Once more my English Air I breathe again,
And smooth my double Ruff, and double Chin.
Now let me fee what Beauties gild the Sphere;
Body O me! the Ladies ftill are fair:
The Boxes fhine, and Galleries are full,
Such were our Bona Robas at the Bull.
But Supream Jove, what washy Rogues are here?
Are these the Sons of Beef and English Beer?
Old Pharaoh never dreamt of Kine fo lean,
This comes of meagre Soop and four Champaign.
Degenerate Race! Let your old Sire advise,
уоц defire to fill the Fair Ones Eyes,
Drink unctuous Sack, and emulate my Size.
Your half-flown Strains afpire to humble Bliss,
And proudly aim no lower than a Kiss,
Till quite worn out with acting Beaux and Wits,
You're all fent crawling to the Gravel-Pits:
Pretending Claps, there languishing you lye,
And let the Maids of the Green-ficknefs die.
The Cafe was other when we rul'd the Roaft,
We robb'd and ravish'd, but you Sigh and Toast.
But here I fee a Side-box better lin'd,
Where old plump Jack in Miniature I find,
Tho' they're but Turnfpits of the Mastiff kind.
Halfbred they feem,mark'd with the Mungrel'sCurse,
Oons! which among you dares attempt a Purfe?
If you'd appear my Sons, defend my Cause,
And let my Wit and Humour find Applaufe;
Shew your Difdain those nauseous Scenes to tafte,
Where French Buffoon like leaneft Switzer dreft,
Turns all good Politicks to Farce and Jeft.
Banish fuch Apes, and fave the finking Stage;
Let Mimes and fqueaking Eunuchs fill your Rage;
On fuch let your defcending Curfe be try'd,
Preferve plump Jack, and banish all befide.
By Andrew Marvell, Efq;
Irft was the World as one great Cymbal made,
All Mufick was a folitary Sound,
To hollow Rocks and murm'ring Fountains bound,
Jubal first made the wilder Notes agree;
And Jubal tuned Mufick's Jubilee :
He call'd the Ecchoes from their fullen Cell,
And built the Organs City, where they dwell,
Each fought a Confort in that lovely Place;
And Virgin Trebles wed the manly Base.
From whence the Progeny of Numbers new
Into harmonious Colonies withdrew.
Some to the Lute, fome to the Viol went,
And others chose the Cornet eloquent.
These practising the Wind, and those the Wire,
To fing Mens Triumphs, or in Heaven's Choir.
Then Mufick, the Mofaique of the Air,
Did of all these a folemn Noise prepare:
With which the gain'd the Empire of the Ear,
Including all between the Earth and Sphear.
Victorious Sounds! yet here your Homage do
Unto a gentler Conqueror than you;
Who though he flies the Mufick of his Praise,
Would with you Heaven's Hallelujah's raise.
By Andrew Marvell, Efq;
HT foluts, or Bays +
FOW Vainly Men themfelves amaze
And their unceffant Labours fee
Crown'd from fome fingle Herb or Tree,
Whofe fhort and narrow verged Shade
Does prudently their Toils upbraid;
While all Flow'rs and all Trees do clofe
To weave the Garlands of Repofe.
Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence thy Sifter dear!
Miftaken long, I fought you then
In bufie Companies of Men.
Your facred Plants, if here below,
Only among the Plants will grow.
Society is all but rude,
To this delicious Solitude.
No white nor red was ever seen
So am'rous as this lovely green,
Fond Lovers, cruel as their Flame,
Cut in thefe Trees their Mistress' Name.
Little, Alas, they know, or heed,
How far thefe Beauties hers exceed!
Fair Trees! where s'e'er you Barks I wound, No Name fhall but your own be found.
What wond'rous Life in this I lead!
Ripe Apples drop about my Head;
The Lufcious Clufters of the Vine
Upon my Mouth do crush their Wine;
The Nectarel, and curious Peach,
Into my Hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on Melons, as I pafs,
Infnar'd with Flow'rs, I fall on Grafs,
Here at the Fountain's fliding foot,
Or at fome Fruit-tree's moffy Root,
Cafting the Bodies Vest aside,
My Soul into the Boughs does glide:
There like a Bird it fits, and fings,
Then whets and claps its filver Wings;
And, 'till prepar'd for longer flight,
Waves in its Plumes the various Light.
Such was that happy Garden-ftate,
While Man there walk'd without a Mate:
After a Place fo pure, and sweet,
What other Help could yet be meet!
But 'twas beyond a Mortal's fhare
To wander folitary there:
Two Paradifes 'twere in one
To live in Paradife alone.
How well the skilful Gardner drew
Of Flow'rs and Herbs this Dial new!
Where from above the milder Sun
Does through a fragrant Zodiack run;
And, as it works, th' induftrious Bee
Computes its time as well as we.
How could fuch sweet and wholfom Hours
Be reckon'd but with Herbs and Flow'rs!
UST poor Lovers ftill be wooing,
Beauties must they never gain?
Muft they always be pursuing,
Never, never, to obtain?
Can you glory in our Dying?
Bleeding Wounds should Pity move; Can you glory in denying?
Yield at laft, and crown our Love.
Then all the little Gods of Love that are near us, And all the fweet Birds of the Grove that can hear us; In the Air and on Boughs shall attend us around, All the Cupids with Rofes fhall cover the Ground, Whil'ft our am'rous Birds chanting, the Eccho's
Then with Myrtle Wreaths furrounded,
Underneath cool Shades we lye;
Both Eye-wounding, both Eye-wounded,
There both killing, we'll both die.
Thy bright Eyes fhall gently fire me,
Mirth, and Wit, and Gallantry;
And thy charming Looks inspire me,
With new Themes of Poetry.
Then all the little Gods, &c.
Ucinda by a fecret Art,
Unknown to all but her;
Which she has practis'd on my Heart,
Has charm'd the Wanderer:
Enjoyment, which did ufe t'abate
The vigour of Love's Heat,
Does now fresh Appetites create,
The Pleasures to repeat.
So fares it with the Bird that's took,
And into Bondage brought;
At first his Prifon how to brook,
With difficulties taught:
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