SONNET.

DEATH.

WHAT has this bugbear, Death, that's worth our
After a life in pain and sorrow past, [care?
After deluding hope and dire despair,
Death only gives us quiet at the last.

How strangely are our love and hate misplac'd!
Freedom we seek, and yet from freedom flee;
Courting those tyrant-sins that chain us fast,

And shunning Death, that only sets us free.

"Tis not a foolish fear of future pains, [stains?) (Why should they fear who keep their souls from That makes me dread thy terrours, Death, to see: 'Tis not the loss of riches, or of fame, Or the vain toys, the vulgar pleasures name; 'Tis nothing, Cælia, but the losing thee.

ELEGY.

TO HIS FALSE MISTRESS.

CALIA, your tricks will now no longer pass,
And I'm no more the fool that once I was.
I know my happier rival does obtain
All the vast bliss for which I sigh in vain.
Him, him you love, to me you use your art;
I had your looks, another had your heart:
To me you 're sick, to me of spies afraid;
He finds your sickness gone, your spies betray'd:
I sigh beneath your window all the night;
He in your arms possesses the delight.

I know you treat me thus, false fair, I do ;
And, oh! what plagues me worse, he knows it too;
To him my sighs are told, my letters shown,
And all my pains are his diversion grown.
Yet, since you could such horrid treasons act,
I'm pleas'd you chose out him to do the fact:
His vanity does for my wrongs atone,

And 'tis by that I have your falsehood known.
What shall I do? for treated at this rate,
I must not love, and yet I cannot hate:
I hate the actions, but I love the face:
Oh, were thy virtue more, or beauty less!
I'm all confusion, and my soul 's on fire,
Torn by contending Reason and Desire;
This bids me love, that bids me love give o'er,
One counsels best, the other pleases more.
I know I ought to hate you for your fault,
But, oh! I cannot do the thing I ought.
Canst thou, mean wretch! canst thou contented prove
With the cold relics of a rival's love?

Why did I see that face to charm my breast?
Or, having seen, why did I know the rest?
Gods! if I have obey'd your just commands,
If I've deserv'd some favour of your hands;
Make me that tame, that easy fool again,
And rid me of my knowledge and my pain:
And you, false fair! for whom so oft I've griev'd,
Pity a wretch that begs to be deceiv'd;
Forswear yourself for one who dies for you,
Vow, not a word of the whole charge was true;
But scandals all, and forgeries, devis'd
By a vain wretch neglected and despis'd.
I too will help to forward the deceit,
And, to my power, contribute to the cheat.

UPON THE SAME OCCASION.

WHAT fury does disturb my rest?
What Hell is this within my breast?
Now I abhor, and now I love;
And each an equal torment prove.
I see Celinda's cruelty,

I see she loves all men but me;

I see her falsehood, see her pride,

I see ten thousand faults beside;

I see she sticks at nought that 's ill;
Yet, oh ye powers! I love her still.
Others on precipices run,

Which, blind with love, they cannot shun
I see my danger, see my ruin;
Yet seek, yet court, my own undoing:
And each new reason I explore

To hate her, makes me love her more.

THE ANTIDOTE.

WHEN I see the bright nymph who my heart does ent bra!,

When I view her soft eyes, and her languishing Her merit so great, my own merit so small, [air, It makes me adore, and it makes me despair.

But when I consider, she squanders on fools

All those treasures of beauty with which she is
My fancy it damps, my passion it cools, [stor'd;
And it makes me despise what before I ador'd.
Thus sometimes I despair, and sometimes I despise:
I love, and I hate, but I never esteem:
The passion grows up when I view her bright eyes,
Which my rivals destroy when I look upon them!

How wisely does Nature things so different unite?
In such odd compositions our safety is found;
As the blood of a scorpion 's a cure for the bite,
So her folly makes whole whom her beauty does
wound.

UPON A FAVOUR OFFERED.
CALIA, too late you would repent;
The offering all your store,
Is now but like a pardon sent
To one that 's dead before.

While at the first you cruel prov'd,
And grant the bliss too late;
You hinder'd me of one I lov'd,

To give me one I hate.

I thought you innocent as fair,
When first my court I made;
But when your falsehoods plain appear,
My love no longer stay'd.

Your bounty of those favours shown,
Whose worth you first deface,
Is melting valued nedals down,
And giving us the brass.

Oh, since the thing we beg 's a toy
That 's priz'd by love alone,
Why cannot women grant the joy,
Before our love is gone?

But, oh they see not with their own,

All things to them are through false optics shown. Love at the first does all your charms increase, When the tube 's turn'd, hate represents them less.

LOVER.

Whate'er may come, I will not grieve

For dangers that I can't believe. She 'll ne'er cease loving me; or if she do, 'Tis ten to one I cease to love her too.

THE RECONCILEMENT.
BE gone, ye sighs! be gone, ye tears!
Be gone, ye jealousies and fears!
Celinda swears she never lov'd,
Celinda swears none ever mov'd
Her heart, but I; if this be true,
Shall I keep company with you?
What though a senseless rival swore
She said as much to him before?
What though I saw him in her bed?

I'll trust not what I saw, but what she said.
Curse on the prudent and the wise,

Who ne'er believe such pleasing lies:
I grant she only does deceive;

I grant 'tis folly to believe;

But by this folly I vast pleasures gain, While you with all your wisdom live in pain.

DIALOGUE

BETWEEN A LOVER AND HIS FRIEND.

[IRREGULAR VERSES.]

FRIEND.

VALUE thyself, fond youth, no more
On favours Mulus had before;
He had her first, her virgin flame,
You like a bold intruder came
To the cold relics of a feast,

When he at first had seiz'd the best.

LOVER.

When he, dull sot, had seiz'd the worse,
I came in at the second course;
'Tis chance that first makes people love,
Judgment their riper fancies move.
Mulus, you say, first charm'd her eyes;
First, she lov'd babies and dirt-pies;
But she grew wiser, and in time

Found out the folly of those toys and him.

FRIEND.

If wisdom change in love begets,
Women, no doubt, are wondrous wits.

But wisdom that now makes her change to you,
In time will make her change to others too.

LOVER.

I grant you no man can foresee his doom;
But shall I grieve because an ill may come?
Yet I'll allow her change, when she can see
A man deserves her more than me,
As much as I deserve her more than he.

FRIEND.

Did they with our own eyes see our desert, No woman e'er could from her lover part.

EPIGRAM.

LYCE.

"Go," said old Lyce, "senseless lover, go,
And with soft verses court the fair; but know,
With all thy verses, thou canst get no more
Than fools without one verse have had before."
Enrag'd at this, upon the bawd I flew,

And that which most enrag'd me was, 'twas true.

THE FAIR MOURNER.

In what sad pomp the mournful charmer lies!
Does she lament the victim of her eyes?
Or would she hearts with soft compassion move,
To make them take the deeper stamp of Love?
What youth so wise, so wary to escape,
When Rigour comes, drest up in Pity's shape?
Let not in vain those precious tears be shed,
Pity the dying fair-one, not the dead;
While you unjustly of the Fates complain,
I grieve as much for you, as much in vain.
Each to relentless judges make their moan;
Blame not Death's cruelty, but cease your own.
While raging passion both our souls does wound,
A sovereign balm might sure for both be found;
Would you but wipe your fruitless tears away,
And with a just compassion mine survey.

EPIGRAM.

TO HIS FALSE MISTRESS.

THOU saidst that I alone thy heart could move,
And that for me thou wouldst abandon Jove.
I lov'd thee then, not with a love defil'd,
But as a father loves his only child.

I know thee now, and though I fiercelier burn,
Thou art become the object of my scorn:
See what thy falsehood gets; I must confess
I love thee more, but I esteem thee less.

EPIGRAM.

LOVE AND JEALOUSY.

How much are they deceiv'd who vainly strive
By jealous fears to keep our flames alive!
Love 's like a torch, which, if secur'd from blasts,
Will faintlier burn, but then it longer lasts:
Expos'd to storms of jealousy and doubt,
The blaze grows greater, but 'tis sooner out.

ELEGY.

THE PETITION.

IN IMITATION OF CATULLUS.

Is there a pious pleasure that proceeds
From contemplation of our virtuous deeds?
That all mean sordid actions we despise,
And scorn to gain a throne by cheats and lies?
Thyrsis, thou hast sure blessings laid in store,
From thy just dealing in this curst amour :
What honour can in words or deeds be shown,
Which to the fair thou hast not said and done?
On her false heart they all are thrown away;
She only swears, more eas'ly to betray.
Ye powers! that know the many vows she broke,
Free my just soul from this unequal yoke!
My love boils up, and, like a raging flood,
Runs through my veins, and taints my vital blood.
I do not vainly beg she may grow chaste,
Or with an equal passion burn at last ;
The one she cannot practise, though she would;
And I contemn the other, though she should:
Nor ask I vengeance on the perjur'd jilt;
'Tis punishment enough to have her guilt.
I beg but balsam for my bleeding breast,

Cure for my wounds, and from my labours rest.

Nor ought those things to be confin'd, That were for public good design'd;

Could we in foolish pride, Make the Sun always with us stay, "Twould burn our corn and grass away, To starve the world beside.

Let not the thoughts of parting fright
Two souls, which passion does unite;
For while our love does last,
Neither will strive to go away;
And why the Devil should we stay,
When once that love is past?

EPIGRAMS.

CHLOE.

CHLOE, new-marry'd, looks on men no more; Why then 'tis plain for what she look'd before.

CORNUS.

CORNUS proclaims aloud his wife's a whore;
Alas, good Cornus, what can we do more?
Wert thou no cuckold, we might make thee one;
But, being one, we cannot make thee none.

ELEGY,

UPON QUITTING HIS MISTRESS.

I KNOW, Celinda, I have borne too long,
And, by forgiving, have increas'd my wrong:
Yet if there be a power in verse to slack
Thy course in vice, or bring fled Virtue back,
I'll undertake the task, howe'er so hard;
A generous action is its own reward.
Oh! were thy virtues equal to thy charms,
I'd fly from crowns to live within those arms:
But who, oh who, can e'er believe thee just,
When such known falsehoods have destroy'd all trust?
Farewell, false fair! nor shall I longer stay,
Since we must part, why should we thus delay?
Your love alone was what my soul could prize,
And missing that, can all the rest despise ;
Yet should I not repent my follies past,
Could you take up and grow reserv'd at last,
"Twould please me, parted from your fatal charms,
To see you happy in another's arms.
Whatever threatenings fury might extort,
Oh fear not I should ever do you hurt:
For though my former passion is remov'd,
I would not injure one I once had lov'd.
Adieu! while thus I waste my time in vain,
Sure there are maids I might entirely gain:
I'll search for such, and to the first that 's true,
Resign the heart so hardly freed from you.

TO HIS MISTRESS,

AGAINST MARRIAGE.

YES, all the world must sure agree, He who 's secur'd of having thee, Will be entirely blest;

But 't were in me too great a wrong, To make one who has been so long My queen, my slave at last.

THRASO.

THRASO picks quarrels when he 's drunk at night;
When sober in the morning dares not fight.
Thraso, to shun those ills that may ensue,
Drink not at night, or drink at morning too.

GRIPE AND shifter.

RICH Gripe does all his thoughts and cunning bend,
T' increase that wealth he wants the soul to spend.
Poor Shifter does his whole contrivance set
To spend that wealth he wants the sense to get.
How happy would appear to each his fate,
Had Gripe his humour, or he Gripe's estate!
Kind Fate and Fortune, blend them if you can,
And of two wretches make one happy man!

TO CELIA,

UPON SOME ALTERATIONS IN HER FACE,

Au, Cælia! where are now the charms
That did such wondrous passions move?
Time, cruel Time, those eyes disarms,

And blunts the feeble darts of Love.
What malice does the tyrant bear
To womens' interest, and to ours?
Beauties in which the public share,
The greedy villain first devours.

Who, without tears, can see a prince,
That trains of fawning courtiers had,
Abandon'd, left without defence?
Nor is thy hapless fate less sad.

Thou who so many fools hast known,
And all the fools would hardly do,
Shouldst now confine thyself to one!
And he, alas! a husband too.
See the ungrateful slaves, how fast

They from thy setting glories run; And in what mighty crowds they haste To worship Flavia's rising sun!

In vain are all the practis'd wiles,

In vain those eyes would love impart ; Not all th' advances, all the smiles,

Can move one unrelenting heart. While Flavia, charming Flavia, still

By cruelty her cause maintains ; And scarce vouchsafes a careless smile

To the poor slaves that wear her chains.

Well, Cælia, let them waste their tears;
But sure they will in time repine,
That thou hast not a face like hers,
Or she has not a heart like thine.

THE RETIREMENT.

ALL hail, ye fields, where constant peace attends!
All hail, ye sacred solitary groves!
All hail, ye books, my true, my real friends,
Whose conversation pleases and improves !

Could one who studied your sublimer rules

Become so mad to search for joys abroad? To run to towns, to herd with knaves and fools, And undistinguish'd pass among the crowd?

One to ambitious fancy 's made a prey,

Thinks happiness in great preferment lies; Nor fears for that his country to betray, Curst by the fools, and laught at by the wise.

Others, whom avaricious thoughts bewitch,

Consume their time to multiply their gains;
And, fancying wretched all that are not rich,
Neglect the end of life to get the means.

Others, the name of pleasure does invite,
All their dull time in sensual joys they live;
And hope to gain that solid firm delight

By vice, which innocence alone can give.

But how perplext, alas! is human fate!

I, whom nor avarice nor pleasures move, Who view with scorn the trophies of the great, Yet must myself be made a slave to love.

If this dire passion never will be gone,

If beauty always must my heart enthral, Oh! rather let me be confin'd to one,

Than madly thus be made a prey to all!

One who has early known the pomps of state,
(For things unknown 'tis ignorance to condemn)
And after having view'd the gaudy bait,
Can boldly say, The trifle I contemn.

In her blest arms contented could I live,
Contented could I die: but oh! my mind
I feed with fancies, and my thoughts deceive
With hope of things impossible to find.

In women how should sense and beauty meet?
The wisest men their youth in follies spend ;
The best is he that earliest finds the cheat,
And sees his errours while there 's time to mend.

THE DESPAIRING LOVER. DISTRACTED with care

For Phyllis the fair,

Since nothing could move her,
Poor Damon, her lover,.
Resolves in despair

No longer to languish,
Nor bear so much anguish;
But, mad with his love,
To a precipice goes,
Where a leap from above

Would soon finish his woes.

When in rage he came there,

Beholding how steep

The sides did appear,

And the bottom how deep;

His torments projecting,

And sadly reflecting,

That a lover forsaken

A new love may get,

But a neck when once broken
Can never be set;
And, that he could die
Whenever he would,
But, that he could live
But as long as he could:
How grievous soever
The torment might grow,
He scorn'd to endeavour
To finish it so.

But bold, unconcern'd
At thoughts of the pain,
He calmly return'd
To his cottage again.

SONG.

Or all the torments, all the cares,
With which our lives are curst;
Of all the plagues a lover bears,
Sure rivals are the worst!
By partners, in each other kind,
Afflictions easier grow;

In love alone we hate to find
Companions of our woe.
Sylvia, for all the pangs you see
Are labouring in my breast,
I beg not you would favour me,
Would you but slight the rest!
How great soe'er your rigours are,
With them alone I'll cope;
I can endure my own despair,
But not another's hope.

A SONG TO PHYLLIS, PHYLLIS, we not grieve that Nature, Forming you, has done her part; And in every single feature

Show'd the utmost of her art.

PHYLLIS'S

But in this it is pretended

That a mighty grievance lies, That your heart should be defended, Whilst you wound us with your eyes.

Love's a senseless inclination,

Where no mercy's to be found; But is just, where kind compassion Gives us balm to heal the wound.

Persians, paying solemn duty,
To the rising Sun inclin'd,
Never would adore his beauty,
But in hopes to make him kind.

PHYLLIS'S RESOLUTION.
WHEN slaves their liberty require,
They hope no more to gain,
But you not only that desire,

But ask the power to reign.

Think how unjust a suit you make,

Then you will soon decline;

Your freedom, when you please, pray take,
But trespass not on mine.

No more in vain, Alcander, crave,
I ne'er will grant the thing,

That he, who once has been my slave,
Should ever be my king.

No parting sorrows to extort your tears,
No blustering husband to renew your fears!
Therefore, dear madam, let a friend advise,
Love and its idle deity despise :

Suppress wild Nature, if it dares rebel;
There's no such thing as "6

413

'leading apes in Hell."

CLELIA TO URANIA.

AN ODE.

THE dismal regions which no Sun beholds,
Whilst his fires roll some distant world to cheer,
Which in dry darkness, frost, and chilling cold,
Spend one long portion of the dragging year,
At his returning influence never knew
More joy than Clelia, when she thinks of you.
Those zealots, who adore the rising Sun,

Would soon their darling deity despise,
And with more warm, more true devotion run,
To worship nobler beams, Urania's eyes;
Had they beheld her lovely form divine,
Where rays more glorious, more attracting, shine.
But, ah! frail mortals, though you may admire
At a convenient distance all her charms,
Approach them, and you 'll feel a raging fire,

Which scorches deep, and all your power disarms: Thus, like th' Arabian bird, your care proceeds From the bright object which your pleasure breeds.

AN EPISTLE,

TO A LADY WHO HAD RESOLVED AGAINST MARRIAGE.

MADAM, I cannot but congratulate
Your resolution for a single state;
Ladies, who would live undisturb'd and free,
Must never put on Hymen's livery;
Perhaps its outside seems to promise fair,
But underneath is nothing else but care.
If once you let the gordian knot be ty'd,
Which turns the name of virgin into bride,
That one fond act your life's best scene foregoes,
And leads you in a labyrinth of woes,
Whose strange meanders you may search about,
But never find the clue to let you out.
The married life affords you little ease,
The best of husbands is so hard to please:
This in wives' careful faces you may spell,
Though they dissemble their misfortunes well.
No plague 's so great as an ill-ruling head,
Yet 'tis a fate which few young ladies dread:
For Love's insinuating fire they fan,
With sweet ideas of a godlike man.
Chloris and Phyllis glory'd in their swains,
And sung their praises ou the neighbouring plains;
Oh! they were brave, accomplish'd, charming men,
Angels till marry'd, but proud devils then.
Sure some resistless power with Cupid sides,
Or we should have more virgins, fewer brides;
For single lives afford the most content,
Secure and happy, as they 're innocent:
Bright as Olympus, crown'd with endless ease,
And calm as Neptune on the Halcyon seas:
Your sleep is broke with no domestic cares,
No bawling children to disturb your prayers;

SONG.

THOUGH Celia's born to be ador'd,

And Strephon to adore her born,

In vain her pity is implor'd,

Who kills him twice with charms and scorn.

Fair saint, to your blest orb repair,

To learn in Heaven a heavenly mind; Thence hearken to a sinner's prayer, And be less beauteous, or more kind.

LOVING ONE I NEVER SAW.
THOU tyrant god of Love, give o'er,
And persecute this breast no more:
Ah! tell me why must every dart
Be aim'd at my unhappy heart?
I never murmur'd or repin'd,
But patiently myself resign'd

To all the torments, which through thee
Have fell, alas! on wretched me:
But oh! I can no more sustain
This long-continued state of pain,
Though 'tis but fruitless to complain.
My heart, first soften'd by thy power,
Ne'er kept its liberty an hour:
So fond and easy was it grown,
Each nymph might call the fool her own:
So much to its own interest blind,
So strangely charm'd to womankind,
That it no more belong'd to me,
Than vestal-virgins hearts to thee.
I often courted it to stay;
But, deaf to all, 'twould fly away.