Poetical recreations :: :: University of Virginia Library

What have I now to hope or fear,
Since Death has taken all that's dear
In him, who was my joy, my love,
Who rais'd my Passion far above
What e're the blind God's shafts cou'd doe,
Or Nymph or Swain e'er knew:
For Friendship do's our Souls more gently move,
To a Love more lasting, noble, and more true,
Than dwells in all the Amorous Crew;
For Friendship's pure, holy, just,
Without canker, soil, or rust
Of Pride, Covetousness, or Lust;
It to Ambition makes no room,
Nor can it be by Int'rest overcome,
But always keeps its proper state,
I'th' midst of most injurious Fate;
Ev'n Death it self to 'ts Bonds can give no date.

II.

But O Tyrant! thou
Canst at one blow
Destroy Fruition's happiness,
Wherein we Lovers place our bliss;
For without it, Love's but an ample theam
Of Imaginary joys,
Those gay-deluding toys,
By which our most fix'd thoughts are cross'd;
Or as one that wakes out of a dream,
Finds all the pleasing Objects lost;
Or as Sodom's beauteous fruit,
Whose out-side makes a fair pretence,
To gratifie another sence;
But touch it, and you'll find how destitute
It's of all good,
Much more unfit for food:
So may our pleasures make a specious shew
To th' vulgar view;
But his absence whom I now deplore,
Makes all my Joys but Ashes at the core.

III.

Ah Death, thou wast severe,
Thus from me to tear,
The Hopes of all my future Happiness,
The Co-partner of my present Bliss,
The Alleviator of my Care,
The partaker of what ever Fate did share,
To me in my Life's progress;
If bad, he wou'd bear half at least,
Till the Storm was over-blown or ceas'd;
If good, he wou'd augment it to excess,
And no less joy for me than for himself express.

IV.

Of my Youth he was the Guide,
All its extravagance with curious eye,
He wou'd see and rectify:
And in me he infus'd such humble pride,
As taught me this World's pleasures to deride:
He made me know I was above
All that I saw or cou'd enjoy,

In this giddy toy,
Of the whole World's happiness:
And yet again this Paradox wou'd prove,
That to my self shou'd seem less,
Than ought I saw i'th' mighty Universe.

V.

Nor was his kindness only fix'd on me,
For freely he
Did on all friends his Love and Wit dispence,
As th' Heavens do their influence;
And likewise did no diminution know,
When his Wit he did bestow,
Amongst his wond'ring Auditors,
Who cou'd not chuse where Wit was so profound,
And Vertue did so much abound,
But to become his faithfull Plauditors:
All which he did receive,
With less concern than they could give;
Which proves that Pride his Heart did never touch:
For this he always understood,
That best Ambition still was such,
As less desir'd to be wise than good.

VI.

But thus his Vertues to enumerate,
Serves but my Sorrows to accumulate,
As cyphers in Accompt,
Till the Sum ad infinitum mount;
A Sum which none but Death can calculate;
Which he most dext'rously can doe,
By subtracting the one Figure from the row;
For one's but one, if taken from the train
Of Pleasures, Riches, Honours, Wit:
Nor can a King his Power maintain;
If all these cyphers should recede from it.
What matter then what our attendance be,
Whether happiness or miserie:
For when the mighty Leveller do's come,
It seems we must be all but one,
One in equality.

VII.

How soon he comes, I need not care,
Who may to me a better fortune share;

For of all happiness I here despair,
Since he is gone who Animation gave
To all that's pleasant to my thoughts, or brave:
Ev'n my Studies he inspir'd,
With lively vigour, which with him retir'd,
And nought but their Bodies (Books) remain:
For Sorrow do's their Souls inchain
So fast, that they can ne'er return again.