Suppose you had deserv’d to take
From her fair hand fo fair a boon;
Yet how deferved I to make

So ill a change: who ever won
Immortal praife for what I wrote,
Inftructed by her noble thought?

I, that expreffed her commands

To mighty Lords, and Princely dames,
Always moft welcome to their hands;

Proud that I would record their names;
Muft now be taught an humble style.
Some meaner beauty to beguile!

So I, the wronged pen to please,
Make it my humble thanks exprefs
Unto your Ladyfhip, in these:
And now 'tis forced to confefs,
That

your great felf did ne'er indite, Nor that, to one more noble, write.

To CHLORIS.

HLORIS! fince first our calm of peace
Was frighted hence, this good we find,

Your favors with your fears increase,
And growing mifchiefs make you kind.

So the fair tree, which ftill preferves

Her fruit, and ftate, while no wind blows,
In ftorms from that uprightnefs fwerves:
And the glad earth about her ftrows
With treasure, from her yielding boughs.

SONG.

SONG.

HILE I liften to thy voice,

WHI

CHLORIS! I feel my life decay :

That pow'rful noise

Calls my fleeting foul away.

Oh! fupprefs that magic found,

Which deftroys without a wound,

Peace, CHLORIS, peace! or finging die
That together you, and I,

To heav'n may go :

For all we know

Of what the Bleffed do above

Is, that they fing, and that they love.

N

Of Loving at First Sight.

OT caring to obferve the wind,
Or the new fea explore,

Snatch'd from my felf, how far behind
Already I behold the shore!

May not a thousand dangers fleep
In the fmooth bofom of this Deep!
No: 'tis fo rocklefs, and fo clear,
That the rich botto:n does appear
Pav'd all with precious things; not torn
From ship-wreck'd veffels, but there born.

Sweetnefs, truth, and ev'ry grace,
Which time, and ufe, are wont to teach,
The eye may in a moment reach,

And read diftinctly in her face.

Some

Some other nymphs, with colors faint,
And pencil flow, may CUPID paint,
And a weak heart in time destroy;
She has a ftamp, and prints the Boy:
Can, with a single look, inflame
The coldeft breast, the rudeft tame.

The SELF-BA NISH'D.

"T is not that I love lefs,

you

Than when before your feet I lay :

But, to prevent the fad increase

Of hopeless love, I keep away.

In vain, alas! for ev'ry thing,
Which I have known belong to you,
Your form does to my fancy bring,
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

Who in the spring, from the new fun
Already has a fever got,

Too late begins those shafts to shun,

Which PHOEBUS thro' his veins has shot:

Too late he would the pain affwage,.

And to thick fhadows does retire:
About with him he bears the rage,
And in his tainted blood the fire,

But vow'd I have, and never must
Your banish'd fervant trouble you:
For if I break, you may mistrust

The vow

I made---to love you too.

SONG.

G

SONG.

O, lovely rose!

Tell her that waftes her time, and me,

That now the knows,

When I refemble her to thee,

How sweet, and fair, fhe seems to be.

Tell her that's young,

And shuns to have her graces spy'd
That hadft thou fprung
In defarts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended dy'd,

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retir'd:

Bid her come forth,

Suffer her felf to be defir'd,

And not blush fo to be admir'd,

Then die! that she

The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee:

How small a part of time they share,
That are fo wond'rous sweet, and fair!

A

THYRSIS, GALATEA.

THYRS I S.

S lately I on filver THAMES did ride,. Sad GALATEA on the bank I spy'd: Such was her look as forrow taught to shine; And thus fhe grac'd me with a voice divine.

CALATE A.

GALATE A.

You that can tune your founding ftrings fo well, Of Ladies' beauties, and of love to tell,

Once change your note; and let your lute report The jufteft grief that ever touch'd the Court.

THY.RSIS.

Fair Nymph! I have in your delights no fhare; Nor ought to be concerned in your care:

Yet would I fing, if I your forrows knew ;
And to my aid invoke no Muse but

GALA TE A.

you.

Hear then, and let your fong augment our grief, Which is so great, as not to with relief.

She that had all which nature gives, or chance;
Whom fortune join'd with virtue to advance
To all the joys this ifland could afford,
The greatest Miftrefs, and the kindest Lord :
Who with the royal, mixt her noble, blood;
And in high grace with GLORIANA stood:
Her bounty, fweetnefs, beauty, goodness, fuch.
That none e're thought her happiness too much :
So well-inclin'd her favours to confer,

And kind to all, as heav'n had been to her!
The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife,
So well she acted in the fpan of life,
That tho' few years (tco few alas!) fhe told,
She feem'd in all things, but in beauty, old.
As unripe fruit, whofe verdant stalks do cleave
Clofe to the tree, which grieves no less to leave
The fmiling pendent which adorns her fo,
And, until autumn, on the bough should grow: