the lovely Mouth the same Nor darts the Eye the well-known Flame While thus I spoke Love angry grew The Tablet tore and down he threw The Pencil and away he flew Whether the God himself did move And Love did operate on Love So fear'd to stir my rival Flame Should he draw her too much the same Or he thought I should vex more When his Pencil should come lower 'T was that the little God well knew The Painter so his Mother drew And to the Waste her form did shew But then he spread a circling Wave As Modesty had made him leave Tho 't is most sure his Pencil he supprest Because he never could describe the rest A PASTORAL Written at Dublin in May 1683. Coridon THyrsis since here we be together laid Where these kind Trees embraces weave a Shade Sing gentle Youth and with some tuneful Lay Beguile our Labour and deceive the day Thelgon will seed our Flocks and when they 're fed Thâ—…lgon our Flocks will to the River lead Thyrsis OCoridon Who shall presume to sing Who to these Groves shall foreign Numbers bring Where once great Spencer did triumphant reign The best the sweetest of the inspir'd Train Scarce from the God of Wit such Verse did flow When he vouchsaf'd to follow Sheep below Here sigh'd the love-sick Swain here fed his Sheep Near Mullas Stream whose Waves he taught to weep While hungry'st Herds forgot the flowry Meads And the unshorn Hills inclin'd their list'ning Shades Oft as I 've heard the Muses hither came The Muses slighted the inspiring Stream Charm'd with the merit of their Colin's fame While hoarser Goatherds in some wretched strain Invok'd the absent Deities in vain Ah! liv'd he now what Subjects might he chuse The deathless Theams of his immortal Muse Of God-like Ossory his Song would tell How much belov'd he liv'd how much bewail'd he fell In War unconquer'd but betray'd in Peace By fraud of Death and snares of a Disease Then he 'd to late Posterity declare How well Great Arran did the loss repair That when Good Ormond would his Age release In no mean Pleasures no inglorious Ease He with like Vertue rul'd with like success So when old Atlas eas'd his stooping Years Alcides only could support the Sphears Well hast thou chose Great Monarch well design'd So vast a Burthen for so vast a Mind He all the worth of his long line does show As Rivers largest when they furthest flow No false Cabal his Vertue could engage Flowing unmix'd through a Rebellious Age Unmix'd and pure as the swift Rhônedos take His liquid way through dull Geneva's Lake But whither am I brought by unknown ways Forc'd by the mighty Current of his Praise Say happy Bard immortal Spencer say What numbers would'st thou choose what Praise display When of Armagh thy mighty Song should be Of Armagh's Justice and his Piety Armagh who Innocence secures from wrong In whom the poor are rich the weak are strong The VVidows Plenty and the Orphans Song Armagh the good whom Men and Angels love Chief Priest of Themis and Chief Priest of Iove 'T is he my much-lov'd Coridon 't is he Through whom my Flocks thus wander as you see He too permits my Verse nor does disdain The humble Tribute of a grateful Swain O could I could I my low measures raise VVorthy his Name and worthy of his Praise VVhile weary Flocks rejoyc'd in Shades while Showers Of silent dew reviv'd expiring Flowers VVhile breathing VVinds should slow through yonder Grove And Shepherdesses should submit to Love Armagh should be the Universal Theam Our Mountains of themselves should speak his Name And all the ecchoing Plains th' attentive Woods Of Armagh sing of Armagh all the Floods Coridon Thrice happy Youth thy Gratitude exceeds The humble measures of our rural Reeds O may he oft vouchsafe thy Verse to hear When noble Pleasures shall unbend his Care But see the Day Night silently invades And the departing Sun doubles the encreasing Shades Vivamus mea Lesbia c Catull. By the same LEt 's live my Lesbia while we may In Love let 's pass the thoughtless day While Impotence and Envy rage In a severe censorious Age Yonder Sun which sets to night Returns to morrow with new Light But when once our day goes down All our Mirth our Joys are gone One small stroak our Hearts will sever And we sleep we sleep for ever A thousand Kisses then my Dear A hundred more nay yet I swear Another thousand does remain Now the hundred o're again Then another thousand more Then a hundred as before Thus when many thousand past We 'll mix we 'll shuffle 'em so last That nor Thou nor I may know What is done or what to do And no Envy blast our Bliss When our Joys are numberless SONG I. NO faith No I will not now Could'st thou not one not one Repulse allow What a silly Whore art thou Have a care of Care of dull Permission Women may rule us If they please to fool us Make us sigh and make us wish on II. I hate the coming Maid Love is by nauseous fondness over-laid Becalm'd as in the Marriage-Bed Give me a bouncing tempestuous Beauty Let her pet and grumble Bite and toss and tumble Or I 'm slow as Husbands upon Duty III. Call Honour Fame and Modesty All the airy Guards of nice Virginity Through all I 'de force each Inch of thee Inhance thy self by frequent denial Make us think 't is somewhat We labour so to come at For who O who would seek it if he knew all Parce meo Iuveni c. Tibullus SPare gentle Beast ah spare my lovely Boy Whether thou do'st the Hill or Plain enjoy Do not ah do not thy sharp Tusks prepare For fierce Encounters and relentless War Thou gentle Love his faithful Guardian be Thou gentle Love preserve him safe to me Curst be the Dogs curst be the woody shade Whose solitary Pleasure can perswade To follow Beasts and fly a dying Maid What Fury is 't Ah! what is thy Design While thou the nets round some rough Hill dosâ—… gain To hunt those Hands those tender Hands of thine Where is the Pleasure of the surest Trace VVhile the hook'd Thorns those snowy Legs deface But yet so I my self might wander too So I with thee my lovely Youth might go My self secure of any future fear O're â—…raggy Rocks the twisâ—…ed Nets would â—…ear My self the Fleetest Deer would nimbly trace And the swift Dogs uncouple for the Chase Then you blest Woods O then ye'd please me too If I might with my lov'd Châ—…rynthus go If in your amorous â—…ling Shade We might together by the â—…oils â—…e laid Then should the Beast securely maâ—…ch away We'd only be our selves each others Prey No care of sport the Boaâ—… should then destroy The sweet Perfection of our eager Joy Then should'st thou have no other Love but me As I would only sigh and â—…urn for thee That so my Dear after Diana's
POEMS BY Several Hands AND ON Several OCCASIONS Collected by N. Tate LONDON Printed for I. Hindmarsh at the Golden Ball over against the Royal Exchange in Cornhil 1685. TO THE Right Honourable ROBERT Earl of Scarsdale Baron Deincourt Lord Lieutenant of Derbishire SIR I Cannot think there needs much Apology for an Address of this Nature to your Lordship although from a Stranger The Patronage of Poetry has always belong'd to the Noble and Virtuous On this account therefore as well as others it is dangerous for any Person of Honour to be so early Eminent as your Lordship because those Excellencies that create Envy in evil Minds are sure to meet the Applause of the Muses which to some Tempers may be the greater Persecution Such Characters indeed are now so thin sown in Courts that they are easily singled out Your Lordship may think that Flattery which the World knows to be Truth I will not therefore pretend to draw your Lordships Character or to speak more properly I need not As far as Constancy of Temper Loyalty Justice and Generosity in the most eninent degree can oblige a Nation the Court and Age are indebted to your Lordship It was this greatness and integrity of Soul that plac'd your Lordship above the example of Nature and against the general Frenzie made you declare for oppressed innocence It is therefore no wonder that such endowments of mind have gain'd the Favour of the most Just and Pious Prince I could descend to particular Instances of Honour and private Friendship but I design no Panegyric being only Ambitious to pay my Devotion to your Lordship by this small present most humbly Dedicated by My Lord Your Lorships most obedient Servant N. TATE THE TABLE OF THE CONTENTS A New Collection of Poems Written by several Authors An Ode written by Mr. Abraham Cowley for Her Majesty Queen to King Charles I. Page 1. The Grove By the Earl of Roscommon p. 3 Upon Nothing By the late Earl of Rochester p. 5 Upon his leaving his Mistris By the same Author p. 8 Love and Life A Song By the same Author p. 10. To the late Earl of Rochester upon the report of his Sickness in Town being newly recovered by his Lordships advice in the Country in Allusion to the Ode of Horace By Sir Francis Fane p. 11 To a great Lord inviting him to Court or else to write a History in the Country A Paraphrase upon the 12th Ode of Horace l. 2. By the same p. 13 To a Perjur'd Mistris the 8th Ode of Horace l. 1. Imitated By the same p. 16 A Mask Made at request of the late Earl of Ro-Chester for the Tragedy of Valeâ—…inian p. â—…7 From Ovid. Amorum l. 2. El. 4. and Lucretius l. 4. That he loves Women of all sorts and sizes By Mr. R p. 33 To Dorolissa On her being like my Lord Dorset By the same p. 27 In Imitation of the Song That I love none By Olinda p. 38 The Picture By Mr. Adams By the same p. 39 A Pastoral Written at Dublin in May 1683 By the same p. 44 Vivamus mea Lesbia c. Catul. By the same p. 48 Song p. 50 Parce meo Juveni c. Tibullus p. 51 A Translation out of Statius To Sleep p. 53 The Atheist p. 55 A Pastoral Reflection on Death p. 57 Horatii Ode 28. Lib. 1. Persicos Odi puer apparatus c. p. 64 Horatii Epod. 1. ad Populum Romanum Quoquo scelesti ruitis c. p. 65 The Fly By P. Ayres Esquire p. 67 To the Nightingale p. 70 On Nightingale that was drowned p. 75 Lov 's new Philosophy p. 76 Cynisca Or the fourteenth Idylium of Theocritus imitated By W. Bowls Fellow of Kings College Cambridge p. 80 Sapho's Ode out of Longinus p. 85 Ode 13. Of the fourth Book â—…orace p. 87 The Immortality of Poesie 〈◊〉 Mr. Evelyn To Envy Ovid. Amor. Lib. 1. Eleg. 15 p. 90 Out of Martial Lib 8. Epigr. 56. Temporibus nostris Aetas p. 93 To Mr. c. p. 95 Out of Horace Ode 8. L. 1. Lidia dic per omnes c. p. 99 The Punishment p. 100 Part of Ajax's Speech Ovid Metam l. 13. p. 101 Out of Sannazar p. 102 Remedy of Love p. 103 Written on her Mask p. 107 To Mr. S. G. p. 108 A Gentleman going to his Country Farm which he had not seen for some time before at the request of a Lady writes these Verses Whether in Love Men or Women have the advantage they in making or these in receiving their Court Considered in a Dialogue betwixt Corinna and Lais p. 115. On the Lords rejecting the Bill of Exclusion November 15. 1680. p. 120 Elegy On the Death of Christopher Sherard Esq Son and Heir Apparent to the Right Honourable Bennet Lord Sherard who died in the sixteenth year of his age Feb. 19. 1681. p. 122 On the Romantick Office of Credit proposed by Dr. C. and his Partners An. Dom. 1682. p. 124 Occasioned by a sight of his Majesty walking near the River in the time of the Oxford Parliament p. 126 To Coelia p. 128 To a Gentleman his Friend who could decypher any Character p. 129 Business p. 131 Horace Ode 13. Lib. 4. In Lycen Meretricenâ—… Vetulam Audivêre Lyce Dii Translated p. 135 On a Fair Lady Singing p. 137 The Recantation not accepted p. 138 Caâ—…ul ad Lesbiam 5. p. 140 On Caelia's Sickness p. 141 A Song p. 142 Life p. 143 To much admired Lady p. 145 To a very accomplâ—…ed Lady p. 146 To the same immoderately mourning the Death of a Relation p. 148 Secret Grief p. 149 Mart. L. 1. Ep. 58. p. 150 The Graces or Hieron Theocriti Idyl 16. p. 151 Anacrean's Odes Paraphras'd Age. Ode 47. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. By Mr. Bristow late of All-Souls College p. 158 Age. Ode 34. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. By the same p. 159 Drinking Ode 25. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. By the same p. 160 The first Elegy of Ovid's Amorum Translated into English by Mr. Ballow Fellow of Kings Colledge in Cambridge p. 161 Elegy II. p. 164 Elegy III by the same hand p. 167 Elegy IV by the same hand p. 169 Elegy V by the same p. 173 Libri Primi Ovid. Amor. Elegia Prima p. 175 Libri Primi Elegia Secunda p. 178 Libri Primi Elegia Tertia p. 183 Libri Primi Elegia Quinta p. 184 Tr. Mr. R. D. at Cambridge p. 186 The Soldier Writ in April 1684. when our English Voluntiers went into Flanders p. 190 Philander and Eirene p. 193 Of Divine Poesie two Cantoes By Mr. Waller Occasioned upon sight of the Fifty Third Chapter of Isaiah turn'd into Verse by a Lady p. 214 Canto 2. p. 217 Answer to Mr. Waller p. 222 The Change p. 226 Excusing himself to his Mistris for being Iealous p. 228 Content p. 237 To Lucinda p. 244 The Resolve p. 246 Parting with Lucinda p. 248 The Visit p. 252 By Charles How
they mount they soar are gone And leave the injur'd slighted Maid to moan If any dazling Beauty fires the Town Each Spark can try to make the Prize his own No musty Customs his Delight controuls To her with Lacques clog'd the Chariot rolls We by dull Rules contriv'd by men confin'd Must not pursue our Fancy please our Mind But modest and demure receive at home The formal Visitants that dain to come And all our Happiness dependeth still Not on our own but on anothers Will. Corinna I grant Men under less constraint than We But 't is constraint from Cares and Misery For the exercise of this their boasted Power Plunges in Woes we never feel each hour When before any stubborn Town they sit If them the haughty Dame will not admit What Tortures they endure what lively pain Afflicts their Soul and racks each trembling vein The Pangs of Love are of so quick a sense As scarce the ensuing Joy can recompence But we by happier Fate ne're suffer these Embracing the Proposals if they please It is not always in their power to win But always is in ours to let them in We either love not or our Love obtains Enjoy the sweet of it without the Pains Lais. Alas they often mock with feign'd desire And warm the innocent Maid with painted sire And when the blushing flag does shew she 's won Their work that only came to abuse is done The ill-natured Creatures leave the melting fair To pine and sigh her spotless Soul to Air. They pleas'd like Nero see the Beauteous Rome In Flames their cruel hands did light consume Corinna We practice this under a different Name In us 't is Honour but in them a Shame With false enticing Looks we gild the Bait And having caught them scorn triumph hate Ensnare to shew what powerful Charms we bear Then slight and damn them to a wild despair And who the grateful Pleasure can despise Of seeing humble Slaves in modest Guise And awful trembling to approach our Eyes And by adoring make us Deities Catch at each Glance and hang on ev'ry Look As if from us their Destiny they took Rate ev'ry Smile above a Monarch's Crown And dread ours more than angry Heavens frown Lais. But add to these the anguish of our mind When forc'd to be to the dear Man unkind When Parents envious Precepts do oblige Against our Will to hold out ten years Siege Till all their dull Formalities are past To yield on tedious Articles at last To force our Nature and belye our Heart Stifle the raging â—…lame and hide our smart Not daring what we most desire to own Constrain'd on him we languish for to srown This this is the Extremity of Pain To suffer without power to complain In Love as in the State they only feel The Rack who dare not their hid thoughts reveal Corinna Why should we thus against our Nature fight And vex our selves with this false Parthian flight Let us no more to Forms and Shadows strike If we the generous Assailant like Admit him ne're disturb our selves to feign Nor make him waste his Vigour to obtain Lais. So things would run too fast the Game of Love Does grateful with this Disadvantage prove 'T is such bewitching sport so draws us in As 't is what would it be if all should win Did we not stop it thus and make it keep Within due bounds the Play would be too deep And all our Stock and Fortune lost too soon Methinks as 't is the stakes are quickly gone Corinna 'T is best then things continue as they are Reformers sometimes mend but oftner mar On the Lords rejecting the Bill of Exclusion November the 15th 1680. GOds this is great These these are they Who truly thus their noble Blood display And by the Soul which they this day have shewn Make all the Glories of their Line their own These are Old Engâ—…ana's Peers Hearts that despise To be o re-aw'd by Number and by Noise No they 're too Brave too Loyal and too Wise. Beauchamp and Howard's Courage Cecil's Brain The Faith of Vere still in the House remain Nor on the Churches Seats do less appear Grave Morton's Piety and Prudence here Such the lay-hands that dare support a Crown And such the Conscience of the sacred Gown Thus did their mighty Ancestors combine When force misplac'd the Crown from the right line Thus they stood fast to Truth and never fail'd Till the unblemish'd Rose of York prevail'd And must again that sad Dispute appear No we are much too young for Plato's year Our Renown'd Peerage will not have it so The Demi-Gods and Heroes thunder No. What remote noise is this Hark how it grows Nearer and louder now the Torrent flows All Europe shouts aloud Spring-Tides of Joy Salute the Brittish Isle hark how they cry Fame now is yours more from one Law refus'd Than half the numerous Laws you ever us'd ELEGY On the Death of Christopher Sherard Esq Son and Heir Apparent to the Right Honourable Bennet Lord Sherrard who died in the Sixteenth Year of his Age Febr. 19. 1681. AND is he dead Is he already dead Ah too surprizing News sudden as sad When hopeful Vertue does abortive fall We weep our own and not his Funeral The loss is ours and all the Tears we shed Are more for them that live than for the dead Let it not then be said untimely Fate Robb'd him of Honour Title or Estate Or what is more to Youth than all beside Of an adored Beauty for his Bride Such Blessings waited him not few nor small Yet our loss we may truly greater call For we are robb'd of him that 's more than all Insolvent Fortune let us count our Woe Bankrupt of much which time will ever owe. A steady Friendship Modesty above The Age we live in A true English Love A generous Heart with an Address compleat Great in his Lineage yet more good than great And above all as the most sacred thing A Soul devoted to his God and King This Treasure had been ours had Fate delay'd 'T was promis'd all and had been surely paid But he is gone untimely ravish'd hence In the prime Bloom of Youth and Innocence He dy'd a Virgin free from modern Crimes Clear and unfully'd in licentious Times Bring Flow'rs ye spotless Maids and strew 'em here Strew all the Beauties of the blooming Year Hither your Roses mix'd with Lillies bring And on his Grave six an eternal Spring Which water'd with your Tears may be encreast To a Perfume beyond the Phoenix Nest Yet all those Odours far less sweet will be To us than his own Name and Memory Farewel Dear Youth had you this Age surviv'd And to the years of our first Parents liv'd Yet when at last your thread of Life had fail'd You might have died more known not more bewail'd Thus young Marcellus fell Rome's darling Name Ever lamented and belov'd by Fame And thus Ah Simile too like thus died Henry Britannia's