemms that sleep
On Beds of Rock beneath the Deep,
And Travel Under-ground for Golden-Oar.
II.
Enough!—If we'l lay claim,
[Page 21] From these Performances, to Fame,
Where will the Catalogue of our Praises end?
For, thousand Instances beside
Will vindicate our Pride,
And still the Tryumphs of our Wit extend.
Such are the Conquests which we daily gain
On Learnings Undiscover'd Parts:
Our active Fancies still Create New Arts;
Or, what is more,
Ev'n from the Dead Restore
Arts, that in Ages Past have buri'd lain.
And yet 'tis fear'd, there's Reason to suspect
Our Glorie's Weight will fail,
And Vanity prove the Heavier Scale:
Impartially if we Reflect,
We shall perceive there's wanting yet
The Richest Crown our Tirumphs to Compleat;
In vain we boast Discoveries,
Whil'st we Return without the Master Prize;
The Art of Happiness still Undiscover'd lyes.
III.
Oh Happiness! (if Happiness be ought
Beside a wild Chimaera in the Thought)
To what close Nook ar't Thou confin'd?
What distant Continent or Isle,
That thou canst still beguile
The restless Scrutiny of all Man-kind!
Ev'n in this Vale of Misery,
Some Rivulets of Bliss we tast;
But Riv'lets almost Dry,
And tainted with th' Unsavory Grounds through which they past.
Ah! that some friendly Seraph wou'd convey,
Or point me out the Way
To those glad Lands, where Happiness slows pure;
Where I might drink secure
At Pleasure's Fountain-Head;
No Surfeit wou'd I dread,
But quaff the Cordial Flood;
Till mingling with my Blood,
And circ'ling through each Part,
[Page 23] It should like Bals [...]m ease my Smart;
Like Nectar, Cherish my dejected Heart!
IV.
In various Wayes deluded Mortals Toil,
All busi'd I'th' Discovery of Content:
This is the Game we All pursue,
But Hunt it still on a cold Scent;
The wary Prey nere comes in view,
But sculks Aloof, and leaves us at a Foil.
Yet where's the disappointed Man will say,
He now dispairs of being Blest;
For tho at present unpossest
Of his dear Hope, He's yet in a fair Way:
And now his Project wants but carrying on as 'tis Begun,
And then th'important Task is done:
Done, say'st thou Credulous Man?
Yes! So the Babel Builders heretofore,
Raising to Heav'n their proud Tow'r, lackt no more
Than carrying on the Work as they Began.
[Page 24] But, grant thy Years of Drudgery were past,
'Tis odds but thou'rt impos'd upon at last:
Thou like the Syrian Husband-man of Old,
Conceiv'st thy self to hold
The Beautious Rachell fast in thy Embrace,
Yet (tho th'Imposture last a Night)
Be sure the next returning Light
Shall fight thee with an unexpected Face,
When thou behold'st a Blear-Ey'd Leah in thy Ra­chell's Place.

The Prospect.

FRom a tall Praecipice on the Sea-side,
A Rev'rend Hermite view'd the spreading Tide:
The Flood was curl'd with a becoming Wave;
But no Praesage of rising Tempests gave.
A goodly Ship was coasting by the Place,
Like a proud Courser foaming in her Pace;
[Page 25] With flatt'ring Courtship, the Lascivious Gails
Her Streamers curl'd, and wanton'd in her Sails.
The Waves divide to give the Pageant way;
Then close, and with rais'd Heads, the Pomp survey.
Whilst the grave Man this spectacle intends,
(Pleas'd with the sight) a suddain Storm descends.
The Winds grow rude, and rend the shaken Boat;
On the swoln Flood, the tatter'd Streamers float:
So, Blossoms with too violent a Breeze,
Are torn, and scatter'd round their shaken Trees.
Then, to his Cell return'd, the Anchorite
Draws sage Remarques from this Disastrous sight
Of Earthly Grandeur, weighs the Uncertain state;
Which, in its gawdiest Bloom, and proudest Height,
Stands most expos'd to th'Shock of suddain Fate.

The Request.

SO may you Spring, and so Heav'ns choisest Dew,
In Nightly-Show'rs, distill fair Plants on You;
As You on Me Your rankest Venom shed,
Whil'st at Your Feet I make My grassie Bed.
And Thou O Goddess (whose Obliging Womb
Affords the Living Food, the Dead a Tomb)
Permit Me ere I dye, to dig my Grave;
'Tis all My starv'd Ambition now will crave!
I Rob Thee not; for, tho My delving Spade
Dislodge thy Mould, yet there's no Trespass made:
For I the petty Damage shall Repay,
Filling the Vacant Ground with My own Clay.

The Installment.

I.
LOng have I Languisht in the Fire
Of an unquenchable Desire;
And will it not suffice thee Love,
That I thy patient Martyr am,
Unless thy Worship I promove,
And proselyte others to thy Flame?
If as a Laick-Lover ought I act,
What canst thou more from me expect,
Who am not gifted for a Teacher in the Sect?
II.
My Gifts of Nature are too small;
I own it, and pretend no Call!
Beside, I've found at last the Cheat;
The Flame that do's thy Priests inspire,
[Page 28] (Pretended for Seraphick Heat)
Is meer Enthusiastick Fire.
VVhen Heav'n inspires the mind no Trouble knows;
But Love's wild Extasics (like those
That Rag'd in Heathen Priests) torment and dis­compose.
III.
And 'tis no more than their Desert,
That these Impostors thus shou'd smart;
By whose false VViles we are betray'd
To Loves curst Tyranny and Rage;
For they, when once Love's Captives made,
Their Griefs dissembling, Sing i'th' Cage:
Then from afar, the Credulous Flock repairs,
T'attend their soft and charming Aires;
And whil'st they listning sit, are caught in unseen Snares.
IV.
But why fond Love wilt thou make choice
Of my untaught and grating Voice?
[Page 29] Fool, whil'st amidst thy Gins I sing,
I shall not only fright away
Such as already are on Wing,
But those that were inclin'd to stay!
Consult thy Reason first deluded Boy,
Ere my rude Verse thou dost employ;
Verse that will prove a Scare-Crow, rather than Du­coy.

The Pennance.

Nymph Fanarett, suppos'd to be
The Gentlest, most indulgent She;
(For what Offence I cannot say)
A Day and Night, and half a Day,
Banisht her Shepheard from her sight:
Sure his Default cou'd not be Light,
Or this Compassionate Judge had nere
Impos'd a Pennance so severe.
[Page 30] And lest she shou'd anon revoke
What in her warmer rage she spoke,
She bound the Sentence with an Oath,
Protested by her Faith and Troth,
Nought shou'd Compound for his Offence,
But the full Term of Abstinence.
But when his Pennance-Glass were run,
His Hours of Castigation done,
Shou'd he deferr one Minutes space
T' appear, and be restor'd to Grace,
With sparkling threatning Eyes she swore,
That Failure wou'd Incense her more
Than all his Trespasses before.

Laura's Walk.

I.
THE Sun far sunk in his Descent,
Laid now his Tyrant Rayes aside,
[Page 31] When Laura to the Garden went,
To Tryumph over Natures Pride.
II.
The Rose-Buds blusht with deeper Dye,
The envying Lillies paler grew;
The Violets droopt with Fear to spy
On Laura's Veins a richer Blew.
III.
She stoopt and gather'd as she went,
But whilst she slaughter'd sweetly Smil'd;
As Angells tho for Ruin sent,
Appear with Looks Serene and Mild.
IV.
But now grown weary with her Toyl,
She sits and flow'ry Wreaths she frames;
Thus with proud Trophies made o'th' Spoyl,
Her Conquest ore the Flow'rs proclaims.

The Vsurpers.

I.
USurping Passions held a long Contest
For the Supream Dominion of my Brest;
But whilst in mutural Broyls the Tyrants rag'd
Whoso'ver by the Battel Gain'd,
I still the certain Loss sustain'd;
For they nere-fail'd when-ever they Engag'd,
To Wast the Province where the War was wag'd.
II.
Whilst such wild Havock in my Brest was made,
Reason first came to tender me his Aid;
And sure with that puissant Prince Ally'd,
Had I but play'd the Man i'th' Fight.
My Passions had been put to Flight.
But I not only to Assist deny'd,
But Treach'rously fell off to th' Enemies side.
III.
Then from the Powers of Love Redress I crav'd,
But was by that Allyance worse Enslav'd;
For tho Loves Forces quickly did degrade
These proud Usurpers of my Breast,
Yet was I not hereby Redrest,
For Love himself prov'd false, when Victor made,
And seiz'd the Province which he came to Aid.
IV.
But heavier now the Bondage I sustain,
Then during my tumultuous Passions Reign.
'Twere now no small Presumption to impore
The Indulgent Fates to set me free
As in my Native Liberty.
No! So it please their kind Pow'rs to Restore
My former Tyrants, I demand no more.

The Amusement.

Strephon.
WHy Weeps my Sylvia, prethee why?
Sylvia.
To think my Strephon once must Die,
To think withal poor Sylvia may
When He's remov'd, be doom'd to stay.
Streph.
Nymph you'r too Lavish of your Tears,
To spend them on Fantastick Fears.
Sylv.
No, for when I this Life resign,
(If Fate prolong the Date of Thine)
The Tears you'l give my Funeral,
Will pay me Int'rest, Stock and all.
Steph.
[Page 35]
Not so, for shou'd this setting Light
Ne're Rise again in Sylvia's sight,
Without a Tear in mine I'd view
Her Dying Eyes.
Sylv.
'Tis False!
Streph.
'Tis true.
Sylv.
Not weep false Shepheard? Swear.
Streph.
I Swear
I wou'd not give thy Hearse a Tear.
Sylv.
Break swelling Heart! Persidious Man!
Death! are you Serious? Swear agen.
Yes! Swear by Ceres and by Pan.
Streph.
Let then great Pan and Ceres hear,
And punish if I falsely Swear.
Sylv.
[Page 36]
Gods! can ye hear this and Forgive?
You may, for I have Heard and Live!
Half this Unkindness timely shown,
Had kept me Blest, kept me my Own;
E're to your false embrace I came,
I cou'd have quencht my kindling Flame;
I cou'd have done't without Remorse,
Parting had then been no Divorce.
Streph.
Rage not rash Nymph, for I've Decreed
When Sylvia Dies—
Sylv.
Speak, what?
Streph.
To Bleed.
I'll drein my Life-blood from my Heart,
But no cheap Tear shall dare to start.
Sylv.
Kind Shepheard, cou'd you Life Despise,
And Bleed at Sylvia's Obsequies?
Streph.
[Page 37]
To Ceres I appeal, for She
Knows this has long been my Decree;
And knows that I resolve it still.
Sylv.
Since then you cou'd your Vow fulfill,
Swear, Swear once more you never will.

The Amorist.

SEe where enammour'd Thirsis lies,
And cannot cease to gaze
On his Larissa's sparkling Eyes,
But takes Delight to see those Comets Blaze;
Whose Lustre still is Fatal to the Swain,
Ore whom they Reign,
For by their Influence the poor Shepheard Dies,
Or (more to be Lamented) Lives in Pain.

The Surprizal.

I'th' narrowest walk of a close Grove,
Whom shou'd I chance to meet but Love?
I seiz'd the Elf, and said—At last
I've caught thee, and I'l hold thee fast.
Now by thy Mothers Doves and Sparrows,
I'l rob thee of thy Bow and Arrows;
I'l chain Thee up and clip thy Wings,
Or Strangle Thee in thy own Strings,
If thou refuse me to relate
The Grounds of my Olinda's Hate.
Then thus the Boy reply'd—Fond Swain,
Vex not your self and me in Vain:
Your Love as noble is and brave
As ere this Bow and Quiver gave;
But that Olinda flights your Flame,
Nor Thou, nor I, nor She's too Blame.
[Page 39] Weigh Circumstances, and you'l find
She's of Necessity Unkind:
She's Mortal, therefore never can
Commiserate a suff'ring Swain;
For such refin'd Perfections shine
In Her, that cou'd She but Incline
To Pitty Men, She were Divine!

The Vnconfin'd.

BElieve me Nymph you strive in Vain
My Passion to Confine:
'Tis noble, and must need repine
To wear the Slaves most Servile Badge, the Chain.
'Tis more than all your Charms can do
To lay Restraint on Love;
But if you are dispos'd to prove
Your Beauties utmost Pow'r, pursue
[Page 40] Some likelier Enterprize; but spare
Your vain Attempts to bind
What is by Nature Unconfin'd,
For Love's a Planet, not a fixed Star.

Dialogue. Alexis and Laura.

Laur.
Alexis.—
Alex.
Dear!
Laur.
Take—
Alex.
What?
Laur.
A Kiss.
Alex.
What means this Unexpected Bliss,
[Page 41] A Bliss which I so oft in Vain
Have crav'd, and now unaskt obtain?
Laur.
When to my Swain reserv'd I seem'd,
I Lov'd him, Kist him Less esteem'd!
Alex.
Dear Nymph, your Female Arts forbear,
Nor fondly thus new Ginns prepare
For one already caught i'th'snare.
You may impose a heavier Chain,
But none that surer will retain.
'Tis Laura, an unjust design
To Treat so Plain a Soul as mine
With Oracles; with mystick sense
Religion may perhaps dispense,
But these Aenigmas mar Love's Joy,
As Clouds Gems in their worth destroy.
Laur.
Then take it on your Peril Swain,
(Since you compel me to be plain)
[Page 42] The Kiss I gave you was in lieu
Of all Love-debts from Laura due,
To Swain Alexis, since the Hour
Of our first Entrance on Amour.
Alex.
What Crimes can I have wrought t'enforce
This suddain and severe Divorce?
'Tis, sure, impossible such Guilt
Should press my Soul and not be felt.
Laur.
Recall false Shepheard what to day
I heard you to Dorinda say.
You said she did Noons Light out-shine,
More than the Paphian Queen Divine.
You vow'd respect to her Commands,
And (Heav'n Forgive you) Kist her Hands.
Alex.
You wrong me Nymph, by Pan you do;
For if that Courtship you review,
You'l find 'twas Complement to you.
Laur.
[Page 43]
Yes, I was Sov'rainly respected
By Pray'rs t' Another Saint directed.
Alex.
Dorindas Graces, 'tis well known,
Bear such Resemblance with your own,
That when I made my late Address,
'Twas in that gentle Shepherdess
The sweetness of those Charms to tast,
Which so divinely Laura grac't.
Laur.
Weak Nymphs with Men contend in Vain,
Who thus can their Defaults maintain.
Wise Nature has her care exprest,
That neither Sex shou'd be Opprest;
For when to Us she did commit
Tyrannick Beauty, she thought fit
To Teach Men Wit and Arts t' Allay
And Temper Beauties Absolute Sway.

The Restitution.

HEr keen Disdain pierct deep my Breast;
The gaping Orifice dismist
The dearest drops my Heart contain'd:
I ventur'd to her and complain'd,
To ease my smart and still my Fears;
She wept and Bath'd my Wound with Tears.
Blood will have Blood (they say) and be
Repaid in Kind. 'Tis false in Me.
For Sylvia wound me yet more deep,
If after you vouchsafe to weep,
(So much I prize your Tears) I'l own
You have not satisfi'd Alone,
But so ore-recompenct my wrongs, that I
Bleeding to Death shall Sylvia's Debtor Dye.

The Escape.

ON a Streams Bank I saw her stand,
A plyant Angle in her Hand.
I markt how she disguis'd the Hook,
And cast her Bait into the Brook.
The sport succeeded to her wish,
For strait she hung a pondrous Fish;
But too too eager on her Prey,
Resus'd to give the Captive Play
Till Tir'd, himself he woud resign;
But trusting to her slender Line,
The struggling Animal enrag'd,
With the rude check soon Disengag'd
His wounded Jaws; but whilst He thus Regains
His Liberty, the bearded wire remains
And galls his tender Gills with restless Pains.
II.
Is't not enough inhumane Maid,
That we are by thy Wiles betray'd,
But you your Treach'ry must employ,
The Floods Inhabitants to destroy?
This Fish has my hard fortune shar'd,
When first by thy false Charms Ensnar'd;
For so I gorg'd the Bait you threw;
Whilst (on your game too Eager) you
Came violently to seize your Prey,
Which with hard struggling broke away.
But to what purpose am I Free,
Living in painful Liberty.
In vain I boast, that I survive the Dart
Whose Venom'd Pile lies festring in my Heart,
And (tho it kill not) galls with restless smart.

The Politicians.

HOw grosly do the Learn'd and Wise
Mistake in Loves State-policies!
If I and Caelia chance to jar,
They take our Feuds for open War;
So little they perceive the pow'r
Of Quarrels to Improve Amour.
Do we not see how perfect are
The Loves of ev'ry Turtle Pair,
Yet they like us disguise their Bliss,
Cooing and murmuring while they Kiss!
Love's Fire like Lightning shines as fair
In Storms as in Serener Air.
Let none my Caelia judge the mode
Of our Amour, and call it odd;
But such as Love to our Degree
(If any more such Lovers be!)
[Page 48] Whose wedded Love persists the same,
As when we burnt in Virgin Flame.
Sometimes like parting Streams we stray,
And seem to Rove a sundry way,
But meet ere long, and so United move
Till we are lost in a full Sea of Love.

The Vom-Breaker.

CLose by a Mossie Fountains side,
A spacious Marble Bason stands;
Passing that way, Ardelia there I spy'd;
Oft-times, and oft, she washt and dry'd her Hands.
Bless me! I cou'd not choose but smile
At her Impertinent Toil;
For from her Arms the Waters purer fell,
Than when she took them from the Well!
[Page 49] So Vapours change their muddy Blew
(When rais'd aloft) to fairer Hue;
They Rise in Mists and fall in Dew.
II.
Ah! I'm Undone; the fear was just
That checkt me when I gave my Heart
To this fair Nymph, who storm'd at my Mistrust,
And Swore from the dear Pledge she'd never part,
A while she lodg'd it in her Breast,
Where like a Turtle in its Nest
It slept, till she (wou'd you believe she cou'd?)
Imbru'd her hands in its warm Blood!
Then, washing Here, design'd to stain
The Innocent Fount, but strove in Vain,
Her Hands the Conscious Die Retain.
III.
Hence-forth let none your Beauty prize,
But such as can be False as You;
You who admit no Hearts your Votaries,
Save what you make (like Mine) your Victims too,
[Page 50] 'Tis evident what you design
You'd be in Earnest thought Divine.
Then, Goddess, know your Rites amiss proceed,
Your Victims Burn before they Bleed;
But you Enjoyn your own odd way
To Exercise your Absolute sway,
And try how Blindly wee'l obey.

The Tear.

I.
STay Iulia, let me watch that Tear,
Lest the rich drop glide from thine Eye,
The Meteor sparkles in its Sphaere,
But Fall'n to impure Earth, twill Dye;
Yet where it is it cannot stay,
For see the Sun-beams come in swarms to Prey
And sip the rich delicious juice Away.
II.
Into this Viol let it fall—
See, Iulia, how it sparkles through?
Well may those Eyes prevail on All,
Whose Tears have Killing glances too.
If solid as a Gem it were,
No Gem cou'd vie with this Transparent Tear;
The Eye that wept it only cou'd compare.
III.
It shall be so, I will convert
This Tear to a Gem, 'tis Feazable;
For laid near Iulia's Frozen Heart,
'Twill to a Diamond congeal.
And yet if I consider well,
These Tears of Iulia's can fore-bode no Ill,
The Frost is Breaking when such Drops Distill.

The Discovery.

WHen first Love's Vot'rie I became,
(Charm'd with the Lustre of his Flame)
My Youth his God-like form admir'd,
And fondly thought his Priests inspir'd.
Mongst Them I proudly sought a Place,
And was by Chance allow'd the Grace;
But once admitted to his Shrine,
That Love whom I esteem'd Divine,
More terrible than Moloch stood,
His Altars stain'd with Humane Blood.
Of all Infernal Tyrant Pow'rs,
None like this Daemon of Amours.
None so severely Exercise
Their Rage on their poor Votaries!
The Wounded Lover lives in pain,
Lies neither Curable nor Slain
[Page 53] Till his keen Sword sheath'd in his Heart,
Compleat the Slaughter of the Dart.
Others to Quench this Calenture
Have tane a speedy Course and sure,
Whilst from some Praecipice's Brow,
They plung'd into the Floods below.
To Deserts Others have Retir'd,
And pensive there in Caves expir'd,
What Place or Age or Sex is free
From this Usurper's Tyranny?
The populous City he frequents,
And pitches in the Camp his Tents.
In Courts and Palaces He Reigns,
And proudest Monarchs wear his Chains.
Yet He that thus the Scepter awes,
Disdains not to impose his Laws
On Cottages, and there destroys
The Nymphs and Shepheards native Joys.
Their purer Air me-thinks shou'd be
From Love's severe Contagion free,
[Page 54] But all their Meads and Gardens bear
No Herb t'asswage this Feavour There!
Far from his Flock Alexis weeps,
Neglects to Feed, and rarely Sleeps;
His once sure Charm for ev'ry Grief,
The Pipe affords him no Relief;
Gasping at Sylvia's Feet he lies,
Whilst She for Scornful Strephon dies.
How wretched is the Lover's State,
Prest on all sides with some hard Fate?
His Hopes alike it will destroy,
Not to Succeed or to Enjoy.
For if he Lawlesly Embrace,
He's then Unhappy 'cause He's Base;
And He that Honorably Love's
Less Wretched, but not Happy proves!
To him that waits his Nuptial Day,
The Hours pass Lazily away;
False Dreams of Bliss his Thoughts Employ,
Impatient therefore to Enjoy,
[Page 55] Rashly he bargains for a Wife,
And with her Weds the Cares of Life;
But wrought to Expectation's Height
His fancy'd Blisses Vanish strait,
For Leapt into the Marriage Bed,
Whith Briars and Thorns He finds it spread,
Repents too Late and Envyes the Unwed.

The Parting.

HEre do I fix my Foot, and Farewell Love!
I will no further move.
When first in Errour's Misty Night
I lost my self, and rov'd about,
This Ignis-fatuus found me out,
Before me rol'd with Wanton Play,
And beg'd to bring me on my Way.
[Page 56] Rashly I follow'd the seducing Fire
Through briny Floods of Tears,
Mongst Thorny Iealousies and Fears,
O're Praecipices of Despair,
And where no Passage did appear,
Oft have I forc't a Path, but now I Tire.
What Glympse was that which struck my Eye
From yonder Skie?
Welcome bright Harbinger of Day;
By thee I know the Sun is on his way.
What Desert's this?—Alas! I fear I'm Stray'd,
And after all my Toil and Fright
In this Tempestuous Night,
By my Officious Guide Betray'd.
Oh! when shall I arrive at the Abode
Of Happy Souls (since they that earliest strive
To reach that Stage, are late e're they Arrive)
I, who am Cumbred with so vast a Load
Of Vain Desires, and have alas!
So many a weary step to pass
Ere I redress my Stray's, & get into the Road.

On an Old Miser that Hoarded his Treasure in a Steel Chest, and bu­ry'd it.

CAnst Thou in Dungeons smother up that Pelf
That's dearer to thee than thy Self?
Th' ill-treated Pris'ner is debar'd the sight
Of its own cheerful Parent Light.
Dost Thou in such strict Ward thy Gold retain,
As Pagans did their Idols Chain,
Lest some audacious Foe by Force shou'd seize
Or charm away their Deities?
In Vain from Others Reach thou dost confine
What is no Less reserv'd from Thine!
So Merchants rather than resign their goods
To Pyrats, sink them in the Floods.
[Page 58] Dull Miser, nought of thy laborious Gains
Falls to thy share, beside the Pains.
Like the dull Ass thou Starv'st beneath a Pack
Of Provender that breaks thy Back.
Think not Thou dost like Nature to Inter
Thy Gold, cause 'twas Inter'd by Her;
The Cell which Nature gave it, was a Womb
To Breed the Oar, but Thine its Tomb.

The Vision,
Written in a dangerous fit of Sickness.

DIssolv'd in Sleep neer a complaining Stream,
My Fancy strove with an important Dream.
Me-thought I was with Violence born away
Through a dark Vault, whose Cavern did convey
To Death's sad Courts; the brazen Gates I past,
Which on my entrance were again made fast.
[Page 59] The dismal Cell with horrour I survey'd,
For dead mens Bones in Piles were round me laid,
And Skulls of largest size the Pavement made.
The Sun to this dark Mansion darts no Ray,
But glim'ring Lamps make an imperfect Day:
By their faint Light I searcht the Cave around,
And in each Nook amazing Objects found.
In a long Row stood Glasses stor'd with Sand,
Which of some Mortals years the Tale contain'd:
His or Her Name the bloody Letters spell'd,
The Number of whose years the Hour-glass held.
Grim Fate stood by to watch the hindmost Grain,
And cut the slender Thread of Life in Twain;
Then down the Tablet dropt t'a stream below,
Suppos'd from the Lethaean Lake to flow:
A while it floated 'till born Under-ground,
'Twas in th' Abyss of deep Oblivion drown'd.
Whilst into Fate's Arcanas thus I pry'd,
My own Name on a Tablet I descry'd.
[Page 60] But oh the Pangs and Agonies that rent
My panting Breast to find my Glass neer spent!
The Tragick Scene begins (Forgive me Fate
That thy occult Proceedings I Relate.)
Strait was I summond to receive my Doom,
For Death with horrid Grace approacht the Room
Array'd majestick in a mourning Robe,
A Dart his Scepter, and a Skull his Globe.
He sat, th' Attendants on his Person stood,
All arm'd for Slaughter, and distain'd with Blood.
Diseases next were plac't a numerous Train,
Producing each a Bed-roll of his slain.
No sooner were my scatter'd Thoughts restor'd,
But I with mental Pray'rs Heav'ns Aid implor'd;
Then thus with hollow Voice the Tyrant spoke—
In vain fond Youth Heav'ns succour you invoke,
Stand to the Bar, and hear th'Inditement read;
For ere Thou dy'st Thou art allow'd to Plead:
Thy Charge is deep, but for thy self Reply,
Oh I am Guilty and deserve to Dye!
[Page 61] My years in Vanity's pursuit I spent,
Too oft Transgrest, too rarely did Repent;
Some Vices (Heav'n Assisting) I supprest,
And lasting War proclaim'd with all the Rest;
But oft i'th' Combat I shrunk back and fled,
By Passions oft surpriz'd and Captive led.
But are this Courts Proceedings so severe,
That Youth can Challenge no Indulgence Here?
Had Fate my Life to Manlier years promov'd,
Perhaps my Skill and Courage had improv'd:
Mortal thy Doom already is decreed,
( The Iudge reply'd) and Sentence must proceed!
This Court's Records with Instances abound
Of Younger Brows than Thine with Lawrel crown'd,
Approach ye Ministers of Fate, and bear
Th'Offender Hence to th'Region of Despair,
In Liquid Flames of Sulphur let him roul,
In sharpest Agonies of a Hell-wreckt Soul:
Thus let him howl Eternity Away,
Refresht with no short Glimps of Heav'nly Day.
[Page 62] Confusion now my Tortur'd Bosom fill'd;
Cold Sweat adown my Lifeless joynts distill'd.
A Guard of Daemons at the Tyrant's call
With hideous Yellings rusht into the Hall
Monstrous of Shape, of Size, Prodigious Tall.
In this Distress behold a Heav'nly Ray,
Around me did his chearful Light display.
The Lamps grew pale and shrunk into their Case,
The frighted Daemons Vanisht from the Place;
The haughty Tyrant's Self confus'd appear'd;
Mongst the dead Bones a rattling Noise was heard,
As Summon'd to the Universal Doom,
They justled with each other in their Tomb.
Not daring yet to hope Relief I spy'd
My Guardian-Angel smiling by my side;
A silent joy through all my Vitals ran,
Whilst Thus in Charming Language He began.
Rejoyce my charge, for from Heav'ns Court I come
With gracious Orders to Revoke thy Doom.
[Page 63] Thy Sun is set, thy Life-glass almost run,
Thy Virtue's Race imperfectly begun.
But Heav'n in Pitty to thy sickly Pace,
Has Lincenc'd me or to contract the space,
Or on my Wing thy lingring Spirit convey
To Blissful Mansions of Eternal Day.
To Heav'n and Him my Humblest Thanks I paid,
And beg'd to be to those glad Seats convey'd;
But first admit the Lot of all Man-kind
And Leave (said He) that Load of Earth behind,
Pris'ners Absolv'd, less gladly quit their Chain
Than I this Flesh that did my Spirit detain.
But when my Soul her naked Self Survey'd,
Leaprous and soul by Sin 's Contagion made,
She Blusht and sought to cover her Disgrace,
Retreating back into her Fleshy case.
The Guardian-Spirit her sond Attempr with-stood,
And streight with Hyssop dipt in Sacred Blood,
Baptiz'd Her; and behold, whilst I enquir'd
[Page 64] Th'Intent o'th' Ceremony, I grew inspir'd
With mental joys, and now descry'd no more
Those Blemishes that stain'd my Soul before:
Thought of New Worlds my Mind had so ingrost,
That all Remembrance of the Old it Lost:
That Body too (which once I fondly thought
Cou'd never be from my Remembrance wrought)
Had now quite scapt my Mem'ry, till I spy'd
The pale and Lifeless Engine by my side.
Bless me (said I) what ghastly thing lies there?
Was this the Mansion where so many a year,
I lingred 'twixt successive Hope and Fear?
Was this the Thing I took such Care t'improve,
Taught it to Cringe, and in just measures move?
The thing that lately did in Business sweat,
That talkt so much of being Rich and Great!
That sought with Verse to make its Love renown'd,
And hop't ere long to see its Passion Crown'd;
[Page 65] Behold where the designing Machine lies,
Prey to those Insects it did once Despise.
Suppose that Body now lay cover'd ore
In Persumes brought from Ormus Spicie Shore;
What courteous Female wou'd vouchsafe the Grace
To Curl those Locks, or Kiss that ghastly Face?
Why is the Corpse so long detain'd from Ground,
Tis more than Time those Hands and Feet were bound;
Close the dull Eyes, support the falling Chin,
With grassie Turfs suppress the swelling Skin:
Go, let the Fun'ral Peal be Rung aloud,
In Winding-Sheets th'offensive Carkass shrow'd
And in some Nook the Useless Lumber crow'd.
Insulting Thus I spake, and more had said,
But was by my Assistant Angel stay'd;
My Charge, said he, (these gloomy shades with-drawn)
Behold of Everlasting Day the Dawn:
At th'Entrance to th' Elysian Land (a Grace
Confer'd on Souls when first they arrive the Place)
[Page 66]The Blissful Throng are met to welcome Thee
To their fair World of Immortality.
He said, and strait his Threatning Wand up-heav'd,
The Neighb'ring Walls obey'd the Stroke and cleav'd;
Such was the Blow giv'n by the Hebrew Guide,
When forcing his Foot-passage through the Tide,
The Waters there Congeal'd and stood in Walls,
The Building here like breaking Water falls.
But now the parting Stones brought Heav'n in View,
When (Fatal Chance!) my rapt'rous Dream with­drew
The grateful slumber from my Temples fell,
Round me I view'd the Grove, and thought it Hell;
Aloud I call'd my Guide! Obligingly
The Ecchoing Rocks kept up th'expiring cry,
But the false Vision fled without Reply.

ODE.
To my Ingenious Friend Mr. Flatman.

AS when the fam'd Artificer of Greece,
With wondrous Art but ill Success
Contriv'd his own and Captiv'd Son's Escape.
By Wings which He with inspir'd Craft did shape,
He taught the Youth how safely He might Glide,
And keep a Mean betwixt the Sun and Tide;
So you ( Learn'd Friend) with equal Art
To me the Wings of poesie impart,
Besore me through the spacious Sphaere
A steddy Course you Steer,
There You securely Wonders act
And th' Eyes of All Attract,
Whilst I Unfortunate,
Like Icarus Die, but with less glorious Fate!
[Page 68] He Soaring fell, I flag Below,
Where with damp Wings disabled to pursue
I yield me Lost, and plunging down
In deep oblivion Drown.

The Banquet.

DIspatch, and to the Myrtle Grove convey
What-ever with the natural Pallat suits,
The Dayrie's Store with Sallads, Roots & Fruits;
I mean to play the Epicure to Day!
Let nought be wanting to compleat
Our Bloodless Treat;
But Bloodless let it be, for I've Decreed
The Grape Alone for this Repast shall Bleed.
Sit worthy Friends—But ere we Feed,
Let Love b'expell'd the Company;
[Page 69] Let no mans Mirth Here interrupted be
With Thought of any Scornful Little She!
Fall too my Friends. Trust me the Cheer is good!
Ah! (if our Bliss we Understood)
How shou'd we Bless th' Indulgent Fates!
Indulgent Fates, that with Content have stor'd
Our Rural Board,
A Rarity nere sound amongst the Cates
Of most Voluptuous Potentates.

The Match.

BY what wild Frenzy was I Led,
That with a Muse I needs must Wed?
Whose Dow'r consists of pop'lar Fame,
The short Possession of a Name!
Yet with what Trouble and Debate
The owner holds this poor Estate?
[Page 70] Where after long Expence and Toil
He Starves on the Ungrateful Soil.
The Fields and Groves which Poets feign
The curious Fancy Entertain,
But yeilds no nourishing Grain or Fruit,
The craving Stomach to recruit.
With Thirsty Tongue the Rhymer Sings
Of Nectar and Olympian Springs.
And such I fear the Faiery ground
Of their Elysium will be found.
A meer Fools Paradise, and fit
For such as will be Men of Wit.
Yet fain wou'd I that Rhymer know,
That Raves not of th' Shades below,
Whose Verse describes not there each Hill,
Each Flow'ry Vale and wandring Rill,
With such praecise particular Care,
As He had been a Native there;
When (maugre all his Art and Pains)
What are his Gay Elysian Plains
[Page 71] But an Imaginary Cheat,
Utopia's form'd i'th' wild Conceit,
When with Poetick Calenture
'Tis seiz'd, and Death alone can Cure.

The Disconsolate.

MY lab'ring Soul no longer can sustain,
But sink beneath th'encreasing Pain;
I Wish, Contrive, Attempt, and Rage in Vain!
Down by these falling Springs I'll Lay
My weary Limbs, and Sigh my troubled Soul Away!
To these lone Fields my Griefs I will impart,
Oh my distracted Head! Oh my afflicted Heart!
Put stay, why shou'd I mournfully recite
My Grievances, to Fright
The feather'd Poets of these Streams?
[Page 72] To interrupt their Mirth and Peace,
Whilst philomel her querulous Song shall cease,
And from my sorrows, learn more Tragick Theams!
No! No! I will conceal my weighty Ills,
Seal up my Lips, nor loose them ev'n to Pray,
But all my Plaints in Mental Pray'rs convey,
That shall to Heav'n as silent rise as Dew from thence Distills.
II.
Dream I? or is't a real Prodigy?
For I descry
A Rent in that unclouded Skye;
The Azure Curtains are drawn wide
And to my View disclose
Th' Elysian Lands where happy Spirits Reside!
See where the Spring of Pleasure flows,
On whose fair Banks the Blest take soft Repose.
Exempt from Sense or thought of Misery,
They Sing, and Smile, and Rove,
[Page 73] And Feast on Joys in every Grove;
Their Paradise has no Forbidden Tree!
Curst that I am to View this glorious Scene
With a vast Gulf of Air Between!
So from a Rock the Ship-wreckt Marriner
Surveys the distant Shore with watry Eyes,
Reflects on the full Meals and Pastimes there,
But having fram'd his fancy'd Theatre
Of Sports and rich Varieties,
Sits down Disconsolate, and Starving Dyes.

Sliding on Skates in very hard Frost.

HOw well these frozen Floods now Represent
Those Chrystal Waters of the Firmament!
Tho Hurricanes shou'd rage, they cou'd not now
So much as curl the solid Water's Brow;
[Page 74] Proud Fleets whose stubborn Cables scarce with-stood
Th' impetuous shock of the Unstable Flood,
In watry Ligaments are restrain'd
More strict than when in binding O oze detain'd.
But tho their Services at present fail,
Our selves without the aid of Tide or Gale
On Keels of polant Steel securely Sail
From ev'ry creek to ev'ry point we Rove,
And in our lawless passage swister move
Than Fish beneath us, or than Fowl above.

Strephon's Complaint on quitting his Retirement.

I.
BUsiness!—Oh stay till I recover Breath,
Th'astonishing Word puts my maz'd Spirits to Flight;
Business to me sounds terrible as Death,
As Death to Lovers on their Bridal Night.
[Page 75] Free as Air, but more Serene,
The Series of my Life has been;
But I uncustom'd to the yoak, must now
In stubborn Harness toil at the dull Plow.
II.
Then farewell Happiness, Repose farewell!
You come not where poor Strephon must Reside'
For you like Halcyons on calm Waters dwell,
But Business is a rough and troubled Tide.
Few Suns have ris'n since I was Blest,
Of God like Liberty possest;
But Slave t'Employment now without Repose
I'm (Ghost-like) hurry'd where my Daemon goes.
III.
But Business to Preferment will direct,
And 'tis ev'n necessary to be Great.
Ah have I then no more than this t'expect?
My stinted Hopes will starve on such thin meat.
Impertinents! Content I crave,
And wildly you of Grandieur Rave!
[Page 76] If Life's at best a tedious rugged Road,
What must it be with Grandieur's cumbring Load?
IV.
Condemn'd to th' Town-Noise and Impertinence,
Where Mode and Ceremony I must view!
Yet were the sight all Strephon cou'd dispense,
But He must there be Ceremonious too.
I fear my rural Soul's too plain
To Learn the Towns dissembling strein;
For whilst I practize the slie Courtiers Art,
I shall forget my self, and speak my Heart.
V.
When first th' unwelcome Tidings I receiv'd,
Summon'd to bid my peaceful shades Adieu;
Scarce was I by my Fellow-Swains believ'd,
'Till streaming Tears prov'd my sad story True.
Then pensive they my Doom resent,
As 'twere to Death or Banishment;
But oh my Panalthaea's passionate moan
Surpast her Sexes kindness, and her own.
VI.
Thus spake She with a forc't frown on her Brow,
Will you be gone? false Strephon, will you go?
Then go thy way; go, for I Hate thee now!
But tell me, are you serious Swain, or no?
This is some new-found wile to prove
(Ridiculous Jealousie!) my Love:
But whilst of mine this feign'd suspect is shown,
You wou'd suggest that you've renounc'd your Own.
VII.
Thy Love chast Nymph deep in my Breast I laid,
When first the precious Pledge I did receive,
Nor have I thence the sacred store convey'd,
Here, force the Cabinet ope and you'l believe!
You'l see with what a bleeding Heart,
From these dear Shades and thee I part;
But rig'rous Fate—then on her Virgin Breast
I lean'd my drooping Head, and wept the Rest.
VIII.
Oh Floods and Groves, beneath whose sacred shade
I've sat as Happy as first Mortals were;
[Page 78] For when Distractions did my breast invade,
Some rapt'rous Shepheard's Song redrest my Care.
But 'bove the Flights of other Swains
I priz'd my Astragon's soft streins;
For (Turtle-like) my pensive Astragon
Is sweetly Sad and charming in his Moan.

The Gold-hater.

WEll, I perceive the Antipathy
Is mutual now 'twixt Gold and Me;
For that flies me as fast as I
The false pernicious mettal flie.
So wild a Prey why shou'd I Trace
That yields no Pleasure in the Chase?
A Prey that must with Toil be sought,
And which I prize not when 'tis Caught.
Gold I contemn when rude i'th' Oar,
But in a Crown despise it more.
[Page 79] No Crown can any Temples fit
So well, but 'twill uneasie sit.
By an Eternal Law of Fate,
Vexations still attend on State;
Insep'rable by Humane Art,
A Crown'd-Head and an Aking-Heart.

The Ingrates.

DUll Mortals with the same prepost'rous breath
We bless Love's Darts, and Curse the shafts of Death.
The Author of our Ills, a God we stile;
But the Redresser of those wrongs Revile.
Yet gentle Death (tho rudely treated) still
Persists in generous Charity to Kill
And Cure th'Ingrateful ev'n against their Will!
Ah should he once in just Resentment give
Our Wishes, and permit us ever Live,
What shou'd we do when Soul and Body jar
And Loath each other like an Ill-wed Pair?
[Page 80] Can envious Fiends a Penalty invent
That shall than Loath'd Embraces more Torment?
But friendly Death absolves us from this Curse,
And when the Parties clash, makes a Divorce.

Disappointed.

I.
FRom Clime to Clime with restless toyl we Roam,
But sadly still our old Griefs we Retain,
And with us bear (tho we out-rove the Main)
The same disquiet selves we brought from Home!
Can Nature's plenteous Board
Spread wide from Pole to Pole,
Sufficient Cates afford
To Satiate or Delude one Craving Soul?
Produce what wealth the Sea contains,
Or sleeps deep lodg'd in Indian Veins,
Th' Insatiate Mind will gorge the store
And call for more.
II.
The Food of Angels of immortal kind,
Alone can be design'd
To Feast th'unbounded Appetite o'th' Mind.
To those bright Seats let me aspire
Where solid joys remain,
So firm they can sustain,
And stand the full Career of Chast Desire.
Th'Enjoyments we pursue
So hotly here below,
Are Charming Daphnes in the Chase
And ( Daphne-like) Transforming, Fool us in th' Em­brace!

Some of Martials Epigrams Translated and Paraphras'd.

Lib. 1. Epigr. IX.

FRom needless dangers timely to Retreat,
Speaks not our Courage small, but Prudence Great.
[Page 82] Thus Cato still was foremost in the Fight,
Whilst Vict'ry (tho at distance) was in fight;
Yet oft the Unequal Battel he wou'd wave,
Wise in Retreat as in th'Engagement Brave.
Who of his Game, Advantage cannot make,
Is wise in plotting how to part the Stake.
Who pays his Blood for't, buys his Fame too dear
I wou'd have Fame, but I'd enjoy it Here.
Who mingles Cypress with his Lawrel Wreath,
Is poor, and Debtor for his Fame to Death.

Lib. 1. Epigr. XIV.
De Arriâ & Paeto.

WHen from her Breast Chast Arria did unsheath
The reeking Sword, & led the way to Death'
The blushing Steel to her Lov'd Lord she gave,
And said—Tho Wretched, let us still be Brave!
Ah that I might prevent thy Fate with Mine:
At my own Breast I Bleed, but Smart in Thine.

Lib. 1. Epigr. CX.
De Issa Catellâ Publij.

Issa much to be preferr'd
To Catullus amorous Bird;
Chaster Thou than Stella's Dove,
But fond as Girls when first they Love.
Issa worth both Indies Treasure,
Issa Publiu's Life and Pleasure.
Issa mourns if He complain,
Issa shares his Health and Pain.
All Night on his warm Neck She lies,
Nor stirs 'till He's dispos'd to rise:
But if Digestion chance to call,
The cleanly well-bred Animal
Ne're harms the Bed, but lightly creeps
O're Publius Bosome while He sleeps,
Or wakes him with her gentle moan,
And motions to be handed down.
[Page 84] But passing other Vertues by,
Such is this Creatures Modesty,
She ne're cou'd Love, tho daily Woo'd
By Shocks of Quality and Blood.
But lest Death take her quite away
When time brings on her fatal Day,
(To Countermand Fate's rigid Law)
Publius did her Picture draw;
Where ev'ry Feature, ev'ry Hair
Is feign'd with so much Art and Care,
It leaves you doubtful which to call
The Copy, which th' Original.
In short, compare 'em both together,
And you'l Swear Both have Life, or Neither.

Lib. 9. Epigr: VI.

Doll Swears she will have Raph—The Wiser she!
Raph Swears hee'l not have her— The Wiser He!

Lib. XI. Epigr. XCV.
Translated in Dialogue.

A.
FRiend Giles and I had late â bloody bout.
B.
Eternal Cronies how cou'd you fall out?
A.
Faith guess th'Occasion.
B.
Some fresh Doxie?
A.
No,
Fools as we are, we have more Sense than So.
He that Asserts a modest Lady's Right,
(Tho soundly Drub'd) is a true Errant Knight;
But Whelps are they, who for such Carrion Fight.
B.
When Toapt (which he's of course some twice a Day)
He'l rail on's Grandsire's Beard if't come in's way;
Perhaps mis-call'd you then, gave you the Lye,
Or in rude Language damn'd your Poetry.
A.
Had Lillye to resolve the Quaere try'd,
Ev'n Lilly's self cou'd not have guest more wide!
[Page 86] Don Critick nere cou'd wound my thoughts so deep
As to beguil me of one minutes sleep;
Censures I still despise as things of course,
But th' damage I sustain by Giles is worse.
The Rascal stole—
B.
Your Poems?
C.
No, my Horse.

Lib. XI. Epigr. XLIII.

THere's not a drowsie Alderman i'th'Town,
But I'l engage more nobly shall requite
Dull hobling Meeter on his Beard and Gown,
Than you the most elab'rate lines I write.
And yet your Worship still gives me strict charge
To write in Honour of your Patronage;
And that my thoughts upon the Theam be large,
And fav'ring of the smartness of the Age.
[Page 87] Troth Sir, you have less Conscience than a Turk,
To put an honest Muse on Conjuring Work,
To make Wesphalia Hams of English Pork.

The Confinement.

OFt had I form'd Ideas of Content,
But by Experience knew not what it meant.
At length I strove to Counter-plot my Stars,
And free my Soul by Stratagem from Cares.
In a cool Jess'mine shade my Lute I strung,
Where with divertive Aires I play'd and Sung;
The grateful Sounds compos'd my Cares to sleep,
Which o're me now no Watch appear'd to keep.
Thrice blest (said I) this long expected Hour,
That frees me from my cruel Goalers Pow'r.
I fled; but soon was by my jealous Guard
Pursu'd, o're-tane, and laid again in Ward.
[Page 88] Yet ev'n this Disappointment I cou'd bear,
Had Fate set bounds to my Misfortunes Here;
But since my Attempt t'escape I suffer more,
Than in my Hardest Bondage heretofore!
Like a Designing Captive now I'm us'd,
A Pris'ners Common Curtesies refus'd;
Prest with more Chains, aw'd by a stricter Guard,
From Sleep (the vilest Slaves Relief) debarr'd.

On Snow fall'n in Autumn, and dis­solv'd by the Sun.

I.
NAture now stript of all her Summer-Dress,
And modestly surmizing, 'twere unmeet
For each rude Eye to view her Nakedness;
Around her bare Limbs wraps this Snowy Sheet.
II.
The wanton Sun the slight-wrought Shroud removes
T'embrace the naked Dame, whose fertile Womb
Admits the lusty Paramour's warm Love 's,
And is made big with the fair Spring to come.

Melancholy.

I.
MAlignant Humour, Poyson to my Blood!
Bane of those active Spirits that glide
And sport within the circling Tide,
As Fish Expire in an infected Flood.
When all th' Horizon of my Soul is clear,
And I suspect no change of Weather near,
Strait like a suddain Storm I find
Thy black Fumes gath'ring in my Mind,
Transforming All Egyptian Darkness there;
Darkness where nought occurs to Sight
[Page 90] But Flashes, more amazing than the Night;
And fiery Spectres gliding through the troubled Air.
II.
Sleep that in other Maladies brings Ease,
Feeds and enrages this Disease;
For when my weary Lidds I close
And slumber, 'tis without Repose.
This Fury still into my Dreams will creep
To Hagg my tim'rous Fancy while I sleep;
Through Charnel Houses then I'm led,
Those gloomy Mansions of the Dead,
Where pensive Ghosts by their lov'd Reliques stay,
And Curse th'approaching Day.
By Merc'less Foes pursu'd and tane;
Oft ship-wreckt on the Main,
Beneath the Floods I seem to Dive;
Oft in Wild Sarra's Desert forc't t'engage
Some Savage Monster's Rage.
Oft (Typhon-like) beneath a Mountain's weight I strive!
III.
Might I the Book of Fate peruse,
To Read the Lot for me design'd,
I should perhaps auspicious find
Those Planets I accuse;
But whilst for Information I
Consult the false Astrology
Of Melancholy Fear,
Dark and ore-cast my future Dayes appear:
All possible Misfortunes while I dread,
I draw all possible Misfortunes on my Head;
Whilst this solicitous Fear of Future Ill
My credulous Thought employs,
(Tho false its Augury, yet) it destroys
My present Rest, and still
Diverts me from pursuit of certain Joyes.
Who seeks for Happiness with nicest Care
Must watch its Seasons, and frequent its Haunt.
Delight is a Rich tender Plant
That Springs in all Soils, and all the Year:
[Page 92] 'Tis like the Manna which in plenty lay,
If early sought, around
Each Hebrews Tent, but if till Heat of Day
Their Search they did delay.
Th' Ambrosial Food was no where to be found.

On a Grave Sir retiring to Write in Order to undeceive the World.

CErtis of all well-meaning Fools, thy Fate
Is most deplorably Unfortunate.
Hadst Thou Domitian-like in catching Flies
Employ'd thy Privacy, thou'dst past for Wise;
For what shou'd hinder thee, but thou mayst catch
As fast as He, and be the Emperour's Match?
But whilst thy solitary Hours are spent
In scribling tedious Systems, to prevent
The Worlds Mistakes, its Follies to Reform,
Thou mayst as well pretend to lay a Storm.
[Page 93] Go, cut the Caspian Lake a Road to th'Ocean;
Contrive an Engine with perpetual Motion,
Make Machiavillians of the Red-Bull Rout,
Jilts Constant, Breakers Honest, Bawds Devout;
If these Adventures seem unfeazable,
At least enough to pose Don Sidrophel.
Then think how frantickly thou dost devise,
To make this Hair-brain'd World grow staid and wise.
In Youth and Prime when likeliest to improve,
No Precepts this besotted World cou'd move;
And wilt thou at these Years begin to School,
(Dull Moralist!) the crazy doating Fool?
Go dreaming Stoick, once again Retire;
And since thou art Ambitious to acquire
Repute for Judgment—Set thy Works on Fire.

On a deform'd Old Baw'd designing to have her Picture drawn.

I.
THy Picture drawn soul Beldame! Thine!
What Frenzy haunts thy Mind,
And drives Thee on this vile Design,
T'affront all Woman-kind?
II.
For whilst thy swarthy Cankard Face
Posterity shall view,
They'll loath the fairest of the Race,
For sharing Sex with You.
III.
To some forlorn Church-Yard repair,
And Haggard Thou shalt see,
The sternest Goblin will not dare
To stand the sight of Thee.
IV.
Those Ghosts that strike with Pannick-Fear
The Breasts of stoutest Braves,
At thy Approach will disappear,
And Burrogh in their Graves.
V.
Fix thy Effigies on the Shield
Of some bold Knight in Arms,
'Twill Aid him more to win the Field,
Than all his Lady's Charms.
VI.
Don Perseus with his Gorgon's Face
That Combatant wou'd flee;
For Hagg Medusa (no Disgrace!)
A Beauty were to Thee.

Advice to a Friend, designing to Pub­lish his Poems.

REclaim, rash Friend, your wild Resolves t'engage
A captious, and ill-natur'd Age.
'Tis not enough the Verse you write be Good,
To Take, it must be Understood.
And to instruct the World, where you excell,
Is harder much than writing Well.
Th'are different Tasks to write Well, and to Please;
The last (alass!) a Work of Ease.
Whilst Midas Umpire sits; let None admire
Pan's Pipe preferr'd to Phebus Lyre.
The gawdiest Painting takes the Vulgar sight,
Whilst artfull Pieces less Delight.
In vain is Nature Represented Well,
If't it be not Gay, 'twill never Sell.
[Page 97] Hark in your Ear ('Tis a strange Mystery,
But a grand Truth), if Popular you'd be,
Faith spare your Pains, and Write Ex-tempore.

The Ignorant.

AN Ignorant I am,
And Glory in the Name'
I wot not what of yore
Rash Furioso's did,
Nor what the dreaming Sages said:
I cannot run a List of Old Rome's Tryumphs ore.
'Twas Knowledge first to Ruin led us on;
For with this Mortal Itch possest
The happy Pair Transgrest,
Needs must they Know, they Knew and were Undone!
And to this Hour our Mis'ries sole Relief
Consists in Ignorance of our Grief!
[Page 98] Then plodding Mortal cease
To boast your dear-bought Faculties;
For since with Knowledge Sorrow must encrease,
Let such as on those Terms can Science prize,
Improve in Science; but for me,
So I may Ignorant and Happy be,
I'le ne'r Repine or look with envious Eyes,
On the Unhappy Learn'd, and Miserable Wise.

The Beldam's Song.

APpear my Kib-welkin, dear Spirit appear
In the Shape
Of an Ape,
A Fire-spitting Dragon, or Clump-footed Bear.
Madge has whoopt me twice from her Ivy-bound Oak,
And twice have I heard the dull Night-Raven croak.
Let me stride thee my Welkin, and post it away
[Page 99] Ere the Moon
Reach her Noon.
For the Night is the Wey-ward Sister's Day.
Through the Air let us take our fantastical Round,
And sipp of the Dew
While 'tis New,
Ere the Honey-drops fall to the Ground.
But when we are mounted, and in our Carear,
Make neither Hault nor Stay,
And to none give the Way,
Tho Hecat her self shou'd be rounding the Air.
For once I'le encounter,
And try to dismount her,
Pitch her Heels over Head
To some Quagg-mire below, and Reign Queen in her stead
Bustle, bustle my Kib, and be sure e're we part,
Thou shalt Suck at the Dugg that is next to my Heart.

The Inconstant.
A Paraphrase on the XV. Epod of Horace.

PRecisely I remember All, 'twas Night,
Calm Skye, and the full Moon shone bright,
When first you Swore, that bleating Flocks shou'd feed
With Wolves, nor other Keepers need;
That boistrous Winds husht in Eternal sleep,
Shou'd cease to Revel on the Deep;
You Vow'd that these, and Prodigies more strange
Shou'd fall e're your fixt Heart cou'd change.
Yet (Woman-like) to your new Fav'rite now,
Unswear as oft as you did Vow!
Ah! if I cou'd (and sure if half a man,
Or some what less than half, I can)
[Page 101] Cou'd I in just Resentment quit your Chain,
And with more caution chuse again;
Nymph, you'd Repent my wrongs, when flying Fame
Shou'd publish to your grief and shame,
How your wrong'd Swain had found a Nymph more True
And equal in her Charms to You.
But Treach'rous Rival, you that reap my Toils,
And Pride your self in my stoln spoils,
Shou'd Fates and Stars Adopt you for their own,
And show'r their richest Blessings down,
Nought shou'd secure you from the sure Praesage
Of an Offended Poet's Rage.
The time shall come (and to inhance your sear,
Know, Wretch, that fatal time is near)
When you shall perish by th' Inconstancy
Of Her that first learnt breach of Faith from thee;
Whilst from the safe shore your sad wreck I see.

Of the Ape and the Fox.
A Paraphrase on one of the Centum Fabulae.

TO his four-footed Subjects through the Nation,
The King of Bruits thus issues Proclamation,
Being well informed we have incurr'd Disgrace
By Harb'ring in our Realm a Scandalous Race,
A Sect that have No Tails; These Presents are
T' enjoyn such Miscreants, All and singular,
Strait to depart our Land, or on Demurr,
Our Laws Grand-Treason Penalties incurr.
Sly Reynard strait sists out this state Design,
Turns Goods and Chattels All to ready Coyn.
The unprojecting Neighbour-hood Admire,
And Flock, th'Occasion of his March t'Enquire.
Where 'mongst the Rest the ceremonious Ape
Accosts him with Grimmace and formall Scrape.
[Page 103] Bon jour Monsieur! You pass for a prime Witt;
But in this Project give small Proof of it.
We of the Cur-tailed Tripe b'express Command
Of our great Cham prepare to quitt the Land;
But why Sir shou'd you Budge, Whose Posterns bear
A Swashing Train well furrd to guard your Rear?
Had Nature lent me but an Inch of Dock,
A Tust to Shade, or Scutt to grace my Nock,
I shou'd Presume I had no Obligation
From the late Act to take this Peregrination.
Then thus the Fox— You've spoke an Oracle,
Doubtless your Gravity reads Machiavill.
I must Confess I've no pretence to rail,
Or Curse my starrs for stinting me in Tail;
But grant my Train might with a Commet's measure,
Suppose withall that 'twere his Highness Pleasure
To say I've None? which if he once Assert,
Nere doubt but he has Sycophants will swear't;
Thus charg'd, shou'd I attempt my own Defence,
(To give his Lawless Tyranny Pretence)
[Page 104] 'Tis Odds but I am Dockt upon the Spott,
And then for want of Tail poor Reynard goes to Pot.

The Round.

HOw Vain a Thing is Man whom Toyes Delight,
And shdadows Fright!
Variety of Impertinence
Might give our Dotage some Pretence;
But to a Circle bound,
We Toil in a dull Round:
We sitt, move, Eat and Drink,
We Dress, Undress, Discourse and Think
By the same Passions hurri'd on,
Imposing or Impos'd upon:
We pass the time in Sport or Toil,
We Plow the Seas or Safer Soil:
Thus all that we Project and Do,
We did it many a year agoe.
[Page 105] VVe Travel still a beaten way,
And yet how eager rise we to pursue
Th'affairs of each returning day,
As if its Entertainments were Surprizing All and New.

The Male Content.

MOngst winding Rocks (his swelling griefs t'allay)
The disappointed Thirsis took his way.
In the Wild Clifts a natu'ral Vaut he found
With woven Ivye Cheaply deckt around.
He rusht into the Solitary Nook,
Where into these Pathetick Sounds he broke.
Oh when will Nature take the life she gave,
And Lodge me free from Trouble in the Grave!
Sleep there alone deserves the Name of Rest,
No frightfull Dreams the sleep of Death infest.
Whilst shrouded in this marble Cell I Lye,
What can be more Commodious than to Dye?
Each Object Here wears such a mournfull Face,
That Dying seems the Business of the Place!
[Page 106] Here from the wrangling VVorld I will Retire,
And as I Liv'd Unknown, Unknown Expire.
Then let that hanging Rock that shades my Head
Sink down, and shutt this Vaut when I am Dead:
Rude as it is, this Marble Cell wou'd save
Th'expensive Rites that formall Burialls crave,
It self my Cossin, Monument and Grave.

The Dream.

BEneath the Syc'more shade,
Amintas sat to sing and Play
On his shrill pipe i'th'Heat o'th Day;
His Amarill beside him laid:
Charm'd with the Musick of his Reed,
The listning Ewes forgat to Feed,
The sportive Lambs gave ore their Play,
And to their Master's Song attentive lay,
The Song as Soft and Innocent as They!
[Page 107] Mean while on the pleas'd Amari'll
A downy slumber fell,
'Till with a Sigh and Suddain start
She 'woke and Cry'd—Heav'n save my Swain!
Are you not hurt?—I will provide a Dart,
And if the Bruit approach again,
I'le drench it in the Savage Monster's Heart.
What means ( Amintas smiling said) This Rage?
I dreamt (said she) a ruthfull Bear
Had broke into our Fold, and slaughter'd there;
And whilst you rant' Engage
(Ah! why were you so Rash?) th' unequall Foe,
The Rav'nous Monster Seiz'd on You!
Then to your Rescue I came in
And cast my self between,
But with the motion Waking, found the Dream Untrue.

Amor Sepulchralis.

IN a Large stately Cave (of old the Court
Of Rurall Gods as neighbring Swains report)
Interr'd the dear Remains of Damon lay,
Converted now to their Originall clay.
Each wishing Nymph the living Swain approv'd,
The Shepherd fair Emmoria only Lov'd.
Their mutuall Passion's Kindling Flame was more
Then ere Inspir'd Consenting Hearts before;
But was with time Improv'd to that Degree,
That now 'twas Love no more, but Extasie.
Their linkt Affections Fate cou'd not divorce,
Nor Rig'rous Death restrain their Entercourse:
The Nymph to living Swains did still preferr
Her Damon's Dust, and ev'n that Dust Lov'd Her.
At Damon's Tomb the Chast Emmoria kept
Perpetual VVatch, and ore his Ashes wept;
[Page 109] (Fitt emblem of her grief) a sprigg of Yew
She planted there, the Branch took Root and grew.
This Cave to the Suns Rays Access deny'd,
No Rain or Dew the thirsting Plant Supply'd,
Yet still it sprang, by Love's Miracu 'lous Pow'r,
For th' Ashes still Glow'd with their Old Amour
Emmoria's Eyes wept a nere-Ceasing Shower;
This Heat and Moysture kept the Plant Alive,
And Tempring still each other, made it Thrive.

The three First Verses of the 46th Psalm Paraphras'd.

I.
OUr Strength, is the Omnipotent;
We cannot therefore condescend to Fear,
Tho danger in its gastliest shape appear;
Tho Mountains from their marble Roots were rent,
And head-long to the Ocean hurld,
[Page 110] Their Violent Career might shake the World;
But our fixt Feet shou'd keep their Ground,
No Tremour in our Breast be found;
Our rais'd Heads shou'd o're-look the Floods, where
Hills lay Drown'd.
II.
What tho the Sea, whose most capacious Womb
Gave the Subverted Hills a Tomb?
What tho it's raging Waters roar,
And swell in Mountains vast as those
Which the profound Gulf gorg'd before?
This most impertinently angry Main,
With its own Rocks fierce contest may maintain,
But can no more our Passions discompose,
Than when on a Serene and shiny day,
Some shallow Riv'let we survey,
Contesting with each Pibble for its Interrupted way.

The Mid-Night Thought.

NOw that the twinkling stars Essay
A Faint Resemblance of the Day,
Shewn fairer now for being beset
With Night (like Diamonds in jett)
Let me Repos'd within this Grove,
The Solemn season There Improve.
Restless alas! from Sun to Sun,
A Round of Business I have run:
Whilst others slept projecting Lay,
Yet since I THOUGHT how many a day!
How long since I did meditate
Of Life, of Death, and Future state?
Approaching Fate his Pace will keep,
Let Mortalls Watch, or let them Sleep.
What Sound is That?—a Passing Bell!
Then to Eternity Farewell!
[Page 112] Poor Soul, Thou'rt at thy Crisis now,
And one short Hour thy Doom shall show,
Eternall Bliss, or endless Woe!
If Virtue's Lore Thou hast despiz'd,
How Wou'd That Virtue now be priz'd!
Or say, Thou didst in our Loose Age,
On her forsaken Side Engage,
Wouldst Thou the dear Remembrance now,
For the Worlds Monarchie Forgoe?
What other Medicine canst Thou find
T'asswage the Feavour in thy mind?
Now Wakened Conscience speaks at Large,
And envious Fiends inhance the Charge!
Let the bold Atheist now draw neer,
Thy chill and drooping spirits to cheer;
His Briskest Wine and Witt to Thee
Will now alike Insipid be!
VVhere is the Lawless Hectring Brave
That from th' Arrest of Death can save?
VVh' Attempt a Rescue Here, will fail,
And this grim Serjeant takes no Bail.

The Counter-Turn.

OBserve that Pile of skulls, but chiefly There
That mossye skull Survey:
Do's the sage Front display
Plots, Projects, and nocturall Care?
Methinks it shou'd, for once it did belong
T'a Machiavilian that cou'd Shock a State,
And trusted He cou'd Bastle Fate.
Who wou'd have sought that Head-piece in this Throng?
The plotting Wight promis'd that skull a Crown,
In Lowest Earth He founded the Design,
With Heav'n the Roof did join;
'Till with a suddain shock of Fate O're-thrown,
The Fabrick fell on the Contrivers Head,
And crusht th'aspiring Politician Dead.

The Voyagers.

WHilst Stemming Life's uncertain Tide,
Tost on the Waves of Doubts and Fears,
If to frail Reason's Conduct we Confide
VVe strive in vain
The happy Port to gain,
For oft as Clouded Reason disappears
VVe cannot fail to Rove afarr
Mistaking each false Meteor for our Starr.
How dismall are the Perills we engage
VVhen (grown t'a Hurricane)
Our boist'rous Passions Rouze the sleeping Main?
But ah! how Few have perisht by the Rage
Of Storms, if numbred with the dayly Throng
VVhom Syren Pleasures as they fail along
Seduce to the dead shore,
VVhere They saw others wreckt before,
[Page 115] Yet still pursue though certain to be Lost;
For if from their cleft Boat they climb the Coast
They fall into the treach'rous Syrens Pow'r
VVho Entertain them first, and then Devour.

The Choice.

GRant me indulgent Heav'n a rurall Seat,
Rather Contemptible than Great.
VVhere, though I Tast Life's Sweets, still I may be
Athirst for Immortalitie.
I wou'd have Business, but exempt from Strife;
A Private, but an Active Life.
A Conscience bold and punctuall to his Charge;
My Stock of Health or Patience Large.
Some Books I'd have, and some Acquaintance too,
But very Good, and very Few.
Then (if one Mortall Two such Grants may Crave)
From Silent Life I'd Steal into my Grave.

On Sight of some Martyr's Sepulchres.

HEre lies Dust Confus'dly hurl'd,
But Dust that once shall judge the World!
Blest Saints, when the quick Flames Enlarg'd
Your Souls, and from dull Flesh discharg'd,
Th'Ambitious Fires strove to Convey
Your Spirits on their tryumphant VVay,
But wing'd with Glory They Aspird,
And lest the Flames behind them Tir'd.

Of the Few Adherers to Virtue.

THat Virtue Points our VVay to Happiness,
Ev'n the Profane in Cooler Moods Confess:
But 'Cause the Brave and generous are Few,
Thin Trains this Guid to Happiness pursue.
VVho 'Vouch her Cause, must 'bett a Suffring side
Expos'd to all the Out-Rages of Pride.
She's Exil'd now, and 'tis not strange to see
Mean Souls desert afflicted Majestie:
But when just Heav'n (and sure that Time draws on)
Restores this Empress to her Starry Throne,
VVith Crowns She will enrich her Loyall Few.
VVhilst Shame and Vengeance Crush the Rebel Crew.

The Requitall.

VIle Infidel, that dar'st for Vice declaim,
And take vain pride to Publish thy own shame!
What can thy Patron Vice enough Conferr
On his officious zealous Oratour?
Hee'll doubtless give his wonted Recompense,
And, Rot the Tongue that Pleads in his Defence.

To a Desponding Friend.

REpine not, pensive Friend, to meet
A Thorn and Sting in ev'ry Sweet;
Think it not yours or my hard Fate,
But the fixt Lot of Humane State.
Since then this Portion is Assign'd,
By the great Patron of Mankind,
(Though nere so darkly Understood)
We shou'd presume the Method Good.
[Page 119] Heav'n do's its tendrest Care express
Conducting through a Wilderness,
Lest Sluggards we shou'd Take our Stand
And stop short of the Promis'd Land.

Disswasion of an Aged Friend from Leaving his Retirement.

IN Life's unactive Wane your shades forsake,
And into th' World a Sally make:
Deluded Friend, what Surfett have you tane
Of Bliss, that now you long for Pain?
The Favourites of th'austere World are Few,
Yet They have their disasters too.
What therefore must your Entertainment be
That have profest Hostility?
You have not learnt to Flatter and Caress
The Great, for faithless Promises;
When Disappointed, Thankfull to Appear,
And say, How much Oblig'd you are!
[Page 120] For Lucre you must Practise every Wile;
Defraud, and do it with a Smile.
Worldlings with many Vices must be fraught,
Which you my Friend were never Taught.
Well, you may Roam, but soon Return distrest;
Wounded and Maim'd to your Old Nest.

Recovering from a Fit of Sickness.

I.
VVHen late the tyrannous Malady
With intermitted Rage
Seem'd to presage,
Or Suddain Health or Dissolution nigh;
False World (said I) that Steal'st my reall Joyes
Shuffling in stead thy changeling Toys:
Begone! I'le not be brib'd at any Rate
To sell m'approaching Fate,
And Re-assume that Toilsome Task to Live:
[Page 121] I prize not Grandieur, and I know
(Were I thy Favourite as I'm thy Foe)
What I affect, thou never canst bestow:
I'd have Content, but That was never Thine to give.
Remove that Taper from my sight,
Th' impertinent Light
Presents no gratefull Object to my View;
Ev'n those Fair Eyes that Planets once appear'd,
(The only Planets I rever'd)
To my dim sight, se [...]m now t'have Lost their Lustre too
II.
Thus Musing as I Lay, to my Bedside
(Attir'd in all his Mourning Pride)
The King of Terrours came;
Awfull his Looks, but not d [...]formed and Grim;
He's no such Bug-bear as we seign of H [...]m,
Scarce we our selves so Civiliz'd and Tame!
Unknown the Doom assign'd me in this Change
For full Crimes and imperfect Penitence,
(Though justly I might dread the Strickt Revenge
Of an Enrag'd Omnipotence)
[Page 122] Yet with my present Griefs distrest,
With curious Thoughts of unknown Worlds possest
Inflam'd with Thirst of Liberty,
Long Lov'd, but nere Enjoy'd by me,
I [...]su'd for Leave the fatall Gulf to Pass:
My Vitall Sand is almost run,
And Death (said I) will strike anon,
Then to dull Life I bid along Farewell;
But as the last grains fell,
Death faild my credulous Hopes, and Turn'd the Glass.

The Challenge.

YE Sages that pretend
In Science to Transcend
The dull illit'rate Crowd,
You that of Ignorance impeach,
(Ere your Pretences be allow'd)
Define that Prudence which you Teach;
[Page 123] I fear 'tis much above your Learning's Reach.
Prudence has no fixt Being, but depends
On Person, Time, and Chance,
And every petty Circumstance:
Actions directed to the Self-same ends,
May prudent th' one, the other peccant be;
For what would prove Discreet in Thee
Perhaps were wild Extravagance in Me.
The Ants are Wise, that from their Summer Hoard
Supply their Winter Board;
And doubtless full as wise as They
The Grashoppers that Play
And Revell all their Harvest Days away;
For 'twere in Them a Sensless Drudgery
To Toil for a Supply
In Winter's Dearth, that must ere Winter, Die.

The Cure.
A Dialogue.

Claius and Coridon.
Claius
COme Coridon, Sit by me gentle Swain;
Thy Cheek is pale: Speak Shepheard, where's thy Pain?
Cor.
Say, Claius Priest of our great Pan (for you
Of Humane Science th'utmost Limits know)
Is Physicks pow'r to th' Bodies use confin'd,
Have you no Medicine for a troubled Mind?
Clai.
Yes, for as Balsoms raging Pains appease
Sage Councells to distemper'd Souls give ease,
Ev'n Love is no incurable Disease.
Ha Swain! What meant that Suddain blush and start?
Have I guest right, and toucht the tender Part?
Cor.
[Page 125]
I wou'd Conceal't, but have not learnt to Feign—
You've guest, and while you Nam'd it, Wakt my Pain.
Clai.
T'effect the Cure we'll take the Safest course,
And Trace the Malady to its first Scource:
Say then, what Female Gims and Baits were laid;
Or was your fond Soul by its self betray'd?
Cor.
When from Severer Business I withdrew,
Twixt Love and Me a fatall Friendship grew:
Such was my Ignorance and his Craft, my Brest
Admitted the Impostor for its Guest;
With my Hearts Blood our Covenant we seal'd,
A Solemn Contract nere to be repeal'd:
Then all Delights young Sorcerers Enjoy,
A While did my deluded Soul employ,
Love fed my waking Thoughts with glorious Theams,
And blest my Slumbers with transporting Dreams.
When at an awfull Distance I survey'd
My Nymph, Transported, to my self I said,
[Page 126] Ah Charming Fair! Oh Excellence Divine!
Whilst Love wou'd Whispering Answer— Swaine She's Thine.
Clai.
Thus, Whilst from far our high-plac't Hopes appear,
(The Gulfs between Conceal'd) we deem them Neer.
Cori.
Yet boldly through all Obstacles I prest.
Clai.
Why therefore Shepheard are you not possest?
Cori.
Force not th' Unwilling secret from my Brest,
There let it Lurk in Sympathizing Night,
And never roam from its dark Cell to Fright.
Let it suffice that on a Barren Soil
I've Lost of many years th' Expence and Toil.
Clai.
Do's the false Nymph—
The VVages you so dearly Earn'd refuse?
Cori.
[Page 127]
My self I cannot, will not her Accuse.
But my Releif must from your Councells Rise:
Examine not good Claius, but Advise;
Bring your best Art (for 'twill your best require)
T'unspell my soul from Love's tormenting Fire.
Clai.
Call Reason to your Aid, you'l put to flight
The Foe not to be quell'd by other Might.
Of happiest Love's Delights Sum up th' Account,
And Learn to what the Totall will amount;
Then in the Ballance Love's Vexations Weigh,
How certain These, and how uncertain They.
Sordid his joyes, and of delight so nice,
That Female Coyness only gives them Price.
Short-liv'd the warmest Amorist's Desires,
At Kindling Hymen's, oft Love's Torch expires.
There are that from Large Dow'rs derive their Flame
And These in full Career pursue their Game;
They wreck their Witts, the Golden Prize to gain,
But dream not how that Gold is wrought into a Chain.
Cor.
[Page 128]
When late Love's false suggestions I Obey'd,
'Twas in Pursuit of Happiness I strayd.
My credulous Youth had seen no brighter Flame,
And Streight Concluded that from Heaven it came.
In Errour's Night Love's Fire shone bright and gay,
But at th' approach of Reasons conqu'ring Ray
The Meteor's lost in the full Blaze of Day.
Clai.
Mistake not Swain, I wou'd not Quench your Flame,
But slip your Passion at a Nobler Game.
Wave Sensual joys, and with a Flame refind
Court those Diviner Pleasures of the Mind.
To sacred Virtue next make your Address;
Confess you've no Regard of Happiness,
Or Live henceforth of Virtue's service proud,
The brightest Beauty and the best endow'd.
She'll guard your Youth from Passions banefull Rage,
With peacefull Thoughts divert the Pains of Age.
But then in Largest Streams her Blessings Flow,
When Love grown Bankrupt can no more bestow.
[Page 129] When rig'rous Death shall check your Circling Blood,
And Life die stifled in the Frozen Flood,
Your pensive Nymph at large may tell her Grief,
But to your ravisht Soul give no Relief;
'Twill lurk a pensive Ghost in Caves all day,
And to it's Reliques Mid-night Visits pay.
But pious Souls by Death are Gainers made,
By Virtue to th' Elysian Seats convey'd;
There Mirth and Peace, and softest Transports reign,
Delights refind from all Allays of Pain;
The Gratefull Soil untill'd her Harvest yields;
Unclouded Skies and ever-verdant Fields.
There Aemulation no Dissention gives,
For Happy Each in others Blisses Lives.
No Cares o'th' Future their free Thoughts Employ,
The Business of the Place is to Enjoy.
That Swain is most Industrious held that best
Improves his Bliss, exceeds in Joyes the Rest.
If Love can Bless beyond these Heights, Return
To dragg his Chain, and in his Feavour Burn;
[Page 130] Take Leave of blissfull Immortalitie,
Chide my impert'nent Zeal to set you Free,
And Court the Frowns of some imperious She.
Cor.
Destroy not thus your gen'rous Courtesies
By an unfriendly and unjust Surmize;
Heav'n sends me Freedome, and to sell the Pledge,
Must Brand me with the foulest Sacriledge.
'Gainst Love and Beauty I'll maintain the Fort
And fix a Guard of Virtues in my Heart.
Clai.
If Beauty's Force too rashly you despise,
'Tis Odds but you are ruin'd by Surprize:
Wou'd you live free from Female Tyranny?
Nere Parly with the Tempting Sex, but Fly.
Their very Tears are Fewell to Desire,
And with their Sighs They'l Fan th'expiring Fire.
Their Mirth and Grief, their kindness and Disdain,
Are fatall All, and Work Poor Shepheards Pain!
[Page 131] Nature and Art Conspire to Arm the Fair;
For in the Charming, All things Charming are;
Their Glances Darts, and ev'ry Curl a Snare.

The Hurricane.

WHat cheer my Mates? Luff ho! We Toil in Vain!
That Nothern Mist forebodes a Hurricane.
See how th'expecting Ocean Raves,
The Billows Roar before the Fray,
Untimely Night devours the Day,
I'th' Dead Eclypse we Nought descry
But Lightnings Wild Capriches in the Skie,
And Scalye Monsters sparkling through the Waves.
Ply! Each a Hand, and furl your Sails.
Port, Hard a'Port—The Tackle sails.
Sound ho!—Five Fathom and the most.
A Dangerous Shelf! sh'as struck, and we are Lost.
Speak in the Hold—She Leaks amain—Give ore;
The Crazy Boat can Work no more.
[Page 132] She draws apace, and we approach no shore.
A Ring my Mates: Let's joyn a Ring, and so
Beneath the Deep Embracing Go.
Now to new Worlds we steer, and quickly shall Arrive:
Our Spirits shall Mount as fast as our dull Corpses Dive

The Gratefull Shepheard.

WHilst by his grazing Flock a gentle Swain,
His Vacant Hours to entertain,
Perus'd a Volumn whose each Tragick Page
Discours'd of some Intrigue of State,
Of Rebell-Insolence and Rage,
And some unhappy Monarch's Fate:
The Youth into these passionate sounds brake forth
What Virtue of my Ancestours
So much Oblig'd you ye indulgent Pow'rs,
That in these Silent shades you gave me Birth?
You might have made me Fortune's Sport,
Doom'd me to some Corrupted Court,
[Page 133] Where I this rurall Bliss had never known;
My Cottage might have been a Throne,
My Crook a Scepter, and my Wreath a Grown:
Some Tyrant-Prince I might have been,
(By your Indulgence now a peacefull Swain)
My Chloris some proud Cruel Queen,
The tendrest Nymph of the Arcadian Plain.
When for these Blessings I forget t' invoke
Your Powers, neglect to make your Altars smoak;
Then Ravisht let me be
From this Secure Retreat,
And plac't aloft on Grandieur's Seat,
An open Mark to the sure Darts of envious Destinie.
FINIS.

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