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The cloud of Jealoufy's difpell'd, And the bright fun of innocence reveal'd.

With what ftrange raptures is he bleft! Raptures too great to be expreft. Though hard the torment's to endure, Who would not have the ficknefs for the cure?

SONNET.

DEATH.

WHAT has this bugbear Death that's worth our care?

After a life in pain and forrow past, After deluding hope and dire defpair, Death only gives us quiet at the last.

How frangely are our love and hate mifplac'd!
Freedom we feek, and yet from freedom flee;
Courting thofe tyrant fins that chain us fast,
And fhunning Death, that only fets us free.

'Tis not a foolish fear of future pains, (Why fhould they fear who keep their fouls from ftains?) [fee:

That makes me dread thy terrors, Death, to "Tis not the lofs of riches, or of fame, O the vain toys the vulgar pleasures name; 'Tis nothing, Calia, but the lofing thee.

ELEGY.

To bis falfe Mistress.

CELIA, your tricks will now no longer pafs;
And I'm no more the fool that once I was.
I know my happier rival does obtain
All the vaft blits for which I figh in vain.
Him, him you love, to me you afe your art;
I had your looks, another had your heart:
To me you're fick, to me of spies afraid;
He finds your fickness gone, your fpies betray'd:
I figh beneath your window all the night;
He in your arms poffeffes the delight.

I know you treat me thus, falfe fair, I do;
And, oh! what plagues me worfe, he knows it

too;

To him my fighs are told, my letters fhewn,
And all my pains are his diverfion grown.
Yet, fince you could fuch horrid treafons a&,
I'm pleas'd you chofe out him to do the fact:
His vanity does for my wrongs atone,
And 'tis by that I have your falfehood known.
What fhall I do! for, treated at this rate,
I must not love, and yet I cannot hate:
I hate the actions, but I love the face;
Oh, were thy virtue more, or beauty lefs!
I'm all confufion, and my foul's on fire,
Torn by contending reafon and defire:

This bids me love, that bids me love give o'er;
One counfels best, the other pleases more.
I know I ought to hate you for your fault;
But, oh! I cannot do the thing I ought.
Canft thou, mean wretch! canft thou content
prove

With the cold relicks of a rival's love!
Why did I fee that face to charm my breaft?
Or, having feen, why did I know the reft?
Gods! if I have obey'd your juft commands,
If I've deferv'd fome favour of your hands,
Make me that tame, that eafy fool again,
And rid me of my knowledge and my pain:
And you, falfe fair! for whom fo oft I've griev
Pity a wretch that begs to be deceiv'd;
Forfwear yourself for one who dies for you;
Vow, not a word of the whole charge was true;
But fcandals all, and forgeries, devis'd
By a vain wretch neglected and defpis'd.
I too will help to forward the deceit,
And, to my power, contribute to the cheat:
And thou, bold man, who think'ft to rival m
For thy prefumption I could pardon thee,
I could forgive thy lying in her arms,
I could forgive thy rifling all her charms;
But, oh! I never can forgive the tongue
That boals her favours, and proclaims my wrong

UPON THE SAME OCCASION.

WHAT fury does disturb my rest?
What hell is this within my breast?
Now I abhor, and now I love;
And each an equal torment prove.
I fee Celinda's cruelty,

I fee fhe loves all men but me,

I fee her falfehood, fee her pride,
I fee ten thousand faults befide,

I fee fhe flicks at nought that's ill;
Yet, oh ye Powers! I love her still.
Others on precipices run,

Which, blind with love, they cannot fhun:
I fee my danger, fee my ruin;
Yet feek, yet court, my own undoing:
And each new reafon I explore

To hate her, makes me love her more.

THE ANTIDOTE.

WHEN 1 fee the bright nymph who my heart does enthral,

When I view her foft eyes and her languishing, Her merit fo great, my own merit fo fmall,

It makes me adore, and it makes me defpair.

But when I confider, fhe fquanders on fools
All thofe treasures of beauty with which he is
ftor'd;

My fancy it damps, my paflion it cools,
And it makes me defpite what before I ador`d

Thus fometimes I defpair, and sometimes I def

pife :

I love, and I hate, but I never esteem: The paffion grows up when I view her bright eyes, [them, Which my rivals deftroy when I look upon

How wifely does Nature things fo different unite? in fuch odd compofitions our safety is found; As the blood of a fcorpion's a cure for the bite, So her folly makes whole whom her beauty does wound.

UPON A FAVOUR OFFERED.

CELIA, too late you would repent;
The offering all your store,
Is now but like a pardon fent

To one that's dead before.

While at the first you cruel prov'd, -And grant the blifs too late, You hinder'd me of one I lov'd, To give me one I hate.

I thought you innocent as fair,

When firft my court I made;
But when your falfehoods plain appear,
My love no longer stay'd.

Your bounty of those favours fhewn,
Whose worth you first deface,
Is melting valued medals down,
And giving us the brass.

Oh, fince the thing we beg's a toy That's priz'd by love alone, Why cannot women grant the joy Before our love is gone?

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THE RECONCILEMENT.

Be gone, ye fighs! be gone, ye tears!
Be gone, ye jealoufies and fears!
Celinda fwears he never lov'd;
Celinda fwears none ever mov'd
Her heart, but I: If this be true,
Shall I keep company with you?
What though a fenfelefs rival fwore
She faid as much to him before?
What though I faw him in her bed?

F'll truft not what I faw, but what the said.
Curfe on the prudent and the wife,
Who ne'er believe fuch pleasing lies.
I grant the only does deceive;

Igrane 'tis fully to believe;

But by this folly I valt pleasures gain,

While you, with all your wifdoni, live in pain.

EPIGRA M.

LYCE.

Go, faid old Lyce, fenfelefs lover, go,
And with foft verfes court the fair; but know,
With all thy verses, thou canft get no more
Than fools without one verfe have had before.

Enrag'd at this, upon the bawd I flew;

And that which most enrag'd me, was, 'twas true.

THE FAIR MOURNER.

In what fad pomp the mournful charmer lies? Does the lament the victim of her eyes?

Or would fhe hearts with foft compaffion move,
To make them take the deeper ftamp of love?
What youth fo wife, fo wary to escape,
When Rigour comes, dreft up in Pity's fhape?
Let not in vain thofe precious tears be shed,
Pity the dying fair-one, not the dead;
While you unjustly of the fates complain,
I grieve as much for you, as much in vain.
Each to relentless judges make their mean;
Blame not Death's cruelty, but ceafe your own.
While raging paffion both our fouls does wound,
A fovereign balm migh fure for both be found;
Would you but wipe your fruitlefs tears away,
And with a juft compaflion mine furvey.

EPIGRA M.

To bis falfe Mifirefs.

THOU faidft that I alone thy heart could move,
And that for me thou wouldst abandon Jove.
I lov'd thee then, not with a love defil'd,
But as a father loves his only child.
I know thee now, and though I fiercelier burn,
Thou art become the object of my scorn:
See what thy falfehood gets; I must confefs
I love thee more, but I efteem thee lefs.

EPIGRA M.

LOVE AND JEALOUSY.

How much are they deceiv'd who vainly strive
By jealous fears to keep our flames alive!
Love's like a torch, which, if fecur'd from blasts,
Will fain:lier burn, but then it longer lafts:
Expos'd to ftorms of jealousy and doubt,
The blaze grows greater, but 'tis fuoner out.

I do not vainly beg the may grow chafte,
Or with an equal paffion burn at last :
The one the cannot practife, though she would,
And I contemn the other, though the should:
Nor afk I vengeance on the perjur'd jilt;
'Tis punishment enough to have her guilt.
I beg but balfam for my bleeding breaft,
Cure for my wounds, and from my labours ra

ELEGY,

Upon quitting bis Mifirefs.

I KNOW, Celinda, I have borne too long,
And by forgiving have increas'd my wrong;
Yet if there be a power in verfe to flack
Thy courfe in vice, or bring fled virtue back,
I'll undertake the task, howe'er fo hard;
A generous action is its own reward.
Oh! were thy virtues equal to thy charms,
I'd fly from crowns to live within thofe arms:
But who, ch! who, can e'er believe thee jut,
When fuch known falfchoods have destroy'da
truft?

Farewell, falfe fair! nor fhall I longer ftay: Since we must part, why fhould we thus delay? Your love alone was what my foul could pri And miffing that, can all the rest defpife: Yet fhould I not repent my follies paft, Could you take up, and grow refeiv'd at laf: 'Twould please me, parted from your i charms,

To fee you happy in another's arms.
Whatever threatenings fury might extort,
Oh fear not I fhould ever do you hurt:
For though my former paffion is remov'd,
I would not injure one I once had lov'd.
Adieu! while thus I waste my time in vain,
Sare there are maids I might entirely gain:
I'll fearch for fuch, and to the first that's trat,
Refign the heart so hardly freed from you.

ELE GY.

THE PETITION.

In Imitation of Catullus.

Is there a pious pleasure that proceeds
From contemplation of our virtuous deeds?
That all mean fordid actions we defpile,
And fcorn to gain a throne by cheats and lies?
Thyrfis, thou haft fure bleffings laid in store,
From thy juft dealing in this curft amour:
What honour can in words or deeds be fhewn,
Which to the fair thou haft not faid and done?
On her false heart they all are thrown away;
She only fwears, incre eas'ly to betray.
Ye Powers! that know the many vows fhe
broke,

Free my just foul from this unequal yoke!
My love boils up, and, like a raging flood,
Runs through my veins, and taints my vital
blood.

TO HIS MISTRESS,

Against Marriage.

YES, all the world must fure agree, He who's fecur'd of having thee, Will be entirely bleft:

But 'twere in me too great a wrong, To make one who has been fo long My queen, my flave at laft.

Nor ought those things to be corfin'd, That were for public good defign'd:

Could we, in foolish pride, Make the fun always with us ftay, Twould burn our corn and grals away, To ftarve the world befide.

Let not the thoughts of parting fright Two fouls, which paffion does unite;

For while ur love docs laft, Neither will strive to go away; And why the devil fhould we stay, When once that love is paft?

EPIGRAM.

CHLOE.

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What malice does the tyrant bear

To women's intereft, and to ours? Beauties in which the public fhare,

The greedy villain first devours.

Who, without tears, can see a prince
That trains of fawning courtiers had,
Abandon'd, left without defence?
Nor is thy hapless fate lefs fad.

Thou, who fo many fools haft known,
And all the fools would hardly do,
Shouldft now confine thyfelf to one!
And he, alas! a husband too.

See the ungrateful flaves, how faft
They from thy fetting glories run;
And in what mighty crowds they hafte
To worship Flavia's rifing fun !

In vain are all the practis'd wiles,

In vain those eyes would love impart; Not all th' advances, all the fmiles,

Can move one unrelenting heart.

While Flavia, charming Flavia, ftill
By cruelty her caufe maintains,
And fcarce vouchfafes a careless smile
To the poor flaves that wear her chains.

Well, Cælia, let them waste their tears;
But fure they will in time repine,
That thou haft not a face like hers,
Or fhe has not a heart like, thine.,

THE RETIREMENT.

ALL hail, ye fields, where conftant peace attends!

All hail, ye facred folitary groves!
All hail, ye books, my true, my real friends,
Whofe converfation pleases and improves!

Could one who ftudy'd your fublimer rules,

Become fo mad to search for joys abroad? To run to towns, to herd with knaves and fools, And undistinguish'd país among the crowd?

One to ambitious fancy's made a prey,

Thinks happiness in great preferment lies; Nor fears for that his country to betray,

Curft by the fools, and laught at by the wife.

Others, whom avaricious thoughts bewitch, Confume their time to multiply their gains; And, fancying wretched all that are not rich, Neglect the end of life to get the means. Others the name of pleasure does invite ;

All their dull time in fenfual joys they live, And hope to gain that folid, firm delight, By vice, which innocence alone can give.

But how perplext, alas! is human fate!
I, whom nor avarice nor pleasures move,
Who view with fcorn the trophies of the great,
Yet must myself be made a flave to love.

If this dire paffion never will be gone,

If beauty always muft my heart enthral, Oh! rather let me be confin'd to one,

Than madly thus be made a prey to all!

One who has early known the pomps of flate (For things unknown 'tis ignorance to condemn);

And after having view'd the gaudy bait,

Can boldly fay, The Trifle I contemn.

In her bleft arms, contented could I live,

Contented could I die: but oh! my mind
I feed with fancies, and my thoughts deceive,
With hope of things impoffible to find.

In women how should fenfe and beauty meet?
The wifeft men their youth in follies fpend:
The beft is he that earlieft finds the cheat,
And fees his errors while there's time to mend.

THE DESPAIRING LOVER.

DISTRACTED with care
For Phyllis the fair,

Since nothing could move her,
Poor Damon, her lover,
Refolves in defpair
No longer to languish,
Nor bear fo much anguish;
But, mad with his love,
To a precipice goes,
Where a leap from above
Would foon finish his woes.

When in rage he came there, Beholding how steep The fides did appear, And the bottom how deep; His torments projecting, And fadly reflecting,

That a lover forfaken

A new love may get,

But a neck when once broken

Can never be fet;

And, that he could die

Whenever he would,
But, that he could live
But as long as he could:
How grievous foever

The torment might grow,
He fcorn'd to endeavour
To finish it fo.

But bold, unconcern'd
At thoughts of the pain,
He calmly return'd
To his cottage again.

SONG.

Or all the torments, all the cares,
With which our lives are curft;
Of all the plagues a lover bears,
Sure rivals are the worst!
By partners, in each other kind,
Afflictions eafier grow;
In love alone we hate to find
Companions of our woe.

Sylvia, for all the pangs you fee
Are labouring in my breast;
I beg not you would favour me,
Would you but flight the rest!
How great foe'er your rigours are,
With them alone I'll cope;
I can endure my own despair,
But not another's hope.

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