Lips and thus in Anger said Here I 'm resolv'd shall a Memorial be Of this my sweet but punish'd Robbery Let him endure as great a Pain as this Who next presumes these Nectar Lips to kiss Their Sweetness shall convey revenging Smart Honey to 's Mouth but Torment to his Heart The Young Fowler that mistook his Game An Idyllium of BION 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 A Brisk Young Archer that had scarce his Trade In search of Game alone his Progress made To a Near Wood and as he there did rove Spy'd in a Box-Tree perch'd the God of Love For Joy did he his lucky Stars adore Ne'er having seen so large a Bird before Then in due Order all his Lime-twigs set Prepar'd his Arrows and display'd his Net Yet would the Crafty Bird no Aim allow But flew from Tree to Tree and Bough to Bough At which his strange Success for Grief he cry'd In Anger throwing Bow and Toyls aside And to the Man that taught him ran in Hast To whom he gave Account of all that past Making him leave his Plow to come and see And shew'd him Cupid sitting in the Tree The good Man when he saw it shook his Head Leave off Fond Boy leave off he smiling sed Hast from this Dang'rous Fowl that from you flies And follow other Game let me advise For when to riper Age you shall attain This Bird that shuns you now you 'll find again Then use your Skill 't will all your Art abide Sit on your Shoulders and in Triumph ride CUPID 's Nest. AH Tell me Love thy Nesting Place Is 't in my Heart or Cynthia's Face For when I see her Graces shine There art thou perch'd with Pow'r Divine Yet strait I feel thy pointed Dart And find thee flutt'ring in my Heart Then since amongst us thou wilt show The many Tricks thou Love canst doe Prithee for sport remove thy Nest First to my Face and then to Cynthia's Brest An Ode of ANACREON To HIMSELF 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 WHEN Fumes of Wine ascend into my Brain Care sleeps and I the Bustling World disdain Nor all the Wealth of Croesus I esteem â—â—ng of Mirth for Jollity's my Theme With Garlands I my Ruby Temples crown Keeping Rebellious Thoughts of Business down â—n Broyls and Wars while others take Delight 〈◊〉 with choice Friends indulge my Appetite Then fetch more Bottles Boy and charge us round We 'll fall to Bacchus Victims on the Ground Nor value what dull Moralists have sed I 'm sure 't is better to be drunk than dead An Ode of ANACREON To his Mistress 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 NEAR Latona's Rival makes her Mone Chang'd by the Gods into a Weeping Stone And ravish'd Philomel they say 't is true Became a Bird stretch'd out her Wings and flew But I could wish to be your Looking-Glass Thence to admire the Beauties of your Face Or Robe de Chambrè that each Night and Morn On those sweet Limbs undrest I might be worn Or else a Crystal Spring for your Delight And you to bathe in those cool Streams invite Or be some precious Sweets to please the Smell That in your Hand I near your Lips might dwell Or String of Pearls upon your Neck to rest Or Pendent Gem kissing your Snowy Brest E'en to your Feet would I my Wish pursue A Shoe I 'd be might I be worn by you To LOVE An Ode of ANACREON 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 'T IS sad if Love should miss a Heart Yet sadder much to feel the Smart But who can Cupid's Wounds indure And have no Prospect of a Cure We Lovers are not look'd upon For what our Ancestors have done Wit and good Parts have slight Regard No Vertue can obtain Reward They ask what Coyn our Purses hold No Object 's like a Heap of Gold But doubly be the Wretch accurst Who taught us to esteem it first This Thirst of Gold incites one Brother To ruine or destroy another Our Fathers we for Gold despise Hence Envy Strife and VVars arise And Gold 's the Bane as I could prove Of all that truly are in Love A Sonnet Out of Spanish from Don Luis de Gongora On a Death's-Head covered with Cobwebs kept in a Library and said to be the Scull of a King THIS Mortal Spoil which so neglected lies Death's sad Memento now where Spiders weave Their Subtil Webs which Innocence deceive Whose Strength to break their Toyls cannot suffice Saw it self Crown'd it self Triumphant saw With Mighty Deeds proclaiming its Renown Its Smiles were Favours Terrour was its Frown The World of its Displeasure stood in Awe Where Pride ordaining Laws did once preside Which Land should Peace enjoy which Wars abide There boldly now these little Insects nest Then raise not Kings your Haughty Plumes so high For in Death's cold Embraces when you lye Your Bones with those of common Subjects rest From an Imperfect Ode of Hybrias the Cretan Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 MY Riches are a Trusty Sword and Spear And a tough Shield which I in Battel wear This as a Rampart its Defence does lend Whilst with the others I my Foes offend With these I plow with these my Crops I reap With these for VVine I press the Juicie Grape These are unless I fall by Fickle Chance Machines which me to Dignities advance Oh thrice Beloved Target Spear and Sword That all these Heav'nly Blessings can afford Those who the Havock of my Weapons fear And tremble when of Blood and VVounds they hear They are the Men which me my Treasures bring Erect my Trophies stile me Lord and King And such while I my Conquests spread abroad Fall and adore me as they do their God Complains of the Shortness of Life An Idyllium of BION 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 THO' I had writ such Poems that my Name Deserv'd Enrollment in the Book of Fame Or thô my Muse could ne'er acquire the Bays VVhy thus in drudging do I spend my Days For should indulgent Heav'n prolong our Date Doubling the Term of Life prescrib'd by Fate That we might half in Care and Toyl employ And spend the other in Delights and Joy VVe then this sweet Assurance might retain To reap in Time the Fruits of all our Pain But since none can the Bounds of Life extend And all our Troubles have a speedy End VVhy do we wrack our Brains and waste our Health To study Curious Arts or heap up VVealth Sure we forget we came of Mortal Seed And the short Time Fate has for us decreed Out of Latine from Iovianus Pontâ—â—â—s Being sick of a Fever complains of the Fountain CASIS CASIS to craving Fields thou lib'ral Flood Why so remote when thou should'st cool my Blood From Mossie Rocks thy Silver Streams do glide By which the soultry Air is qualifi'd Tall Trees do kindly yield thy Head their Shade Where Choirs of Birds their sweet Retreats have made But
King to mind Who quit his Throne himself of sight depriv'd Became more wretched still the more he liv'd Till Sorrow brake his Heart which scarcely cou'd Atone â—or Incest and his Father's Bloud Thy Son if dead or was in Battel slain A greater Loss did Niobâ— sustain She saw her fourteen Children slaughter'd ly A Punishment for her IMPIETY Who great Latona's Off-spring had defy'd By whom thus Childless drown'd in Tears she dy'd On Phâ—â—octetes think should'st thou be lame He a most pow'rful Prince endur'd the same To conquer Troy he shew'd the Greeks a Way To whom he did the Fatal Shafts betray His Foot disclos'd the Secret of his Heart For which that treach'rous Foot endur'd the Smart Hast thou thy Life in Ease and Pleasure led Till Age contract thy Nerves and bow thy Head Then of thy greatest Joy on Earth bereft O'erwhelm'd in Sorrow and Despair art left So old King OEneus lost his valiant Son For Slights himself had to Diana shown Slain by his Mother when he had destroy'd The Boar which long his Father's Realm annoy'd Which Actress in this Mischief felt her share Her self becoming her own Murtherer The Father losing thus his Son and Wise Ended in Cryes and Tears his wretched Life Are Kings thus forc'd to yield to rig'rous Fate It may Thy lesser Ills alleviate FINIS THE TABLE Page THE Proem To Love 1 The Request To Love 2 The Complaint To Cynthia 3 On a Race Horse From Girolamo Preti 4 Invites Poets and Historians to write in Cynthia's Praise 5 Cynthia on Horse-back 6 On the Death of Cynthia's Horse 7 On a Fountain and its Architect 8 Describes the Place where Cynthia is sporting her self 9 His Retirement 10 To his Honoured Friend William Bridgman Esq 11 A Sonnet of Love 12 On the Picture of Lucretia stabbing her self 13 Complains being hindred the sight of his Mistress 14 The Pleas'd Captive 15 The Incurable ib. On a Fair Beggar 16 A Sonnet writ by a Nymph in her own Bloud from Claudio Achillini 17 The Rose and Lily 18 A Defiance returning to the place of his past Amours 19 Distance no Cure for Love 20 On Sig. Pietro Reggio his setting to Musick several of Mr. Cowley's Poems 21 From a Drinking Ode of Alcaeus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 22 An Epitaph on a Dutch Captain ib. On Cynthia singing a Recitative Song 23 On the Picture of Cavalier Guarini 24 On Old Rome 25 Revenge against Cynthia 26 Loves Contrariety 27 Invites Cynthia to his Cottage 28 'T is hard to follow Vertue 29 Endymion and Diana An Heroick Poem taken out of the 8th Canto of Alessandro Tassoni his La Secchia Rapita 30 From an Ode of Horace Vides ut alta stet nive candidum c. 34 A Complaint against Cynthia's Cruelty 35 Loves Garden From Girolamo Preti 36 Seeing his own Picture discourses of his Studies and Fortune 37 Petrarc On the Death of Laura 38 Another of Petrarc on Laura's Death 39 Complains of the Court 40 Being retired complains against the Court 41 To Cynthia 42 The Withered Rose 43 On the Death of Sylvia 44 To the Winds 45 The Silent Talkers 46 'T is dangerous jesting with Love 47 On Wine From a Fragment of Hesiod 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 48 A Dream 49 The Restless Lover 50 The Resolution Out of Italian 51 Invokes Death 52 A Hint from the Beginning of the third Satyr of Juvenal Laudo tamen c. 53 A Contemplation on Mans Life Out of Spanish 54 The Nightingale that was Drowned 55 On a Child sleeping in Cynthia's Lap 56 Cure for Afflictions From an Imperfect Ode of Archilochus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 57 Cynthia sporting 58 The Fly and Frog Out of Spanish from Don Francisco de Quevedo 59 On Gold 61 To his Grace the Duke of Northumberland 62 Loves New Philosophy 63 The vanity of unwarrantable Notions Out of Portugueze from Luis de Camoens 67 To the Nightingale 68 Apollo and Daphne 70 A Sestina in Imitation of Petrarc 71 A Sonnet of Petrarc giving an account of the time when he fell in Love with Madonna Laura 73 A Sonnet of Petrarc showing how long he had lov'd Madonna Laura 74 Petrarc going to visit M. Laura remembers she was lately dead 75 Petrarc laments the Death of M. Laura 76 Petrarc on Laura's Death 77 Constancy of Love to Cynthia 78 To his Viol 79 Hope Out of Italian from Fr. Abbati 80 Finding Cynthia in Pain and Crying 82 Cynthia sleeping in a Garden 83 Lesbia's Complaint of Thyrsis his Inconstancy 84 Lydia Distracted 85 The Four Seasons SPRING 86 SVMMER 87 AVTVMN 88 WINTER 89 A Sonnet written in Italian by Sig. Fra. Gorgia who was Born as they were carrying his Mother to her Grave 90 The Scholar of his own Pupil The third Idyllium of Bion Englished 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 91 An Epitaph on a Ridiculous Boaster 92 The Danger of the Sea A Latin Song taken out of the 13th Book of the Macaronics of Merlin Cocalius Infidum arridet saepe imprudentibus Aequor 93 An Expostulation with Love A Madrigal 94 On the Art of Writing 95 The Morn Out of French from Theophile 96 To his Ingenious Friend Mr. N. Tate 97 Less Security at Sea than on Shore An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 98 Platonic Love 99 Out of Latine Jovianus Pontanus In Praise of the Fountain Casis 100 To Cynthia going into the Country 101 Soneto Espanol de Don Felipe Ayres En alabanza de su Ingenioso Amigo Don Pedro Reggio uno de los Mayores Musicos de su tiempo 102 On Cynthia Sick 103 The Turtle Doves From Jovianus Pontanus 104 An Essay towards a Character of his Sacred Majesty King James II. 105 Sleeping Eyes A Madrigal 107 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To the Swallow 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 108 Love so as to be belov'd again An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 110 All things should contribute to the Lovers Assistance An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 111 Cupid at Plow An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 112 Loves Subtilty An Idyllium of Moschus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 113 Love makes the best Poets An Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 114 The Death of Adonis 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 115 Love is a Spirit 117 Commends the Spring A Paraphrase on an Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 118 To sweet Meat soure Sauce In Imitation of Theocritus or Anacreon 120 The Young Archer that mistook his Game An Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 121 Cupid's Nest 122 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To himself 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 123 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To his Mistress 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 124 An Ode of Anacreon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To Love 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 125 On a Death's-Head covered with Cobwebs kept in a Library and said to be the Scull of a King-Done out of Spanish from Don Luis de Gongora 126 From an imperfect Ode of Hybrias the Cretan 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 127 A Complaint of the shortness of Life An Idyllium of Bion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 128 Being sick of a Fever complains of the Fountain Casis Out of Latine from Jovianus Pontanus 129 His Heart into a Bird 131 In Praise of a Countrey-Liâ—e An Imitation of Horace's Ode Beatus ille 132 Mortal Iealousie 134 The Innocent Magician Or a Charm against Love 135 The Happy Nightingale 136 On Fame 137 Leander drowned 138 To Sleep when sick of a Fever 139 An Epigram on Woman 140 A Paraphrase on Callimachus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of Learning beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 141 Cynthia return'd from the Countrey 142 A Paean or Song of Triumph translated into a Pindaric supposed to be of Alcaeus of Sappho or of Praxilla the Sycionian Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 143 Beauty makes us happy 144 To John Dryden Esq Poet Laureat and Historiographer Royal 145 To a Singing Bird 146 The Happy Lover ibid The Paean of Bacchylides 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of Peace Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 147 An Ode of Anacreon beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 148 The Musical Conqueress 149 A Nymph to a Young Shepherd insensible of Love 150 Compares the Troubles which he has undergone for Cynthia's Love to the Labours of Hercules 151 The Trophy 152 An Epigram of Claudian Englished In Sphaeram Archimedis 153 The Frailty of Man's Life 154 Posidippus the Comic Poet On the Miseries of Mankind beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 155 Metrodorus the Athenian Philosopher Of the Blessings attending Mankind Contradicting the former beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 156 From Menander the Athenian To make a married Life Happy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 157 Simonides 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 On Man's Life Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 158 From two Elegies of Mimnermus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 The Contempt of Old Age. The first being imperfect begins 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 159 From Anaxandrides the Rhodian Poet in Praise of Old Age beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 160 From Crates the Philosopher On the same beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ibid The Timely Memento 161 On Good Fryday the Day of our Saviour's Passion 162 Rhianus the Cretan 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Of Imprudence 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 163 Timocles the Athenian His Remedies against the Miseries of Man's Life beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 163 The End of the Table Books Printed for H. Herringman and sold by J. Knight and F. Saunders at the Blue Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New-Exchange MR Cowley's Works Mr Dryden's Plays in 2. Vol. Mr Beaumont and Fletcher's Plays Mr Shakespear's Plays Sir Avenant's Works Mrs Phillips's Poems Mr Waller's Poems Sir Denham's Poems Sir Suckling's Poems Sir Fanshaw's Il Pastor Fido. Dr Donn's Poems
love A Sonnet The Rose and Lily COurted by Cupids and the Amorous Air Upon a shady Throne at her Repose She sate than whom none e're so sweet or fair It was the Queen of Flowers the Blushing Rose With no less pride upon his Bed of State A Lily pale with Envy look'd that way With humble Flowers encompass'd round he sate And scorn'd the Scepter at her Feet to lay To Arms with Thorns and Prickles they prepare And each designs to try it out by War Till on good Counsel they in Rule combine So in your Face the lovely White and Red Cynthia I see all Quarrels banished And Rose and Lily do in Empire joyne A Defiance returning to the Place of his past Amours A Heart of Ice did here my Heart inflame Bound with loose Hairs a Pris'ner I became â—ere first sweet Love thô bitter in the end â—latter'd with Spight with Kindness did offend â—ut from Assaults a new Defence I 'm taught â—nd my past Ills an Antidote have brought â—o the poor Bird that once escape has made â—eturns with caution where the Net is laid â—ith my late Damp all Sparks of Love expire My Feet approach yet does my Soul retire â—hô near her Presence I can justly say My Eyes and Mind tend quite another way With her my Lute could no Attention find â—ow will I please my self not sing to th' Wind With Laurel here where Cypress late I wore â—ll triumph more than e're I griev'd before DISTANCE FAR from the Fire I burn and run in vain Slowly from winged Love to 'scape the Pain So the swift Arrows flying quick as Wind Wound them that run when th'Archer stays behind Love tho' I strive with Art to shun the Blow Fiercely assaults my Heart where e're I go As he can best a mortal Stroak command Who has most compass for his striking Hand Hoping to 'scape I as the Bird do fare That has his Foot entangled in a Snare Fears Death or in a Prison to be cast Flutters its Wings and strives but still is fast So I with all my Toyl no Ease have got My Strugling does but faster tye the Knot For Cynthia imitating Heavens swift Ray Near or at distance can her Flames convey A Sonnet On Signor Pietro Reggio his setting to Music several of Mr. Cowley's Poems â—F Theban Pindar rais'd his Country's Fame Whilst its great Deeds he does in Odes rehearse And they made greater by his Noble Verse Gratitude are Trophies to his Name â—hen English Pindar shall for ever live Since his Divine and Lofty Poetry Secur'd Great Reggio by thy Harmony â—all to it self Immortal Glory give â—he World 's amaz'd to hear the sweet Consent â—â—wixt thy charming Voice and Instrument They 'd stop the Bays which from Apollo fled â—â—y skilful Notes would make in full Carreer â—â—â—ebus the God of Musick stay to hear And with his Daphne crown thy Rival Head From a Drinking Ode of Alcaeus Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 DRink on thô Night be spent and Sun do shine Did not the Gods give anxious Mortals Wine To wash all Care and Sorrow from the Heart Why then so soon should Jovial Fâ—llows part Come let this Bumper â—or the next make way Who 's sure to live and drink another Day An EPITAPH On a Dutch CAPTAIN HERE lies a Souldier not oblig'd to Fame Being forc'd his own Atchievements to reherâ—â— He dy'd not rich yet I would tell his Name Could I but comprehend it in my Verse On Cynthia singing a Recitative Piece of Musick O Thou Angelick Spirit Face and Voice Sweet Syren whose soft Notes our Souls rejoice â—et when thou dost recite some Tragick Verse Thy Tone and Action make it sweetly fierce â—â— thou soft loud sad or brisk Note dost hit â—â— carries still our Hearts along with it Thou canst heat cool grieve us or make us smile â—ay stab or kill yet hurt us not the while Thy Gesture Shape and Mien so pleasing are With thee no Humane Being can compare Thy Passions all our Passions do excite And thy feign'd Grief does real Tears invite â—â—istning to thee our Bodies seems as dead â—or our rapt Souls then up to Heav'n are fled â—o great a Monarch art thou that thy Breath â—as power to give us either Life or Death A Sonnet On the Picture of Cavalier Guarini Author of Il Pastor Fido painted by the Famous Borgianni and set up in his Funeral Pile at Rome YOU who to Fam'd Guarini now he 's dead Your Verses consecrate and Statues reare For that sweet Padan Swan your Tears have shed Sweetest that ever did or will sing here Behold this Picture on his Fun'ral Pile Your mournful Spirits 't will with Joy revive Tho' th'Artist cheats your Senses all the while For 't is but Paint which you would swear does live This serves to keep our Friend in Memory Since Death hath robb'd us of his better Part And that he so might live as ne're to dye He drew himself too but with diff'rent Art Judge which with greatest Life and Spirit looks Borgianni's Painting or Guarini's Books On old Rome HERE was old Rome that stretch'd her Empire far In Peace was fear'd triumphant was in War Here 't was for now its place is only found All that was Rome lyes buried under Ground These Ruines hid in Weeds on which Man treads Were Structures which to Heav'n rais'd their proud Heads Rome that subdu'd the World to Time now yields With Rubbish swells the Plains and strews the Fields Think not to see what so Renown'd has been Nothing of Rome in Rome is to be seen Vulcan and Mars those wasting Gods have come And ta'ne Romes Greatness utterly from Rome They spoyl'd with Malice e're they would depart What e're was rare of Nature or of Art It s greatest Trophies they destroy'd and burn'd She that o're turn'd the World to Dust is turn'd Well might she fall 'gainst whom such Foes conspire Old Time Revengeful Man and Sword and Fire Now all we see of the Great Empress Rome Are but the Sacred Reliques of her Tomb. A SONG Revenge against Cynthia SEE Cupid we have found our lovely Foe Who slights thy Pow'r and does my Flame despise Now thou art arm'd with all thy Shafts and Bow And she at Mercy 'twixt two Enemies Asleep she 's laid upon this Bed of Flowers Her Charms the sole Defence to save her Breast Thoughtless of injur'd me or of thy Powers Oh that a Guilty Soul can take such rest Now may'st thou eas'ly with a single Dart Revenge thy self and me upon her Heart A Sonnet Love's Contrariety I Make no War and yet no Peace have found With heat I melt when starv'd to death with cold I soaâ— to Heav'n whilâ— groveling on the Ground Embrace the World yet nothing do I hold I 'm not confin'd yet cannot I depart Nor loose the Chain thô not a Captive led Love kills me not yet wounds me to the Heart Will neither have m' alive nor have me dead
learn of you to sing Then went away and I to gain her Praise Would fain have taught him all my Rural Lays How Pan found out the Pipe Pallas the Flute Phoebus the Harp and Mercury the Lute These were my Subjects which he still would slight And â—ill my Ears with Love-Songs Day and Night Of Mortals and of Gods what Tricks they us'd And how his Mother Venus them abus'd So I forgot my Pupil to improve And learn'd of him by Songs the Art of Love An EPITAPH On a Foolish Boaster HERE to its pristine Dust again is hurl'd Of an Inconstant Soul the little World He liv'd as if to some great things design'd With substance small boasting a Princely Mind Of Body crooked and distorted Face But Manâ—ers that did much his form disgrace In Broâ—ls his â—age pusht him beyond his Art Was kick'd would face again but wanted heart In his whole course of Life so swell'd with Pride That fail'd in all 's Intriegues for grief he dy'd Thus with ambitious Wings we strive to soar Flutter a while fall and are seen no more The Danger of the Sea From the Thirteenth Book of the Macaronics of Merlinus Cocalius Beginning Infidum arridet saepe imprudentibus Aequor THE treacherous Seas unwary Men betray Dissembling Calms but Storms in ambush lay Such who in bounds of safety cannot keep Flock here to see the Wonders of the Deep They hope they may some of the Sea Gods spy With all their Train of Nymphs and Tritons by But when their Eyes lose the retiring Shore Joyn Heaven with Seas and see the Land no more Then wretched they with Brains are swimming round Their undigested Meats and Choler drown Nor yet their boiling Stomachs can restrain Till they the Waters all pollute and stain When Aeolus inrag'd that Humane Race Should his old Friend the Ocean thus disgrace To punish it he from their hollow Caves With rushing noise le ts loose the Winds his Slaves Who up tow'rds Heav'n such mighty Billows throw You 'd think you saw from thence Heâ—â—s Vaults below Fools To whom Wrecks have of no Caution been By other Storms you might have this foreseen E'er your bold Sailers lanch'd into the Main Then y' had ne'er strove to reach the Shore in vain An Expostulation with Love THY Laws are most severe Oh Winged Boy For us to love and not enjoy What Reason is 't we should this Pain abide If love we must you might provide Either that our Affections we restrain From her we 're sure to love in vain Or after our Desires so Guide our Feet That where we love we may an equal Passion meet On the Art of Writing SURE 't was some God in kindness first to Men Taught us the Curious Art to use the Pen. â—Tis strange the speaking Quill should without Noise Express the various Tones of Humane Voice Of loudest Accents we no Sound retain Voice to its Native Air resolves again Yet thô as Wind Words seem to pass away By Pen we can their very Echoes stay When we from other Converse are confin'd This can reveal the Secrets of the Mind All Authors must to it their Praises own For 't was the Pen that made their Labours known Good Acts with bad Tradition would confound But what we writ is kept intire and sound Of this Ingenious Art Fame loudly sings Which gives us lasting Words and lasting Things The MORN WHEN Light begins the Eastern Heav'n to grace And the Nights Torches to the Sun give place Diana leaves her Shepherd to his Sleep Griev'd that her Horns cannot their Lustre keep The Boughs on which the wanton Birds do throng Dance to the Musick of their Chirping Song Whilst they rejoyce the Duskey Clouds are â—led And Bright Aurora rises from her Bed Then Fools and Flatterers to Courts resort Lovers of Game up and pursue their Sport With last Nights Sleep refresh'd the Lab'ring Swain Cheerfully settles to his Work again Pleas'd Hobb unfolds his Flocks and whilst they feed Sits and makes Musick on his Oaten Reed Then I wake too and viewing Lesbia's Charms Do glut my self with Pleasure in her Arms. To his Ingenious Friend Mr. N. Tate THRO' various paths for Pleasures have I sought Which short Content and lasting Trouble brought These are the Clouds obscure my Reasons Light And charge with Grief when I expect Delight Spight of all Letts thou Honour's Hill dost climb Scorning to spend in Empty Joys thy Time Thou in the foremost List of Fame dost strive Whose present Virtues Future Glory 's give With Myrtle I with Bays thou crown'st thy Head Thine still is verdant but my Wreath is dead The Trees I plant and nurse with so much Care Are barren thine the Glory of the Year â— only â—une my Pipe to Cynthia's Fame With Verse confin'd but constant as my Flame â—n thousand Streams thy plenteous Numbers fall Thy Muse attempts all Strains excels in all Less Security at Sea than on Shore An Idyllium of Moschus Englished Beginning 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 WHEN Seas are calm tost by no angry Wind What roving Thoughts perplex my easy Mind My Muse no more delights me I would fain Enjoy the tempting Pleasures of the Main But when I see the blust'ring Storms arise Heaving up Waves like Mountains to the Skies The Seas I dread and all my Fancy bend To the firm Land my Old and Certain Friend In pleasant Groves I there can Shelter take 'Mongst the Tall Pines the Winds but Musick make The Fisher's Boat 's his House on Seas he strives To cheat poor Fish but still in danger lives Sweetly does gentle Sleep my Eyes invade While free from Fear under the Plane-trees Shade I lye and there the Neighb'ring Fountains hear Whose Purling Noise with Pleasure Charms the Ear. A Sonnet PLATONIC LOVE CHAST Cynthia bids me love but hope no more Ne'er wish Enjoyment which I still have strove T' obey and ev'ry looser Thought reprove Without desiring her I her adore What Humane Passion does with Tears implore The Intellect Enjoys when 't is in Love With the Eternal Soul which here does move â—n Mortal Closet where 't is kept in Store Our Souls are in one mutual Knot combin'd Not Common Passion Dull and Unrefin'd Our Flame ascends That smothers here below The Body made of Earth turns to the same â—s Soul t' Eternity from whence it came My Love 's Immortal then and Mistress too Translated from Iovianus Pontanus Praises the Fountain Casis CASIS where Nymphs and where the Gods resort Thou art a Friend to all their am'rous Sport Often does Pan from his Lycaeus run In thy cool Shades to 'scape the Mid-days Sun With Musick he thy neighb'ring Hills does fill On his sweet Syrinx when he shews his Skill To which the Naïdes Hand in Hand advance And in just Measures tread their Graceful Dance By thee the Goats delight and browsing stray Whilst on the Rocks the Kids do skip and play Hither Diana chasing Deer does hye For on thy Banks