spoke All Heaven was Fire and Sinai hid in Smoak Praise him sweet Off-spring of the Ground With Heavenly Nectar yearly Crown'd And ye tall Cedars celebrate his Praise That in his Temple Sacred Altars raise Idle Musicians of the Spring Whose only cares to Love and Sing Fly thro the World and let your trembling Throat Praise your Creatour with the sweetest Note Praise him each Salvage Furious Beast That on his Stores do daily feast And you tame Slaves of the Laborious Plow Your weary Knees to your Creatour bow Majestick Monarchs Mortal Gods Whose Power hath here no Periods May all Attempts against your Crown be vain But still remember by whose power you Raign Let the wide World his Praises sing Where Tagus and Euphrates spring And from the Danube frosty Banks to those Where from an unknown head great Nilus flows You that dispose of all our Lives Praise him from whom your power derives Be True and Just like him and fear his Word As much as Malefactors do your Sword Praise him old Monuments of Time O praise him in your Youthful prime Praise him fair Idols of our greedy Sence Exalt his Name sweet Age of Innocence Jehovah's Name shall only last When Heaven Earth and all is past Nothing Great God is to be found in Thee But Unconceivable Eternity Exalt O Jacob's Sacred Race The God of Gods the God of Grace Who will above the Stars your Empire raise And with His Glory Recompence your Praise TO ORINDA An Imitation of HORACE By the Earl of Roscommon Integer vitae c. Carm. Lib. 1. Od. 22. I. VIrtue dear Friend needs no defence No Arms but it s own Innocence Quivers and Bows and poison'd Darts Are only us'd by guilty Hearts II. An honest mind safely alone May travel through the burning Zone Or through the deepest Scythian Snows Or where the fam'd Hydaspes flows III. While rul'd by a resistless fire Our Great ORINDA I Admire The hungry Wolves that see me stray Unarm'd and single run away IV. Set me in the remotest place That ever Neptune did embrace When there her Image fills my Breast Helicon is not half so blest V. Leave me upon some Libyan Plain So she my Fancy entertain And when the thirsty Monsters meet They 'll all pay homage to my Feet VI. The Magick of ORINDA's Name Not only can their fierceness tame But if that mighty word I once rehearse They seem submissively to roar in Verse THE GROVE By the same Author AH happy Grove Dark and secure retreat Of Sacred silence Rest's Eternal Seat How well your cool and unfrequented shade Suits with the chaste retirements of a Maid Oh! If kind Heavâ—n had been so much my friend To make my Fate upon my choice depend All my ambition I would here confine And only this Elyzium should be mine Fond Men by Passion wilfully betray'd Adore those Idols which their fancy made Purchasing Riches with our time and care We lose our freedom in a gilded Snare And having all all to our selves refuse Opprest with Blessings which we fear to use Fame is at best but an inconstant good Vain are the boasted Titles of our Blood We soonest lose what we most highly prise And with our Youth our short-liv'd Beauty dies In vain our Fields and Flocks increase our store If our abundance makes us wish for more How happy is the harmless Country Maid Who rich by Nature scorns superfluous aid Whose modest Cloaths no wanton eyes invite But like her Soul preserves the Native White Whose little store her well-taught Mind does please Not pinch'd with want nor cloyd with wanton ease Who free from Storms which on the Great Ones fall Makes but few Wishes and enjoys them all No care but Love can discompose her Breast Love of all Cares the sweetest and the best Whil'st on sweet Grass her bleating Charge does lie Our happy Lover feeds upon her eye Not one on whom or Gods or Men impose But one whom Love has for this Lover chose Under some favourite Myrtle's shady Boughs They speak their Passions in repeated Vows And whilst a Blush confesses how she burns His faithful heart makes as sincere returns Thus in the Arms of Love and Peace they lie And whilst they Live their flames can never die THE DUEL OF THE STAGS Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD IN Windsor Forest before War destroy'd The harmless Pleasures which soft Peace injoy'd A mighty Stag grew Monarch of the Heard By all his Savage Slaves obey'd and fear'd And while the Troops about their Soveraign fed They watch't the awful nodding of his Head Still as he passeth by they all remove Proud in Dominion Prouder in his Love And while with Pride and Appetite he swells He courts no chosen object but compels No Subject his lov'd Mistress dares deny But yields his hopes up to his Tyranny Long had this Prince imperiously thus sway'd By no set Laws but by his Will obey'd His fearful Slaves to full Obedience grown Admire his strength and dare not use their own One Subject most did his suspicion move That show'd least Fear and counterfeited Love In the best Pastures by his side he fed Arm'd with two large Militia's on his head As if he practis'd Majesty he walk't And at his Nod he made not haste but stalk't By his large shade he saw how great he was And his vast Layers on the bended Grass His thoughts as large as his proportion grew And judg'd himself as fit for Empire too Thus to rebellious hopes he swell'd at length Love and Ambition growing with his strength This hid Ambition his bold Passion shows And from a Subject to a Rival grows Sollicits all his Princes fearful Dames And in his sight Courts with rebellious flames The Prince sees this with an inflamed Eye But Looks are only signs of Majesty When once a Prince's Will meets a restraint His Power is then esteem'd but his Complaint His Head then shakes at which th' affrighted Heard Start to each side his Rival not afear'd Stands by his Mistress side and stirs not thence But bids her own his Love and his Defence The Quarrel now to a vast height is grown Both urg'd to fight by Passion and a Throne But Love has most excuse for all we find Have Passions tho' not Thrones alike assign'd The Soveraign Stag shaking his loaded head On which hisScepters with his Arms were spread Wisely by Nature there together fix't Where with the Title the Defence was mixt The Pace which he advanc'd with to engage Became at once his Majesty and Rage T'other stands still with as much confidence To make his part seem only his defence Their heads now meet and at one blow each strikes As many strokes as if a Rank of Pikes Grew on his Brows as thick their Antlers stand Which every Year kind Nature does disband Wild Beasts sometimes in peace and quiet are But Man no season frees from Love or War With equal strength they met as if two
Tear And if in vain I court thy Love Let mine at least thy pity move Ah while I scorn vouchsafe to woo Methinks you may dissemble too Streph. Ah Phillis that you wou'd contrive A way to keep my Love alive But all your other Charms must fail When Kindness ceases to prevail Alas No less than you I grieve My dying flame has no reprieve For I can never hope to find Shou'd all the Nymphs I Court be kind One Beauty able to renew Those Pleasures I enjoy in you When Love and Youth did both conspire To fill our Breasts and Veins with fire 'T is true some other Nymph may gain That Heart which merits your Disdain But second Love has still allay The Joys grow aged and decay Then blame me not for losing more Than Love and Beauty can restore And let this truth thy comfort prove I wou'd but can no longer Love THE DIVIDED HEART By the same Author AH Celia that I were but sure Thy Love like mine cou'd still endure That Time and Absence which destroy The Cares of Lovers and their Joy Cou'd never rob me of that part Which you have giv'n me of your Heart Others unenvy'd might possess Whole Hearts and boast that Happiness 'T was Nobler Fortune to divide The Roman Empire in her Pride Than on some low and barb'rous Throne Obscurely plac'd to rule alone Love only from thy Heart exacts The several Debts thy Face contracts And by that new and juster way Secures thy Empire and his sway Fav'ring but one he might compel The hopeless Lover to rebel But shou'd he other Hearts thus share That in the whole so worthless are Shou'd into several Squadrons draw That strength which kept entire cou'd awe Men would his scatter'd Powers deride And conqu'ring Him those spoils divide To Mr. J. N. on his Translations out of French and Italian By the same Author WHile others toil our Country to supply With what we need only for Luxury Spices and Silk in the rich East provide To glut our Avarice and feed our Pride You Foreign Learning prosperously transmit To raise our Virtue and provoke our Wit Such brave Designs your Gen'rous Soul inflame To be a bold Adventurer for Fame How much oblig'd are Italy and France While with your Voice their Musick you advance Your growing Fame with Envy can oppose Who sing with no less Art than they Compose In these Attempts so few have had success Their Beauties suffer in our English Dress By Artless Hands spoil'd of their Native Ayr They seldom pass from moderately fair As if you meant these Injuries to atone You give them Charms more Conqu'ring than their own Not like the dull laborious Flatterer With secret Art those Graces you confer The skilful Painters with slight stroaks impart That subtil Beauty which affects the Heart There are who publickly profess they hate Translations and yet all they Write Translate So proud they scorn to drive a Lawful Trade Yet by their Wants are shameless Pirates made These you incense while you their Thefts reveal Or else prevent in what they meant to steal From all besides you are secure of praise But you so high our Expectation raise A gen'ral Discontent we shall declare If such a Workman only should repair You to the Dead your Piety have shewn Adorn'd their Monuments now build your own Drawn in the East we in your Lines may trace That Genius which of old inspir'd the place The banish'd Muses back to Greece you bring Where their best Airs you so Divinely sing The World must own they are by you restor'd To sacred shades where they were first ador'd Virtue 's Urania By the same Author HOpeless I languish out my Days Struck with Vrania's Conqu'ring Eyes The Wretch at whom she darts these rays Must feel the Wound until he dies Though endless be her Cruelty Calling her Beauties to my Mind I bow beneath her Tyranny And dare not murmur she 's unkind Reason this tameness does upbraid Proff'ring to arm in my defence But when I call her to my aid She 's more a Traytor than my sense No sooner I the War declare But strait her succour she denies And joyning Forces with the Fair Confirms the Conquest of her Eyes SYLVIA By the same Author THe Nymph that undoes me is Fair and Unkind No less than a Wonder by Nature design'd She 's the Grief of my Heart the Joy of my Eye And the cause of a Flame that never can die Her Mouth from whence Wit still obligingly flows Has the Beautiful Blush and the Smell of the Rose Love and Destiny both attend on her Will She wounds with a Look with a Frown she can kill The Desperate Lover can hope no redress Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess In Sylvia they meet so unhappy am I Who sees her must Love and who Loves her must die TO CELIA By Sir Charles Sedley AS in those Nations where they yet adore Marble and Cedar and their aid implore 'T is not the Workman nor the precious Wood But 't is the Worshipper that makes the God So cruel Fair tho Heaven has giv'n thee all We Mortals Virtue or can Beauty call 'T is we that give the Thunder to your Frowns Darts to your Eyes and to our selves the Wounds Without our Love which proudly you deride Vain were your Beauty and more vain your Pride All envy'd Beings that the World can shew Still to some meaner thing their greatness owe. Subjects make Kings and we the numerous Train Of Humble Lovers Constitute thy Reign This difference only Beauties Realm may boast Where most it favours it enslaves the most And they to whom it is indulgent found Are ever in the rudest Fetters bound What Tyrant yet but thee was ever known Cruel to those that serv'd to make him one Valour 's a Vice if not with Honour joyn'd And Beauty a Disease when 't is not kind THE SUBMISSION By the same Author AH Pardon Madam if I ever thought Your smallest Favours could too dear be bought And the just greatness of your Servant's Flame I did the poorness of their Spirits Name Calling their due attendance Slavery Your power of Life and Death flat Tyranny Since now I yield and do confess there is No way too hard that leads to such a bliss So when Hippomanes beheld the Race Where Loss was Death and Conquest but a Face He stood amazed at the fatal strife Wondring that Love shou'd dearer be than Life But when he saw the Prize no longer staid But through those very dangers sought the Maid And won her too O may his Conquest prove A happy Omen to my purer Love Which if the honour of all Victory In the resistance of the Vanquisht lie Though it may be the least regarded Prize Is not the smallest Trophy of your Eyes CONSTANCY By the same Author FEar not My Dear a Flame can never die That is once kindled by so bright an Eye Look on thy self and measure thence my Love
Think what a Passion such a Form must move For though thy Beauty first allur'd my Sight Yet now I look on it but as the Light That led me to the Treasury of thy Mind Whose inward Virtue in that Feature shin'd That knot be confident will ever last Which Fancy ty'd and Reason has made fast So fast that time although it may disarm Thy Lovely Face my Faith can never harm And Age deluded when it comes will find My Love remov'd and to thy Soul assign'd The Passion I have now shall ne'er grow less No though thy own Fair Self should it oppre I could e'en hazard my Eternity Love but again and 't will a Heaven be THE INDIFFERENCE By the same Author THanks Fair Vrania to your scorn I now am free as I was born Of all the Pain that I endur'd By your late Coldness I am Cur'd In losing me proud Nymph you lose The Humblest Slave your Beauty knows In losing you I but throw down A Cruel Tyrant from her Throne I must confess I ne'er could find Your equal or in Shape or Mind Y 'ave Beauty Wit and all things know But where you shou'd your Love bestow I unawares my Freedom gave And to those Tyrants grew a Slave But would y 'ave kept what you have won You should have more Compassion shewn Love is a burthen which two Hearts When equally they bear their parts With pleasure carry but no one Alas can bear it long alone I 'm not of those who Court their Pain And make an Idol of Disdain My hope in Love does ne'er expire But I lose also the Desire Nor yet of those who ill receiv'd Would gladly have strange things believ'd And if your Heart you do defend Their Force against your Honour bend Whoe'er does make his Victor less His own low weakness does confess And whiles her pow'r he does defame He poorly doubles his own shame Even that Malice does betray And speak concern another way And all such scorn in Men is but The Smoak of Fires ill put out He 's still in Torment whom the Rage To Detraction does engage In Love Indifference is sure The only sign of perfect Cure Yet Cruel Fair if thou canst prove As happy in some other Love As I could once have done in thine The Sun on Happier does not shine A Pastoral Dialogue By the same Author Thyrsis STrephon O Strephon Once the Jolliest Lad That with shrill Pipe did ever Mountain glad While'ome the formost at our Rural Plays The Pride and Glory of our Holy-days Why dost thou now sit musing all alone Teaching the Turtles yet a sadder Groan Well'd with thy Tears why does the Neighb'ring Brook Bear to the Ocean what she never took Why do our Woods so us'd to hear thee Sing With nothing now but with thy Sorrows ring Thy Flocks are well and fruitful and no Swain Than thee more welcome to the Hill or Plain Strephon. No loss of these or care of those are left Hath wretched Strephon of his Peace bereft I could invite the Wolf my Cruel Guest And play unmov'd while he on all did Feast I could endure that every Swain out-run Out-threw Out-wrestl'd and each Nymph shou'd shun The hapless Strephon But the Gods I find To no such trifles have this Heart design'd A feller grief and sadder loss I plain Than ever Shepherd or did Prince sustain Bright Galatea in whose matchless Face Sate Rural Innocence with Heavenly Grace In whose no less to be adored mind With equal light even distant Virtues shin'd Chaste without pride though gentle yet not soft Not always cruel nor yet kind too oft Fair Goddess of these Fields who for our sports Though she might well become despised Courts Belov'd of all and loving one alone Is from my fight I fear for ever gone Now I am sure thou wondrest not I grieve But rather art amazed that I Live Thyrsis Thy Case indeed is pitiful but yet Thou on thy loss too great a price dost set Women like Days are Strephon some be far More bright and glorious than others are Yet none so wonderful were ever seen But by as Fair they have succeeded been Strephon. Others as Fair and may as worthy prove But sure I never shall another Love Her bright Idea wanders in my Thought At once my Poyson and my Antidote The Stag shall sooner with the Eagle soar Seas leave their Fishes naked on the shoar The Wolf shall sooner by the Lambkin die And from the Kid the hungry Lyon flie Than I forget her Face what once I Love May from my Eyes but not my Heart remove To a Lady who fled the Sight of him By Sir George Etherege IF I my Celia cou'd perswade To see those Wounds her Eyes have made And hear whilst I that Passion tell Which like her self does so excel How soon we might be freed from Care She need not fear nor I despair Such Beauty does the Nymph protect That all approach her with respect And can I offer Violence Where Love does joyn in her defence This Guard might all her Fears disperse Did she with Savages Converse Then my Celia wou'd surprize With what 's produc'd by her own Eyes Those matchless Flames which they inspire In her own Breast shou'd raise a fire For Love but with more subtil Art As well as Beauty charms the Heart To a Lady asking him how long he would Love her By the same Author IT is not Celia in our power To say how long our Love will last It may be we within this Hour May lose those Joys we now do taste The Blessed that Immortal be From Change in Love are only free Then since we Mortal Lovers are Ask not how long our Love will last But while it does let us take care Each Minute be with Pleasure past Were it not madness to deny To Live because w' are sure to Die TO Mr. G. Granville ON HIS VERSES TO THE KING By Mr. Edmund Waller AN Early Plant which such a Blossom bears And shows a Genius so beyond his Years A Judgment which could make so fair a Choice So high a Subject to employ his Voice Still as it grows How sweetly will it sing The growing Greatness of our Matchless King TO Mr. WALLER By Mr. G. Granville WHen into Lybia the Young Grecian came To Talk with Hammon and Consult for Fame When from the Sacred Tripod where he stood The Priest inspir'd Saluted him a God So own'd by Heaven less glorious far was he Great God of Verse than I thus Prais'd by Thee Whoe'er their Names can in thy Numbers show Have more than Empire and Immortal grow Ages to come shall scorn the Pow'rs of Old When in thy Verse of Greater Gods they 're told Our Beauteous Queen and Martial Monarch's Name For Jove and Juno shall be plac'd by Fame Thy Charles for Neptune shall the Seas Command And Sacharissa shall for Venus stand Greece shall no longer Boast nor Haughty Rome But think from Britain all the