Truth resembling craft, profane Banish all these. Private parsimony fill The public purse: arms only steel War, or peace do you approve, Safer course those pilots run Strength united firm doth stand This as good Amphion sings Stones did leap about the plains, Came dancing down. When he ceas'd, the rocks and wood Whence fair Thebes which seven gates close Of brass, arose. ORIGINALS. THE SUN-RISE. THOU youthful goddess of the morn! Whose blush they in the East adore; Daughter of Phoebus' who before Thy all-enlight'ning sire art born! Haste! and restore the day to me, That my love's beauteous object I may see. Too much of time the night devours The cock's shrill voice calls thee again; Then quickly mount thy golden wain Drawn by the softly-sliding hours : And make apparent to all eyes With what enamel thou dost paint the skies. Snorting upon his downy bed; As leading to the woods his hounds, he lures. Moisten the fallow grounds before Thou com'st, with a sweet dewy rain; That thirsty Ceres having ta'en Her morning's draught, that day no more May call for drink; and we may see Spangled with pearly drops each bush and tree. VOL. VI. Ah! now I see the sweetest dawn! Thrice welcome to my longing sight! Hail divine beauty! heavenly light! I see thee through yon cloud of lawn Appear; and, as thy star does glide, Blanching with rays the east on every side, Dull silence, and the drowsy king Of sad and melancholy dreams, The owl, that all the night did keep Sweetly the list'ning ear enthral, The lustre of that greater star Praising, to which thou art but harbinger. 'Bove our horizon see him scale The first point of his brighter round! And love the colour of his look, A god perceivable is he By human sense, Nature's bright eye, Without whom all her works would die, Or in their births imperfect be: He grace and beauty gives alone, To all the works of her creation. With holy reverence inspir'd, When first the day renews its light, Seems as if all on altar fir'd, Reeking with perfumes to the skies, Having his rustic homage paid, Sits down, delighted with the sight Spreading her wings, with fixed eye As to the only quick'ning fire, As sportingly along he sails, Mocks the poor fisher with his silver scales. Buzzing to drink the morning's tears; The sorrow which her heart doth waste, That she's so far from her dear lover plac'd. And further seems, as if this plaint In her mute dialect she made: Unless my too too rigorous fate, My constant faithful love commiserate. "Love having gain'd the victory Over my soul, there acts his harms, The only comfort I can give I nothing more shall then desire, But gladly without murmuring expire." Peace, sweetest queen of flowers! now see Sylvia, queen of my love, appear: Who for thy comfort brings with her What will thy wishes satisfy; For her white hand intends to grace thee, And in her sweeter breast, sweet flower, to place thee. THE NIGHT: OR THE FAIR MOURNER. THIS fair, and animated Night, Dear flames still burning, though you are The Sen within an ebon case, Longs to shut up his golden face: The Moon too, with thy sad dress took, Sweet Night! and if thou'rt Night, of peace 'Tis but a small request, Heaven knows: But Muse, thou art too loud I fear, I SOSPIRI SIGHS. SIGHS light, warm spirits! in which, air, To her lov'd Heav'n the freed soul flies. True lively sparks of that close fire, Love's faithful witnesses! the brief, Dumb rhet'ric which our thoughts attires! A numerous descant upon sorrow! Which sweetness doth from sadness borrow, Nature, and all that call her mother. The virgin lily, bashful rose, In odours their soft sighs disclose ; Theirs, sportive winds in whispers breath; Touch'd with an equal sympathy, To fan the flame with which she burns, In gentle gales his sighs returns. Ye glowing sparks of a chaste fire! Now to those radiant lights aspire, The fairer nests of my fair love, And the bright spheres where you should move. THE SURPRISE. THERE'S no dallying with love, Though he be a child and blind; Then let none the danger prove, Who would to himself be kind: Smile he does when thou dost play, Love I did not, yet love feign'd; In a feigned fire I burn'd; But true names my poor heart pierc'd, Slighted love, his skill to show, Struck me with a mortal dart; Vain are the weak helps of art: Now the tyrant faster bound me; Mock him, and he wounds thee straight. And the stars, which Heaven inspires, Then the shepherd, in the pride CELIA WEEPING. A DIALOGUE. LOVER. SAY gentle god of love, in Celia's breast, Can joy and grief together rest? LOVE. No; for those differing passions are, Nor in one heart at once can share. LOVER. Why grieves hers then at once, and joys, Whilst it another's heart destroys? LOVE. Mistaken man! that grief she shows, Is but what martyr'd hearts disclose Which in her breast tormented lie, And life can neither hope, nor die. LOVER. And yet a shower of pearly rain LOVE. Alas! those tears you her's surmise, Are the sad tribute of poor lover's eyes. CHORUS. LOVER AND LOVE. What real then in women can be known! When nor their joys, nor sorrows are their own? LOVE'S ARITHMETIC. By a gentle river laid, THE VOW. Br my life I vow, That my life, art thou; By my heart, and by my eyes: To my juster oath t' encline, By the undeserved pains My griev'd soul sustains. Now thou may'st believe my moan, These are too too much my own. ICE AND FIRE. NAKED Love did to thine eye, Scorch'd his wings, and spoil'd his sight. Forc'd from thence he went to rest NOVO INAMORAMENTO. AND yet anew entangled, see Him, who escap'd the snare so late! A truce, no league thou mad'st with me, False love! which now is out of date: Fool, to believe the fire quite out, alas! Which only laid asleep in embers was. The sickness, not at first past cure, By this relapse despiseth art: Now, treacherous boy, thou hast me sure, Playing the wanton with my heart, As foolish children, that a bird have got, Slacken the thread, but not untie the knot. CELIA'S EYES. A DIALOGUE. LOVER. Love! tell me; may we Celia's eyes esteem Or eyes, or stars? for stars they seem. LOVE. Fond, stupid man! know stars they are, Nor can Heaven boast more bright or fair. LOVER. Are they or erring lights, or fixed? say. LOVE. Fix'd; yet lead many a heart astray. THE RESEMBLANCE. MARBLE (Coy Celia !) 'gainst my pray'rs thou art, And at thy frown to marble I convert. Love thought it fit, and Nature, thus Love made me marble, Nature thee, LOVE ONCE, LOVE EVER. SHALL I hopeless then pursue A fair shadow that still flies me? Shall I still adore, and woo A proud heart, that does despise me? I a constant love may so, Of two crosser stars still sail? Not to guide, but make me fail? Or divert some other way: So a pilot, bent to make Search for some unfound out land, Sailing to the unknown strand; THE PENDANTS. THE SWEETMEAT. THOU gav'st me late to eat A sweet without, but within, bitter meat : But if there ought to be A likeness (dearest!) 'twixt thy gift and thee, Why first what's sweet in thee should I not taste, The bitter last? VIOLETS IN THAUMANTIA'S BOSOM. TWICE happy violets! that first had birth In the warm spring, when no frosts nip the earth; Thrice happy now; since you transplanted are Unto the sweeter bosom of my fair. And yet poor flowers! I pity your hard fate, You have but chang'd, not better'd your estate; What boots it you t' have scap'd cold winter's breath, To find, like me, by flames a sudden death? THE DREAM. FAIR shadow! faithless as my Sun! Of peace she robs my mind, And to my sense, which rest doth shun, BEAUTY ENCREASED BY PITY, 'Tis true; thy beauty (which before Did dazzle each bold gazer's eye, Or from its conquering splendour fly) (Of which all eyes th' admirers are) First bred; (before, I durst but aim At fair respect) now that close fire Thy love hath fann'd into a flame: Which mounting to its proper place, Shines like a glory 'bout thy face, "From those tempting lips if I My heart fears (thine eyes so near) CHANGE DEFENDED. | LEAVE, Chloris, leave, prithee no more With want of love, or lightness charge me : 'Cause thy looks captiv'd me before, May not another's now enlarge me? Leave that, t'adore the queen of night. For bowing 'fore a richer shrine? THE MICROCOSM. MAN of himself's a little world, but join'd With woman, woman for that end design'd, (Hear cruel fair one whilst I this rehearse!) He makes up then a complete universe. Man, like this sublunary world, is born The sport of two cross planets, love, and scorn: Woman the other world resembles well, In whose looks Heav'n is, in whose breast is Hell. THE DEFEAT. 'GAINST Celinda's marble breast Soon as laid, asleep he fell : And a snake in (as he slept) To his empty quiver crept. When fair Chloris, whose soft heart Love had wounded (and its smart This advantage having spy'd; |