Poems upon Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poems upon Several Occasions

By Daniel Baker

Baker, Daniel (1653 or 4-1723)

[epigraph]

[dedication]

MISCELLANIES AND Translations.

CERTAIN COPIES OF Love-Verses.

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CERTAIN COPIES OF Love-Verses.

Virgil. Eclog. 10. ------ Tanquam hæc sit nostri medicina Furoris
Aut Deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat.

The FIRE.

I

A little house I had (a Heart I mean)
Well furnish'd by my Mother's early Care
With holy Principles, chaste Thoughts and clean,
Good Purposes, modest Desires, and fair:
In all the House no room to spare;
In all the precious Goods no Spot was to be seen.

II

But, ah! nor House, nor Goods can be secure
From Fire, one day before her Eyes I came;

My tender Heart not able to endure
The subtil Lightning, catch'd a sudden Flame,
Which burnt down all the little Frame:
Hardly escap'd, with hurt, the goodly Furniture.

III

Forthwith I ran, and call'd in all the aid
I could, to quench the Fire: but all in vain
Then I apply'd my self to her, and pray'd
For Pity to those Eyes that gave the Pain:
She entertain'd me with Disdain,
And (Nero like) laugh'd at the Flames her self had made.

IV

The Law (they say) will force her to make good
The Damages, whereof she was the cause:
Sometimes I threaten in an angry Mood
To trie; but sober Counsels bid me pause:
For Beauty is above the Laws;
'Twill blind the Judges Eyes, and fire their aged Blood.

V

Oh! what a wretch was I to come so near?
Alas! I thought it but a Lambent Flame,
Such as once play'd about Ascanius Hair,
And gently lick'd his Head, and did proclaim
His future Majesty and Fame;
Or like the fanci'd Orb of Fire above the Air.

VI

Well, in the Ashes yet, I've Wisdom found
And this Mishap shall teach me watchful Care:
The Man that can prevent a Second Wound
Is wise. But ah! what boots it to beware?
A Second Fire what need he fear
Whose House was by the First burnt down quite to the ground?

The Fugitive.

I

Having received home my Heart at last
I'll keep thee now, said I,
Thou never more from me shalt flie:
With that, strong gates before my Breast I plac'd,
And with firm Resolutions barr'd them fast.

II

Thus fenc'd and fortifi'd secure I lay:
But, oh! the mighty Samson Love
(Against whose Power in vain I strove)
Carri'd the Gates, and Posts, and Bars away,
And made room for my enlarged Heart to stray.

III

Away it flew, swift as some heav'nly Mind:
Come back, thou Fool, return again,

Return, I cry'd, but all in vain.
My fruitless Words were carri'd with the Wind,
It flew away, and never look'd behind.

IV

Well, go thy way, since I but vainly try
To keep thee, go, and if thou find
Her Heart inclining to be kind,
Return, and tell me: But if still she flie,
Follow 'er, and either overtake, or die.

V

For if thou come without her, I no more
Rebellious Heart, will pardon thee,
For thus unkindly leaving me:
I'll vex thee, and torment thee ev'ry hour,
And plague thee worse than she has done before.

The Penitent Rebel.

I

By the fond Counsel of my Friends misled
I banish'd Love out of my Breast;
Now surely I shall be at rest
(Said I) now Love the covetous Tyrant's sled,
Who all my Thoughts and precious Minutes challenged.

II

But ah! no sooner was his Majesty,
Which kept the inferiour Passions tame,
Withdrawn, but in they rudely came,
Pride, Avarice, Envy, Rage and Cruelty,
With undetermin'd Lust that flies at ev'ry she.

III

And now these Monsters in my Face do fly,
They tear my very Soul and part
Amongst them my divided Heart:

Thus have I chang'd Love's gentle Monarchy
Into a Common-wealth of lawless Tyranny.

IV

So England in an unauspicious hour
'Gainst her indulgent Prince arose,
His Golden Sceptre to oppose:
She murder'd him, but fell into the Pow'r
Of Cromwell, and an Host of armed Villains more.

V

What Fools were they to think they'd kil'd the King
Who never dies? His Royal Son
Return'd with Honour to his Throne:
Now free from Wars and Fears we sit and sing
Under the peaceful Shadow of mild Charles's Wing.

VI

Return thou too, dread Sov'raign Love, and save
My poor distracted Heart which lies
A Prey to cruel Enemies;

My Heart, which mut'nous Follies rendred have
To a long Parliament of sordid Lusts a Slave.

VII

Taught by the sad Experience of these wrongs,
Thy Laws for ever I'll obey,
And all thy Tributes duly pay:
I'll give whatever to thy Crown belongs,
Gales of fresh Sighs, Floods of salt Tears, and mournful Songs.

The White Devil.

I

For Wit and Beauty she may vie
With any mortal Brain, or Face:
But, ah! where's noble Virtue? where shall I
Thy venerable Footsteps trace?
Come, Queen of Graces, to thy beauteous Throne,
And let not Sin usurp what ought to be thine own.

II

Without this, t'other must not heal
Thy wound; then cease, and love no more;
Who courts a Woman that is fair, but ill,
A painted Devil doth adore.
When Satan like an Angel doth appear
Weak Mortals to delude, then he resembles her.

III

Hellish her Soul, her Face Divine;
This charms, the other doth affright:
Light shines without, but Darkness dwells within,
She's like a Black-moor clad in White.
My Mind can never rest, unless she were
Made by some skilful Hand more Vertuous or less Fair.

The Parting.

I

As virtuous Souls when they depart away,
And leave their loved Bodies here alone,
In Rest abide, until the joyful day
Appointed for their Resurrection:

II

So now we're parting, let us make no noise,
Nor beat the empty Air with fruitless cries,
Let us not make our cruel Foes rejoyce
T'have griev'd our Heart, as well as vex'd our Eyes.

III

Those Earth born Souls, whose chiefest Good is Sense,
Whose Joys are dirty, and their Love obscene,
Lament and howl when they are hurri'd hence,
Because those Pleasures ne'er return again.

IV

But we whose Love so spotless is and fine,
Like that which Angels to each other bear,
Shall much disgrace our Souls, if we repine,
And murmure when our Bodies absent are.

V

Speak, O ye Nymphs, that in cool Streams delight,
For on your flowry Banks we us'd to lie,
When did we e'er offend you with a sight
That made you blush, or turn away your Eye?

VI

Speak, O ye shady Woods, for ev'ry Night
Before you all our Thoughts we us'd to spread.
When did you ever hear a Word so light
As made you frown, or shake your rev'rend Head?

VII

Daphne the coy, who thought no Love between
A diff'rent Sex could ever vertuous be,

Then whisper'd thus to me, Had Phœbus been
As chast as thou, I ne'er had been a Tree.

VIII

Be this thy Comfort, Dear, tho' I be gone
Do not thy self a fruitless Sorrow give;
Nor like those wretched desp'rate Creatures moan,
Whose former Sins all future Hopes bereave.

IX

In th' Ev'ning, tho' the Sun withdraw his Light,
Yet still his active Heat and Infl'ence stay,
The od'rous Herbs and tender Plants all Night
Shoot up and grow as well as in the day:

X

So e'en upon thy absent Love I'll feast,
Thy vital Memory shall nourish me,
Until I see thy Beams arise in th' East
Glorious and joyful: This, my Dear, shall be;

XI

It shall. And none my saying can disprove,
The great Orac'lous Truth none can deny:
For Heav'n is just, and cannot let a Love
So pure, so like it self uncrowned die.

The Ghost.

I

Lo! to thee in this silent Sheet
Appears the Ghost of thy departed Lover:
Dear, do not any fear discover,
The harmless Sp'rit thou may'st with safety meet.
It only loves to walk and wander nigh
The happy Place, where its dear Treasures hidden lie.

II

Let that false glozing Hypocrite,
That basely did our secret Love disclose

And all our Happiness oppose,
Grow pale, and tremble, when she sees the Spright:
But I'll not visit her; the guilty Hagg
Is haunted by her self, and needs no other Plague.

III

How welcome did the Day arise
When I with thee, my Dear, might freely walk,
And unsuspected talk;
Then when we fear'd no watchful Ears nor Eyes,
When careless and secure we reap'd the Blisses
Of chast Embraces, and Ten Thousand harmless Kisses!

IV

She, sure, Love's Force has never known
That could so cruelly divide us Two,
O may she burn to purpose now,
'Till she's so black, and drie, and blister'd grown,
That none may venture when she's scorched thus,
To quench her flaming Lust, but some foul Incubus!

V

Well, since our mortal Life is gone,
And Separation is become our state,
Let us with Hope and Patience wait
'Till we be rais'd anew, and joyn'd in one:
Then will our Bliss my dear, more full arise,
And then we'll feast upon more ripe and perfect Joys.

The Appeal.

I

Upon a flow'ry Bed
Beneath a Willow's pleasant shade,
Beside a crystal Flood his Love-sick Head
The melancholy Baker laid:
Three Times he sigh'd with such a violent Force,
As mov'd the very Willows with remorse;

The Nymphs together flock'd to hear his Moans,
And Eccho from the neighb'ring Hills answer'd his Groans.

II

Tell me, ye Nymphs, (said he)
So may you once so happy be
A Nymph much brighter than your selves to see,
Sit talking here with me,
If e'er this rev'rend Stream from you should slide,
Or underneath the Ground his Current hide,
Would you not solitary sit on Shore,
And sadly wail the Pleasures ye enjoy'd before?

III

Tell me, thou pleasant Shade,
So may your Greenness never fade,
But be for her fair Head an Arbour made,
Beneath you in my Bosom laid,
When e'er from you the Sun doth backward haste,
And on your Heads his Beams but faintly cast,

Do ye not quickly lose your thick, green Hair,
And stand expos'd to Winds, all wither'd and all bare?

IV

Tell me, thou crystal Wave,
So may thy Stream her Body lave,
And from her Limbs a richer Tincture have,
Than e'er the golden River gave,
If e'er thy fruitful Fountain should decay,
Or in bad humour turn another way,
Would not thy Channel grow all chapt and drie,
And all thy nimble, scaly People gasp and die?

V

Tell me, ye Flowers gay,
So may your Sweetness with you stay,
'Till her fair Hand shall pluck you hence away,
And in her sweeter Bosom lay,
If e'er the sullen Heav'ns should refuse
To shed on you their soft refreshing Dews,

Wovld not your Scent and Colour soon decay,
And you that are so fresh and young, grow old and gray?

VI

Tell me thou hollow Sound,
So may each Plain and Hill around
With Repetitions of her Name resound,
'Till all Voices else be drown'd,
Should no sad Lover to these Banks resort,
And with his tuneful Musick make thee Sport,
Would'st thou not melancholy sit alone,
And with dumb Wailings thy sad Solitude bemoan?

VII

Then marvel not that I
Decline all tedious Company,
And to these solitary Places flie,
And sit and sigh, and weep, and die;
Since I have lost what was to me more dear
Than to you, All that I have mention'd here,

My Spring, my Shade, my Musick, and my Sun,
The Pleasure of my Heart, and my Life's Soul is gone.

The Masque.

I

Ingrateful and malicious Maid,
A Veil of Darkness thou hast thrown
Over that Beauty which display'd
Thy Maker's Glory not thine own.

II

What spleenful Avarice is this,
To hoard that Treasure, which before
Fill'd all the World with Light and Bliss,
Yet wasted not the boundless Store?

III

Dear Niggard, imitate the Sun,
(The Sun, thy fit similitude)

He shines not to himself alone,
But for the publick Joy and Good.

IV

Remove the Cloud, that from thine Eyes
Mankind may Light and Comfort take:
Or if our Service thou despise,
Yet do it for thine own Name's sake.

V

Thy Face will lose its Sov'raign Praise
By this obscure Retreat of thine:
Behold! Since thou hast hid thy Rays,
How proudly meaner Beauties shine!

VI

Arise my Love, and make them know
They owe their Lustre to thy Night,
The Stars grow dull, and make no show,
When once the Sun appears in sight.

VII

Since that which made the Day so clear
The Sun shine of thine Eyes is fled,
Let Night (Love's wished Hour) my Dear,
Softly conduct us both to Bed.

The Rose.

I

Seest thou this Flow'r my Dear, how fair it shows
Op'ning its balmy Bosom, to receive
The lusty Morning-beams? A brisker Rose
No Place, except thy youthful Cheek can give.

II

The Sun, who in Aurora's purple Arms
This Morning lay, yet early left his Bed
Drawn by this Rose's more inviting Charms,
T' unlock the Treasures of a sweeter Red.

III

See how it smiles; and yet e'er Day pass by
(This very Day which gave it first a Birth)
'Twill hang it's fainting Head, grow pale and die,
And shed its falling Honours on the Earth:

IV

And this thy Beauty's Emblem is, which now
In Youth's fair Morning looks so fresh and gay;
But, ah! too short a Time the Fates allow;
Too soon comes Ev'ning and it fades away.

Since then your Reign such narrow limits bind,
Take Counsel of thy Fellow-flow'r, my Dear,
Which when it falleth, leaves a Seed behind,
Of all its Glories the undoubted Heir:
And by this Art, tho' in itself it die,
Lives ever in its hopeful Race and fair Posterity.

A Rainy Morning.

I

My Friend, perswade me not to stay,
When Love and Beauty calls away:
Let him be wretched, whom the Rain
Can from his Happiness detain.

II

Give me the gallant Youth whose Breast
Was by the Sestian Maid possest!
He scorn'd the Sea's Rage, and shall I
Regard the Droppings of the Skie?

III

Let all the wat'ry Pow'rs combine,
And in a League offensive joyn,
Yet their confed'rate Force shall prove
The easie Conquest of my Love.

IV

Let Heav'n its secret Stores unlock,
Let Earth produce her hoarded Stock,
Let ev'ry Lake and River creep,
To joyn the Oceans foamy Deep.

V

My Love, like that Celestial Flame
Which on the Prophet's Off'ring came,
Upon these Troops will boldly fall,
And make but one Carouse (her Health) of all.

The Storm.

I

'Tis just, my Dear, that our Amour
Should by this sudden Storm be crost:
Our Bark too soon would gain the Shore,
Were she not back to Sea-ward tost.

A Prize so rich, it were unfit to get,
Without exceeding Peril, Pains and Sweat.

II

The Joys, which else too strong might prove
For us to bear, are temper'd well
With Sorrow thus, by gentle Love,
To make them more supportable;
So Bacchus's Rage with Water is allay'd,
And Sol's hot Beams are chasten'd with a Shade.

III

No Tempest useth to adorn
The Nuptials of the vulgar sort;
Those Fortune passeth by in Scorn,
They lie beneath her haughty Sport:
But high Desires she loves to vex, that so
Delays and Fears may make them Dearer grow.

IV

He were unwise that would not go
To Heav'n through hardest Sufferings:

And certainly, my fair One (tho'
The odds be great) of earthly things
None more resemble the Delights above
Than the chast Pleasures of a mutual Love.

V

Let not this Change then trouble thee,
As if some ill it did portend;
The Way, tho' rough and sharp it be,
Will lead us safely in the end
Into each others Arms, where linked fast,
How light will seem to us all Labours past.

Wisdom.

I

Be Wise d'ye say, I scorn that Word:
Love's Politicks no such Rule afford,
For Love and Wisdom never yet,
Believe me, in one Subject met,

It cannot be, not mighty Jove
Can be at once, Wise, and in Love.

II

The boldest Painter never dar'd
Draw Love with either Eyes or Beard,
For these are Wisdom's Signs; but he
Delights in plain Simplicity.
Blindness and Childhood best express
His open-hearted Heedlesness.

III

Let them be wise that rule the State,
And calculate the Kingdom's Fate,
Grave Counsellers, and Judges sage,
Philosophers and Men of Age;
The Serpent's Wisdom let them use,
We the Dove's Innocence will chuse.

IV

Wisdom to them perhaps may be
Of Use: but not to thee and me,

'Twill vex our Minds and fill us full
Of Doubts, and make our Pleasures dull.
Away with't: in the Mysteries
Of Love, 'tis Folly to be wise.

V

Ah! Dear, Thou dost not see the end
To which such evil Counsels tend.
Consider what it is you speak;
If this Advice Men once should take,
Your Empire's Ruine it would prove.
No wise Man ever was in Love.

VI

If I were Wise, I soon should find
Th' Impertinence of Woman-kind:
Neither your Favour, nor your Frown
Would lift me up, or cast me down.
The Influence of your starry Eyes
Is over-rul'd by him that's wise.

VII

The deepest Mystery of State
That makes the Pope, and Women great,
Is Ignorance: If men were Wise,
Both Pope, and Women they'd despise,
And Protestants we all should prove
'Gainst his Religion, and your Love.

Reason.

Reason, which long had absent been before,
Vouchsaf'd one Day to come within my door.
Affrighted at th' unusual Sight, I try'd:
To slip away, and trembling sneak'd aside:
But he laid hold upon my Gown and made
Me stay, and hear, whilst thus he gravely said,

Art thou a Man, who thus thy self dost cheat,
And let blind Passion usurp Reason's Seat,

And giv'st thy Soul up to be rul'd by that
Which neither knows how to command, nor what?
Are Fetters grown so lovely, canst thou brook
On thy free Neck to wear Love's Iron Yoak?
What is this Rebel, Love, that dares controul
My Right, and claim Supremacy in th' Soul?
Love, that enfeebles ev'ry noble Mind,
And Subjects Man to peevish Woman kind?

In vain, alass! thy barren Soul I've till'd,
Scattering the Seeds of Virtue through the Field,
Wild Oats are all the Crop that Ground will yield
Where Love takes root, in vain we plough and sow;
'Tis such a Weed, no Corn near it will grow.
Ah perjur'd Wretch, thus to abandon me,
Whose Servant thou long since didst vow to be;
But now my Place the Muses must supply:
Those paltry Girls are more admir'd than I.

What hast thou got by following this fond trade?
Art thou the Richer, or the wiser made?

Behold! how all thy Fellows do ascend,
And to the Pulpit climb, their Journey's end;
While thou dost preach t'a Woman, and provide,
Homilies against Avarice and Pride.
But all in vain: she stops her sullen ears;
Thy Sermons she regards, just as the People, theirs.

Thy Country and thy Friends require a share
In that small stock of Learning, which their Care
And Providence gave thee: But ingrateful thou
Dost on a Woman all thy Thoughts bestow,
And fondly slighting all their just desires,
Thou melt'st thy self away in Female Fires.

Rise, Baker, rise: take thy neglected Arms,
Resist Self love, and wanton Pleasures Charms.
Turn o'er the learned Volumes of the wise;
Their great Examples set before thine Eyes
Whom noble Virtue, and improved Wit
Have in the Temple of bright Honour set.
Success attends the bold. Dare to despise
This Tyrant, Love: for when despis'd, he flies.

Thus Reason said, and would have said much more,
When suddenly we heard one ope the Door,
And, lo! she enter'd:
The mighty She, and like a Goddess bright;
Her Eyes sent forth a more than human Light.
She charming was, her Dress I durst have sworn
Venus herself had been her Maid that Morn.
A Crown of palest Gold her Head did wear
If Gold may be compared with her Hair.
And like as Lilies in a Glass with more
Advantage shew their Whiteness, than before;
So with more Art a fine transparent Shade
Her snowy Neck and panting Breasts display'd.

At her victorious Presence, Reason fell
Like Dagon down before the Ark of Israel;
And all his feeble Troops of Arg'ments fled:
I 'rose, and reverently bow'd my Head,
And Pardon begg'd for what had past before,
And by her heav'nly Eyes devoutly swore.

Bright Maid, than Life it self more dear to me,
Confin'd to some dark Dungeon let me be,
Banish'd for ever from thy soft Embrace,
And from the Vision of that beaut'ous Face,
If Reason's babling Tongue again I hear,
Or yield to any Voice, but thine, mine Ear.

Things human, Reason, to thy Lot do fall;
Reign, if thou wilt, for ever in that Hall:
But soar no high'r, lest Love's diviner Light
Confound thy mortal Eyes, and blind thee quite,

Alexis.

I

My loyal Muse would feign aspire to sing
The Praises of our gracious King:
But, ah! 'twould ill become his God-like Deeds,
His Wisdom, Patience, and the rest
Of Virtues that possess his Princely Breast
(For which wel-furnish'd Fame more Trumpets needs)
To be debas'd and lessen'd by unskilful Reeds.

II

Wonders of Mercy, bounteous Heav'n hath shown
On him, and he himself is One.

The marks of Pow'r divine t'all Kings belong:
But God's beloved Attribute,
Mercy with few but Charles does suit.
To things so high 'twould be too great a wrong,
To think them Burdens fit for ev'ry Rural Song.

III

Shepherds are humble People, and for them
Things humble are the fittest Theam.
Their Flocks and Herds, cool Streams and flowry Plains
And secret Woods, the chast abodes
Of homely Nymphs, and Country Gods:
These are the meet and inoffensive strains
That fill the ready Mouths of all Poetick Swains.

IV

Or if they higher rise, 'tis to relate
Some Lover's good or evil Fate;
To praise bright Phyllis, or if she prove coy,
T' accuse of Avarice and Pride
Both her and all the Sex beside:

To mould sad Numbers some their Gift employ
Others whom kinder Love enlargeth, Hymns of Joy.

V

Among the rest, Damon, who long did prove
The Force of Poetry and Love,
(For whoso chooseth one, will soon have both)
His Friend Alexis happy Fate
Did kindly thus congratulate:
Than him the Plains ne'er bred a gentler Youth;
Verse, sweet as Honey, flow'd from his inspired Mouth.

VI

Upon the Marsh the friendly Shepherds stood,
Viewing the calm and gentle Flood
The whilst beside them fed their wel-known Flock,
When softly towards an Haven nigh
A richly laden Ship sail'd by.
This hint the fruitful Poet swiftly took,
And thus alluding to the wealthy Bark he spoke,

VII

What happy Star shone on thy winged Fleet?
What prosp'rous Gale swell'd out thy Sheet?
I scarce believ'd thee gone to Sea;
When thou, with lucky haste thy Voyage done,
A fair and wealthy Prize hast won:
O happy Lover! happy thee,
Who stubborn Beauty's Victor now may'st justly stiled be

VIII

Not mighty Cæsar with his num'rous Host
A speedier Conquest e'er could boast,
Than thou hast got by thine own Power:
With Joy and Triumph valiant Swain, go on,
Possess the Island thou hast won:
Stand not thus idly on the Shore,
But enter, and devour within her goodly Store.

IX

Where Gold upon the Mountain Tops doth grow,
What may we there expect below?

Yet tho' with Gold it so abound,
'Tis from the us'al Fruits of Riches free:
No Av'rice, nor Hypocrisie,
No Pride, nor Luxury there is found;
The golden Land with a true golden Age is crown'd.

X

There Truth and Piety take up all the Room,
And Innocence makes that her home;
No Place for Falshood there.
You may discern the Motions of her Heart,
So pure her Breast, so free from Art:
Her Heart shines through her Breasts, as clear
As through her open Scarf her Breasts themselves appear.

XI

On the calm Shoar (methinks) I see thee stand,
The Borders of thy promis'd Land,
Casting a scornful Look behind
Upon the Sea, and smiling when thou se'st
It's Rage by barb'rous Storms encreast:

The Billows and the boist'rous Wind,
Which others dread so much, are Pleasures to thy Mind.

XII

Ah wretched and too miserable me
Whose Vessel still is tost at Sea!
Amidst the Rocks of Fem'nine Pride
To Thunder and loud Storms expos'd I lie,
And Lightnings of her angry Eye.
No gentle Gale blows on my side,
And not one Star in Heav'n appears to be my Guide.

XIII

In vain, in vain the fruitless Seas I plow,
In vain my shatter'd Bark I row,
The adverse Winds blow 't back again:
The Shoars I seek still backward move apace;
In vain I run a desp'rate Race;
Then let me sink and perish in the Main:
The rest I cannot find on Land, Lo! let me here obtain!

Nisa.

[_]

In Imitation of the Shepherd Damon's Complaint, in the Eighth Eclogue of Virgil.

Frigida vix Cœlo noctis decesserat Umbra, &c.

I

Scarce was the Nights cold Shadow from the Skies
Withdrawn, when the fresh Dew, that lies
Upon the tender Grass, doth entertain
The Flocks with a fat tastful Feast,
Damon, whose Eyes had found no rest
(Rest, which unhappy Lovers seek in vain)
Thus, leaning on his Staff, poor Damon did complain.

II

Rise Lucifer, and bring the Day along,
Arise, and listen to my Song,

My latest Song, which in my dying Hour,
Rob'd of the Comfort of my Life,
Nisa my promis'd Wife,
I to the happy Gods above do pour;
Tho' them in vain I've call'd to witness heretofore,

III

Thou sacred Hill, upon whose lofty Brow
Shrill Woods, and speaking Pines do grow,
Who Shepherd's tuneful Loves dost always hear;
And Pan who first of all did bring
The Reeds harmoniously to sing;
Thou sacred Hill, and vocal Wood draw near:
Such a sad Song as mine ne'er touch'd your wakeful Ear.

IV

Fair Nisa does her self on Mopsus throw,
What may not Lovers hope for now?
The golden Age (of which old Poets spake)
Is come: now Contraries agree,
And Nature is all Sympathy.

At sight of Hounds the Deer no more shall quake;
The Vulture and the Dove shall leagues of Friendship make.

V

Thou shalt be married, Mopsus, go provide,
The sponsal Cake, and fetch the Bride:
With Roses let the genial Couch be spread.
Blest Man! Night's golden Harbinger
(Whom lovely Venus holds so dear)
For thee will earlier lift his sacred Head
From Oeta's loved Lap, to light thee to thy Bed.

VI

Thou, who a scornful Eye on all didst cast,
Lo! what a worthy Choice at last
Thou'st made! fair Virgin, look again and see;
Look e'er too late it prove,
What Trifles they're, which move
Thee to abandon thy giv'n Faith, and me,
And bleating Flocks, and cheerful Songs, and vert'ous Poverty.

VII

Let none perswade thee to believe, dear Love,
That the unactive Gods above
Regard not what is done of Men below:
Amidst thy var'ous Luxuries,
And all the Court's deceitful Joys,
Their Plagues will find thee out and make thee know
What 'tis for filthy Lucres-sake to break thy Nuptial Vow.

VIII

'Twas in the Orchard first I saw my Dear,
Gath'ring of golden Apples there.
Just Thirteen winged Summers then were flown
Over thy beauteous Head, and thou
Could'st just reach up to th' laden Bough:
A sweet but mortal Fever swiftly run
Through all my Veins, I came, and saw, and was undone.

IX

Now to my cost, alas! I'm made to prove
Th' unnat'ral Cruelty of Love.

Ah barb'rous wretch! who made th' a Deity?
From some rough Mountain's hollow Womb
In Wales or Scotland thou didst come:
Proud Boy, thou'rt of a baser Blood than we;
The Devil thee begat, the Furies suckled thee.

X

What wicked Deeds have not by Love been wrought?
What false and faithless Doctrines taught?
The most religious sacred Bonds, that e'er
Nature, or God himself did make,
The impious Boy doth proudly break.
By him her rev'rend Father's Purple Hair
Scylla cut off, and gave his Crown to her Adulterer.

XI

By him the natural Mother in the Blood
Of her own Sons her Hands imbru'd.
Ah! cruel Mother! wicked Boy! O say
Which of the Two shall we
Conclude the worse to be,

Him that advis'd, or her that did obey?
Both, both alike: but none beside so bad as they.

XII

Now from young Lambs let the Woolf run for fear,
Now let the Thistle Roses bear.
Let precious Amber sweat from ev'ry Tree.
Let Oaks with golden Apples bend,
Let Owls for Voice with Swans contend:
Let Baker now with Cowley equall'd be,
Cowley who lost his well-sung Love, no less than he.

XIII

Let all things back to their old Chaos run,
Let Horror and Confusion
Themselves through all th' amuzed World disperse.
Farewel, ye Woods, farewel, for I
To Shades more melancholy fly:
Nisa, farewel. Be this my latest Verse,
With which I here adorn thy Marri'ge, and my Herse.