VERSES

ΤΟ

DR. GEORGE ROGERS',

ON HIS TAKING THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR IN PHYSIC
AT PADUA, IN THE YEAR 1664.

WHEN as of old the earth's bold children strove,
With hills on hills, to scale the throne of Jove,
Pallas and Mars stood by their sovereign's side,
And their bright arms in his defence employ'd;
While the wise Phoebus, Hermes, and the rest,
Who joy in peace, and love the Muses best,
Descending from their so distemper'd seat,
Our groves and meadows chose for their retreat.
There first Apollo tried the various use

Of herbs, and learn'd the virtues of their juice,
And framed that art, to which who can pretend
A juster title than our noble friend?

Whom the like tempest drives from his abode,
And like employment entertains abroad.
This crowns him here, and in the bays, so earn'd,
His country's honour is no less concern'd,
Since it appears not all the English rave,
To ruin bent; some study how to save:

This little poem was printed, together with several others on the same occasion, by Dr. Rogers, alone with his inaugural exercise at Padua, and afterwards in the same manner republished by him at London, together with his Harveian oration before the College of Physicians, in the year 1682, while Mr. Waller was yet living.

Though the above verses were first printed in 1664, they seem to have been written before the Restoration, as appears from the lines toward the conclusion.

And as Hippocrates did once extend
His sacred art, whole cities to amend,
So we, brave friend! suppose that thy great skill,
Thy gentle mind and fair example, will,
At thy return, reclaim our frantic isle,
Their spirits calm, and peace again shall smile.

CHLORIS AND HYLAS.

MADE TO A SARABAND,

CHLORIS.

HYLAS, oh Hylas! why sit we mute,
Now that each bird saluteth the spring?
Wind up the slacken'd strings of thy lute,
Never canst thou want matter to sing;
For love thy breast does fill with such a fire,
That whatsoe'er is fair moves thy desire.

HYL. Sweetest ! you know the sweetest of things Of various flowers the bees do compose;

Yet no particular taste it brings

Of violet, woodbine, pink, or rose :

So love the result is of all the

graces

Which flow from a thousand several faces.

CHLO. Hylas! the birds which chant in this grove, Could we but know the language they use, They would instruct us better in love,

And reprehend thy inconstant Muse;

For love their breasts does fill with such a fire,

That what they once do choose, bounds their desire.

HYL. Chloris! this change the birds do approve, Which the warm season hither does bring; Time from yourself does further remove

You than the winter from the gay spring: She that like lightning shined while her face lasted, The oak now resembles which lightning hath blasted.

IN ANSWER OF

SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S VERSES.

CON.

STAY here, fond youth! and ask no more; be wise; Knowing too much long since lost Paradise.

PRO. And by your knowledge we should be bereft
Of all that paradise which yet is left. [should still
CON. The virtuous joys thou hast, thou wouldst
Last in their pride; and wouldst not take it ill
If rudely, from sweet dreams, and for a toy,
Thou waked: he wakes himself that does enjoy.
PRO. How can the joy or hope which you allow
Be styled virtuous, and the end not so?

Talk in your sleep, and shadows still admire!
'Tis true, he wakes that feels this real fire;
But-to sleep better; for whoe'er drinks deep
Of this Nepenthe, rocks himself asleep.

CON. Fruition adds no new wealth but destroys,
And while it pleaseth much, yet still it cloys.
Who thinks he should be happier made for that,
As reasonably might hope he might grow fat
By eating to a surfeit: this once pass'd,
What relishes ? even kisses lose their taste.

PRO. Blessings may be repeated while they cloy; But shall we starve, 'cause surfeitings destroy? And if fruition did the taste impair

Of kisses, why should yonder happy pair,
Whose joys just Hymen warrants all the night,
Consume the day, too, in this less delight?

CON. Urge not 'tis necessary; alas! we know
The homeliest thing that mankind does is so.
The world is of a large extent we see,

And must be peopled; children there must be:— So must bread too; but since there are enough Born to that drudgery, what need we plough?

PRO. I need not plough, since what the stooping Gets of my pregnant land must all be mine: [hine But in this nobler tillage 'tis not so;

For when Anchises did fair Venus know,
What interest had poor Vulcan in the boy,
Famous Æneas, or the present joy? [been,

CON. Women enjoy'd, whate'er before they've
Are like romances read, or scenes once seen :
Fruition dulls or spoils the play much more
Than if one read or knew the plot before.

PRO. Plays and romances read and seen, do fall In our opinions; yet not seen at all,

Whom would they please? To an heroic tale
Would you not listen, lest it should grow stale?

CON. 'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear; Heaven were not heaven if we knew what it were.

PRO. If'twere not heaven if we knew what it were, "Twould not be heaven to those that now are there. CON. And as in prospects we are there pleased

most,

Where something keeps the eye from being lost,
And leaves us room to guess; so here restraint
Holds up delight, that with excess would faint.

PRO. Restraint preserves the pleasure we have But he ne'er has it that enjoys it not. [got, In goodly prospects who contracts the space, Or takes not all the bounty of the place? We wish removed what standeth in our light, And Nature blame for limiting our sight; Where you stand wisely winking, that the view Of the fair prospect may be always new.

CON. They who know all the wealth they have are poor;

He's only rich that cannot tell his store.

PRO. Not he that knows the wealth he has is poor, But he that dares not touch nor use his store.

AN APOLOGY

FOR HAVING LOVED BEFORE.

THEY that never had the use
Of the grape's surprising juice,
To the first delicious cup
All their reason render up;
Neither do not care to know
Whether it be best or no.

So they that are to love inclined,
Sway'd by chance, not choice, or art,
To the first that's fair or kind,
Make a present of their heart:
It is not she that first we love,
But whom dying we approve.

To man, that as in the' evening made,
Stars gave the first delight,
Admiring, in the gloomy shade,
Those little drops of light: