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

Perhaps I shall be censur'd by the Wise,
For feeding thus mine Eyes;
Alas, 'tis Fate, I must adore,
Each time I gaze on her much more, and more;
From her bright Looks arise,
Effluviums so well resin'd,
As can almost restore the Man that's blind.

II

For ought I know these Wise Men cannot see,
The Happiness which we
Hourly enjoy, they look a-scue,
Scarcely discerning what is false from true:
But what is this to me?
I know that had I Argus's Eyes
To view so bless'd a sight, they'd scarce suffice.

III

Oh, could I love enough, I'd split each Vein,
Till Nature fill'd 'em up again:
Those do the greatest Monsters prove
Of all Mankind, who are but Dwarfs in Love;
All other things are frail, and vain,
But Love is in it self compleat,
Love in excess can make us wise and great.

IV

Nor all th' Endeavours of a well stor'd Brain,
Can ever break Lov's Chain;
I sooner could reverse my Fate,
And by what Thread my Soul is joyn'd relate,
Than never love again;
This is the Star that rules my Days,
This is the Dove which brings my morning Bays.

A SONG.

[Corinna keep those Globes of Light]

I

Corinna keep those Globes of Light,
Within their proper Sphere;
Reserve those brighter Stars for Night,
What bus'ness have they here?

II

The Gods did never yet design,
Two Lights should rule the Day;
Draw then the Curtains over thine,
And when Night comes, then sport and play.

III

When-ever I shall reel with Wine,
And scarce can find my Way;
Be sure Corinna then you shine,
And turn my Night to Day.

IV

But if I'm gone, and scarce can stand,
Bind thou my roving Head;
Embrace me with thy softer Hand,
And lay me safe in Bed.

The Management.

I

Each Day I've liv'd, I've spent it all in Love,
Each Day I've liv'd, I've courted three or four;
Before one Foot into the Grave I move,
I hope to love at least Five Hundred more.

II

Extreams in other things I can't endure,
I hate to go beyond wise Nature's Laws;
But no Man can in Love be Epicure,
I'm sure in this the World will plead my Cause.

III

Some travel round the mighty Globe in vain,
Change their Religion with their Native Climes,
Flush'd and encourag'd with the Hopes of Gain,
They dive in Waters, and they dig in Mines.

IV

But some Misfortunes still these Men o'er-take,
Before they touch upon their Native Lands;
Their well fraught Ships does either spring a leak,
Or else they fall into the Pirate's Hands.

V

I'll spend my Time in Love as I begun,
What tho' my Mistriss never shou'd prove true?
Yet still so ill a Race I cannot run,
These lost their Labour, and their Riches too.

The Farewell.

I

And shall I bid adieu,
My Dear, to you?

Shall these full Streams which from our Fountains flow,
For ever in divided Channels go?
No, no, I hope at last they'll be,
United in the Ocean of Eternity.

II

Ah my bless'd Star said I,
Where doest thou fly?
When e'er the happy Fates shall seal my Doom,
And call me to my blessed Ancient Home;
I will be sure to ask for thee,
Of those bless'd Guards that come to convoy me.

III

Now thou art rock'd asleep,
'Tis vain to weep;
It is no matter who must go before,
We all at last shall reach th' expected Shore;
But some perhaps this side the Grave,
May not as you so calm a Voyage have.

Love Stifl'd.

I

These seven long Years with all my Skill,
I've strove to hide my growing ill;
The Magick Cures of Love I've often try'd,
And healing Plaisters to my Wounds apply'd;
For should these Flames break out, they may
All my Designs to her betray.

II

Should I inform her that I love,
Perhaps it might my Ruine prove;
'Tis better like Æneas first to shroud,
Love's glorious Visage in a Cloud;
And then with open Arms to run,
As Phaeton embrac'd the Sun.

III

But when the Gods for me shall call,
Without request I'll tell her all;

As some mistaken Zealots when they die,
Reveal to Priests all their Impiety:
But if she dart one pleasant Beam,
I shall be vigorous again.

Her Nakedness.

I

Had I Briarius Hands, and Argus Eyes
To view the Noon-day Sun, they'd scarce suffice;
Convey her hence, excessive Light does cloy,
I'm over-whelm'd in these deep Floods of Joy:
She than the Woody Queen more stately walks,
And bigger than the Heav'nly Goddess talks;
So glorious her Body seems to be,
The very Shade it casts, enlightens me.

II

Love in those twinkling Spheres does sit and play,
Sweet Kisses on her Lips for ever stray;

Amongst the sweet Meanders of her Hair
Love walks, and keeps his Living dwelling there;
About her Neck the God of Love does twine,
Soft as Embraces of the curling Vine;
Here Cupid in his Mothers Arms lies down,
And Envies not the Prince that wears the Crown.

III

Bless me what snowy Arms she has, as fair,
As beautiful as Wings on Angels are;
O that these spreading Branches I could see,
Unto Eternal Ages clasping me;
On those soft pliant Globes I fain would lie,
Not only sleep, but with Content I'd die:
Two Noble Worlds I'd boast my Love had won,
And laugh at him who thought there was but One.

Translated from the Italian Poets.

To Celia.

With so much Passion Celia I adore,
No Youth can love a beauteous Mistress more;
And I believe my Celia loves me too,
As Virgins their Admirers use to do;
When-e'er I saw her dart her Eyes around,
As if too willing to impart a Wound;
The Minute I improv'd, and prest it home,
That she'd be mine for all the Years to come:
At this she blush'd, and as she gaz'd, said she,
Can I resist those Charms that spring from thee?
No, no, and as thus spoke the trembling fair,
Twisting the Locks of her divided Hair,
Mixt with the Charms of Gold; her Eyes convey'd,
Tokens as great as those her Hands had made:
Accept, said she, this sacred Pledge of mine,
To you, I with it, do my Soul resign.

Take it, and try if it has pow'r to tame,
Th' unruly Flushings of a Lover's flame:
Alas, cry'd I, what have you, Celia, done?
As well might Mortals their Meridian Sun
Look in the Face, and scorn the baffl'd Ray,
As this drive Fire from my Heart away.
How can my Weakness bear the Hot Extreams?
Fire's ill apply'd to quench my living Flames:
Let these unhappy Spells be doom'd to Fire
More hot, than ever was my fond Desire;
On them let the corroding Burnings prey,
For they have even eat my Soul away:
But Celia, let the living Locks of Hair,
Thrive as sweet Roses in a Southern Air;
And be not angry that I've burnt your Hair,
Tho' I dread Burnings, I adore the Fair.

The Disappointment.

I

When I arriv'd at my long Journeys end,
Some waiting Joys, said I, my Toils attend,
Whose gentle Hands my wearied Eyes might close,
Soften my Troubles, and my Cares compose.

II

But I perceiv'd when to the Goal I came,
My Queen was fled with all her glorious Train;
I fear I cannot over-take her more
Than this Night can the Night that went before.

III

In vain I strive to drive the Wheel so fast,
She leads the Van, and I must still be last;
And tho' in the same Wheel we're both turn'd round,
Alas, she always keeps the foremost Ground.

IV

Like the fixt Stars we move about the Frame
Of Nature, yet the Distance's still the same;
For whilst the one does mount the Eastern Sky,
The other in the Western part must ly.

V

The wandring Planets of the middle Air,
Do sometimes meet, and in Conjunction are;
But our two Spheres will never 'gree,
Unless united by a Sympathy.

My Wish.

What grateful Pleasures fill my rising Veins?
What Agonies of Bliss my Soul contains?
Where shall I fly to snatch some sacred Fire,
T' allay the Fury of my warm Desire?
I see that wish'd for Star in whose bright Rays,
Fain would I bask, and wanton out my Days;

As deep as Hannibal, I swear I'm he
Who'll never make a peace in love with thee:
But if I might my pleasing Thoughts reveal,
Like wanton Jove into thy Lap I'd steal;
On thy Transporting pleasures I would ly,
And in those Raptures the whole World outvy;
Life's a dull sottish thing if this be took away,
Let me die ev'ry Night, as I live ev'ry Day.

All for Love.

I

I frown not at the Planet of my Days,
That she can't still these troubled Seas;
I don't repine, because I know,
The Gods that rule the Waves will have it so.

II

Why should I rail at the Almighty Pow'rs,
'Cause they won't send me golden Show'rs;
I'm not as wretched Midas bold,
To wish that all I touch may turn to Gold.

III

I blame not Nature for her scanty Frame,
I can't, with Alexander, hunt for Fame,
A smaller Point will make me blest,
Give me Love's Kingdom, and take all the rest.

Translated from the Italian Poets.

Corinna and Celia.

Corinna frowns, but Celia's kind and gay,
One looks like Night, the other looks like Day;
Time's Lesser Messengers they seem to be,
One rises still, the other sets with me.

My DREAM, sent in a Letter to a Friend.

As on my Bed last Night I pensive lay,
Wearing in Thoughts the tedious Night away,
I dream'd the Image of the Saint we know
Presented its fair self to me and you;
Deckt in that Ev'ning Dress which Virgins prize,
To satisfie and please their Lovers Eyes.
About her Lips ambrosial Sweets did flow,
And as we reap'd successive Joys did grow:
At last methoughts she did her Rays display,
And Drove the Horror of the Night away;
The Bed around reflected Light just so
As when the naked Winter's cloath'd with Snow;
What follow'd did our Pleasures most inhance,
We lodg'd a while in Extasie and Trance:
So mimick Fancy then with me did play,
What the Night gave, the Day now takes away.

A SONG.

[Let the ambitious Courtier be]

I

Let the ambitious Courtier be
Promoted to the Helm of State;
That Pill can ne're go down with me,
'Tis real slav'ry to be great.

II

Let Kings puissant Armies raise,
And speak like mighty Sons of Jove,
Whilst I improve and spend my Days
In the soft quiet Hours of Love.

III

Let me have Venus and the Bays,
These only are my chief Delights;
The one can give me happier Days,
The other yields me softer Nights.

On a Lady who always carried a Looking-Glass with her.

What Incantations, and what want on Spels
About my conquering Gloriana dwells!
So beauteous, so kind, so wond'rous fair,
She with the Queen of Heav'n may compare,
And this she knows so well, herself's dismay'd
To see the God-like Part so well display'd.
With every Feature so much pleas'd and charm'd
And with her own inflaming Beauty warm'd,
She falls in Love with her own taking Frame,
And doats and feeds upon her amorous Flame.
Had she an Emblem of Narcissus Fate
Before her Eyes, her Pride would soon abate;
He to the crystal Fountain often went,
At last himself down to the bottom sent.
No more about thee that false Mimick bear,
Lest it reduce thy Beauty to despair;
For should the Glass's Pow'r once fade, and shew
A Form less wounding than we thine do know,

The Traytor then against the Ground you'd sling,
Who from your Face no truer News could bring:
Then only in my Eyes your Beauty view,
For there yourself you'd find, and please me too.

The VISION.

I

I Dream'd, and lo, the lovliest Sight
That ever pensive Thought could frame,
Did in ethereal Robes of Light
My mimick Fancy entertain.

II

Me thought she swept the flowry Plains,
Clad in a Garb of luscious Charms,
My eager Soul, t'allay her Pains,
Hug'd the Idea in her Arms.

III

Lodg'd in the noblest Trance of Bliss,
Possest of all her Joys I lay,
I said there was no Heav'n but this,
Could I enjoy it ev'ry Day.

IV

But when th' exalted Pow'rs of Love
Began to slag their Wings and die,
A cheating Vision it did prove,
Which I before thought Extasie.

V

Strange we no solid Joys can find,
Except in Dreams our Fancies rove,
We still must wink and still be blind,
To 'wake unto the Joys of Love.

The Incurable.

I

To what fair Doctress in the World shall I
With Courtiers soothing Arts my self apply,
To get for wounded Love a Remedy?

II

I bleed, and all the Sluces of my Soul
Cannot the Deluge of my Blood controul,
I wallow'd in my Gore, and in the Torrent rowle.

III

I'm too far gone, consumptive like I pine,
I've made my Will, and now my Life resign,
But not to her who did my Death design.

IV

It works like lingring Poyson in the Womb,
And each Day brings me nearer to my Tomb,
My Magazin's consum'd by this unlucky Bomb.

V

Medea now, nor all the Gods above,
Can sift the Poyson that is mixt with Love,
Death the best Remedy at last must prove.

VI

If ever I expect a longer Date
Of Life, I must reverse my rigid Fate,
And, like a God, another Frame create.

On a Lady who slighted my Love.

So when all's calm, and no Clouds blind the Day,
The Pilot hoises Sail and puts to Sea;
But when he's gone, and lost the Sight of Shore,
The Winds rise high and he is seen no more.
I thought such sweetness in a Face, like thine,
Would like the fixt Stars Splendor, ever shine;

Such beauteous Order in thy Face was found,
'Twas that first drew me to the Fairy Ground,
In that fair Spring I thought to quench my Fire,
Fev'rish I came, more fev'rish I retire.
Those former Wounds which I receiv'd from you
At your Disdain gush out and bleed anew:
The Arrows of your Love stick fast in me,
You shot them in, and you must make me free:
I've got within the Circle of your Heart,
Th'enchantment must be broke e're I depart.
From Love's destructive Brink I will retire,
The Child once burnt still wisely dreads the fire.
To what shall I this wicked Love compare?
Mistress of endless Sorrow and despair;
But justly I my ill laid Plots may blame,
With too much fierceness I pursu'd the Game:
Had I hood wink'd this metl'd Love of mine,
E're now I'd seen the trembling Dove resign;
But Love is like the Cockatrice's Eyes,
If it first strikes it kills, if struck it dies.

A SONG.

[Had the too tender Gods first made]

I

Had the too tender Gods first made
Men's Hearts as hard as Steel,
Their Weakness ne're had been betraid
By ev'ry stroak they feel.

II

Scattered by Cupid's Darts welye,
And yet still call for more,
Happier we ev'ry minute dye
Than e're we liv'd before.

III

Surely the generous Gods above
Have Hearts as well as we,
Nay they must passionately love,
If we in Form agree.

IV

But they alas more Pleasures find,
Fixt to no World they rove,
Whilst we are here to one confin'd,
They pick and chuse their Love.

The Despair.

I

Entangled in my Thoughts, I laid me down,
And dream'd I saw the Furies frown,
Envy me thoughts advanc'd near me,
The worst of all that Company,
Me thoughts a knotted Whip she bore,
Her Hands were stain'd with Streams of Human Gore.

II

Her Threats like Peals of Thunder shook my room
The Heralds of my dismal Doom,

So black the Air, so dark the Sky,
I thought the utmost Day was nigh,
So heavy Nature seem'd to be,
I dream'd the Fields and Floods did copy me.

III

My Sighs, like Elegies of sad Despair,
Were always eccho'd through the Air;
The Waters that were rock'd asleep,
For my hard Fate began to weep;
The Friendly Birds o're-heard me cry,
Ah wretched, wretched Youth am I!

IV

Thus strangl'd in my Mind, I lay as dead,
And wondred where my Soul was fled;
But when the Frenzy went away,
Which did about my Temples play,
I paus'd a little while, and then
I found my Soul returning home again.

V

Ah fleeting Fool! said I, could you not be
Pleas'd with the Charms of Liberty?
When you were freed from this dull Cage,
The Stings of Youth, the Dregs of Age,
Why came you back to me again?
The Slave deserves much Stripes who loves his Pain.

Her Influence.

I.

I vow that thou alone art she,
Who can revive the Sparks of Love in me;
They in the in ward Chambers of my Soul
Lurkt for a while, till the reviving Beams,
Did, like the Moon, my toyling Blood controul,
And made it rise in higher Streams,
To drown thee all in Poetry.

II

That Star that carries Time within his Arms,
And with its Morning Blush the World alarms,

Strikes not so deep; when you begin to shine
My World receives new Light from thine,
And like a Planet moves about her Sphere;
'T would fain, but yet durst not be medling there,
Lest, through the bold Assaults of Love,
We both one blazing Comet prove.

III

Oh let me ev'ry Day
Some beauteous Object find,
Who in a pleasing fit may say,
Write on and I'll be kind;
The Charms of Beauty so effectual prove,
My Lines with her would sympathize in Love:
So the great Sun that visits all,
That sees and pierces through this earthly Ball,
Unsullied with the Stage he run,
With Peace does in the Waters lay him down,
So pleas'd with that which Nature did display,
He runs the same Stage over ev'ry Day.

Translated from the Italian Poets. ODE XXIV.

To Marullus, who having forsaken his Studies, takes up with his Mistress Corinda.

I

Farewel Apollo, and your sacred Train,
Since I have tasted of the Sweets of Love,
I'll never see your Face again.

II

To None but Venus I'll Obedience pay,
Who from a feeling Sense of my hard Fate
accepted me the other Day.

III

In vain you tell the Joys that Learning yields,
One Glance of her's transports me more
than all Pieria's flowry Fields.

IV

Before my Spirits and my Warmth decay
Some Hours with her I fain would spend,
and with the pretty Graces play.

V

Do you, Marullus, to your Prince's Praise
(Big with infusion of Apollo's Fire)
some Panegyrick Altars raise;

VI

Whilst I in softer Numbers shall declare
What pow'rful Spells I've us'd to gain
Corinda most divinely fair.

Her Presence.

I

The Gods of old, which to our mortal View
Came down, and stay'd, could do no more than you,

Myriads of Blessings then were shed
Upon th'astonisht People's Head;
No less your Presence I am sure can do,
You are my Doctress and my Med'cine too.

II

One touch of Yours stops the fierce flux of Pain,
One piercing Glance baffles the strongest chain;
In your Bright Looks I fairly see
Th'exactest Emblem of Divinity.
If I gaze long, my Parts can't hold entire,
Like melting Wax they drop before the Fire.

III

In vain from Books can I expect Relief,
Philosophy's dull Rules can't cure my Grief,
Like Oyl put to my raging Fire,
They but increase my vain desire;
These cheat me all; but in their Looks I see
My Fate resolv'd, and I will follow thee.

A SONG.

[Feel Phillis if my Pulse beats high]

I

Feel Phillis if my Pulse beats high,
Loves Poyson runs through all my Veins:
Let it have vent or else I dye
A Lovers Death, the worst of Pains.

II

No Blushes in my Face appear,
The lovely Graces all are fled;
No Cupid wantons in my Hair,
But all's as dismal as the Dead.

III

Oh quicken soon this Mass of mine,
Dart through the gaping Chinks of Nature:
No less than Miracles divine
Can change or make me a new Creature.

The second Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullus, translated: Sulpitia's praise.

To Mars.

The amorous Youths this Festival design,
To consecrate with Mirth and Airs divine;
Quit Heav'n a while, if you are wise, to see
Sulpitia in a glorious pageantry:
But have a Care lest her diviner Charms
Melt down the Powers of your flagging Arms;
Where'ere her killing Eyes are cast around,
The Gods he conquer'd, and confess the Wound.
Her Walk is so majestick and divine,
A thousand Graces on her Carriage shine;
If Nature looser in her Hair should play,
Sulpitia's still most beautiful and gay;
And if they're modell'd in a better Frame,
Adorn'd with Art, Sulpitia's still the same.

100

If cloath'd in Scarlet, she adorns the Plains,
If cloath'd in white, she still the Vict'ry gains.
Vortumnus so a thousand Shapes on high
Assumes, yet not more grateful to the Eye
Than those in which she's pleas'd to grace Mortality.
Now all ye Nymphs confer on her what's due,
Poetick Strains, and you Apollo too.
Conclude the Day with Singing, and a Ball,
I'm sure Sulpitia does deserve them all.

A Description of Mrs. E. T. as I saw her in the Exchange.

When I did first this charming object view,
Her Image in my Mind took Root & grew;
So rare a Piece and so divinely fair,
I wish'd the best of Painters had been there:
As piercing lightnings when they strik the ground
The Steel consum'd, the Scabbard Safe is found,

101

So did she glide along my purer Veins,
My Body's safe, my Soul still full of Pains;
Her Hair as black as that which Angels prize,
Before the Throne, veiling their weaker Eyes;
Her Brows were black, declining like the Bow,
Which Cupid, when he smil'd rejoyc'd to shew;
In lovely Spheres her Globes of Light did rowle,
And Man the strongest Planet did controul;
About her Cheeks ten thousand smiles did play,
Fair as the Beauties of the rising Day;
About her milky Neck and snowy Arms
There flow'd continual Rivulets of Charms;
So soft her Hands, so long, so charming white,
As might the chastest God from Heav'n invite;
Here you might see her Soul in Raptures pass,
Clear as the Lily in the Crystal Glass;
Each, Atome of her Body was so fine,
In ev'ry part it had the Stamp Divine.
The Greek that strove to make a piece so high,
As might the Works of Nature's self out-vie;
From all the rarest Patterns which he knew,
The best Perfections, which they had, he drew:

102

But after all it prov'd so ill, he swore,
He'd never strive to perfect Nature more;
Had he but seen that Piece that stood by me,
He'd lookt no further for Divinity.

The FEVER.

I

The sparkling Embers of my hot desire,
Tho' they were drench'd in Waves, will not expire,
The very Sea itself some Oyl contains
Which makes them rise again in greater Flames.

II

The northern Zone is not too cold for me,
Go where I will, Love will my Dog-star be;
There like a Globe of Light he spreads his Rays,
And turns my Winter Nights to Summer Days.

103

III

Yet still I would not want this pleasing Pain,
Of which to ev'ry listner I complain,
The very Wheel of my short Life would stand,
If not turn'd round by Love's Almighty Hand.

IV

Nor would I that it should Abatement find,
Love is the pleasant Frenzy of the Mind;
So Frantick Men in their mad Actions shew
A Happiness which none but Madmen know.

A SONG.

[Stay thou seraphick Creature, stay]

I

Stay thou seraphick Creature, stay,
My Soul is in her melting Strains,
So very fond to get away,
She puts me to a thousand Pains.

104

II

Trembling as Needles when they move,
And only in the North can rest,
So when she meets with thee, my Love,
She's fix'd and infinitely blest.

III

Sweet Angel, tho' you can't create,
Yet you alone my Life can save;
Your Sight's as prevalent as Fate,
Then grant me that, 'tis all I crave.

IV

My heavenly Bliss to antedate,
For no base earthly Love I plead;
For Souls have pow'r to penetrate,
And on diviner Substance feed.

105

The BOLDNESS.

I

Its not the mighty Alps, tho' cloath'd with Snow
Shall stop or hinder me from loving now:
Resolv'd I am, I'll cut through all,
I'll love as deep as Hannibal:
Tho' this at last should prove my Doom,
Yet I the more will venture on.
He is an Ass who dares not fight
For amorous Love, a Spark so bright:
I'll stand my Ground, here shall my Colours be,
I durst engage the stoutest Enemy.

II

I'll sound a Charge, among the Stars I see
Castor and Pollux, Signs of Victory.
Why do I stay? I must be gone,
Cupid's Breast-plate I'll put on,
His poyson'd Arrows I will bear,
Stuck in the Bow he's us'd to wear;

106

Clad with the Down of Cupid's Wings,
The World shall hear of mighty things;
For in my Hand as sure and fatal proves
The Dart of Love, as Thunder shall in Jove's.

III

The boisterous Billows of the raging Sea
Roar as they will, their Voice I'll nere obey;
Altho' Leander's Corps I view,
Gushing out Blood anew;
Altho' the dismal Voice I hear,
Repeating still, forbear, forbear:
The weeping Seas should not prevent
My travelling in that Element;
For the great Pow'r of Love's Almighty Wand
Divides the Waves as well as that in Neptune's hand.

IV

Should my wing'd Love fly to the Stygian Lake,
The moving Harp of Orpheus I would take;
The Harp I mean, whose mighty Strings
Can at a Touch work mighty Things;

107

When e're this Sound should strike her Ear,
In spite of all the Devils there,
I'd force her to this World again,
Reverse the Sentence of her pain;
And if these Charms by mortal Art could move
The Woods, the Stones, what can't the Force of Love?

V

Or if Astræa, like my Darling Love
Should fly unto the utmost Worlds above,
I'd build a Monument so high,
The Clouds beneath me as I fly;
Or else I would like th'Earth's bold Son
Have Mountains heap'd, and built upon,
And if the angry Gods with Fire
Should quash the Motions of my vain Desire,
In the same Flames I'd to my Love ascend,
To thee, as Load-stones to the North, I'd bend.

VI

But some poor Fools, in whose dull lump of Clay
A spark of Love divine yet never lay.

108

To tread the Depths, they think's too bold,
For fear their puny Love take cold:
I'm sure they're out, for beauty's Ray
Can soon dissolve this Ice away;
I'll never so false-hearted prove,
There is no Medium between me and Love,
Chill Neptune's Realms shall nere my Courage tame,
For th' Hellespont did once create a Flame.

The Fourth Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullas, translated.

To Phœbus.

Come now Apollo, give the Virgin ease,
Whose Soul's afflicted with a sad Disease:
Make haste, I say, I'm sure you'l ne're repent,
There's scarce a prettier in the Firmament;
Prevent th'encroaching Evils of the Grave.
Let her the same commanding Sweetness have,
Let all her Pains, and her successive Cares

109

Be swallow'd up, together with our Fears.
Give her a Dose, and by some skilful Art,
Stave off the Terrors that infect her Heart.
Pity Cerinthus too, who'd fain appease
With constant Vows the angry Deities;
In doleful Strains he does his Fate deplore,
And curses Heav'n, that she should be no more.
But lay aside those Fears, and still be true,
Cerinthus still love on, as she loves you,
And then no Angel will from Heav'n destroy
The Bands of Love, or interrupt your Joy.
But now some noble Sacrifice to you,
Who at a Touch could save two Souls, is due,
At once the Lover and the Mistress too.
Let Grief dissolve into the Shades of Night,
And rise thou brighter by Sulpitia's Light:
Tears can do nothing here, but when you find
The fair Sulpitia's cruel and unkind.
Now great Apollo you may dance and play,
Before their Altars they both Incense pay.
That powerful Art they so admire in you,
Each God would wish himself Apollo too.

110

The DISCOVERY.

I

Through whatsoever part of Heav'n we pass
We find the Marks of Galilæa's Glass;
Sol's Motions are so clearly known,
As if 'thad been his ancient Home;
He knew where ev'ry Planet lies,
And trac'd them thro' the Chambers of the Skies.

II

I'll then be gone, I dread to stay at home,
With Drake's Ship rigg'd, about the World I'll
I will discover something more roam;
Than what has been known heretofore;
Wings for my Journey I'll prepare,
I'll search the unknown Waves, the Earth, the Air.

III

I'll touch each Pole, I'll cut the burning Line,
I'll search the Limits of the utmost Clime,

111

Till Loves great Kingdom I descry,
Which in some hidden World must lye:
Cowley Loves first Columbus was, and he
Who best can trace his Footsteps next shall be.

IV

Thus whilst I sail, my Hopes encrease to see
The presence of some gracious Deity,
Who might his Influence bestow
To steer my Vessel here below;
Through various Seas my Ship must ride,
Propitious Love rule thou the Winds and Tide.

V

But after all my Search, suppose I found
The way that leads me to this happy Ground;
Grant her Metropolis I see
Swimming in Pride and gayety;
Yet after all, what are my Gains,
Should I like prying Spies be bound in Chains?

112

VI

There Beauty's always fresh and can't decline,
Her Form defies the eating Moths of Time;
No Tyrant in their Kingdom reigns,
None there of Falshood e're complains,
All Lovers are united there,
And dance and revel in that blessed Sphere.

VII

What Bliss is this? what would I give to be
A priviledg'd Member of this Society?
This consummates a Lover's Bliss,
If there be Elyzium, sure its this:
But yet I fear my Fate will be,
Ive searcht this Place for others, not for me.

113

Translated from the Italian Poets.

To his Ring.

Thou little Ring, dearly belov'd by me,
Kist by my Spouse as oft as I kiss thee,
Altho thou'rt nobly deckt with sparkling Pride;
Rich with the Relicks of the Indian Tide,
Yet I on this account esteem thee more
That she first wore thee on her Hand before,
And when she first design'd this Gift for me,
Sighing, she said, scarce can I part with thee;
Oh! I will always have thee in my Sight,
And for her Sake I'll kiss thee Day and Night;
When ere I wash my Hands, my Breast shall be
The only Place that I think fit for thee.

114

A SONG.

[Whilst on those blushing Cheeks I gaze]

I

Whilst on those blushing Cheeks I gaze,
I tremble and am all on Fire,
In pleasures of so blest amaze,
Thy Glances do but fan Desire.

II

Pity my Fault, dear Girl, if I
Eager to grasp thy sunny Frame,
Like an ambitious Meteor fly,
To perish in so bright a Flame.

III

Surely some Noble Hero fell
In that most precious Sea of thine,
And to reward his Courage well,
Venus has made him there to shine.

115

IV

Nor can this Beauty fade away,
For want of any new Supplies,
Regardless of the scorching Day,
Fed by those living Springs thine Eyes.

The Third Elegy of the Fourth Book of Tibullas, translated.

Sulpitia to Cerinthus.

Ye Savage Beasts, whom Nature entertains
In the by-Lodgings of the Desart Plains,
Pity my Boy, bent on some noble Prey,
And thou kind Cupid at his Elbow stay.
Perhaps, by Passion hurl'd, he's led so far,
He'll want the Guidance of some gentle Star.
Curse on the Woods and all that sordid Game,
Let the Dogs faulter, and ne're find again:

116

Why are you fond to visit ev'ry Cell,
Where Death, with Fury charg'd, stands Centinel?
Prithee forbear, see how the Briars hide
Their crooked Heads in your most tender Side;
But if I might Cerinthus chase with you,
I'd be content to bear the Burthen too:
The hated Woods would please me then, if I
By the same hunting Nets with thee could lye:
No Lion then would dare to threaten thee,
He'd lose his Rage, as he still gaz'd on me,
My very Eyes sufficient Charms would prove
To melt his Springs of Fierceness into Love.
But still remember poor Orion's State,
Be chaste, and never boldly tempt your Fate.
If any one should strive to disposess
Our Souls of this Platonick Happiness;
Let her for breaking of Diana's Laws,
Fall a sure Victim to the Lion's Paws:
But in the mean, my Boy, give o're that Game,
And on my Breast quench your unruly Flame.

117

Platonick Love.

I

I courtier-like did once that Beauty prize,
Which had no comely Shape or handsom Eyes;
I valu'd any Love but that which came
From Plato's great seraphick Brain:
I wish the Vulgar did agree
The Sensual was the Deity;
But when I found the Cheat, I chang'd the Scene,
And set up for an Isra'lite again.

II

I once obey'd th'imperious Charms of Love,
My weaker Needle to that Point did move;
But when the Transports of Diviner Light
Did with some Pleasure entertain my Sight,
I said, I'd ne're obey
False Love's tyrannick sway,
My Soul shall to Heav'n aspire,
And joyn the Element of Fire

118

III

This vicious Passion; 'll nere feed,
But by the Roots I'll pluck the Weed;
I'll quench her Fury with the Darts of Love,
That bring their Power from the Seats above.
Like bold Prometheus I will fly,
And match the Fire from the Sky:
To give Man Life he stole this Flame,
But I to purisie my Frame.

IV

By Methods of Ascent aspire my Soul,
And to this End thy Haughtiness controul;
Leave pleasing Sense to Epicurus Train,
And be thou Plato's Proselyte again.
Be gone, and stretch thy Pinions wide,
Swim with the Current of th'etherial Tide,
And then let them ascend above,
A Place fit for platonick Love.

119

The Fourteenth Elegy of the Second Book of Propertius, translated.

Blest be the Night, blest be the Bed where I
Enclos'd with Pleasures, did securely lye;
When all was silenc'd, when the very Sea
In softer Murmurs did the Night obey,
Her jar's the Prologue of ensuing Love,
I to my private Pleasure did improve;
Sometimes she touch'd me with her downy Breast,
Which my more wanton Fingers often prest;
Sometimes she stroak'd mine Eyes, and ask'd me why
Did I so lazy and unactive lye?
This mov'd me too, and fir'd my youthful Rage,
Tho sure to lose, yet eager to engage.
I kiss'd her Lips and rifl'd her all o're,
So fierce my Sallies, I could kiss no more.
Its said of old, so Paris dy'd away,
When in his Arms the Grecian Beauty lay.

120

Come lay aside this useless Garb of thine,
It stops the Combat which I now design;
Come now, my Dear, let's revel whilst we may,
Perhaps we ne're shall live another Day.
I wish the Fates could by some sacred Tye
Joyn us so close, that we should never dye.
The harmless Doves when e're they meet, they pair,
Ty'd to no Laws their soft Embraces are.
He's out, who thinks my Love shall cool, my Love
Is as immortal as the Gods above:
The Sun shall sooner change his Stage, and be
Lost in the Ocean of Eternity;
The lesser Springs, and Tybur's flowing Tide
Back, with Confusion, to their Head shall glide,
Before I'll leave thee: Witness Heav'n that I
Will only on this Altar live and dye.
Oh could I always have such Nights as these,
Fit for the Bus'ness of my Love and Peace,
I'd bath my self in this immortal Flood,
And be each Night as happy as a God:

121

If all, like me, could their whole Time improve,
Spend all the Day in Wine, the Night in Love,
You'd hear no Wars, no dismal Pris'ners Cries,
Would daily eccho Pity through the Skies.
Temples sometimes, and Tow'rs Jove's Thunder tears,
But like himself always the Lover spares.

Translated from the Italian Poets. ODE XXXII.

My Dear, if my unruly Lips have prest
With amorous Rage thy snowy Breast,
Impute it unto ev'ry Grace,
Thy killing Eyes, thy charming Face:
But if you're loath to pardon me,
Let me repair the Injury;
Let me embrace and kiss again,
That surely will inhance my pain;

122

The Kisses which I stole away,
On my rack'd Soul like Vultures prey;
Lifeless, alas, and pale I grow,
I'm just now going to the Shades below.
But if you'l kiss again, then I
Shall surely pine away and die:
Come now, my Soul, let's kiss again,
Its that will put me out of Pain;
Its fit that I should live no more,
For what I stole from thee before.

123

The Captivity.

I

If Wit, annex'd to Beauty's Charms,
Could in a God create Desire,
When Celia clasps me in her Arms,
No wonder if I'm all on Fire.

II

I must resign against my Will,
My Pow'r's too weak to keep the Place,
By ev'ry Smile she conquers still,
Those fiery Arrows of her Face.

III

If Beauties then such Conquests have,
Surely their Charters are divine:
I now submit to be thy Slave,
Dear Celia, and for ever Thine.

124

Her Government.

I

We know, Great Love, thy gentle sway,
Thy sovereign Word we all obey;
Kings at thy sacred Feet lay down their Crowns,
And triumph to be Vassals to thy Frowns;
Great Alexander wish'd to be
Conqu'rour of Worlds, but Slave to thee.

II

So great's thy share, thou claim'st a part
In the most rigid Stoick's Heart:
And tho' he disallows thy Deity,
The Tythes of all his Fruits he pays to thee:
But we, as old Rome us'd to do,
Own thee our Queen and Goddess too.

125

III

Tribute to thee, as free we pay,
As Indians Homage to the Day:
Tax on, great Love, in taxing still be kind,
Pray ease our Purses, to enrich our Mind:
Like Martyrs we're in Love with Pains,
We kiss and reverence our Chains.

My Love fled.

I

How can I chuse but weep and mourn all Day,
Since she who fondly did impart
A warmth and Vigour to my Heart,
Has falsly borrow'd Wings and flown away?

II

Ev'ry fair Object brings her to my Mind,
And when I drop a Crystal Tear,
Methinks I see her Image there,
Beauteous and gay, if Love itself ben't blind.

126

III

How shall I drag the future Autumns on?
The Embers of my dying Fire;
Do now successively expire,
Since the Preservative of Life is gone.

IV

Poor Ariadne cry'd, when left alone;
But a God came to give Relief;
The like would stop my flowing Grief,
Would a fair Goddess my Addresses own.

The Advice.

I

Chloe be kind, I say,
Beauty has Wings as well as Time;
To suffer either pass away
Without Advantage, is a Crime.
See, Heav'n itself with conscious Smiles approves
The suture Union of our tender Loves.

127

II

Then why, my Dear, should you
So fatal to your Beauties prove?
Pay unto Nature what's her due,
And then you'l ne're refuse my Love:
Take my Advice, preserve that Vestal Fire,
When it is doubl'd, it will ne're expire.

III

Sweet Chloe, hear my call,
And think to live no more alone;
Tho' Man was born as Lord of all,
Himself but odly fills a Throne;
Eden was not compos'd of That or This,
Woman and Man made up the Paradise.

128

The VANITY.

I

Poor fading Pleasures to pursue,
I know 'tis base, as well as you;
But whilst this Lump of Flesh I wear,
From doing so I can't forbear;
The old deceiving Serpent still
Corrupts and vitiates my Will.

II

From her blest Heart there flows a Line,
Which Nature made, and grapples mine.
Secret as that which tyes the Mind,
When to the Body 'tis confin'd:
If I love on, blame me no more,
Can I with Nature run in score?

III

When I reside in Egypt's Fields.
My Soul must taste on what it yields;

129

But when to Canaan I shall come,
Canaan the lovely wish'd for Home,
On nobler Objects I shall rove,
And feed on a Diviner Love.

The Councel.

I

As some wise lesser Prince, who goes
With all his Strength t'ngage his mightier Foes,
Considers how, and when, and where he may
Draw up the Battle in Array,
On this the coming Fate of War depends,
The Kingdom is by this made up, or ends.

II

Ev'n so a Council I must call,
If I must love her much, or not at all,
In Reason's Ballance I am bound to weigh
Whether I should obey
Her Royal Will, and then lay down my Arms,
Or else assault this rich Peru of Charms.

130

III

Should I but love her in extreams,
She'd rather still increase than quench my Flames,
'Twould please her cruel Vanity to see
A Lover plung'd in Misery;
Instead of cooling my incens'd Desire,
With formal Smiles sh'd blow my wretched Fire.

IV

And sooner I could change my Nature
Than not adore and hug that lovely Creature.
Propitious Stars tell me what Course to steer,
Sylla is there, Charibdis here:
Virtue consists in Mediocrity,
But Love is always in Extremity.

V

Well, to Leucadia I'll repair,
Where miserable Lovers lose their Care;
Sad Cephalus did first this Place approve,
And quencht the flaming Torch of Love.
Than this what can a better Council be?
Here Love is swallow'd up in Victory.

131

The CHASE.

Scorcht by the Heat one Day, I found a Shade,
Which some kind Poplar and a Myrtle made;
Stretcht here at length, in Ease my Body lay
Swell'd with the Hopes of some luxurious Prey;
Casting my Amorous Eyes around the Plain,
Wild to possess, I spy'd a lovely Dame,
Thrice I saluted her, and thrice I said,
Peace to the lovely Nymph, peace to the lovely Maid:
She, so surpriz'd at this, made no reply,
But still survey'd me with a scornful Eye;
Jealous at last, turning away her Eyes,
She calls for Help, but finding no Supplies,
Takes to her Feet, and almost out of Breath,
She scrietcht like Leverets in the Pangs of Death.
Big with expectance of this nimble Prey,
I spurr'd my Passion on, and made away;
Swift as Desire, I leapt the strongest Fence,
Having in Sight the noblest Game of Sense.
Ere long I caught my Celia by the Hair,
Whose wanton Locks perfum'd the beaten Air,

132

O Heav'ns! what Charms her Beauty did inspire,
Conquer'd at once with Wonder and Desire.
Weary, we both sat down, and breath'n our Loves,
Soft as the Whispers of two wounded Doves;
Couch on her Breast my Fancy sporting lay,
And strove to scare her pensive Thoughts away:
Thus blest, sometimes I profer'd her a Kiss,
Hopeing thereby to gain an after Bliss;
Often my furious Hand did strive to know
How was the glorious Valley spread below.
Hot in pursuit, often I said, My Dear,
Ah shall I, shall I but inhabit here?
The Land is fruitful, grant me this one thing,
And I'll be happier than the happiest King.
No, cry'd she, no, prithee, kind Youth, forbear,
The Crop's but small that you will gather here;
And will you, will you do this pleasant Sin?
Hereafter it will Torture you within.
But all her Art such faint Resistance made,
Herself was almost by herself betray'd;
With so much Doubt and modesty she strove
To give mine room she did her own remove:

133

But when this usual Ceremony ceas'd,
How was I glutted with the Sight, and pleas'd!
Pleasures so great and tempting, that they cou'd
Ev'n almost win to her Embrace a God.
Oh, could I find such Objects ev'ry Day!
I'd even Hunt and Chase my Life away.

The Looking-Glass.

I

Oh happy thing! what would I give to be
My Mistress's Glass, instead of thee?
Thou see'st the Glorious Image ev'ry Day,
For which I hourly pine away.

II

By thine own Light thou scarce her Form canst view;
Thy very Light and Essence too
Proceeds from her, as Phœbus's borrow'd Ray,
Reflects the Image of the Day.

134

III

Would she but cast such quickning Beams on me,
I should her living Image be;
Look when she pleas'd, her Picture she would find
Deeply imprinted in my Mind.

IV

The faithless Glass ten thousand Forms does bear,
When she alone should revel there,
And, Courtier-like, to ev'ry one can say,
Thou art the Beautiful and Gay.

V

Be false to all the rest, be only true
To her, and this I'd have thee do,
Preserve th'Idea of my Saint in store,
'Till I shall see thy Face once more.

VI

Then to thy Shrine a Reverence I'll pay,
Like zealous Romans ev'ry Day;

135

I'll hug the Relick with a Pious Fear,
Because I know the Goddess's there.

VII

But if she's charged thee, thou shouldst not trace
The least Discovery of her Face,
The strict Injunction ne're shall trouble me,
Seeing ye're both Hypocrisie.

A Letter to a young Lady, who sent me a Box of Pills, when she heard I was ill.

If any Thanks from a Sick State are due
To its Restorer and Supporter too,
Then I, dear Madam, am oblig'd to you.
If fair Aurora could obtain of Fate
For her young Lover's Life a longer date;
If the chaste Wishes of the Good and Fair
Can pierce the Clouds and make the Heavens hear;

136

Then I may hope, as you are kind, to live,
Not by what Heat I have, but what you give.
Now let the Monarchs of the World repine,
Their Guardian Angels have less Pow'r than mine;
Let them bewail their short-liv'd State below,
That all their Pomp to Destiny must bow.
Let the Terrestrial Gods blaspheme, while I
So well upheld, must ask your leave to die.
But tho your Balsom kindly cur'd my Wound,
Tho my whole Body's safe, secure and sound,
Yet let me tell you, You have shot a Dart,
And made me mortal in my better Part;
So would I have it, if you first design'd
The Pills should cure my Body, you my Mind,
And can you not, dear Life, to both be kind?
O yes, I know you will; so you'l approve
Your self one System of Angelick Love:
So the kind Sun never vouchsaf'd a Ray,
But Light and Heat, involv'd, together lay.

137

On a beautiful Lady who was going to kill herself, when she was at Supper, had she not been accidentally prevented by one of the Company.

I.

O stop that Hand! kind Heav'ns forbid the Blow!
See the Stars lurk behind the Screen of Night
Unwilling to behold so sad a Sight,
Lest we should tax them t'have been guilty too.
No Comets in the Firmament,
By bodeing Symptoms to thy Death consent,
All is serene and gay,
And can that Beauty, which out shines the Milky Way,
Add a dark Blemish to the Day?
What cruel Passion boil'd within thy Veins?
What Legion harbour'd in thy Breast,
That dispossess'd thy Soul of Rest,
And put thee to Hyperboles of Pains,
That thou shouldst vent such Accents of Despair?
Void of all pious Fear,

138

And then thy Cruelties display,
Resolv'd to baulk Death in so rich a Prey,
And make a quicker Passage for thy Soul away.

II.

For thy approaching Grief
A speaking Sadness sat in ev'ry Eye,
All strove to give Relief,
As if they fear'd some Storm was nigh:
Thy very Eyes their coming Fate confest,
And their Resentment for thy Fall exprest.
Thy Soul retir'd to her inmost Room,
Dreading the Pressure of the Stroke to come:
But see, Heav'ns peculiar Care
Saves and protects the Fair;
And often is at the Expence
Of Miracles, to save such Excellence:
So many Thoughts great Jove it cost
To make a Piece most exquisitely Fine,
He would not have the Copy lost
By Death's unruly Hands; much less by thine.

139

III.

Was Love the Cause of this?
Forbid it all ye Powers above,
No Lover yet despis'd his Bliss,
So as to jilt the Monarchy of Love.
No Youth by thee could ever yet pass by,
But still thou hadst the Tribute of his Eye:
Thou'st Charms enough to set the World on Fire,
And in the coolest Stoick raise Desire:
So dear no Monarch ever priz'd a Crown,
But to procure your Life would lose his own:
What Passion then could blow that Flame,
To vent your Anger on the noblest Frame?
Perhaps too cruel you have been
To some more Amorous Swain,
Who now lyes Sighing, Gasping, Dying,
Because you will not ease his Pain;
And having now receiv'd the utmost Blow,
You'd fain embrace him in the Shades below.

140

A SONG.

[Tho the Mountains should shake, and Apollo look dim]

I

Tho the Mountains should shake, and Apollo look dim,
Tho the Planets should tumble on the Ruins we stand;
Tho the Globe of the Earth in the Ocean should swim,
Without Hopes of ever arriving at Land.

II

Tho Comets in Chariots of Diseases should ride,
And burst on our Heads like Granadoes on fire,
Yet they should not move me, but I'd stand by thy Side,
Dear Phillis, and in thine Arms gladly expire.

III

Believe me 'tis true, for the Powers of Love,
Like Martyrs Opinions, persevere to the End;
They grapple so close, 'twill be hard to remove,
Tho dismantl'd of flesh, yet to thee they will bend

141

IV

And can you then, Phillis, be unkind to such truth?
See what Vows I have made, I'll for ever be thine,
Do you but consent to the Pleasures of Youth,
And vow the same Vows, that you'l ever be mine.

V

Then in spight of the Fates we shall both be secure,
No Isthmus shall part so much Kindness and Love,
Tho the World be expiring, yet our flames shall endure,
And feed on each other in the Mansions above.

A SONG.

[It grieves me, Celia, when I think]

I

It grieves me, Celia, when I think,
That all those Glories of thy Face
Must into Ruins sink,
And ne're Return into their ancient Place.

142

II

The Lilies have more Springs than one,
They rise and perish every Year,
But when thy Beauty's gone,
Alas it never will again appear.

III

All pluck the Roses whilst they may,
For if some ruder Breath of Wind,
Should kiss their Life away,
They leave no Tokens of their Place behind.

IV

'Tis Time then, Celia, to improve,
Because your Life's more short than theirs
To taste the Joys of Love,
And with an Hour's Bliss to poize an Ages Cares.

143

Translated from the Italian Poets.

To his Mistress.

When the Nights Beauties that surpass the Day,
The watchful Virgins shall invite to play,
To thee, through Guards of Dangers I'll advance,
Arm'd with a Glass of Wine, I'll baffle Chance;
But let the Door, the Entrance to our Joys,
Be just so order'd, that it make no Noise:
And when I shall approach with silent Fear,
To crown my Joys, Corinna wait you there;
As the fond Ivy round the Beech does twine,
So let my Arms, dear Life, be clasp'd by thine.
You cannot go amiss, oh let your Arms
At ev'ry touch convey a thousand Charms.
Let luscious Kisses and incentive Sips
Of Pleasure, fasten on our balmy Lips.

144

Let us in Kissing no dull Order show,
But let successive Tides of Pleasure flow,
As loth from us in so much haste to go.
With faint Resistance my Requests deny,
Pleas'd with an eager Importunity;
With doubtful struglings and a modest meen,
Seem to despise what you do most esteem,
And in the midst of these delightful Wars,
Wound me with harmless and with gentle Scars;
Let ev'ry part b'employ'd, and let me rove
Through all the hidden Mysteries of Love;
Let our glad Eyes, sparkling with hot Desire,
Portend, as Omens, we are both on Fire;
And when you see my Passions all inflam'd,
Willing to conquer, that they may be tam'd,
Then open all your little Cheats to me,
Th'Ingredients of a pleasing Fallacy:
When I'm unwilling, urge me to be kind;
When I am eager, shew an adverse Mind;
Shed now and then a counterfeited Tear,
And say, I cannot let your Hands be there;

145

Then let me see you dart a pleasing Beam,
As if you wholly not deny'd the Game;
Then let a thousand Raptures spring and rise,
Till a soft Slumber sits upon our Eyes,
And when in Dreams our Thoughts more free shall rove,
We'l act again the Comedy of Love.

The FAREWEL.

I

Leave, wretched Hawkshaw, leave
Thy self with airy Fantoms to deceive;
There's no such thing as Love,
Except it be amongst the Gods above;
'Tis an Empty Noise of Air,
Whose Eccho brings back nothing but Despair.

146

II

'Tis a Lottery of Care,
Wherein ten thousand Blanks, few Prizes are:
And yet so mad are we,
We hazard all at this poor Vanity;
And commonly it happens so,
We're cheated of our Time and Mony too.

III

Let's at another's Cost be wise;
Poor Cowley ran, and yet ne're won the Prize,
And yet his Feet were made
By the best Artist of Apollo's Trade;
All his soft Words prov'd vain,
Instead of breaking, they confirm'd his Chain.

IV

A thousand Plots I've laid,
But ne're could get the Virgin's Heart betray'd;
Who ever yet could say,
He'd brought his Love in Captive-chains away?
So dismal now I prove,
I am become a Skelleton in Love.

147

V

Leave, Hawkshaw, leave once more,
Court not the Wasp that sting'd thy Heart before;
Use neither Spell nor Art,
To bring the Tyrant back into thy Heart;
Shake off the Chains of Love,
No God in Heav'n does thy Fate approve.

VI

Let not thy Army fall in vain
Before a Place which you will never gain;
The Bombs which you shot in
Will ne're consume her well stor'd Magazin;
Tho' Cannon be brought down,
Yet I am sure you ner'e will take the Town.