No Grape that's kindly ripe, could be
So round, fo plump, fo foft as fhe,

Nor half fo full of Juice.

Her Finger was fo fmall, the Ring
Would not ftay on which they did bring.
It was too wide a Peck:

And to fay truth (for out it muft)
It look'd like the great Collar (juft)

About our young Colt's Neck.

Her Feet beneath her Petticoat,
Like little Mice ftole in and out,

As if they fear'd the Light:

But oh! the dances fuch a way!
No Sun upon an Eafter-Day,

Is half fo fine a Sight.

He would have kifs'd her once or twice,
But she would not, fhe was for nice,

She would not do't in Sight;

And then she look'd as who should fay

I will do what I lift to Day;

And you fhall do't at Night.

Her Cheeks fo rare a white was on,
No Dazy makes Comparison,

(Who fees them is undone)

For Streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Katherine Pear,

The Side that's next the Sun.
Her Lips were red, and one was thin
Compar'd to that was next her Chin,
Some Bee had ftung it newly.
But (Dick) her Eyes fo guard her Face,
I durft no more upon them gaze,

Than on the Sun in July.

Her Mouth so small when the does speak,
Thou'dft fwear her Teeth her Words did breaky
That they might Paffage get,

But the fo handled ftill the Matter,

They came as good as ours, or better,

And are not spent a whit,

If wishing should be any Sin,
The Parfon himself had guilty been,

She look'd that Day fo purely:

And did the Youth so oft the Feat
At Night, as fome did in Conceit,

It would have spoil'd him, furely,

Paffion o' me! how I run on!

There's that that wou'd be thought upon,
I trow; befides the Bride.

The Bus nefs of the Kitchin's great,

For it is fit that Men should eat ;

Nor was it there deny❜d.

Juft in the nick the Cook knock'd thrice,
And all the Waiters in a trice

His Summons did obey.

Each ferving-Man with Dish in Hand,
March'd boldly up, like our train’d Band,
Prefented and away.

When all the Meat was on the Table,
What Man of Knife, or Teeth, was able
To ftay to be intreated?

'And this the very Reason was,

Before the Parfon could say Grace,

The Company was feated.

Now Hats fly off, and Youths carouse;
Healths firft go round, and then the House,

The Bride's came thick and thick;

And when 'twas nam'd anothers Health,
Perhaps he made it hers by ftealth,

And who could help it, Dick?
O'th' fudden up they rife and dance;
Then fit again, and figh and glance:

Then dance again and kiss.
Thus fev'ral Ways the time did pass,
Whilft ev'ry Woman wifh'd her Place,
And ev'ry Man wish'd his.

By this time all were ftoln afide
To counfel and undrefs the Bride;

But that he must not know;

But yet 'twas thought he gueft her Mind,
And did not mean to ftay behind

Above an Hour or fo.

When in he came (Dick) there she lay,
Like new-faln Snow melting away,

'Twas time, I trow, to part.

Kiffes were now the only stay,

Which foon the gave, as who would fay,

Good bw'y, with all my Heart,
But juft as Heav'n would have to cross it,
In came the Bride-Maids with the Poffet :
The Bridegroom eat in spight;

For had he left the Women to't,
It wou'd have coft two Hours to do't,

Which were too much that Night
At length the Candles out; and now,
All that they had not done, they do :

What that is, who can tell?

But I believe it was no more

Than thou and I have done before

With Bridget and with Nell.

The Nymph complaining for the death of her Fawn.

By Andrew Marvell, E

HE wanton Troopers riding by

die.

Ungentle men! They cannot thrive
That kill'd thee. Thou ne'er didft alive
Them any harm: Alas nor could
Thy death yet do them any good.
I'm fure I never wifht them ill;
Nor do I for all this; nor will :

But, if my fimple Pray'rs may yet
Prevail with Heaven to forget.
Thy murder, I will join my Tears
Rather than fail. But, O my Fears!
It cannot die fo. Heaven's King
Keeps register of every thing:
And nothing may we ufe in vain,
Ev'n Beafts, muft be with juftice flain
Unconftant Sylvia, when yet.

I had not found him counterfeit,
One Morning. (I remember well)
Ty'd in this filver Chain and Bell,
Gave it to me: nay and I know
What he faid then; I'm fure I do.
Said he, look how your Huntsman here
Hath taught a Fawn to hunt his Dear.
But Sylvio foon had me beguil'd.i
This waxed name, while he grew wild,
And, quite regardless of my Smart,
Left me his Fawn, but took his Heart.
Thenceforth I fer my self to play
My folitary time away,

With this: and very well content,
Could fo mine idle Life have spent.
For it was full of fport, and light.
Of foot, and heart; and did invite
Me to its game: it feem'd to bless
Its felf in me. How could I lefs ·
Than love it? O I cannot be

Unkind t'a Beaft that loveth me.

Had it liv'd long, I do not know
Whether it too might have done fo
As Sylvio did, his Gifts might be
Perhaps as falfe, or more than he,
But I am fure, for ought that I
Could in fo fhort a time efpy,
Thy Love was far more better than
The love of falfe and cruel man.

With sweetest milk, and fugar, fisht
I it at mine own fingers nurft.
And as it grew, fo every day r

It wax'd more white and fweet than they
It had fo fweet a Breath! And oft
I blufht to fee its foot more foft,
And white, fhall I fay than my hand?
NAY any Ladies of the Land.

It is a wond'rous thing, how fleet.
'Twas on thofe little filver feet woon
With what a pretty skipping grade, foot
It oft would challenge me the Race:
And when 'thad left me far away,
'Twould ftay, and run again, and stay.
For it was nimbler much, than Hinds
And trod, as if on the four Winds.

I have a Garden of my own,, C0111101
But fo with Rofes over grown, indenfod al
And Lillies, that you would it guess

To be a little Wilderness.

And all the Spring time of the year
It only loved to be there.

Among the beds of Lillies, I

y

Have fought it oft, where it should lye AT Yet could not, 'till it felf would rife, y

Find it, although before mine Eyes.did VA For, in the flaxen Lillies fhades

It like a bank of Lillies laidas
Upon the Rofes it would feed,
Until its Lips ey?n feem'd to bleed
And then to me 'twould boldly trip,
And print thofe Roses on my Lip.
But all its chief delight was still
On Rofes thus its felf to fill
And its pure virgin Limbs to fold
In whiteft sheets of Lillies cold.
Had it liv'd long, it would have been
Lillies without, Rofes within.