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Me blest for this let no man hold;
Swiftly his daily journey he goes, For I, as Midas did of old,
But treads his annual with a statelier pace; Perish by turning every thing to gold.
And does three hundred rounds enclose
Within one yearly circle's space; What do I seek, alas! or why do I
At once, with double course in the same sphere, Attempt in vain from thee to fly?
He runs the day, and walks the year.
When Soul does to myself refer,
'Tis then my life, and does but lowly move; The divine presence there too is,
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly flies, and then is Love.
'Twixt hope and fear-my day and night.
“Is well, 'tis well with them, say I,
can die; For none can be unhappy, who,
'Midst all his ills, a time does know
Whatever parts of me remain,
For 'twas not only in my heart,
But, like a God, by powerful art 'Twas all in all, and all in every part.
My' affection no more perilh can
Hereafter, if one dust of me
Mix'd with another's substance be, "Twill leaven that whole lump with love of
Let Nature, if the please, disperse My atoms over all the universe:
At the least they easily shall"
Themselves know, and together call : For iby love, like a mark, is stamp'd on all.
THE BARGAIN. 'AKE hced, take hced, thou lovely maid,
Nor be by glittering ills betray'd: Thyself for money! oh, let no man know
The price of beauty fallin fo low!
What dangers ought it thou not to dread, When love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune led?
The foolish Indian, that sells
His precious gold for beads and bells, Docs a more wise and gainful traffic hold,
Than thou, who sell'At thyself for gold.
What gains in such a bargain are? He'll in thy mines dig better treasures far.
Can gold, alas! with thee compare ?
The sun, that makes it, 's not so fair ; The sun, which can nor make nor ever see
A thing so beautiful as thee,
In all the journeys he does pass,
Bold was the wretch that cheapen’d thee;
Since Magus, none so bold as he: Thou'rt so divine a thing, that thee to buy
Is to be counted simony;
Too dear he'll find his fordid price
If it be lawful thee to buy,
There's none can pay that rate butl; Nothing on earth a fitting price can be,
LOVE AND LIFE. Tow, sure, within this twelvemonth past,
But what on carth's most like to thee;
And that my heart does only bear;
So much thyself does in me live
That, when it for thyself I give,
Whose stamp and value equal is;
l'ave lov'd at least sume twenty years or
Th’account of Love runs much more fast
Than that with which our life does score : So, though my life be short, yet I may prove
The great Mcthusalem of Love.
Not that Love's hours or minutes are Shorter than those our being's measur'd by ;
But they're more close compacted far,
And so in lesser room do lie :
Things folid take up little place.
Yet Love, alas! and Life, in me,
At once how can there in it be
A double, different motion ?
At once does flow and swiftly run:
THE LONG LIFE.
LOVE from Time's wings hath Pol’n the fe
And very minutes hours are grown,
The various motions of the turning year And part o'th' triumph chofe to get,
Rather than be a part of it.
Each winter's day St. Barnaby.
RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED.
IS true, l’ave lov'd already three or four,
And shall chres or four hundred more ; Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happiness I'll love each fair one that I see, too,
Till I find one at last that shall love me.
That ends my wanderings and my toil :
l'il fetele there, and happy grow; Sure those are happy people that complain
The country does with milk and honey flow.' O'th' fhortness of the days of man : Contract mine, Heaven! and bring them back The needle trembles so, and turns about, again
Till it the northern point find out ; To th' ordinary soan.
But constant then and fix'd does prove,
Fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move. If when your gift, long life, I disapprove, I too ingrateful seem to be;
Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, Punish me justly, Heaven; make her to love,
If it put forth again to sea !
It never more abroad shall roam,
But I must sweat in love, and labour yet,
Till I a competency get;
They 're slothful fools who leave a trade, ENTLY, ah gently, madam, touch
Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. The wound which you yourself have made ; That pain must needs be very muck,
Variety I aik not; give me one
To live perpetually upon;
The person Love does to us fit,
Like manna, has the taste of all in it. Do but awhile with patience stay
(For counsel yet will do no good) Till time, and rest, and Heaven, allay The violent burnings of my blood;
FOR Heaven's sake, what d' you mean to do?
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two; Perhaps the physic 's gond you give,
Youth and warm hours let me not idly lose, But ne'er to me can useful prove ;
The little time that Love does chuse: Medicines may cure, but not revive;
If always here I must not stay, And I'm not lick, but dead in love.
Let me begone whilst yet 'tis dav; In Love's hell, not his world, am I;
Left I, faint and benighted, lose my way. Ai ence I live, am dead, and die.
'Tis dismal, one so long to love What new-found rhetoric is thine!
In vain; till to love more as vain must prove; Ev's thy dissuasions me persuade,
To hunt so long on nimble
prey, till we And thy great power does clearest fine,
Too weary to take others be : When the commands are disobey'd.
Alas! 'tis folly to remain, In sain thou bid'at me to forbear ;
And waste our army thus in vain, Obedience were rebellion here.
Before a city which will ne'er be ta’en, The tongue comes in, as if it meant
At several hopes wisely to fly,
Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy;
'Tis more inconstant always to pursue For strait the traitor took their part:
A thing that always flies from you; And by this new foe I'm bereft Of all that little which was left.
For that at last may mcet a bound,
But no end can to this be found, The ad, I must confefs, was wise,
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless round. As a dishonest act could be :
When it does hardness meet, and pride, Well knew the tongue, alas! your eyes
My love docs then rebuund t' another lide ; Would be too strong for that and me;
But, if it aught that 's soft and yielding hit, We' admire it whilst unknown; but after, more It lodges there, and stays in it.
Admire ourselves for liking it before. Whatever 'tis fhall firit love me,
I ove, like a greedy hawk, if we give way, That it my heaven may truly be;
Does over-gorge himself with his own prey; I fall be sure to give 't eternity.
Of every hopes a surfeit he'll futlain,
If once he lose his sting, he grows a dronc.
Why should she asham'd or angry be,
LOVE UNDISCOVERE.D. *The Gods may give their altars o'cr; They'll smoak but seldom any more,
OME others may with safety tell If none but happy men must them adure.
And either find some medicine there, The lightnirg, which tall oaks oppose in vain,
Or cure themselves ev’n by despair; To strike foruttimes does not disdain
My love's so great, that it might prove
Dangerous to tell her that I love.
So tender is my wound, it must not bear
I would not have her know the pain, Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove,
The torments, for her I sustain;
Her love upon a fate too low,
Forbid it, Heaven! my life should be
Weigh'd with her leati conveniency: That must create, or elfe must be alone.
No, ko me perish rather with my grief,
Than, to her cifædvantage, find relief!
Yet what I die, my last breath shall
Grow bold, and plainly tell her all :
Like covétous men, who ne'er descry
'I heir dear bid-treasures till they die. T'an undeserving beggar than a thiel.
Ah, faire maid! how will it cheer
My ghost, to get from thee a ttar! but take heed; for if me thou pitielt then,
Twenty to one but I shall live again.
THE GIVEN HEART.
WONDER what those lovers mean, who say Keep fill thy distance; for at once to me
They ’ave given their hearts away :
Some good kind lover, tell me how ;
If so it be coe place both hearts contain,
For what do they complain?
What courtesy can Love do more,
Than to join hearts that parted were before? Lest like the Pella an prince should be,
Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine como And weep for other worlds, having cur quer'd thee: Into he self-fame rcom ; When Love has taken all thou haft away,
'Twill tear and blow up all within, His strength by too niuch riches will dccay, Like a granado fhot into' a magazine. Thou in my fancy dost much higher stand,
Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts Than women can be plac'd by Nature's hand;
of both our broken-hearts ; And I must necds, I'm sure, a losur be, To change thee, as thou'rt there, for
Shall out of both one new one make, thee.
very Thy sweetness is so much within me plac'd,
From her's th' allay, from mine the metal, take. That, should'st thou nectar give, 'would spoil For of her heart he from the flames will find the taste.
Dut little lest bchind : Beauty at first moves wonder and delight;
Mine only will remain entire; 'Tis Nature's juggling trick to cheat the light. No dross was there, to perish in the fire.
THE HEART FLED AGAIN.
THE SOUL. TALSE, foolish heart! didst thou not say,
OME dull philosopher—when he hears me fay
My soul is from me fled away, Behold! again 'tis filed away,
Nor has of late inform’d my body here, fied as far from me as before.
But in another's breast does lie, I srove in bring it back again;
That neither is, nor will be, I, I cry'd and hollow'& after it in vain.
As a form servient and aslifting thereEv'n so the gentle Tyrian dame,
Will cry, “ Absurd !” and ask me how I live; Whinn neiti er grief nor love prevail,
And syllogilms against it give.
A curse on all your vain philofa; hies,
Which on weak Nature's law repend,
Ard know not how to com: relied
Love and Religion, those great mysteries! The dolefu! Ariadne Pro
Her body is my soul; laugh not at this, On the wid: fhore forfuken stood :
For by my life I swear it is. “ Falle Theseus, whiler doit thou go?"
'Tis that preferves my being and my breath ; Afa: false 'Thefcus cultie flood.
From that proceeds all that I do, But Bacchus came to her relief;
Nay all my thoughts and speeches too; Bacchus himself's too weak to ease my grief.
And separation from it is my death.
But travel thus eternally!
E CH 0.
T IR'D with the rough denials of my prayer, Thrust-out, ill-us’d, by all, but by none llain! Well, since thou wilt not here remain,
I come, and find a nymph much gertler here, l'll e'en to live without thee try;
That gives consent to all I say. My head shall take the greater pain,
Ah, gentle nymph! who lik it so well and all thy duties shall supply:
In hollow, solitary caves to dwell; I can more easily live, I know,
Her heart being such, into it go, Without thee, than without a mistress thou. And do but once from thence answer me so!
Complaisant nymph! who dost thus kindly share
In griefs whose cause thou doft not know;
Hadft thou but eyes, as well as tongue and car,
How much compassion wouldit thou show!
Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,
Alas! I might as easily
Paint thee to her, as describe her to thee.
By repercussion bear engender fire;
Shapes by reflection shapes beget; But they're strauge Hebrew things to me.
The voice itself, when stopt, does back retire, By customs and traditions they live,
And a new voice is made by it.
Thus things by opposition
Does from her ftony breast rebound,
Love's prophets, what we will, Producing neither image, fire, nor sound.
THE RICH RIVAL.
Because I love the same as you:
Alas! you 're very rich, 'tis true; Which they, as we do theni, adore.
But, pr'ythee, fool! what's that to Love and me? But then, like men both covetous and devout,
You ’ave land and money, let that serve ; Their costly superstition loth t' omit
And know you ’ave more by that than you deserve. And yet more loth to issue monies out,
When next l sce my fair-one, she shall know At their own charge to furnith it
How worthless thou art of her bed; To these expensive Deities
And, wretch! i'll strike thee dumb and dead, The hearts of men they sacrifice.
With noble verse not understood by you.