On the Head of a STAG.

we fome antique Hero's Strength Learn by his Launce's Weight and Length; As these vaft Beams express the Beast,

Whose shady Brows alive they drest :
Such Game, while yet the World was new,
The mighty Nimrod did purfue.

What Huntfinan of our feeble Race,
Or Dogs, dare fuch a Monster chase?
Refembling with each Blow he ftrikes
The Charge of a whole Troop of Pikes.
O fertile Head, which ev'ry Year
Cou'd fuch a Crop of Wonder bear!
The teeming Earth did never bring
So foon, fo hard, fo huge a Thing;
Which might it never have been caft,
Each Year's Growth added to the last,
These lofty Branches had fupply'd
The Earth's bold Sons prodigious Pride;
Heav'n with these Engines had been scal'd,

When Mountains heap'd on Mountains fail'd.

Te a LADY in the Garden.

EES not my Love, how Time refumes

SEES

The Glory which he lent these Flow'rs?
Though none shou'd tafte of their Perfumes,

Yet must they live but fome few Hours;
Time, what we forbear, devours.

Had Helen, or th' Egyptian Queen,
Been ne'er fo thrifty of their Graces;
Those Beauties must at length have been
The fpoil of Age, which finds our Faces
In the most retired Places.

Shou'd fome malignant Planet bring

A barren Drought, or ceaseless Show'r
Upon the Autumn, or the Spring,

And spare us neither Fruit nor Flow'r ;
Winter wou'd not stay an Hour.

Cou'd the Refolve of Love's neglect
Preferve you from the Violation

Of coming Years, then more Refpect
Were due to fo divine a Fashion;
Nor would I indulge my Paffion.

The

The Mifer's Speech in a Mafque.

OALLS of this Metal flack'd Atlanta's Pace,

BALLS

And on the am'rous Youth bestow'd the Race:
Venus, the Nymph's Mind measuring by her own,
Whom the rich Spoils of Cities overthrown
Had proftrated to Mars, cou'd well advise
Th'advent'rous Lover how to gain the Prize.
Nor less may Jupiter to Gold ascribe;
For when he turn'd himself into a Bribe,
Who can blame Danae, or the brazen Tow'r,
That they withstood not that Almighty Show'r?
Never 'till then, did Love make Jove put on
A Form more bright, and nobler than his own:
Nor were it juft, would he resume that Shape,
That flack Devotion fhou'd his Thunder 'fcape.
'Twas not Revenge for griev'd Apollo's Wrong,
Thofe Affe's Ears on Midas' Temples hung:
But fond Repentance of his happy Wish,
Because his Meat grew Metal like his Dish.
Wou'd Bacchus blefs me fo, I'd conftant hold
Unto my Wish, and die creating Gold.

Are fo lovely, sweet and fair,

Or do more ennoble Love;
Are fo choicely matcht a Pair,

Or with more Confent do move.

TH

Of Her Chamber.

HEY tafte of Death that do at Heav'n arrive;
But we this Paradise approach alive.

Instead of Death, the Dart of Love does strike,
And renders all within these Walls alike:
The high in Titles, and the Shepherd, here,
Forgets his Greatnefs, and forgets his Fear:
All ftand amaz’d, and gazing on the Fair,
Lofe Thought of what themselves, or others are;
Ambition lofe, and have no other Scope,

Save Carlife's Favour to employ their Hope.
The Thracian could (tho' all those Tales were true
The bold Greeks tell) no greater Wonders do;
Before his Feet, fo Sheep and Lions lay

Fearless and wrathlefs, while they heard him play.
The Gay, the Wife, the Gallant, and the Grave,
Subdu'd alike, all but one Paffion have:
No worthy Mind, but finds in her's there is
Something proportion'd to the Rule of his.
While fhe with chearful, but impartial Grace,
(Born for no one, but to delight the Race