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'Twould grieve me much to find some bold ro

mance, That should two kind examples shew, Which before us in wonders did advance;

Not that I thought that story true, But none should Fancy more, than I would Do. Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends;

Through local banishment from thee;
Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning

As eafy hall my passage be,
As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's sea :
In vain the winds, in vain the billows, roar;

In vain the ftars their aid deny'd ;
He saw the Scftian tower on th' other fore :

Shall th' Hellefpont our loves divide ?
No, not the Atlantic occan's boundless tide.
Such seas betwixt us easily conquer'd are;

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But, gentle maid! do not deny
To let thy beams shine on me from afar;

And still the taper let me espy :
For, when thy light goes out, I fink and die,

I thought, I'll fwear, an handsome lye
Had been no sin at all in poetry;
But now I suffer an arrest,

For words were spoke by me in jeft.
Dull, fortish God of love! and can it be

Thou understand't not raillery?

Darts, and wounds, and flame, and heat, I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit;

Nor meant my verse should raised be

To this fad fame of prophesy:
Truth gives a dull propriety to my style,

And all the metaphors does spoil.

In things where fancy much does reign, "Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign;

The play at last a truth does grow,

And Custom into Nature go :
By this curft art of begging I became
Lame, with counterfeiting lame.

My lines of amorous desire
I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire;

And 'twas a barbarous delight

My fancy promis'd from the fight :
But now, by Love, the mighty Phalaris, 1,

My burning Bull the first do try.



NURSE on this tongue, that has my heart

And his great secret open laid!
For, of all perfonis, chicfy the
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 'eis a thing might dangerous grow,

Only in her to picy me :
Since 'tis for me to lose my life more fit,
Than 'tis for her to save and ransom it.
Ah! never more shall thy unwilling ear

My helpless story hear;
Discourse and talk awake docs keep
The rude unquiet pain
That in my breast does reiga;

Silence perhaps may make it sleep :
I'll bind that sore up I did ill reveal;
The wound, if once it close, may chance to hcal.
No 'twill ne'er heal; my love will never die,

Though it should speechless lie.
A river, ere it meet the sea,
As well might stay its source,
As my love can his course,

Unless it join and mix with thee :
lf any end or stop of it be found,
We know the flood runs fill, though under ground.

I NEVER yet could see that face

Which had no dart for me;
From fifteen years, to fifty's space,

They all victorious be.
Love, thou’rt a devil, if I may call thee one;
For fure in me thy name is Legion.
Colour, or shape, good limbs, or face,

Goodness, or wit, in all I find;
In motion or in speech a grace;

If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind;
And l’nı so wcak, the pistol need not be
Double or treble charg d to murder me.
If tall, the name of proper says;

If fair, she's pleasant as the light;
If low, her prettiness does please ;

If black, what lover loves not night?
If yellow-hair'd, I love, left it should be
Th' excuse to others for not loving me.
The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;

The lean, with love makes me too so :
If ftraight, her body's Cupid's dart

To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow:
Nay, age itself does me to rage incline,
And strength to women gives, as well as wine,
Just half as large as Charity

My richly-landed Love's become ;
And, judg'd aright, is Constancy,

Though it take up a larger room :
Him, who loves always one, why should they

More constant than the man loves always all?

UNHURT, untouch’d, did I complain,

And terrify'd all others with the pain :
But now I feel the mighty evil;
Ah! there's no fooling with the devil!
6o, wanton men, whilft others they would fright,

Themselves have met a real sprite.

Thus with unwearicd wings I fee

Through all Love's gardens and his fields; And, like the wise, industrious bee,

No weed but honey to me yields! Honey still spent this diligence still supplies, Though I return not home with laden thighs. My soul at first indeed did prove

Of pretty strength againt a dart, Till I this habit got of love ;

But my consumi d aud walted heart, Once burnt to tinder with a strong desire. Since that, by every spark is set on fire.

Then all the ficlds and woods shall with it ring;

Then Echo's burden it shall be ;
Then all the birds in several notes shall sing,

And all the rivers murniur, thee;
Then every wind the sound fall upwards bear,
And fostly whisper 't to fomc ar.gel's ear.
Then shall thy name through all my verse be


Thick as the flowers in meadows lie,
And, when in future times they shall be read

(As sure, I think, they will not die)
If any critic doubt that they be mine,
Men by that stamp thall quickly know the coin.
Meanwhile I will not dare to make a name

To represent thee by;
Adam (God's nomenclator) could not fraine

One that enough should fignify:
Aftr or Celia as unfit would prove
For thee, as 'cis to call the Deity Jove.



REAT and wife conqucror, who, wherc'

Thou com'ft, dolt fortisy, and settle there! Who canst defend as well as get, And never hadit one quarter beat-up yct;

Now thou art in, thou ne'er wilt part

With one inch of my vanquish'd heart; For, since thou took'it it by allault froin me, 'Tis garrison'd so strong with thoughis of thee,

It fears no beauteous enemy.

Hid thy charning strength bein less, I'ad serv'd ere this an hundred niiltreflcs :

I'm better thus, nor would compound To leave my prison to be a vagabond:

A prison in which I fill would be,

Though every door stood ope to me.
In spite both of thy coldness and thy pride,
All love is marriage on thy lover's fide,

For only death can them divide.
Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind
As that which spirits above to good does bind,

Gentle and sweet Necessity,
Which does not force, but guide our liberty!

Your love on me were spent in vain,

Since my love ftill could but remain Just as it is; for what, alas! can be Added to that which hath infinity

Both in extent and quality ?


EE where she fits, and in what comely wise

Drops tcars more fair than others' eyes! Ah, charming maid! let not ill-furtune see

Th' attire thy sorrow wears,

Nor know the beauty of thy tears ;
For shc'll still come to dress herself in thec.
As Nars reflect on waters, so I syy

In every drop, methinks, her eye.
The baby, which lives there, and always plays

Io that illustrious sphere,

Like a Narcissus docs appear,
Whilft in his food the lovely boy did gaze.
Ne'er yet did I behold fo glorious weather,

As this fun-fhine and rain together.
Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of fnow

(For some such fountain we must ficd,

To waters of so sair a kind) Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat

Which made this precious limbeck sweat! But what, alas! ah, what does it avail,

That the weeps tears fu wondrous cold,

As scarce the ass's hoof can hold, So cold, that I admire they fall not hail.



ITH more than Jewish reverence as yet

Do I the sacred name conceal ;
When, ye kind stars, ah when will it be fit

This gentle niystery to reveal?
When wil our love be nam'd, and we possess
That christening as a badge of happiness ?
So bold as yet no verse of mine has heen,

To wear that gem on any line ;
Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse bu socn,

Shall any stanza with it shine.
Rest, mighty name! till then; for thou must be
Laid down by her, ere taken up by me,

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VOME, doctor! use thy roughest art,


Belicve me, beauteous one! when love

Enters into a breast,
The two first things it does remove

Are friends and intereft.
Palioa 's half blind, nor can endure

The careful, scrupulous eyes;
Or else I could not love, I'm sure,

Cut, burn, and torture, every part,

To heal me of my love. There is no danger, if the pain

Should me to a fever bring; Compar'd with heats I now sustain,

A fever is so cool a thing

(Like drink which feverish men desire) That I should hope 'twould almost quench my fire.



One who in love were wise. Men, in fuch tempests tost about,

Will, without grief or pain,
Calt all their goods and riches out,

Themselves their port to gain.
As well might martyrs, who do choose

That facred death to take,
Mauro for the cloaths which they must lose,

When they're bound naked to the ftake.


HY Maid! ah! find some nobler theme

Taw her on this doubles en place

(Love, which is foul to body, and soul of

When I am separated from thee;

Alas! I might as easily show
What after death the soul will do;
'Twill laft, I'm sure, and that is all we know.'
The thing call d soul will never ftir nor move,
But all that while a lifeless carcase prove;

For 'tis the body of my love:

Not that my love will fly away,
But still continue; as, they say,
Sad troubled ghosts about their graves do stray.

Yor by a low suspect blalpheme

The glories of thy face.
Alas! the makes thce shine so fair,

So exquisitely bright,
That her dim lamp must disappear

Before thy potent light.
Three hours each morn in dresing thee

Maliciously are spent ;
And make that beauty tyranny,

That's else a civil government.
Th' adorning thee with so much art

Is but a barbarous skill ; 'Tis like the poisoning of a dart

Too apt before to kill. 'The ministering angels none can see ;

'Tis not their beauty' or face,
For which by men they worship'd be;

But their high office and their place.
Thou art my Goddess, my Saint she;
I pray to her, only to pray to thee.



I park,

With freshest boughs and fairet head;
I cut my love into his gentle hark,

And in three days, behold! 'tis dead :
My very written flames so violent be,

They've burnt and wither'd up the tree.
How should I live myself, whose heart is found

Deeply graven every where
With the large history of many a wound,

Larger than thy trunk can bear?
With art as Etrange as Homer in the nut,

Love in my heart has volumes put.
What a few words from thy rich stock did take

The leaves and beauties all,
As a strong poison with one drop does make

The nails and hairs to fall:
Love (I fee now) a kind of witchcraft is,

Or characters could ne'er do this.
Pardon, ye birds and nymphs, who lov'd this


And pardon me, thou gentle tree;
I thought her name would thee have happy made,

And blessed omen's hop'd from thee;
" Kotes of my love, thrive here," said I," and

“ And with ye let my love do so."

Ano What adnice.can. I receive !

No, satisfy me first;
For who would physic-potions give

To one that dies with thirst?
A little puff of breath, we find,

Small fires can quench and kill;
But, when they're great, the adverse wind

Does make them greater still.
Now whilft you speak, it moves me much,

But strait I'm just the same ;
Alas! th' effea mult needs be such

Of cutting through a fiame.

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Alas, poor youth! thy love will never thrive! Beauty to man the greatest torture is,
This blasted tree predeftinesit;

Unless it lead to further bliss,
Go, tie the dismial knot (why should'I thou live?) Beyond the tyrannous pleasures of the eye;

And, by the lines thou there hast writ, It grows too serious a cruelty, Deform’dly hanging, the fad piąurc be

Unless it heal, as well as strike;
To that unlucky history.

I would not, salamander-like,
In scorching heats always to live desire,
But, like a martyr, pass to heaven through fire.

Mark how the lusty fun falutes the spring,

And gently kisses every thing!

His loving beams unlock each maiden flower, "Is a strange kind of ignorance this in you! Scarch all the treasures, all the sweets devour :

Then on the earth, with bridegroom-heat, Victories gotten by your eye!

He does fill new flowers beget. That your bright beams, as those of comets do,

The sun himself, although all eye he be, Should kill, but not know how, nor who !

Can find in love more pleasure than to see. That truly you my idol might appear,

Whilst all the people smell and see

The odorous flames I offer thee,
Thou site'rt, and doft not see, nor smell, nor hear,
Thy constant, zealous worshiper.

They see 't too well who at my fires repine;
Nay, th' unconcern'd themselves do prove

TRY'D if books would cure my love, but

found Quick-eyed enough to spy my love;

Love made them nonsense all; Nor does the cause in thy face clearlier shine, I 'apply'd receipts of business to my wound, Than the effect appears in mine,

But stirring did the pain recall.
Fair infidel ! by what unjust decree

As well might men who in a fever fry,
Must I, who with such restless care

Mathematic doubts debate;
Would make this truth to thee appear, As well might men who mad in darkness lie,
Must I, who preach it, and pray for it, be

Write the dispatches of a fate.
Damn’d by thy incredulity?

I try'd devotion, fermons, frequent prayer,
I, by thy unbelief, am guiltless slain :

But those did worse than useless prove; Oh, have but faith, and then, that you

For prayers are turn’d to sin, in those who are May know that faith for to be true,

Out of charity, or in love. It shall itself by a miracle maintain, And raise me from the dead again! I try'd in wine to drown the mighty care;

But wine, alas! was oil to th' fire : Meanwhile my hopes may seem to be o'erthrown;

Like drunkards' eyes, ny troubled fancy there
But lovers' hopes are full of art,

Did double the desire.
And thus dispute-That, since my heart,
Though in thy breast, yet is not by thee known, I try'd what mirth and gaiety woulido,
Perhaps thou may'it not know thine own. And mix'd with pleasant conipanies;

My mirth did graceless and insipid grow,

And 'bove a clinch it could not rise.

Nay, God forgive me for 't! at last I try'd,

'Gainst this some new desire to stir,

And lov'd again, but 'twas where l espy'd

Somc faint resemblances of her.
I've seen too much, if this be all.
Alas! how far more wealthy might I be

The physic made me worse, with which I strose With a contented ignorant poverty!

This mortal ill c'expel:
To sliew such Itures, and nothing,

As wholesome medicines the disease improve,
Is to enrage and vex my want.

There where they work not well.
For love to die an infant's lefler ill,
Than to live long, yet live in childhood fill
We’ave both fat gazing only hitherto,

As man and wife in picture do;
The richest crop of joy is still behind,

HE loves, and the confeffes tvo;
And he who only sees, in love, is blind.
So, at first, Pygmalion lov'd,

The happy work 's entirely done;
But th' amour at last improv’d;

Enter the town which thou hast won;
The statue itself at last a woman grew,

The fruits of conquest now begin; And so at last, my dear, fould you do tco. lo triumph! Enter in.

COME, Jets go on, where love and youth does

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