To him, for whom heav'n feem'd to frame,
And measure out, this only dame.
Thrice happy is that humble pair,
Beneath the level of all care!
Over whofe heads thofe arrows fly
Of fad distrust, and jealousy :
Secured in as high extreme,
As if the world held none but them.
To him the faireft nymphs do fhow
Like moving mountains, top'd with fnow:
And every man a POLYPHEME
Does to his GALATE A feem:
None may prefume her faith to prove ;
He proffers death that proffers love.
Ah CHLORIS! that kind nature thus
From all the world had fever'd us:
Creating for our felves us two,
As love has me for only you!
READING the path to nobler ends,
A long farewel to love I gave:
Refolv'd my country, and my friends,
All that remain'd of me should have.
And this refolve no mortal dame,
None but those eyes, could have o'erthrown: The nymph, I dare not, need not name,
So high, fo like her felf alone.
Thus the tall oak, which now aspires
Above the fear of private fires;
Grown, and defign'd, for nobler ufe,
Not to make warm, but build the house;
Tho' from our meaner flames fecure,
Muft that which falls from heav'n indure.
ADAM, as in some climes the warmer Sun Makes it full fummer, e'er the fpring's begun: And with ripe fruit the bending boughs can load, Before our violets dare look abroad :
So, measure not by any common use,
The early love your brighter eyes produce.
When lately your fair hand in woman's weed
Wrap'd my glad head, I wifh'd me fo indeed,
That hafty time might never make me grow
Out of these favors, you afford me now:
That I might ever fuch indulgence find;
And you not blush, or think yourself too kind.
Who now, I fear, while I these joys express,
Begin to think how you may make them less:
The found of love makes your foft heart afraid,
And guard itself, tho' but a Child invade;
And innocently at your white breast throw
A dart as white, a ball of new-fall'n fnow.
HAT, which her flender waift confin'd,'
TH shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.
It was my heav'ns extremeft sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move!
A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair: Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the reft the fun goes round.
ERE, CELIA ! for thy fake I
H with all that grew fo near my heart;
The paffion that I had for thee,
The faith, the love, the conftancy!
And, that I may fuccessful prove,
Transform myfelf to what you love.
Fool that I was! fo much to prize
Thofe fimple virtues you despise:
Fool! that with fuch dull arrows ftrove,
Or hop'd to reach a flying dove.
For you, that are in motion ftill,
Decline our force, and mock our skill:
Who, like DON QUIXOTE, do advance
Against a windmill our vain lance.
Now will I wander thro' the air,
Mount, make a ftoop at ev'ry Fair;
And, with a fancy unconfin'd,
(As lawless as the sea or wind)
Perfue wherefoe'er you fly,
And with your various thoughts comply.
The formal ftars do travel fo,
As we their names, and courses, know;
And he that on their changes looks,
Would think them govern'd by our books:
But never were the clouds reduc'd
To any art: the motion us'd
By those free vapors are fo light,
So frequent, that the conquer'd fight
Despairs to find the rules that guide
Those gilded shadows as they flide.
And therefore of the fpacious air
Jove's royal confort had the care;
And by that pow'r did once escape,
Declining bold IXION's rape;
She, with her own resemblance, grac'd
A fhining cloud, which he embrac’d.
Such was that image, so it fimil'd
With feeming kindness, which beguil'd
Your THYRSIS lately, when he thought
He had his fleeting CELIA caught.
Twas fhap'd like her, but, for the Fair,
He fills his arms with yielding air.
A fate! for which he grieves the lefs,
Because the Gods had like fuccefs.
For in their story, one, we fee,
Perfues a nymph, and takes a tree:
A fecond, with a lover's hafte,
Soon overtakes whom he had chac'd ;
But she that did a Virgin seem,
Poffeft, appears a wand'ring ftream:
For his fuppofed love, a third
Lays greedy hold upon a bird;
And ftands amaz'd, to find his dear
A wild inhabitant of th' air.
To these old tales fuch nymphs as you
Give credit, and still make them new;
The amorous now like wonders find,
In the fwift changes of your mind.
But, CALIA, if you apprehend
The Muse of your incensed friend;
Nor would that he record your blame,
And make it live, repeat the fame;
Again deceive him, and again,
And then he fwears he'll not complain.
For ftill to be deluded fo,
Is all the pleasure lovers know ;
Who, like good falc'ners, take delight,
Not in the quarry, but the flight.
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