ON THE FRIENDSHIP BETWIXT
SACHARISSA AND AMORET.
TELL me, lovely, loving Pair!
Why fo kind, and fo fevere?
Why fo carelefs of our care,
Only to yourselves fo dear?
By this cunning change of hearts,
You the pow'r of Love control,
While the Boy's deluded darts'
Can arrive at neither foul.
For in vain to either breaft
Still beguiled Love does come,
Where he finds a foreign gueft;
Neither of your hearts at home-
Debtors thus with like defign,
When they never mean to pay,
That they may the law decline,
To fome friend make all away.
Not the filver doves that fly,
Yok'd in Cytherea's car,
Not the wings that lift fo high,
And convey her son so far,
Are fo lovely, fweet, and fair,
Or do more ennoble love;
Are fo choicely match'd a pair,
Or with more confent do move.
An, lovely Amoret! the care
Of all that know what's good or fair!
Is heav'n become our rival too?
Had the rich gifts conferr'd on you
So amply thence, the common end
Of giving lovers--to pretend?,
Hence to this pining fickness (meant
To weary thee to a confent
Of leaving us) no pow'r is giv'n
Thy beauties to impair; for Heav'n
Solicits thee with fuch a care,
As rofes from their stalks we tear,
When we would ftill preferve them new
And fresh as on the bush they grew.
With fuch a grace you entertain, And look with fuch contempt on pain, That, languishing, you conquer more, And wound us deeper than before. So lightnings which in ftorms appear, Scorch more than when the skies are clear.
And as pale fickness does invade Your frailer part, the breaches made In that fair lodging, ftill more clear Make the bright gueft, your foul, appear. So nymphs o'er pathlefs mountains borne, Their light robes by the brambles torn, From their fair limbs, expofing new And unknown beauties to the view
Of following gods, increase their flame, And hafte to catch the flying game.
OF MY LADY RICH.
MAY thofe already curs'd Effexian plains,
Where hafty death and pining fickness reigns,
Prove all a defert! and none there make stay,
But favage beafts, or men as wild as they!
There the fair light which all our island grac'd,
Like Hero's taper in the window plac'd,
Such fate from the malignant air did find,
As that exposed to the boift'rous wind.
Ah, cruel Heav'n! to snatch so soon away
Her for whofe life, had we had time to pray,
With thousand vows and tears we fhould have
That fad decree's suspension to have wrought.
But we, alas! no whisper of her pain
Heard, till 'twas fin to wish her here again.
That horrid word, at once, like lightning spread,
Strook all our ears,-The Lady Rich is dead!
Heart-rending news! and dreadful to those few
Who her resemble, and her steps pursue ;
That Death fhould license have to range among
The fair, the wife, the virtuous, and the young!
The Paphian Queen (1) from that fierce battle
With gored hand, and veil fo rudely torn, [borne,
Like terror did among th' immortals breed,
Taught by her wound that goddeffes may bleed.
All stand amazed! but beyond the rest
Th' heroic dame (2) whofe happy womb the bleft,
Mov'd with juft grief, expoftulates with Heav'n,
Urging the promise to th' obfequious giv'n,
Of longer life; for ne'er was pious foul
More apt t' obey, more worthy to control.
A skilful eye at once might read the race
Of Caledonian monarchs in her face,
And sweet humility: her look and mind
At once were lofty, and at once were kind.
There dwelt the fcorn of vice, and pity too,
For those that did what the difdain'd to do:
So gentle and fevere, that what was bad,
At once her hatred and her pardon had.
Gracious to all; but where her love was due,
So fast, so faithful, loyal, and so true,
That a bold hand as foon might hope to force
The rolling lights of heav'n, as change her courfe,
Some happy angel, that beholds her there,
Inftruct us to record what she was here!
And when this cloud of forrow's overblown,
Through the wide world we'll make her graces
So fresh the wound is, and the grief so vast,
That all our art and pow'r of fpeech is waste.
Here paflion fways, but there the Mufe fhall raise
Eternal monuments of louder praise.
There our delight complying with her fame,
Shall have occafion to recite thy name,
Fair Sachariffa-and now only fair!
To facred friendship we'll an altar rear,
(1) Venus, (2) Chriftian Countess of Devonshire,
Such as the Romans did erect of old) Where on a marble pillar fhall be told The lovely paffion each to other bare, With the refemblance of that matchless pair. Narciffus to the thing for which he pin'd Was not more like than your's to her fair mind, Save that the grac'd the sev'ral parts of life, A spotlefs virgin, and a faultlefs wife.
Such was the fweet converfe 'twixt her and you, As that he holds with her affociates now.
How falfe is Hope, and how regardless Fate, That fuch a love fhould have fo fhort a date! Lately I faw her, fighing, part from thee: (Alas that the last farewell should be!) So look'd Aftræa, her remove defign'd, On those diftreffed friends the left behind. Confent in virtue knit your hearts so fast, That still the knot, in spite of death, does last; For as your tears, and forrow-wounded foul, Prove well that on your part this bond is whole, So all we know of what they do above, Is that they happy are, and that they love. Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave, Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have : Well chofen love is never taught to die, But with our nobler part invades the sky. Then grieve no more that one fo heav'nly fhap'd, The crooked hand of trembling age escap'd: Rather, fince we beheld her not decay, But that the vanish'd fo entire away, Her wondrous beauty and her goodness merit We should fuppofe that fome propitious spirit In that celeftial form frequented here, And is not dead, but ceafes to appear.
ANGER, in hafly words or blows,
Itfelf discharges on our foes;
And forrow too, finds fome relief
In tears, which wait upon our grief:
So ev'ry paffion, but fond love,
Unto its own redress does move;
But that alone the wretch inclines
To what prevents his own defigns;
Makes him lament, and figh, and weep,
Disorder'd, tremble, fawn, and creep;
Poftures which render him defpis'd,
Where he endeavours to be priz'd.
For women, (born to be control'd)
Stoop to the forward and the bold;
Affect the haughty and the proud,
The gay, the frolic and the loud.
Who first the gen'rous fteed oppreft,
Not kneeling did falute the beast;
But with high courage, life, and force,
Approaching, tam'd th' unruly horse,
Unwifely we the wifer Eaft
Pity, fuppofing them oppreft
With tyrants' force, whofe law is will,
By which they govern, spoil, and kill :
Each nymph, but moderately fair,
Commands with no lefs rigour here.
Should fome brave Turk, that walks among
His twenty laffes, bright and young,
And beckons to the willing dame,
Preferr'd to quench his present flame,
Behold as many gallants here,
With modeft guife and filent fear,
All to one female idol bend,
While her high pride does fearce defcend
To mark their follies, he would fwear
That these her guard of eunuchs were,
And that a more mageftic queen,
Or humbler flaves, he had not feen.
All this with indignation spoke,
In vain I ftruggled with the yoke
Of mighty Love: that conq'ring look,
When next beheld, like lightning strook
My blafted foul, and made me bow
Lower than those I pity'd now.
So the tall ftag, upon the brink
Of fome smooth stream about to drink,
Surveying there his armed head,
With fhame remembers that he fled
The fcorned dogs, refolves to try
The combat next; but if their cry
Invades again his trembling ear,
He ftrait refumes his wonted care,
Leaves the untasted spring behind,
And, wing'd with fear, outflies the wind.
FOR DRINKING OF HEALTHS. LET brutes and vegetals, that cannot think, So far as drought and nature urges, drink; A more indulgent miftrefs guides our fp'rits, Reason, that dares beyond our appetites: She would our care as well as thirst redress, And with divinity rewards excefs. Deferted Ariadne, thus fupply'd, Did perjur'd Thefeus' cruelty deride: Bacchus embrac'd, from her exalted thought Banish'd the man, her paflion and his fault. Bacchus and Phoebus are by Jove ally'd, And each by other's timely heat supply'd: All that the grapes owe to his rip'ning firesis paid in numbers which their juice infpires. Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood To give our friends a title to our blood; Who, naming me, doth warm his courage fo, Shews for my fake what his bold hand would do.
Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes:
So Nero once, with harp in hand, furvey'd
His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd,
BEHOLD, and liften, while the fair
Breaks in fweet founds the willing air,
And with her own breath fans the fire,
Which her bright eyes do first infpire.
What reafon can that love control,
Which more than one way courts the foul?
So when a flash of lightning falls
On our abodes, the danger calls
For human aid, which hopes the flame
To conquer, though from heav'n it came;
But if the winds with that conspire,
Men ftrive not, but deplore the fire.
MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS.
DESIGN or Chance makes others wive,
But Nature did this match contrive :
Eve might as well have Adam fled,
As fhe deny'd her little bed
To him, for whom Heav'n feem'd to frame
And measure out this only dame.
Thrice happy is that humble pair,
Beneath the level of all care!
Over whofe heads thofe arrows fly
Of fad diftruft and jealousy;
Secured in as high extreme,
As if the world held none but them.
To him the fairest nymphs do fhew
Like moving mountains topp'd with snow;
And ev'ry man a Polypheme
Does to his Galatea feem:
None may prefume her faith to prove ;
He proffers death that proffers love.
Ah! Chloris! that kind Nature thus
From all the world had fever'd us;
Creating for ourselves us two,
As Love has me for only you!
LOVE'S FAREWELL, TREADING the path to nobler ends, A long farewell to love I gave,, Refolv'd my country and my friends. All that remain'd of me fhould have.
And this refolve no mortal dame,
None but thofe eyes could have o'erthrown
The nymph I dare not, need not name,
So high, fo like herself alone.
Thus the tall oak, which now afpires
Above the fear of private fires,
Grown and defign'd for nobler ufe,
Not to make warm, but build the house,
Though from our meaner flames fecure, Muft that which falls from heav'n endurs
MADAM, as in fome climes the warmer fun Makes it full fummer e'er the spring's begun, And with ripe fruit the bending boughs can load Before our violets dare look abroad;
So measure not by any common ufe
The early love your brighter eyes produce.
When lately your fair hand in woman's weed
Wrapp'd my glad head, I wish'd me fo indeed,
That hafty time might never make me grow
Out of thofe favours you afford me now;
That I might ever fuch indulgence find,
And you not blush, or think yourself too kind;
Who now, I fear, while I these joys exprefs,
Begin to think how you may make them lefs.
The found of love makes your foft heart afraid,
And guard itself, though but a child invade,
And innocently at your white breast throw
A dart as white, a ball of new-fall'n fnow.
ON A GIRDLE. THAT which her flender waist confin'd, Shall now my joyful temples bind : No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this has done.
It was my heav'n's extremeft sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer. My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move!
A narrow compafs and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the reft the fun goes round,
SEE! how the willing earth gave way,
To take th' impreffion where the lay.
See! how the mould, as loth to leave
So fweet a burden, ftill doth cleave
Close to the nymph's ftain'd garment. Herq
The coming fpring would first appear,
And all this place with roses ftrow,
If bufy feet would let them grow.
Here Venus fmil'd to fee blind Chance
Itself before her fon advance,
And a fair image to prefent,
Of what the Boy fo long had meant.
'Twas fuch a chance as this made all
The world into this order fall;
Thus the first lovers, on the clay,
Of which they were compofed, lay.
So in their prime, with equal grace,
Met the first patterns of our race.
Then blush not, Fair! or on him frown
Or wonder how you both came down;
But touch him, and he'll tremble strait;
How could he then fupport your weight?
How could the youth, alas! but bend,
When his whole heav'n upon him lean'd?
If ought by him amifs were done,
'Twas that he let you rife fo foon.
OUR fighs are heard; just heav'n declares
The fenfe it has of lovers' cares:
She that fo far the reft outshin'd,
Sylvia the fair, while fhe was kind,
As if her frowns impair'd her brow,
Seems only not unhandsome now.
So, when the sky makes us endure
A ftorm, itself becomes obfcure.
Hence 'tis that I conceal my flame,
Hiding from Flavia's felf her name,
Left fhe, provoking Heav'n, fhould prove
How it rewards neglected love.
Better a thousand such as I,
Their grief untold, should pine and die,
Than her bright morning, overcaft
With fullen clouds, fhould be defac'd.
THE BUD. LATELY on yonder (welling bufh, Big with many a coming rofe, This early bud began to blush, And did but half itself difclofe
pluck'd it though no better grown, And now you fee how full 'tas blown.
Still as I did the leaves infpire,
With fuch a purple light they fhone,
As if they had been made of fire,
And spreading fo would flame anon.
All that was meant by air or fun,
To the young flow'r, my breath has done,
If our loose breath fo much can do,
What may the fame in forms of love,
Of purcft love and music too,
When Flavia it afpires to move?
When that which lifeless buds perfuades
To wax more foft, her youth invades ?
ON THE DISCOVERY
OF A LADY'S PAINTING.
PYGMALION's fate revers'd is mine;
His marble love took flesh and blood:
All that I worshipp'd as divine,
That beauty now 'tis understood
Appears to have no more of life
Ihan that whereof he fram'd his wife.
As women yet, who apprehend
Some fudden caufe of causeless fear,
Although that feeming caufe take end,
And they behold no danger near,
A fhaking through their limbs they find,
Like leaves faluted by the wind:
So though the beauty do appear
No beauty, which amaz'd me fo;
Yet from my breast I cannot tear
The paffion which from thence did grow
Nor yet out of my fancy rase
The print of that fuppofed face.
A real beauty, though too near,
The fond Narciffus did admire:
I dote on that which is no where;
The fign of beauty feeds my fire.
No mortal flame was e'er fo cruel
As this, which thus furvives the fuel!
THE SELF-BANISHED,
IT is not that I love you lefs,
Than when before your feet I lay;
But to prevent the fad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away,
In vain, alas! for ev'ry thing
Which I have known belong to you,
Your form does to my fancy bring,
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.
Who in the fpring, from the new sun,
Already has a fever got,
Too late begins those shafts to fhun,
Which Phoebus through his veins has shot:
Too late he would the pain affuage, And to thick fhadows does retire; About with him he bears the rage, And in his tainted blood the fire.
But vow'd have, and never muft Your banish'd servant trouble you; For if I break, you may mistrust The vow I made to love you too,
As lately I on filver Thames did ride,
Sad Galatea on the bank Ispy'd:
Such was her look as forrow taught to fhine
And thus fhe grac'd me with a voice divine.
GAL. You that can tune your founding strings
Of ladies' beauties, and of love to tell, [fo well,
Once change your note, and let your lute report.
The jufteft grief that ever touch'd the Court.
THYR. Fair nymph! I have in your delights no
Nor ought to be concerned in your care;
Yet would I fing, if I your forrows knew,
And to my aid invoke no mufe but you.
GAL. Hear then, and let your fong augment our
Which is fo great as not to with relief.
She that had all which Nature gives, or Chance, Whom Fortune join'd with Virtue to advance To all the joys this island could afford, The greatest mistress, and the kindeft lord; Who with the royal mix'd her noble blood, And in high grace with Gloriana stood; Her bounty, fweetnefs, beauty, goodness, fuch, That none e'er thought her happiness too much; So well inclin'd her favours to confer, And kind to all, as Heav'n had been to her! The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife, So well the acted in this fpan of life, That though few years (too few, alas!) she told, She feem'd in all things but in beauty old. As unripe fruit, whose verdant stalks do cleave Close to the tree, which grieves no lefs to leave The fmiling pendant which adorns her fo, And until Autumn on the boughs should grow; So feem'd her youthful foul, not eas'ly forc'd, Or from so fair, so sweet, a feat divorc'd: Her fate at once did hasty seem and flow; At once too cruel, and unwilling too.
THYR. Under how hard a law are mortals
born!
Whom now we envy, we anon must mourn :
What Heav'n fets higheft, and seems most to prize,
Is foon removed from our wond'ring eyes!
But fince the fifters ¶ did fo foon untwine
So fair a thread, I'll strive to piece the line.
Vouchfafe, fad nymph! to let me know the dame,
And to the mufes I'll commend her name :
Make the wide country echo to your moan,
The lift'ning trees, and favage mountains groan.
What rock's not moved, when the death is fung
Of one fo good, fo lovely, and fo young?
GAL. "Twas Hamilton!-whom I had nam'd
before,
But naming her, grief lets me fay no more.
So we fome antique hero's ftrength
Learn by his lance's weight and length;
As thefe vaft beams exprefs the beast,
Whofe fhady brows alive they drest.
Such game, while yet the world was new,
The mighty Nimrod did pursue.
What huntsman of our feeble race,
Or dogs, dare such a monster chace?
Refembling, with each blow he strikes,
The charge of a whole troop of pikes.
O fertile Head! which ev'ry year
Could fuch a crop of wonder bear!
That teeming earth did never bring,
So foon, so hard, so huge a thing ;
Which might it never have been cast,
(Each year's growth added to the last)
These lofty branches had supply'd
The earth's bold fon's prodigious pride:
Heav'n with thefe engines had been fcal'd,
When mountains heap'd on mountains fail'd.
BALLS of this metal flack'd Atʼlanta's pace,
And on the am'rous youth (a) bestow'd the race:
Venus, (the nymph's mind measuring by her own)
Whom the rich spoils of cities overthrown
Had proftrated to Mars, could well advise
Th' advent'rous lover how to gain the prize.
Nor lefs may Jupiter to gold afcribe,
For when he turn'd himself into a bribe,
Who can blame Danae, or the brazen tow'r,
That they withstood not that almighty fhow'r?
Never till then did love make Jove put on
A form more bright and nobler than his own;
Nor were it juft, would he refume that fhape,
That flack devotion fhould his thunder 'scape.
'Twas not revenge for griev'd Apollo's wrong,
Those afs's ears on Midas' temples hung,
But fond repentance of his happy with,
Because his meat grew metal like his dish.
Would Bacchus blefs me fo, I'd constant hold
Upon my wish, and die creating gold.
UPON BEN. JOHNSON. MIRROR of Pocts! mirror of our age! Which her whole face beholding on thy ftage, Pleas'd and difpleas'd with her own faults, cndures A remedy like those whom mufic cures. Thou haft alone thofe various inclinations Which Nature gives to ages, fexes, nations: So traced with thy all-refembling pen That whate'er cuftom has impos'd on men, Or ill-got habit, (which deforms them fo, That fcarce a brother can his brother know) (a) Hippomenesa
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