Poems by N. Tate. Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715. 1677 Approx. 121 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 74 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A63095 Wing T208 ESTC R21921 12739864 ocm 12739864 93102 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A63095) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 93102) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 370:5) Poems by N. Tate. Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715. [15], 133 p. Printed by T.M. for Benj. Tooke ..., London : 1677. 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Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng 2002-02 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-03 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-04 TCP Staff (Michigan) Sampled and proofread 2002-04 John Latta Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-05 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Licensed , November 27. 1676. Roger L'Estrange . POEMS . BY N. TATE . LONDON , Printed by T. M. for Benj. Tooke at the Signe of the Ship in St. Pauls , Church-yard , MDCLXXVII . To The LEARNED and much HONOURED Dr. Walter Needham OF Charter-House . A Dedication ( according to the present Mode ) must be an Harrangue on the Accomplishments of the Person to whom it is Addrest ; But , Sir , though your general Acquaintance with the Sciences , and your happy Performances in the most usefull of them , invite me ( on the first View ) to embrace so excellent a Theam ; yet when I reflect how that on this occasion no Rhetorick can be Pardonable that is not Extraordinary ; and when I farther Consider how well your Excellencies are known to the World , I find that my best Endeavours can prove but an Impertinent Zeal . Besides , Sir , had I been able to do Justice to your worth and Fame , yet I have Reason to believe , that my Silence on that Subject would with you find better Welcome , than the most Elaborate Panegyrick . As for the following Poems ( which I have publisht on Reasons Satisfactory to my self , and my Friends ) they are Fortunate enough , in having first been Pardon'd , and then receiv'd into your Favour . 'T were Injury to the Publick to Intrude on those portions of your time that are employ'd in the Health of your Countrey ; but if the best products of my humble Fancy may have Access to your Leisure Hours , 't is the highest Ambition of , SIR , Your devoted humble Servant , N. TATE . THE CONTENTS . THe Indispos'd Page 1. On a Diseas'd old Man who Wept at Thought of Leaving the World 4 To Mr. Flatman on his excellent Poems 8 On the Present Corrupted state of Poetry 14 The Search 19 The Prospect 24 The Request 26 The Installment 27 The Pennance 29 Laura's Walk 30 The Vsurpers 32 The Amusement . Dialogue , Strephon and Sylvia . 34 The Amorist 37 The Surprizall 38 The Vn-confin'd 39 Dialogue , Alexis and Laura 40 The Restitution 44 The Escape 45 The Politicians 47 The Vow-Breaker 48 The Tear 50 The Discovery 52 The Parting 55 On an old Miser that hoarded his Money in a steel Chest and Bury'd it 57 The Vision Written in a dangerous Fit of Sickness 58 Ode to my ingenious Friend Mr Flatman . 67 The Banquet . 68 The Match . 69 The Disconsolate 71 Sliding on Scates in very hard Frost 73 Strephon's Complaint on quitting his Retirement 74 The Gold-Hater 78 The Ingrates 79 Disappointed 80 Some of Martials Epigrams Translated and Paraphras'd . From Page 81 to Page 87 The Confinement 87 On Snow fall'n in Autumn , and dissolv'd by the Sun 88 Melancholly 89 On a Grave Sir's Retireing to write in order to undeceive the World 92 On a deform'd Old Beldam designing to have her Picture drawn 94 Advice to a Friend designing to publish his Poems 96 The Ignorant 97 The Beldam's Song 98 The Inconstant . A Paraphrase on the XV Epod of Horace 100 Of the Ape and the Fox . A Paraphrase on one of the Centum Fabulae . 102 The Round 104 The Male-Content 105 The Dream 106 Amor Sepulchralis 108 The 3 first Verses of the 46 Psalm Paraphras'd 109 The Mid-night Thought 131 The Counter-turn 113 The Voyagers 114 The Choice 115 On Sight of some Martyrs Sepulchres 116 Of the Few Adherents to Virtue 117 The Requitall 118 To a Desponding Friend Ibid. Disswasion of an Aged Friend from quitting his Retirement 119 Recovering from a Fit of Sickness 120 The Challenge 122 The Cure 124 The Hurricane 131 The Gratefull Shepheard 132 ERRATA . PAge 68 line 8. for Dairie's store read Dairies store , p. 70. l. 5. for yields r. yield . p. 71. l. 7. for sink r. sinks . p. 74. l. 3. for are restrain'd r. are now restrain'd . p. 89. l. 14. for Egyptian r. t'Egyptian . p. 91. l. 19. for springs in r. springs not in . POEMS . The Indispos'd . I. WHat tho th'unweary'd Sun Already has his Race begun ? Already summon'd to their Pleasant Toyl Th' Inhabitants o' th' open Soyl ? What Comfort in his Lustre can I find , If yet no cheerful Glimpse begin A Glorious Morn Within , But Mists and Darkness still oppress my Mind ? II. What Entertainment can it be To hear the Tunefull Birds from ev'ry Tree , With Grateful Songs the rising Day salute , Unless my Fancy with the Musick suit ? If in my Thoughts I find no Harmony , I shall ( Alass ! ) as soon Rejoyce At th' Ominous Ravens dolefull Voyce ; Or be diverted with the Bell , That Rings my Own , or dearer Friends untimetly Knell . III. Whilst in my Breast the Weather 's Fair , I ne're enquire the Temper of the Air : So Reason o're my Appetites bear sway , I 'm unconcern'd what Planet Rules the Day . If husht and silent my fierce Passions lye , The loudest Gusts that rend the Sky , Invite Repose , and make my Sleep more sound : The Tempest in my Brest Alone can break my Rest ; Ev'n Hurricanes abroad are sound To Dammage less than smallest Winds hatcht Under-ground . On a Diseased Old Man , who Wept at thought of leaving the World. I. Shame on thy Beard ! That thou canst Bug-bears dread ! Fear Death whom thou so oft hast seen , So oft his Guest at Funerals been ; Thy self ' i th' Better Half already Dead ! 'T is strange to see that Frozen Head Such Plenteous Moysture shed ; Whence can this Stream be fed ? The Tears were just , which at thy Birth did flow , For then Alass ! thou had'st t' engage Life 's Inconveniences , but now Thou art allow'd to quit the Tragick Stage , Now to be careful to prolong the Scen● , And Act thy Miseries o're agen , Is Folly not to be forgiv'n in ev'n thy Doating Age. II. Full Fourscore Years ( Bless us ! a dreadful Space ) The World has us'd Thee ill , Abus'd Thee to Thy Face ; And Doatard canst Thou still Sollicite her Embrace ? In vain Thou covet'st to enjoy This haughty Dame , when Age and Pains Have shrunk thy Nerves , and chill'd thy Veins , Who to thy Flourishing Years , was so Reserv'd and Coy . III. Can Cramps , Catharrs , and Palsies be Such ravishing Company , That thou shou'd'st mourn the Loss of their Society ? What Pleasures can the Grave deprive Thy Senses of ? What Inconvenience give , Which Thou' rt exempted from Alive ? At worst thou canst but have Cold Lodging in the Grave ; Nor ly'st thou Warmer now tho cover'd o're In Furr , till thy faint Limbs can bear no more : Thou sleep'st each Night in so much Sear-cloth bound , thou 'dst need no more wert thou to take thy Lodging Under-ground . IV. Go ; lay thy friv'lous Hopes of Health aside ; No longer Potions take , No more Incisions make , Let thy dull Flesh no more be Scarify'd : Resign , resign thy Fated Breath , Consult with no Physitian more , but Death : When all thy Surgeons Instruments prove vain , His never-failing Dart Will Bleed thee gently at thy Heart , And let out Life , the Sourse of all thy Pain : Let then thy Funeral Pile be made , With Rosemary and Cypress grac't , Aloft on it thy Carcass plac't ; Beside thee there thy Crutches laid : Those Utensills will thus oblige thee more , Fomenting the kind Flame , then when they bore Thy Crazy and Decrepit Limbs before ! TO Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN ON HIS Excellent POEMS . STrange Magick of thy Wit and Stile Which to their griefs mankind can Reconcile ! Whilst thy Philander's tuneful Voice we hear , Condoling our Disastrous state , Toucht with a sense of our hard Fate , We sigh perhaps , or drop a Tear ; But he the mournful Song so sweetly sings , That more of Pleasure than Regret it brings , With such becoming Grief The Trojan Chief Troy's Conflagration did relate , VVhil'st ev'n the Suff'rers in the Fire drew near , And with a greedy Ear Devour'd the story of their own subverted state . II. Kind Heav'n ( as to her darling Son ) to Thee A double Portion did impart , A Gift of Painting and of Poesie : But for thy Rivals in the Painters Art , If well they Represent , thy can effect No more , nor can we more expect . But more than this Thy happy Pencils give ; Thy Drafts are more than Representative ; For , if we 'l credit our own eyes , they Live ! Ah! Worthy Friend , cou'dst Thou maintain the State Of what with so much Ease thou do'st Create , We might reflect on Death with Scorn ! But Pictures like th'Originals decay ! Of Colours Those consist , and These of Clay ; A like Compos'd of Dust , to Dust alike Return ! III. Yet 't is our Happiness to see Oblivion , Death , and adverse Destiny Encounter'd , Vanquish'd , and Disarm'd by thee . For if thy Pencils fail , Change thy Artillery , And Thou' rt secure of Victory ; Employ thy Quill , and thou shalt still prevail . The grand Destroyer greedy Time reveres Thy Fancy's Imag'ry , and spares The meanest things that bear Th' Impression of thy Pen : Tho' course and cheap their Natural Mettal were , Stampt with thy Verse , he knows th' are sacred , then . He knows them by that Character to be Predestinate , and set a part for Immortality . IV. If native Lustre in thy Theams appear , Improv'd by thee , it shines more clear : Or if thy Subject's void of native Light , Thy Fancy need but dart a Beam To guild thy Theam , And make the rude Mass beautiful and bright . Thou vary'st oft thy Strains , but still Success attends each Strain : Thy Verse is alwayes lofty as the Hill , Or pleasant as the Plain . How well thy Muse the Pastoral Song improves ! Whose Nymphs and Swains are in their Loves , As Innocent , and yet as Kind as Doves . But most She moves our Wonder and Delight , When She performs her loose Pindarick Flight ; Oft to their outmost reach She will extend Her towring VVings to soar on high , And then by just Degrees descend : Oft in a swift strait Course she glides , Obliquely oft the air divides , And oft with wanton Play hangs hov'ring in the sky . V. VVhilst sense of Duty into my artless Muse , Th' ambition wou'd infuse To mingle with those Nymphs that Homage pay , And wait on Thine in her tryumphant Way ; Defect of Merit checks her forward Pride , And makes her dread t' approach thy Chariot side ; For 't were at least a rude Indecency ( If not Prophane ) t' appear At this Solemnity , Crown'd with no Lawrel Wreath ( when others are . ) But this she will presume to do , At distance to attend the show , Officiously to gather up The scatter'd Bayes , if any drop From others Temples ; and with those , A plain Plebeian Coronet compose . This , as your Livery , she 'd wear , to hide Her Nakedness , not gratifie her Pride ! Such was the Verdant dress , Which the offending Pair did frame Of platted Leaves , not to express Their Pride i' th' Novel-garb , but to conceal their Shame . ON THE Present Corrupted State OF POETRY , I. WRite thy own Elegy Apostate Art , Thou Angel once of Light ; But , since thy Fall , a Fiend of Night , Mankind endeav'ring to pervert . At first , to th' Altars Service thou wert bound , With Innocence instead of Lawrel Crown'd ; Anthems and Hallelujah's only did'st resound : But now , forgetful of thy high Descent , meanly thou labour'st to foment The Vanity and Vices of the Age ; Flatt'ring in Courts , and Rev'lling on the Stage . That Poesie , that did at first inspire Devotion and Seraphick Fire , Degenerate now her Art imploy's In Recommending Sensual Ioyes ; Bawd-like , contriving to excite The wasted Letcher's Appetite ; And with forc'd Heat sustain Love's languishing Desire . II. The wisest and most potent Kings of Old , did not disdain To leave their Royal Names Enroll'd , With those of the Poetick Train : They reapt more durable Renown From Writing well , Then when they did in Arms excell : They priz'd their Poets Wreath above their Prince's Crown . But then the Celebrated Nine , Pious as Sybills , Chast as Vestals were , The Graces were not more Divine ; But now Deform'd , and Bloated they appear ; Nyctimene sustain'd , no Change so fowl , Transform'd into a glaring Owl ; Or when th' Audacious King a New-made Wolf did Houl . III. In Ages past , when Vertue was allow'd , The Dignity of Verse was Understood : 'T was then employ'd t'embalm some VVorthy 's Name : Nought then cou'd purchase Elogies but Fame . But Poetry now is Mercenary grown . Encomiums she 'll bestow On Potentates , by their high Rank alone , And singular Vices infamously known ; For , if no Paint or Varnish can disguise Their gross Enormities , Audaciously she 'll Praise their Vices too ! Thus none more largely share in her Applause , Than some grand Murtherer O' th' Field , That boasts of Myriads kill'd , Regardless of the Justice of his Cause . If to Destroy can challenge Fame , Famines and Plagues the largest Trophies claim ; But these the Muses Peccadillo's are , And cannot with their blacker Crimes compare : Long since they were Immodest grown , and Vain ; But are ( Oh! Heav'n ) at last become Profane ! Atheism and Blasphemy have dar'd to Preach , Religion of Imposture to impeach ; Stiffling that Zeal , which first Themselves to the rude World did . Teach . IV. Time was when Pious Bards might safely Dream By Helicon , or fair Pirene's Stream ; And fly their towring Wit at some Caelestial Theam : But now , with Leaprous Fancies bathing there , Those Springs so infamous are grown , Chast Souls fear to approach the Muses Air ; And sacred Theams the Poyson'd Waters shun . Nor has Heav'ns just Revenge regardless view'd , Th' Enormities Of these Apostate Votaries ; But them and their Confaed'rates too , with signal Rage pursu'd . A constant Curse of Poverty attends Th' Unfortunate Man , whom any Muse befriends . All who in this deluding Art engage , Set out with Pleasure , drooping reach their Stage ; Frollick in Youth , and Male-content in Age ! Thus ( neer Learn'd Cam's fair Current Pensive laid ) Th'Ill-treated Cowley did his Muse upbraid : Ah! who 'd Credit that Surveys , Th' Amours and Dalliance of their Youthful Dayes ? That ere this Peaceful Bard , and gentle Muse , Cou'd Bicker thus , and mutually accuse ? So , whil'st some seeming Happy Pair ( who Hymens Fetters wear ) In Publick Fond as Turtles are , Th' Unwed with Envy their Caresses View But Ah! What wou'd they do , If ( as they see their open Loves ) their private Feuds They knew ? The Search . I. COnfess Ingenuously O Man , The Upshot of thy Toyl and Pain , The Product of thy Brain ; Since first thy buisie Race began . Canst thou produce one Evidence , Or plausible Pretence , Thy boasted Reason to Evince ? Yes — Gradually each Age has been Refin'd By the important Labours of Man-kind ; The Labours of their Hand , and of their Mind , Ev'n Wilye Nature , with her Protean Shapes , Rarely from their Inquisitive Search escapes ; Long she Resists ; but strictly prest , Resigns th' Arcanas of her Brest . Bold Mortals Rob with Ease Her Richest Cossers , be they laid Deep i' th' Recesses of profoundest Seas , Or to the Caverns of the Earth convey'd ; For rather than live Poor , They 'l dive in quest of Gemms that sleep On Beds of Rock beneath the Deep , And Travel Under-ground for Golden-Oar . II. Enough ! — If we 'l lay claim , From these Performances , to Fame , Where will the Catalogue of our Praises end ? For , thousand Instances beside Will vindicate our Pride , And still the Tryumphs of our Wit extend . Such are the Conquests which we daily gain On Learnings Undiscover'd Parts : Our active Fancies still Create New Arts ; Or , what is more , Ev'n from the Dead Restore Arts , that in Ages Past have buri'd lain . And yet 't is fear'd , there 's Reason to suspect Our Glorie's Weight will fail , And Vanity prove the Heavier Scale : Impartially if we Reflect , We shall perceive there 's wanting yet The Richest Crown our Tirumphs to Compleat ; In vain we boast Discoveries , Whil'st we Return without the Master Prize ; The Art of Happiness still Undiscover'd lyes . III. Oh Happiness ! ( if Happiness be ought Beside a wild Chimaera in the Thought ) To what close Nook ar't Thou confin'd ? What distant Continent or Isle , That thou canst still beguile The restless Scrutiny of all Man-kind ! Ev'n in this Vale of Misery , Some Rivulets of Bliss we tast ; But Riv'lets almost Dry , And tainted with th' Unsavory Grounds through which they past . Ah! that some friendly Seraph wou'd convey , Or point me out the Way To those glad Lands , where Happiness slows pure ; Where I might drink secure At Pleasure's Fountain-Head ; No Surfeit wou'd I dread , But quaff the Cordial Flood ; Till mingling with my Blood , And circ'ling through each Part , It should like Bals●m ease my Smart ; Like Nectar , Cherish my dejected Heart ! IV. In various Wayes deluded Mortals Toil , All busi'd I' th' Discovery of Content : This is the Game we All pursue , But Hunt it still on a cold Scent ; The wary Prey nere comes in view , But sculks Aloof , and leaves us at a Foil . Yet where 's the disappointed Man will say , He now dispairs of being Blest ; For tho at present unpossest Of his dear Hope , He 's yet in a fair Way : And now his Project wants but carrying on as 't is Begun , And then th'important Task is done : Done , say'st thou Credulous Man ? Yes ! So the Babel Builders heretofore , Raising to Heav'n their proud Tow'r , lackt no more Than carrying on the Work as they Began . But , grant thy Years of Drudgery were past , 'T is odds but thou' rt impos'd upon at last : Thou like the Syrian Husband-man of Old , Conceiv'st thy self to hold The Beautious Rachell fast in thy Embrace , Yet ( tho th'Imposture last a Night ) Be sure the next returning Light Shall fight thee with an unexpected Face , When thou behold'st a Blear-Ey'd Leah in thy Rachell's Place . The Prospect . FRom a tall Praecipice on the Sea-side , A Rev'rend Hermite view'd the spreading Tide : The Flood was curl'd with a becoming Wave ; But no Praesage of rising Tempests gave . A goodly Ship was coasting by the Place , Like a proud Courser foaming in her Pace ; With flatt'ring Courtship , the Lascivious Gails Her Streamers curl'd , and wanton'd in her Sails . The Waves divide to give the Pageant way ; Then close , and with rais'd Heads , the Pomp survey . Whilst the grave Man this spectacle intends , ( Pleas'd with the sight ) a suddain Storm descends . The Winds grow rude , and rend the shaken Boat ; On the swoln Flood , the tatter'd Streamers float : So , Blossoms with too violent a Breeze , Are torn , and scatter'd round their shaken Trees . Then , to his Cell return'd , the Anchorite Draws sage Remarques from this Disastrous sight Of Earthly Grandeur , weighs the Uncertain state ; Which , in its gawdiest Bloom , and proudest Height , Stands most expos'd to th'Shock of suddain Fate . The Request . SO may you Spring , and so Heav'ns choisest Dew , In Nightly-Show'rs , distill fair Plants on You ; As You on Me Your rankest Venom shed , Whil'st at Your Feet I make My grassie Bed. And Thou O Goddess ( whose Obliging Womb Affords the Living Food , the Dead a Tomb ) Permit Me ere I dye , to dig my Grave ; 'T is all My starv'd Ambition now will crave ! I Rob Thee not ; for , tho My delving Spade Dislodge thy Mould , yet there 's no Trespass made : For I the petty Damage shall Repay , Filling the Vacant Ground with My own Clay . The Installment . I. LOng have I Languisht in the Fire Of an unquenchable Desire ; And will it not suffice thee Love , That I thy patient Martyr am , Unless thy Worship I promove , And proselyte others to thy Flame ? If as a Laick-Lover ought I act , What canst thou more from me expect , Who am not gifted for a Teacher in the Sect ? II. My Gifts of Nature are too small ; I own it , and pretend no Call ! Beside , I 've found at last the Cheat ; The Flame that do's thy Priests inspire , ( Pretended for Seraphick Heat ) Is meer Enthusiastick Fire . VVhen Heav'n inspires the mind no Trouble knows ; But Love's wild Extasics ( like those That Rag'd in Heathen Priests ) torment and discompose . III. And 't is no more than their Desert , That these Impostors thus shou'd smart ; By whose false VViles we are betray'd To Loves curst Tyranny and Rage ; For they , when once Love's Captives made , Their Griefs dissembling , Sing i' th' Cage : Then from afar , the Credulous Flock repairs , T' attend their soft and charming Aires ; And whil'st they listning sit , are caught in unseen Snares . IV. But why fond Love wilt thou make choice Of my untaught and grating Voice ? Fool , whil'st amidst thy Gins I sing , I shall not only fright away Such as already are on Wing , But those that were inclin'd to stay ! Consult thy Reason first deluded Boy , Ere my rude Verse thou dost employ ; Verse that will prove a Scare-Crow , rather than Ducoy . The Pennance . Nymph Fanarett , suppos'd to be The Gentlest , most indulgent She ; ( For what Offence I cannot say ) A Day and Night , and half a Day , Banisht her Shepheard from her sight : Sure his Default cou'd not be Light , Or this Compassionate Judge had nere Impos'd a Pennance so severe . And lest she shou'd anon revoke What in her warmer rage she spoke , She bound the Sentence with an Oath , Protested by her Faith and Troth , Nought shou'd Compound for his Offence , But the full Term of Abstinence . But when his Pennance-Glass were run , His Hours of Castigation done , Shou'd he deferr one Minutes space T' appear , and be restor'd to Grace , With sparkling threatning Eyes she swore , That Failure wou'd Incense her more Than all his Trespasses before . Laura's Walk . I. THE Sun far sunk in his Descent , Laid now his Tyrant Rayes aside , When Laura to the Garden went , To Tryumph over Natures Pride . II. The Rose-Buds blusht with deeper Dye , The envying Lillies paler grew ; The Violets droopt with Fear to spy On Laura's Veins a richer Blew . III. She stoopt and gather'd as she went , But whilst she slaughter'd sweetly Smil'd ; As Angells tho for Ruin sent , Appear with Looks Serene and Mild. IV. But now grown weary with her Toyl , She sits and flow'ry Wreaths she frames ; Thus with proud Trophies made o' th' Spoyl , Her Conquest ore the Flow'rs proclaims . The Vsurpers . I. USurping Passions held a long Contest For the Supream Dominion of my Brest ; But whilst in mutural Broyls the Tyrants rag'd Whoso'ver by the Battel Gain'd , I still the certain Loss sustain'd ; For they nere-fail'd when-ever they Engag'd , To Wast the Province where the War was wag'd . II. Whilst such wild Havock in my Brest was made , Reason first came to tender me his Aid ; And sure with that puissant Prince Ally'd , Had I but play'd the Man i' th' Fight . My Passions had been put to Flight . But I not only to Assist deny'd , But Treach'rously fell off to th' Enemies side . III. Then from the Powers of Love Redress I crav'd , But was by that Allyance worse Enslav'd ; For tho Loves Forces quickly did degrade These proud Usurpers of my Breast , Yet was I not hereby Redrest , For Love himself prov'd false , when Victor made , And seiz'd the Province which he came to Aid . IV. But heavier now the Bondage I sustain , Then during my tumultuous Passions Reign . 'T were now no small Presumption to impore The Indulgent Fates to set me free As in my Native Liberty . No! So it please their kind Pow'rs to Restore My former Tyrants , I demand no more . The Amusement . Strephon. WHy Weeps my Sylvia , prethee why ? Sylvia . To think my Strephon once must Die , To think withal poor Sylvia may When He 's remov'd , be doom'd to stay . Streph. Nymph you 'r too Lavish of your Tears , To spend them on Fantastick Fears . Sylv. No , for when I this Life resign , ( If Fate prolong the Date of Thine ) The Tears you 'l give my Funeral , Will pay me Int'rest , Stock and all . Steph. Not so , for shou'd this setting Light Ne're Rise again in Sylvia's sight , Without a Tear in mine I 'd view Her Dying Eyes . Sylv. 'T is False ! Streph. 'T is true . Sylv. Not weep false Shepheard ? Swear . Streph. I Swear I wou'd not give thy Hearse a Tear. Sylv. Break swelling Heart ! Persidious Man ! Death ! are you Serious ? Swear agen . Yes ! Swear by Ceres and by Pan. Streph. Let then great Pan and Ceres hear , And punish if I falsely Swear . Sylv. Gods ! can ye hear this and Forgive ? You may , for I have Heard and Live ! Half this Unkindness timely shown , Had kept me Blest , kept me my Own ; E're to your false embrace I came , I cou'd have quencht my kindling Flame ; I cou'd have done 't without Remorse , Parting had then been no Divorce . Streph. Rage not rash Nymph , for I 've Decreed When Sylvia Dies — Sylv. Speak , what ? Streph. To Bleed . I 'll drein my Life-blood from my Heart , But no cheap Tear shall dare to start . Sylv. Kind Shepheard , cou'd you Life Despise , And Bleed at Sylvia's Obsequies ? Streph. To Ceres I appeal , for She Knows this has long been my Decree ; And knows that I resolve it still . Sylv. Since then you cou'd your Vow fulfill , Swear , Swear once more you never will. The Amorist . SEe where enammour'd Thirsis lies , And cannot cease to gaze On his Larissa's sparkling Eyes , But takes Delight to see those Comets Blaze ; Whose Lustre still is Fatal to the Swain , Ore whom they Reign , For by their Influence the poor Shepheard Dies , Or ( more to be Lamented ) Lives in Pain . The Surprizal . I' th' narrowest walk of a close Grove , Whom shou'd I chance to meet but Love ? I seiz'd the Elf , and said — At last I 've caught thee , and I 'l hold thee fast . Now by thy Mothers Doves and Sparrows , I 'l rob thee of thy Bow and Arrows ; I 'l chain Thee up and clip thy Wings , Or Strangle Thee in thy own Strings , If thou refuse me to relate The Grounds of my Olinda's Hate . Then thus the Boy reply'd — Fond Swain , Vex not your self and me in Vain : Your Love as noble is and brave As ere this Bow and Quiver gave ; But that Olinda flights your Flame , Nor Thou , nor I , nor She 's too Blame . Weigh Circumstances , and you 'l find She 's of Necessity Unkind : She 's Mortal , therefore never can Commiserate a suff'ring Swain ; For such refin'd Perfections shine In Her , that cou'd She but Incline To Pitty Men , She were Divine ! The Vnconfin'd . BElieve me Nymph you strive in Vain My Passion to Confine : 'T is noble , and must need repine To wear the Slaves most Servile Badge , the Chain . 'T is more than all your Charms can do To lay Restraint on Love ; But if you are dispos'd to prove Your Beauties utmost Pow'r , pursue Some likelier Enterprize ; but spare Your vain Attempts to bind What is by Nature Unconfin'd , For Love 's a Planet , not a fixed Star. Dialogue . Alexis and Laura . Laur. Alexis . — Alex. Dear ! Laur. Take — Alex. What ? Laur. A Kiss . Alex. What means this Unexpected Bliss , A Bliss which I so oft in Vain Have crav'd , and now unaskt obtain ? Laur. When to my Swain reserv'd I seem'd , I Lov'd him , Kist him Less esteem'd ! Alex. Dear Nymph , your Female Arts forbear , Nor fondly thus new Ginns prepare For one already caught i'th'snare . You may impose a heavier Chain , But none that surer will retain . 'T is Laura , an unjust design To Treat so Plain a Soul as mine With Oracles ; with mystick sense Religion may perhaps dispense , But these Aenigmas mar Love's Joy , As Clouds Gems in their worth destroy . Laur. Then take it on your Peril Swain , ( Since you compel me to be plain ) The Kiss I gave you was in lieu Of all Love-debts from Laura due , To Swain Alexis , since the Hour Of our first Entrance on Amour . Alex. What Crimes can I have wrought t' enforce This suddain and severe Divorce ? 'T is , sure , impossible such Guilt Should press my Soul and not be felt . Laur. Recall false Shepheard what to day I heard you to Dorinda say . You said she did Noons Light out-shine , More than the Paphian Queen Divine . You vow'd respect to her Commands , And ( Heav'n Forgive you ) Kist her Hands . Alex. You wrong me Nymph , by Pan you do ; For if that Courtship you review , You 'l find 't was Complement to you . Laur. Yes , I was Sov'rainly respected By Pray'rs t' Another Saint directed . Alex. Dorindas Graces , 't is well known , Bear such Resemblance with your own , That when I made my late Address , 'T was in that gentle Shepherdess The sweetness of those Charms to tast , Which so divinely Laura grac't . Laur. Weak Nymphs with Men contend in Vain , Who thus can their Defaults maintain . Wise Nature has her care exprest , That neither Sex shou'd be Opprest ; For when to Us she did commit Tyrannick Beauty , she thought fit To Teach Men Wit and Arts t' Allay And Temper Beauties Absolute Sway. The Restitution . HEr keen Disdain pierct deep my Breast ; The gaping Orifice dismist The dearest drops my Heart contain'd : I ventur'd to her and complain'd , To ease my smart and still my Fears ; She wept and Bath'd my Wound with Tears . Blood will have Blood ( they say ) and be Repaid in Kind . 'T is false in Me. For Sylvia wound me yet more deep , If after you vouchsafe to weep , ( So much I prize your Tears ) I 'l own You have not satisfi'd Alone , But so ore-recompenct my wrongs , that I Bleeding to Death shall Sylvia's Debtor Dye . The Escape . ON a Streams Bank I saw her stand , A plyant Angle in her Hand . I markt how she disguis'd the Hook , And cast her Bait into the Brook. The sport succeeded to her wish , For strait she hung a pondrous Fish ; But too too eager on her Prey , Resus'd to give the Captive Play Till Tir'd , himself he woud resign ; But trusting to her slender Line , The struggling Animal enrag'd , With the rude check soon Disengag'd His wounded Jaws ; but whilst He thus Regains His Liberty , the bearded wire remains And galls his tender Gills with restless Pains . II. Is 't not enough inhumane Maid , That we are by thy Wiles betray'd , But you your Treach'ry must employ , The Floods Inhabitants to destroy ? This Fish has my hard fortune shar'd , When first by thy false Charms Ensnar'd ; For so I gorg'd the Bait you threw ; Whilst ( on your game too Eager ) you Came violently to seize your Prey , Which with hard struggling broke away . But to what purpose am I Free , Living in painful Liberty . In vain I boast , that I survive the Dart Whose Venom'd Pile lies festring in my Heart , And ( tho it kill not ) galls with restless smart . The Politicians . HOw grosly do the Learn'd and Wise Mistake in Loves State-policies ! If I and Caelia chance to jar , They take our Feuds for open War ; So little they perceive the pow'r Of Quarrels to Improve Amour . Do we not see how perfect are The Loves of ev'ry Turtle Pair , Yet they like us disguise their Bliss , Cooing and murmuring while they Kiss ! Love's Fire like Lightning shines as fair In Storms as in Serener Air. Let none my Caelia judge the mode Of our Amour , and call it odd ; But such as Love to our Degree ( If any more such Lovers be ! ) Whose wedded Love persists the same , As when we burnt in Virgin Flame . Sometimes like parting Streams we stray , And seem to Rove a sundry way , But meet ere long , and so United move Till we are lost in a full Sea of Love. The Vom-Breaker . CLose by a Mossie Fountains side , A spacious Marble Bason stands ; Passing that way , Ardelia there I spy'd ; Oft-times , and oft , she washt and dry'd her Hands . Bless me ! I cou'd not choose but smile At her Impertinent Toil ; For from her Arms the Waters purer fell , Than when she took them from the Well! So Vapours change their muddy Blew ( When rais'd aloft ) to fairer Hue ; They Rise in Mists and fall in Dew . II. Ah! I 'm Undone ; the fear was just That checkt me when I gave my Heart To this fair Nymph , who storm'd at my Mistrust , And Swore from the dear Pledge she 'd never part , A while she lodg'd it in her Breast , Where like a Turtle in its Nest It slept , till she ( wou'd you believe she cou'd ? ) Imbru'd her hands in its warm Blood ! Then , washing Here , design'd to stain The Innocent Fount , but strove in Vain , Her Hands the Conscious Die Retain . III. Hence-forth let none your Beauty prize , But such as can be False as You ; You who admit no Hearts your Votaries , Save what you make ( like Mine ) your Victims too , 'T is evident what you design You 'd be in Earnest thought Divine . Then , Goddess , know your Rites amiss proceed , Your Victims Burn before they Bleed ; But you Enjoyn your own odd way To Exercise your Absolute sway , And try how Blindly wee 'l obey . The Tear. I. STay Iulia , let me watch that Tear , Lest the rich drop glide from thine Eye , The Meteor sparkles in its Sphaere , But Fall'n to impure Earth , t will Dye ; Yet where it is it cannot stay , For see the Sun-beams come in swarms to Prey And sip the rich delicious juice Away . II. Into this Viol let it fall — See , Iulia , how it sparkles through ? Well may those Eyes prevail on All , Whose Tears have Killing glances too . If solid as a Gem it were , No Gem cou'd vie with this Transparent Tear ; The Eye that wept it only cou'd compare . III. It shall be so , I will convert This Tear to a Gem , 't is Feazable ; For laid near Iulia's Frozen Heart , 'T will to a Diamond congeal . And yet if I consider well , These Tears of Iulia's can fore-bode no Ill , The Frost is Breaking when such Drops Distill . The Discovery . WHen first Love's Vot'rie I became , ( Charm'd with the Lustre of his Flame ) My Youth his God-like form admir'd , And fondly thought his Priests inspir'd . Mongst Them I proudly sought a Place , And was by Chance allow'd the Grace ; But once admitted to his Shrine , That Love whom I esteem'd Divine , More terrible than Moloch stood , His Altars stain'd with Humane Blood. Of all Infernal Tyrant Pow'rs , None like this Daemon of Amours . None so severely Exercise Their Rage on their poor Votaries ! The Wounded Lover lives in pain , Lies neither Curable nor Slain Till his keen Sword sheath'd in his Heart , Compleat the Slaughter of the Dart. Others to Quench this Calenture Have tane a speedy Course and sure , Whilst from some Praecipice's Brow , They plung'd into the Floods below . To Deserts Others have Retir'd , And pensive there in Caves expir'd , What Place or Age or Sex is free From this Usurper's Tyranny ? The populous City he frequents , And pitches in the Camp his Tents . In Courts and Palaces He Reigns , And proudest Monarchs wear his Chains . Yet He that thus the Scepter awes , Disdains not to impose his Laws On Cottages , and there destroys The Nymphs and Shepheards native Joys . Their purer Air me-thinks shou'd be From Love's severe Contagion free , But all their Meads and Gardens bear No Herb t' asswage this Feavour There ! Far from his Flock Alexis weeps , Neglects to Feed , and rarely Sleeps ; His once sure Charm for ev'ry Grief , The Pipe affords him no Relief ; Gasping at Sylvia's Feet he lies , Whilst She for Scornful Strephon dies . How wretched is the Lover's State , Prest on all sides with some hard Fate ? His Hopes alike it will destroy , Not to Succeed or to Enjoy . For if he Lawlesly Embrace , He 's then Unhappy 'cause He 's Base ; And He that Honorably Love's Less Wretched , but not Happy proves ! To him that waits his Nuptial Day , The Hours pass Lazily away ; False Dreams of Bliss his Thoughts Employ , Impatient therefore to Enjoy , Rashly he bargains for a Wife , And with her Weds the Cares of Life ; But wrought to Expectation's Height His fancy'd Blisses Vanish strait , For Leapt into the Marriage Bed , Whith Briars and Thorns He finds it spread , Repents too Late and Envyes the Unwed . The Parting . HEre do I fix my Foot , and Farewell Love ! I will no further move . When first in Errour 's Misty Night I lost my self , and rov'd about , This Ignis-fatuus found me out , Before me rol'd with Wanton Play , And beg'd to bring me on my Way . Rashly I follow'd the seducing Fire Through briny Floods of Tears , Mongst Thorny Iealousies and Fears , O're Praecipices of Despair , And where no Passage did appear , Oft have I forc't a Path , but now I Tire . What Glympse was that which struck my Eye From yonder Skie ? Welcome bright Harbinger of Day ; By thee I know the Sun is on his way . What Desert's this ? — Alas ! I fear I 'm Stray'd , And after all my Toil and Fright In this Tempestuous Night , By my Officious Guide Betray'd . Oh! when shall I arrive at the Abode Of Happy Souls ( since they that earliest strive To reach that Stage , are late e're they Arrive ) I , who am Cumbred with so vast a Load Of Vain Desires , and have alas ! So many a weary step to pass Ere I redress my Stray's , & get into the Road. On an Old Miser that Hoarded his Treasure in a Steel Chest , and bury'd it . CAnst Thou in Dungeons smother up that Pelf That 's dearer to thee than thy Self ? Th' ill-treated Pris'ner is debar'd the sight Of its own cheerful Parent Light. Dost Thou in such strict Ward thy Gold retain , As Pagans did their Idols Chain , Lest some audacious Foe by Force shou'd seize Or charm away their Deities ? In Vain from Others Reach thou dost confine What is no Less reserv'd from Thine ! So Merchants rather than resign their goods To Pyrats , sink them in the Floods . Dull Miser , nought of thy laborious Gains Falls to thy share , beside the Pains . Like the dull Ass thou Starv'st beneath a Pack Of Provender that breaks thy Back . Think not Thou dost like Nature to Inter Thy Gold , cause 't was Inter'd by Her ; The Cell which Nature gave it , was a Womb To Breed the Oar , but Thine its Tomb. The Vision , Written in a dangerous fit of Sickness . DIssolv'd in Sleep neer a complaining Stream , My Fancy strove with an important Dream . Me-thought I was with Violence born away Through a dark Vault , whose Cavern did convey To Death's sad Courts ; the brazen Gates I past , Which on my entrance were again made fast . The dismal Cell with horrour I survey'd , For dead mens Bones in Piles were round me laid , And Skulls of largest size the Pavement made . The Sun to this dark Mansion darts no Ray , But glim'ring Lamps make an imperfect Day : By their faint Light I searcht the Cave around , And in each Nook amazing Objects found . In a long Row stood Glasses stor'd with Sand , Which of some Mortals years the Tale contain'd : His or Her Name the bloody Letters spell'd , The Number of whose years the Hour-glass held . Grim Fate stood by to watch the hindmost Grain , And cut the slender Thread of Life in Twain ; Then down the Tablet dropt t' a stream below , Suppos'd from the Lethaean Lake to flow : A while it floated 'till born Under-ground , 'T was in th' Abyss of deep Oblivion drown'd . Whilst into Fate 's Arcanas thus I pry'd , My own Name on a Tablet I descry'd . But oh the Pangs and Agonies that rent My panting Breast to find my Glass neer spent ! The Tragick Scene begins ( Forgive me Fate That thy occult Proceedings I Relate . ) Strait was I summond to receive my Doom , For Death with horrid Grace approacht the Room Array'd majestick in a mourning Robe , A Dart his Scepter , and a Skull his Globe . He sat , th' Attendants on his Person stood , All arm'd for Slaughter , and distain'd with Blood. Diseases next were plac't a numerous Train , Producing each a Bed-roll of his slain . No sooner were my scatter'd Thoughts restor'd , But I with mental Pray'rs Heav'ns Aid implor'd ; Then thus with hollow Voice the Tyrant spoke — In vain fond Youth Heav'ns succour you invoke , Stand to the Bar , and hear th'Inditement read ; For ere Thou dy'st Thou art allow'd to Plead : Thy Charge is deep , but for thy self Reply , Oh I am Guilty and deserve to Dye ! My years in Vanity's pursuit I spent , Too oft Transgrest , too rarely did Repent ; Some Vices ( Heav'n Assisting ) I supprest , And lasting War proclaim'd with all the Rest ; But oft i' th' Combat I shrunk back and fled , By Passions oft surpriz'd and Captive led . But are this Courts Proceedings so severe , That Youth can Challenge no Indulgence Here ? Had Fate my Life to Manlier years promov'd , Perhaps my Skill and Courage had improv'd : Mortal thy Doom already is decreed , ( The Iudge reply'd ) and Sentence must proceed ! This Court's Records with Instances abound Of Younger Brows than Thine with Lawrel crown'd , Approach ye Ministers of Fate , and bear Th' Offender Hence to th'Region of Despair , In Liquid Flames of Sulphur let him roul , In sharpest Agonies of a Hell-wreckt Soul : Thus let him howl Eternity Away , Refresht with no short Glimps of Heav'nly Day . Confusion now my Tortur'd Bosom fill'd ; Cold Sweat adown my Lifeless joynts distill'd . A Guard of Daemons at the Tyrant's call With hideous Yellings rusht into the Hall Monstrous of Shape , of Size , Prodigious Tall. In this Distress behold a Heav'nly Ray , Around me did his chearful Light display . The Lamps grew pale and shrunk into their Case , The frighted Daemons Vanisht from the Place ; The haughty Tyrant's Self confus'd appear'd ; Mongst the dead Bones a rattling Noise was heard , As Summon'd to the Universal Doom , They justled with each other in their Tomb. Not daring yet to hope Relief I spy'd My Guardian-Angel smiling by my side ; A silent joy through all my Vitals ran , Whilst Thus in Charming Language He began . Rejoyce my charge , for from Heav'ns Court I come With gracious Orders to Revoke thy Doom . Thy Sun is set , thy Life-glass almost run , Thy Virtue 's Race imperfectly begun . But Heav'n in Pitty to thy sickly Pace , Has Lincenc'd me or to contract the space , Or on my Wing thy lingring Spirit convey To Blissful Mansions of Eternal Day . To Heav'n and Him my Humblest Thanks I paid , And beg'd to be to those glad Seats convey'd ; But first admit the Lot of all Man-kind And Leave ( said He ) that Load of Earth behind , Pris'ners Absolv'd , less gladly quit their Chain Than I this Flesh that did my Spirit detain . But when my Soul her naked Self Survey'd , Leaprous and soul by Sin 's Contagion made , She Blusht and sought to cover her Disgrace , Retreating back into her Fleshy case . The Guardian-Spirit her sond Attempr with-stood , And streight with Hyssop dipt in Sacred Blood , Baptiz'd Her ; and behold , whilst I enquir'd Th' Intent o' th' Ceremony , I grew inspir'd With mental joys , and now descry'd no more Those Blemishes that stain'd my Soul before : Thought of New Worlds my Mind had so ingrost , That all Remembrance of the Old it Lost : That Body too ( which once I fondly thought Cou'd never be from my Remembrance wrought ) Had now quite scapt my Mem'ry , till I spy'd The pale and Lifeless Engine by my side . Bless me ( said I ) what ghastly thing lies there ? Was this the Mansion where so many a year , I lingred 'twixt successive Hope and Fear ? Was this the Thing I took such Care t' improve , Taught it to Cringe , and in just measures move ? The thing that lately did in Business sweat , That talkt so much of being Rich and Great ! That sought with Verse to make its Love renown'd , And hop't ere long to see its Passion Crown'd ; Behold where the designing Machine lies , Prey to those Insects it did once Despise . Suppose that Body now lay cover'd ore In Persumes brought from Ormus Spicie Shore ; What courteous Female wou'd vouchsafe the Grace To Curl those Locks , or Kiss that ghastly Face ? Why is the Corpse so long detain'd from Ground , T is more than Time those Hands and Feet were bound ; Close the dull Eyes , support the falling Chin , With grassie Turfs suppress the swelling Skin : Go , let the Fun'ral Peal be Rung aloud , In Winding-Sheets th' offensive Carkass shrow'd And in some Nook the Useless Lumber crow'd . Insulting Thus I spake , and more had said , But was by my Assistant Angel stay'd ; My Charge , said he , ( these gloomy shades with-drawn ) Behold of Everlasting Day the Dawn : At th'Entrance to th' Elysian Land ( a Grace Confer'd on Souls when first they arrive the Place ) The Blissful Throng are met to welcome Thee To their fair World of Immortality . He said , and strait his Threatning Wand up-heav'd , The Neighb'ring Walls obey'd the Stroke and cleav'd ; Such was the Blow giv'n by the Hebrew Guide , When forcing his Foot-passage through the Tide , The Waters there Congeal'd and stood in Walls , The Building here like breaking Water falls . But now the parting Stones brought Heav'n in View , When ( Fatal Chance ! ) my rapt'rous Dream withdrew The grateful slumber from my Temples fell , Round me I view'd the Grove , and thought it Hell ; Aloud I call'd my Guide ! Obligingly The Ecchoing Rocks kept up th'expiring cry , But the false Vision fled without Reply . ODE . To my Ingenious Friend Mr. Flatman . AS when the fam'd Artificer of Greece , With wondrous Art but ill Success Contriv'd his own and Captiv'd Son's Escape . By Wings which He with inspir'd Craft did shape , He taught the Youth how safely He might Glide , And keep a Mean betwixt the Sun and Tide ; So you ( Learn'd Friend ) with equal Art To me the Wings of poesie impart , Besore me through the spacious Sphaere A steddy Course you Steer , There You securely Wonders act And th' Eyes of All Attract , Whilst I Unfortunate , Like Icarus Die , but with less glorious Fate ! He Soaring fell , I flag Below , Where with damp Wings disabled to pursue I yield me Lost , and plunging down In deep oblivion Drown . The Banquet . DIspatch , and to the Myrtle Grove convey What-ever with the natural Pallat suits , The Dayrie's Store with Sallads , Roots & Fruits ; I mean to play the Epicure to Day ! Let nought be wanting to compleat Our Bloodless Treat ; But Bloodless let it be , for I 've Decreed The Grape Alone for this Repast shall Bleed . Sit worthy Friends — But ere we Feed , Let Love b'expell'd the Company ; Let no mans Mirth Here interrupted be With Thought of any Scornful Little She ! Fall too my Friends . Trust me the Cheer is good ! Ah! ( if our Bliss we Understood ) How shou'd we Bless th' Indulgent Fates ! Indulgent Fates , that with Content have stor'd Our Rural Board , A Rarity nere sound amongst the Cates Of most Voluptuous Potentates . The Match . BY what wild Frenzy was I Led , That with a Muse I needs must Wed ? Whose Dow'r consists of pop'lar Fame , The short Possession of a Name ! Yet with what Trouble and Debate The owner holds this poor Estate ? Where after long Expence and Toil He Starves on the Ungrateful Soil . The Fields and Groves which Poets feign The curious Fancy Entertain , But yeilds no nourishing Grain or Fruit , The craving Stomach to recruit . With Thirsty Tongue the Rhymer Sings Of Nectar and Olympian Springs . And such I fear the Faiery ground Of their Elysium will be found . A meer Fools Paradise , and fit For such as will be Men of Wit. Yet fain wou'd I that Rhymer know , That Raves not of th' Shades below , Whose Verse describes not there each Hill , Each Flow'ry Vale and wandring Rill , With such praecise particular Care , As He had been a Native there ; When ( maugre all his Art and Pains ) What are his Gay Elysian Plains But an Imaginary Cheat , Utopia's form'd i' th' wild Conceit , When with Poetick Calenture 'T is seiz'd , and Death alone can Cure. The Disconsolate . MY lab'ring Soul no longer can sustain , But sink beneath th'encreasing Pain ; I Wish , Contrive , Attempt , and Rage in Vain ! Down by these falling Springs I 'll Lay My weary Limbs , and Sigh my troubled Soul Away ! To these lone Fields my Griefs I will impart , Oh my distracted Head ! Oh my afflicted Heart ! Put stay , why shou'd I mournfully recite My Grievances , to Fright The feather'd Poets of these Streams ? To interrupt their Mirth and Peace , Whilst philomel her querulous Song shall cease , And from my sorrows , learn more Tragick Theams ! No! No! I will conceal my weighty Ills , Seal up my Lips , nor loose them ev'n to Pray , But all my Plaints in Mental Pray'rs convey , That shall to Heav'n as silent rise as Dew from thence Distills . II. Dream I ? or is 't a real Prodigy ? For I descry A Rent in that unclouded Skye ; The Azure Curtains are drawn wide And to my View disclose Th' Elysian Lands where happy Spirits Reside ! See where the Spring of Pleasure flows , On whose fair Banks the Blest take soft Repose . Exempt from Sense or thought of Misery , They Sing , and Smile , and Rove , And Feast on Joys in every Grove ; Their Paradise has no Forbidden Tree ! Curst that I am to View this glorious Scene With a vast Gulf of Air Between ! So from a Rock the Ship-wreckt Marriner Surveys the distant Shore with watry Eyes , Reflects on the full Meals and Pastimes there , But having fram'd his fancy'd Theatre Of Sports and rich Varieties , Sits down Disconsolate , and Starving Dyes . Sliding on Skates in very hard Frost . HOw well these frozen Floods now Represent Those Chrystal Waters of the Firmament ! Tho Hurricanes shou'd rage , they cou'd not now So much as curl the solid Water's Brow ; Proud Fleets whose stubborn Cables scarce with-stood Th' impetuous shock of the Unstable Flood , In watry Ligaments are restrain'd More strict than when in binding O oze detain'd . But tho their Services at present fail , Our selves without the aid of Tide or Gale On Keels of polant Steel securely Sail From ev'ry creek to ev'ry point we Rove , And in our lawless passage swister move Than Fish beneath us , or than Fowl above . Strephon's Complaint on quitting his Retirement . I. BUsiness ! — Oh stay till I recover Breath , Th'astonishing Word puts my maz'd Spirits to Flight ; Business to me sounds terrible as Death , As Death to Lovers on their Bridal Night . Free as Air , but more Serene , The Series of my Life has been ; But I uncustom'd to the yoak , must now In stubborn Harness toil at the dull Plow . II. Then farewell Happiness , Repose farewell ! You come not where poor Strephon must Reside ' For you like Halcyons on calm Waters dwell , But Business is a rough and troubled Tide . Few Suns have ris'n since I was Blest , Of God like Liberty possest ; But Slave t'Employment now without Repose I 'm ( Ghost-like ) hurry'd where my Daemon goes . III. But Business to Preferment will direct , And 't is ev'n necessary to be Great . Ah have I then no more than this t' expect ? My stinted Hopes will starve on such thin meat . Impertinents ! Content I crave , And wildly you of Grandieur Rave ! If Life 's at best a tedious rugged Road , What must it be with Grandieur's cumbring Load ? IV. Condemn'd to th' Town-Noise and Impertinence , Where Mode and Ceremony I must view ! Yet were the sight all Strephon cou'd dispense , But He must there be Ceremonious too . I fear my rural Soul 's too plain To Learn the Towns dissembling strein ; For whilst I practize the slie Courtiers Art , I shall forget my self , and speak my Heart . V. When first th' unwelcome Tidings I receiv'd , Summon'd to bid my peaceful shades Adieu ; Scarce was I by my Fellow-Swains believ'd , 'Till streaming Tears prov'd my sad story True. Then pensive they my Doom resent , As 't were to Death or Banishment ; But oh my Panalthaea's passionate moan Surpast her Sexes kindness , and her own . VI. Thus spake She with a forc't frown on her Brow , Will you be gone ? false Strephon , will you go ? Then go thy way ; go , for I Hate thee now ! But tell me , are you serious Swain , or no ? This is some new-found wile to prove ( Ridiculous Jealousie ! ) my Love : But whilst of mine this feign'd suspect is shown , You wou'd suggest that you 've renounc'd your Own. VII . Thy Love chast Nymph deep in my Breast I laid , When first the precious Pledge I did receive , Nor have I thence the sacred store convey'd , Here , force the Cabinet ope and you 'l believe ! You 'l see with what a bleeding Heart , From these dear Shades and thee I part ; But rig'rous Fate — then on her Virgin Breast I lean'd my drooping Head , and wept the Rest. VIII . Oh Floods and Groves , beneath whose sacred shade I 've sat as Happy as first Mortals were ; For when Distractions did my breast invade , Some rapt'rous Shepheard's Song redrest my Care. But 'bove the Flights of other Swains I priz'd my Astragon's soft streins ; For ( Turtle-like ) my pensive Astragon Is sweetly Sad and charming in his Moan . The Gold-hater . WEll , I perceive the Antipathy Is mutual now 'twixt Gold and Me ; For that flies me as fast as I The false pernicious mettal flie . So wild a Prey why shou'd I Trace That yields no Pleasure in the Chase ? A Prey that must with Toil be sought , And which I prize not when 't is Caught . Gold I contemn when rude i' th' Oar , But in a Crown despise it more . No Crown can any Temples fit So well , but 't will uneasie sit . By an Eternal Law of Fate , Vexations still attend on State ; Insep'rable by Humane Art , A Crown'd-Head and an Aking-Heart . The Ingrates . DUll Mortals with the same prepost'rous breath We bless Love's Darts , and Curse the shafts of Death . The Author of our Ills , a God we stile ; But the Redresser of those wrongs Revile . Yet gentle Death ( tho rudely treated ) still Persists in generous Charity to Kill And Cure th' Ingrateful ev'n against their Will ! Ah should he once in just Resentment give Our Wishes , and permit us ever Live , What shou'd we do when Soul and Body jar And Loath each other like an Ill-wed Pair ? Can envious Fiends a Penalty invent That shall than Loath'd Embraces more Torment ? But friendly Death absolves us from this Curse , And when the Parties clash , makes a Divorce . Disappointed . I. FRom Clime to Clime with restless toyl we Roam , But sadly still our old Griefs we Retain , And with us bear ( tho we out-rove the Main ) The same disquiet selves we brought from Home ! Can Nature's plenteous Board Spread wide from Pole to Pole , Sufficient Cates afford To Satiate or Delude one Craving Soul ? Produce what wealth the Sea contains , Or sleeps deep lodg'd in Indian Veins , Th' Insatiate Mind will gorge the store And call for more . II. The Food of Angels of immortal kind , Alone can be design'd To Feast th' unbounded Appetite o' th' Mind . To those bright Seats let me aspire Where solid joys remain , So firm they can sustain , And stand the full Career of Chast Desire . Th'Enjoyments we pursue So hotly here below , Are Charming Daphnes in the Chase And ( Daphne-like ) Transforming , Fool us in th' Embrace ! Some of Martials Epigrams Translated and Paraphras'd . Lib. 1. Epigr. IX . FRom needless dangers timely to Retreat , Speaks not our Courage small , but Prudence Great . Thus Cato still was foremost in the Fight , Whilst Vict'ry ( tho at distance ) was in fight ; Yet oft the Unequal Battel he wou'd wave , Wise in Retreat as in th' Engagement Brave . Who of his Game , Advantage cannot make , Is wise in plotting how to part the Stake . Who pays his Blood for 't , buys his Fame too dear I wou'd have Fame , but I 'd enjoy it Here. Who mingles Cypress with his Lawrel Wreath , Is poor , and Debtor for his Fame to Death . Lib. 1. Epigr. XIV . De Arriâ & Paeto . WHen from her Breast Chast Arria did unsheath The reeking Sword , & led the way to Death ' The blushing Steel to her Lov'd Lord she gave , And said — Tho Wretched , let us still be Brave ! Ah that I might prevent thy Fate with Mine : At my own Breast I Bleed , but Smart in Thine . Lib. 1. Epigr. CX . De Issa Catellâ Publij . Issa much to be preferr'd To Catullus amorous Bird ; Chaster Thou than Stella's Dove , But fond as Girls when first they Love. Issa worth both Indies Treasure , Issa Publiu's Life and Pleasure . Issa mourns if He complain , Issa shares his Health and Pain . All Night on his warm Neck She lies , Nor stirs 'till He 's dispos'd to rise : But if Digestion chance to call , The cleanly well-bred Animal Ne're harms the Bed , but lightly creeps O're Publius Bosome while He sleeps , Or wakes him with her gentle moan , And motions to be handed down . But passing other Vertues by , Such is this Creatures Modesty , She ne're cou'd Love , tho daily Woo'd By Shocks of Quality and Blood. But lest Death take her quite away When time brings on her fatal Day , ( To Countermand Fate 's rigid Law ) Publius did her Picture draw ; Where ev'ry Feature , ev'ry Hair Is feign'd with so much Art and Care , It leaves you doubtful which to call The Copy , which th' Original . In short , compare 'em both together , And you 'l Swear Both have Life , or Neither . Lib. 9. Epigr : VI. Doll Swears she will have Raph — The Wiser she ! Raph Swears hee 'l not have her — The Wiser He ! Lib. XI . Epigr. XCV . Translated in Dialogue . A. FRiend Giles and I had late â bloody bout . B. Eternal Cronies how cou'd you fall out ? A. Faith guess th' Occasion . B. Some fresh Doxie ? A. No , Fools as we are , we have more Sense than So. He that Asserts a modest Lady's Right , ( Tho soundly Drub'd ) is a true Errant Knight ; But Whelps are they , who for such Carrion Fight . B. When Toapt ( which he 's of course some twice a Day ) He 'l rail on 's Grandsire's Beard if 't come in 's way ; Perhaps mis-call'd you then , gave you the Lye , Or in rude Language damn'd your Poetry . A. Had Lillye to resolve the Quaere try'd , Ev'n Lilly's self cou'd not have guest more wide ! Don Critick nere cou'd wound my thoughts so deep As to beguil me of one minutes sleep ; Censures I still despise as things of course , But th' damage I sustain by Giles is worse . The Rascal stole — B. Your Poems ? C. No , my Horse . Lib. XI . Epigr. XLIII . THere 's not a drowsie Alderman i'th'Town , But I 'l engage more nobly shall requite Dull hobling Meeter on his Beard and Gown , Than you the most elab'rate lines I write . And yet your Worship still gives me strict charge To write in Honour of your Patronage ; And that my thoughts upon the Theam be large , And fav'ring of the smartness of the Age. Troth Sir , you have less Conscience than a Turk , To put an honest Muse on Conjuring Work , To make Wesphalia Hams of English Pork . The Confinement . OFt had I form'd Ideas of Content , But by Experience knew not what it meant . At length I strove to Counter-plot my Stars , And free my Soul by Stratagem from Cares . In a cool Jess'mine shade my Lute I strung , Where with divertive Aires I play'd and Sung ; The grateful Sounds compos'd my Cares to sleep , Which o're me now no Watch appear'd to keep . Thrice blest ( said I ) this long expected Hour , That frees me from my cruel Goalers Pow'r . I fled ; but soon was by my jealous Guard Pursu'd , o're-tane , and laid again in Ward . Yet ev'n this Disappointment I cou'd bear , Had Fate set bounds to my Misfortunes Here ; But since my Attempt t' escape I suffer more , Than in my Hardest Bondage heretofore ! Like a Designing Captive now I 'm us'd , A Pris'ners Common Curtesies refus'd ; Prest with more Chains , aw'd by a stricter Guard , From Sleep ( the vilest Slaves Relief ) debarr'd . On Snow fall'n in Autumn , and dissolv'd by the Sun. I. NAture now stript of all her Summer-Dress , And modestly surmizing , 't were unmeet For each rude Eye to view her Nakedness ; Around her bare Limbs wraps this Snowy Sheet . II. The wanton Sun the slight-wrought Shroud removes T' embrace the naked Dame , whose fertile Womb Admits the lusty Paramour's warm Love 's , And is made big with the fair Spring to come . Melancholy . I. MAlignant Humour , Poyson to my Blood ! Bane of those active Spirits that glide And sport within the circling Tide , As Fish Expire in an infected Flood . When all th' Horizon of my Soul is clear , And I suspect no change of Weather near , Strait like a suddain Storm I find Thy black Fumes gath'ring in my Mind , Transforming All Egyptian Darkness there ; Darkness where nought occurs to Sight But Flashes , more amazing than the Night ; And fiery Spectres gliding through the troubled Air. II. Sleep that in other Maladies brings Ease , Feeds and enrages this Disease ; For when my weary Lidds I close And slumber , 't is without Repose . This Fury still into my Dreams will creep To Hagg my tim'rous Fancy while I sleep ; Through Charnel Houses then I 'm led , Those gloomy Mansions of the Dead , Where pensive Ghosts by their lov'd Reliques stay , And Curse th' approaching Day . By Merc'less Foes pursu'd and tane ; Oft ship-wreckt on the Main , Beneath the Floods I seem to Dive ; Oft in Wild Sarra's Desert forc't t' engage Some Savage Monster 's Rage . Oft ( Typhon-like ) beneath a Mountain's weight I strive ! III. Might I the Book of Fate peruse , To Read the Lot for me design'd , I should perhaps auspicious find Those Planets I accuse ; But whilst for Information I Consult the false Astrology Of Melancholy Fear , Dark and ore-cast my future Dayes appear : All possible Misfortunes while I dread , I draw all possible Misfortunes on my Head ; Whilst this solicitous Fear of Future Ill My credulous Thought employs , ( Tho false its Augury , yet ) it destroys My present Rest , and still Diverts me from pursuit of certain Joyes . Who seeks for Happiness with nicest Care Must watch its Seasons , and frequent its Haunt . Delight is a Rich tender Plant That Springs in all Soils , and all the Year : 'T is like the Manna which in plenty lay , If early sought , around Each Hebrews Tent , but if till Heat of Day Their Search they did delay . Th' Ambrosial Food was no where to be found . On a Grave Sir retiring to Write in Order to undeceive the World. CErtis of all well-meaning Fools , thy Fate Is most deplorably Unfortunate . Hadst Thou Domitian-like in catching Flies Employ'd thy Privacy , thou 'dst past for Wise ; For what shou'd hinder thee , but thou mayst catch As fast as He , and be the Emperour's Match ? But whilst thy solitary Hours are spent In scribling tedious Systems , to prevent The Worlds Mistakes , its Follies to Reform , Thou mayst as well pretend to lay a Storm . Go , cut the Caspian Lake a Road to th' Ocean ; Contrive an Engine with perpetual Motion , Make Machiavillians of the Red-Bull Rout , Jilts Constant , Breakers Honest , Bawds Devout ; If these Adventures seem unfeazable , At least enough to pose Don Sidrophel . Then think how frantickly thou dost devise , To make this Hair-brain'd World grow staid and wise . In Youth and Prime when likeliest to improve , No Precepts this besotted World cou'd move ; And wilt thou at these Years begin to School , ( Dull Moralist ! ) the crazy doating Fool ? Go dreaming Stoick , once again Retire ; And since thou art Ambitious to acquire Repute for Judgment — Set thy Works on Fire . On a deform'd Old Baw'd designing to have her Picture drawn . I. THy Picture drawn soul Beldame ! Thine ! What Frenzy haunts thy Mind , And drives Thee on this vile Design , T' affront all Woman-kind ? II. For whilst thy swarthy Cankard Face Posterity shall view , They 'll loath the fairest of the Race , For sharing Sex with You. III. To some forlorn Church-Yard repair , And Haggard Thou shalt see , The sternest Goblin will not dare To stand the sight of Thee . IV. Those Ghosts that strike with Pannick-Fear The Breasts of stoutest Braves , At thy Approach will disappear , And Burrogh in their Graves . V. Fix thy Effigies on the Shield Of some bold Knight in Arms , 'T will Aid him more to win the Field , Than all his Lady's Charms . VI. Don Perseus with his Gorgon's Face That Combatant wou'd flee ; For Hagg Medusa ( no Disgrace ! ) A Beauty were to Thee . Advice to a Friend , designing to Publish his Poems . REclaim , rash Friend , your wild Resolves t' engage A captious , and ill-natur'd Age. 'T is not enough the Verse you write be Good , To Take , it must be Understood . And to instruct the World , where you excell , Is harder much than writing Well . Th' are different Tasks to write Well , and to Please ; The last ( alass ! ) a Work of Ease . Whilst Midas Umpire sits ; let None admire Pan's Pipe preferr'd to Phebus Lyre . The gawdiest Painting takes the Vulgar sight , Whilst artfull Pieces less Delight . In vain is Nature Represented Well , If 't it be not Gay , 't will never Sell. Hark in your Ear ( 'T is a strange Mystery , But a grand Truth ) , if Popular you 'd be , Faith spare your Pains , and Write Ex-tempore . The Ignorant . AN Ignorant I am , And Glory in the Name ' I wot not what of yore Rash Furioso's did , Nor what the dreaming Sages said : I cannot run a List of Old Rome's Tryumphs ore . 'T was Knowledge first to Ruin led us on ; For with this Mortal Itch possest The happy Pair Transgrest , Needs must they Know , they Knew and were Undone ! And to this Hour our Mis'ries sole Relief Consists in Ignorance of our Grief ! Then plodding Mortal cease To boast your dear-bought Faculties ; For since with Knowledge Sorrow must encrease , Let such as on those Terms can Science prize , Improve in Science ; but for me , So I may Ignorant and Happy be , I 'le ne'r Repine or look with envious Eyes , On the Unhappy Learn'd , and Miserable Wise. The Beldam's Song . APpear my Kib-welkin , dear Spirit appear In the Shape Of an Ape , A Fire-spitting Dragon , or Clump-footed Bear. Madge has whoopt me twice from her Ivy-bound Oak , And twice have I heard the dull Night-Raven croak . Let me stride thee my Welkin , and post it away Ere the Moon Reach her Noon . For the Night is the Wey-ward Sister's Day . Through the Air let us take our fantastical Round , And sipp of the Dew While 't is New , Ere the Honey-drops fall to the Ground . But when we are mounted , and in our Carear , Make neither Hault nor Stay , And to none give the Way , Tho Hecat her self shou'd be rounding the Air. For once I 'le encounter , And try to dismount her , Pitch her Heels over Head To some Quagg-mire below , and Reign Queen in her stead Bustle , bustle my Kib , and be sure e're we part , Thou shalt Suck at the Dugg that is next to my Heart . The Inconstant . A Paraphrase on the XV. Epod of Horace . PRecisely I remember All , 't was Night , Calm Skye , and the full Moon shone bright , When first you Swore , that bleating Flocks shou'd feed With Wolves , nor other Keepers need ; That boistrous Winds husht in Eternal sleep , Shou'd cease to Revel on the Deep ; You Vow'd that these , and Prodigies more strange Shou'd fall e're your fixt Heart cou'd change . Yet ( Woman-like ) to your new Fav'rite now , Unswear as oft as you did Vow ! Ah! if I cou'd ( and sure if half a man , Or some what less than half , I can ) Cou'd I in just Resentment quit your Chain , And with more caution chuse again ; Nymph , you 'd Repent my wrongs , when flying Fame Shou'd publish to your grief and shame , How your wrong'd Swain had found a Nymph more True And equal in her Charms to You. But Treach'rous Rival , you that reap my Toils , And Pride your self in my stoln spoils , Shou'd Fates and Stars Adopt you for their own , And show'r their richest Blessings down , Nought shou'd secure you from the sure Praesage Of an Offended Poet's Rage . The time shall come ( and to inhance your sear , Know , Wretch , that fatal time is near ) When you shall perish by th' Inconstancy Of Her that first learnt breach of Faith from thee ; Whilst from the safe shore your sad wreck I see . Of the Ape and the Fox . A Paraphrase on one of the Centum Fabulae . TO his four-footed Subjects through the Nation , The King of Bruits thus issues Proclamation , Being well informed we have incurr'd Disgrace By Harb'ring in our Realm a Scandalous Race , A Sect that have No Tails ; These Presents are T' enjoyn such Miscreants , All and singular , Strait to depart our Land , or on Demurr , Our Laws Grand-Treason Penalties incurr . Sly Reynard strait sists out this state Design , Turns Goods and Chattels All to ready Coyn. The unprojecting Neighbour-hood Admire , And Flock , th' Occasion of his March t' Enquire . Where 'mongst the Rest the ceremonious Ape Accosts him with Grimmace and formall Scrape . Bon jour Monsieur ! You pass for a prime Witt ; But in this Project give small Proof of it . We of the Cur-tailed Tripe b'express Command Of our great Cham prepare to quitt the Land ; But why Sir shou'd you Budge , Whose Posterns bear A Swashing Train well furrd to guard your Rear ? Had Nature lent me but an Inch of Dock , A Tust to Shade , or Scutt to grace my Nock , I shou'd Presume I had no Obligation From the late Act to take this Peregrination . Then thus the Fox — You 've spoke an Oracle , Doubtless your Gravity reads Machiavill . I must Confess I 've no pretence to rail , Or Curse my starrs for stinting me in Tail ; But grant my Train might with a Commet's measure , Suppose withall that 't were his Highness Pleasure To say I 've None ? which if he once Assert , Nere doubt but he has Sycophants will swear 't ; Thus charg'd , shou'd I attempt my own Defence , ( To give his Lawless Tyranny Pretence ) 'T is Odds but I am Dockt upon the Spott , And then for want of Tail poor Reynard goes to Pot. The Round . HOw Vain a Thing is Man whom Toyes Delight , And shdadows Fright ! Variety of Impertinence Might give our Dotage some Pretence ; But to a Circle bound , We Toil in a dull Round : We sitt , move , Eat and Drink , We Dress , Undress , Discourse and Think By the same Passions hurri'd on , Imposing or Impos'd upon : We pass the time in Sport or Toil , We Plow the Seas or Safer Soil : Thus all that we Project and Do , We did it many a year agoe . VVe Travel still a beaten way , And yet how eager rise we to pursue Th' affairs of each returning day , As if its Entertainments were Surprizing All and New. The Male Content . MOngst winding Rocks ( his swelling griefs t' allay ) The disappointed Thirsis took his way . In the Wild Clifts a natu'ral Vaut he found With woven Ivye Cheaply deckt around . He rusht into the Solitary Nook , Where into these Pathetick Sounds he broke . Oh when will Nature take the life she gave , And Lodge me free from Trouble in the Grave ! Sleep there alone deserves the Name of Rest , No frightfull Dreams the sleep of Death infest . Whilst shrouded in this marble Cell I Lye , What can be more Commodious than to Dye ? Each Object Here wears such a mournfull Face , That Dying seems the Business of the Place ! Here from the wrangling VVorld I will Retire , And as I Liv'd Unknown , Unknown Expire . Then let that hanging Rock that shades my Head Sink down , and shutt this Vaut when I am Dead : Rude as it is , this Marble Cell wou'd save Th'expensive Rites that formall Burialls crave , It self my Cossin , Monument and Grave . The Dream . BEneath the Syc'more shade , Amintas sat to sing and Play On his shrill pipe i'th'Heat o' th Day ; His Amarill beside him laid : Charm'd with the Musick of his Reed , The listning Ewes forgat to Feed , The sportive Lambs gave ore their Play , And to their Master's Song attentive lay , The Song as Soft and Innocent as They ! Mean while on the pleas'd Amari'll A downy slumber fell , 'Till with a Sigh and Suddain start She ' woke and Cry'd — Heav'n save my Swain ! Are you not hurt ? — I will provide a Dart , And if the Bruit approach again , I 'le drench it in the Savage Monster 's Heart . What means ( Amintas smiling said ) This Rage ? I dreamt ( said she ) a ruthfull Bear Had broke into our Fold , and slaughter'd there ; And whilst you rant ' Engage ( Ah! why were you so Rash ? ) th' unequall Foe , The Rav'nous Monster Seiz'd on You ! Then to your Rescue I came in And cast my self between , But with the motion Waking , found the Dream Untrue . Amor Sepulchralis . IN a Large stately Cave ( of old the Court Of Rurall Gods as neighbring Swains report ) Interr'd the dear Remains of Damon lay , Converted now to their Originall clay . Each wishing Nymph the living Swain approv'd , The Shepherd fair Emmoria only Lov'd . Their mutuall Passion 's Kindling Flame was more Then ere Inspir'd Consenting Hearts before ; But was with time Improv'd to that Degree , That now 't was Love no more , but Extasie . Their linkt Affections Fate cou'd not divorce , Nor Rig'rous Death restrain their Entercourse : The Nymph to living Swains did still preferr Her Damon's Dust , and ev'n that Dust Lov'd Her. At Damon's Tomb the Chast Emmoria kept Perpetual VVatch , and ore his Ashes wept ; ( Fitt emblem of her grief ) a sprigg of Yew She planted there , the Branch took Root and grew . This Cave to the Suns Rays Access deny'd , No Rain or Dew the thirsting Plant Supply'd , Yet still it sprang , by Love's Miracu ' lous Pow'r , For th' Ashes still Glow'd with their Old Amour Emmoria's Eyes wept a nere-Ceasing Shower ; This Heat and Moysture kept the Plant Alive , And Tempring still each other , made it Thrive . The three First Verses of the 46th Psalm Paraphras'd . I. OUr Strength , is the Omnipotent ; We cannot therefore condescend to Fear , Tho danger in its gastliest shape appear ; Tho Mountains from their marble Roots were rent , And head-long to the Ocean hurld , Their Violent Career might shake the World ; But our fixt Feet shou'd keep their Ground , No Tremour in our Breast be found ; Our rais'd Heads shou'd o're-look the Floods , where Hills lay Drown'd . II. What tho the Sea , whose most capacious Womb Gave the Subverted Hills a Tomb ? What tho it's raging Waters roar , And swell in Mountains vast as those Which the profound Gulf gorg'd before ? This most impertinently angry Main , With its own Rocks fierce contest may maintain , But can no more our Passions discompose , Than when on a Serene and shiny day , Some shallow Riv'let we survey , Contesting with each Pibble for its Interrupted way . The Mid-Night Thought . NOw that the twinkling stars Essay A Faint Resemblance of the Day , Shewn fairer now for being beset With Night ( like Diamonds in jett ) Let me Repos'd within this Grove , The Solemn season There Improve . Restless alas ! from Sun to Sun , A Round of Business I have run : Whilst others slept projecting Lay , Yet since I THOUGHT how many a day ! How long since I did meditate Of Life , of Death , and Future state ? Approaching Fate his Pace will keep , Let Mortalls Watch , or let them Sleep . What Sound is That ? — a Passing Bell ! Then to Eternity Farewell ! Poor Soul , Thou' rt at thy Crisis now , And one short Hour thy Doom shall show , Eternall Bliss , or endless Woe ! If Virtue 's Lore Thou hast despiz'd , How Wou'd That Virtue now be priz'd ! Or say , Thou didst in our Loose Age , On her forsaken Side Engage , Wouldst Thou the dear Remembrance now , For the Worlds Monarchie Forgoe ? What other Medicine canst Thou find T' asswage the Feavour in thy mind ? Now Wakened Conscience speaks at Large , And envious Fiends inhance the Charge ! Let the bold Atheist now draw neer , Thy chill and drooping spirits to cheer ; His Briskest Wine and Witt to Thee Will now alike Insipid be ! VVhere is the Lawless Hectring Brave That from th' Arrest of Death can save ? VVh ' Attempt a Rescue Here , will fail , And this grim Serjeant takes no Bail. The Counter-Turn . OBserve that Pile of skulls , but chiefly There That mossye skull Survey : Do's the sage Front display Plots , Projects , and nocturall Care ? Methinks it shou'd , for once it did belong T' a Machiavilian that cou'd Shock a State , And trusted He cou'd Bastle Fate . Who wou'd have sought that Head-piece in this Throng ? The plotting Wight promis'd that skull a Crown , In Lowest Earth He founded the Design , With Heav'n the Roof did join ; 'Till with a suddain shock of Fate O're-thrown , The Fabrick fell on the Contrivers Head , And crusht th' aspiring Politician Dead . The Voyagers . WHilst Stemming Life's uncertain Tide , Tost on the Waves of Doubts and Fears , If to frail Reason's Conduct we Confide VVe strive in vain The happy Port to gain , For oft as Clouded Reason disappears VVe cannot fail to Rove afarr Mistaking each false Meteor for our Starr . How dismall are the Perills we engage VVhen ( grown t' a Hurricane ) Our boist'rous Passions Rouze the sleeping Main ? But ah ! how Few have perisht by the Rage Of Storms , if numbred with the dayly Throng VVhom Syren Pleasures as they fail along Seduce to the dead shore , VVhere They saw others wreckt before , Yet still pursue though certain to be Lost ; For if from their cleft Boat they climb the Coast They fall into the treach'rous Syrens Pow'r VVho Entertain them first , and then Devour . The Choice . GRant me indulgent Heav'n a rurall Seat , Rather Contemptible than Great . VVhere , though I Tast Life's Sweets , still I may be Athirst for Immortalitie . I wou'd have Business , but exempt from Strife ; A Private , but an Active Life . A Conscience bold and punctuall to his Charge ; My Stock of Health or Patience Large . Some Books I 'd have , and some Acquaintance too , But very Good , and very Few . Then ( if one Mortall Two such Grants may Crave ) From Silent Life I 'd Steal into my Grave . On Sight of some Martyr's Sepulchres . HEre lies Dust Confus'dly hurl'd , But Dust that once shall judge the World ! Blest Saints , when the quick Flames Enlarg'd Your Souls , and from dull Flesh discharg'd , Th' Ambitious Fires strove to Convey Your Spirits on their tryumphant VVay , But wing'd with Glory They Aspird , And lest the Flames behind them Tir'd . Of the Few Adherers to Virtue . THat Virtue Points our VVay to Happiness , Ev'n the Profane in Cooler Moods Confess : But 'Cause the Brave and generous are Few , Thin Trains this Guid to Happiness pursue . VVho ' Vouch her Cause , must ' bett a Suffring side Expos'd to all the Out-Rages of Pride . She 's Exil'd now , and 't is not strange to see Mean Souls desert afflicted Majestie : But when just Heav'n ( and sure that Time draws on ) Restores this Empress to her Starry Throne , VVith Crowns She will enrich her Loyall Few . VVhilst Shame and Vengeance Crush the Rebel Crew . The Requitall . VIle Infidel , that dar'st for Vice declaim , And take vain pride to Publish thy own shame ! What can thy Patron Vice enough Conferr On his officious zealous Oratour ? Hee 'll doubtless give his wonted Recompense , And , Rot the Tongue that Pleads in his Defence . To a Desponding Friend . REpine not , pensive Friend , to meet A Thorn and Sting in ev'ry Sweet ; Think it not yours or my hard Fate , But the fixt Lot of Humane State. Since then this Portion is Assign'd , By the great Patron of Mankind , ( Though nere so darkly Understood ) We shou'd presume the Method Good. Heav'n do's its tendrest Care express Conducting through a Wilderness , Lest Sluggards we shou'd Take our Stand And stop short of the Promis'd Land. Disswasion of an Aged Friend from Leaving his Retirement . IN Life's unactive Wane your shades forsake , And into th' World a Sally make : Deluded Friend , what Surfett have you tane Of Bliss , that now you long for Pain ? The Favourites of th'austere World are Few , Yet They have their disasters too . What therefore must your Entertainment be That have profest Hostility ? You have not learnt to Flatter and Caress The Great , for faithless Promises ; When Disappointed , Thankfull to Appear , And say , How much Oblig'd you are ! For Lucre you must Practise every Wile ; Defraud , and do it with a Smile . Worldlings with many Vices must be fraught , Which you my Friend were never Taught . Well , you may Roam , but soon Return distrest ; Wounded and Maim'd to your Old Nest. Recovering from a Fit of Sickness . I. VVHen late the tyrannous Malady With intermitted Rage Seem'd to presage , Or Suddain Health or Dissolution nigh ; False World ( said I ) that Steal'st my reall Joyes Shuffling in stead thy changeling Toys : Begone ! I 'le not be brib'd at any Rate To sell m'approaching Fate , And Re-assume that Toilsome Task to Live : I prize not Grandieur , and I know ( Were I thy Favourite as I'm thy Foe ) What I affect , thou never canst bestow : I 'd have Content , but That was never Thine to give . Remove that Taper from my sight , Th' impertinent Light Presents no gratefull Object to my View ; Ev'n those Fair Eyes that Planets once appear'd , ( The only Planets I rever'd ) To my dim sight , se●m now t' have Lost their Lustre too II. Thus Musing as I Lay , to my Bedside ( Attir'd in all his Mourning Pride ) The King of Terrours came ; Awfull his Looks , but not d●formed and Grim ; He 's no such Bug-bear as we seign of H●m , Scarce we our selves so Civiliz'd and Tame ! Unknown the Doom assign'd me in this Change For full Crimes and imperfect Penitence , ( Though justly I might dread the Strickt Revenge Of an Enrag'd Omnipotence ) Yet with my present Griefs distrest , With curious Thoughts of unknown Worlds possest Inflam'd with Thirst of Liberty , Long Lov'd , but nere Enjoy'd by me , I●su'd for Leave the fatall Gulf to Pass : My Vitall Sand is almost run , And Death ( said I ) will strike anon , Then to dull Life I bid along Farewell ; But as the last grains fell , Death faild my credulous Hopes , and Turn'd the Glass . The Challenge . YE Sages that pretend In Science to Transcend The dull illit'rate Crowd , You that of Ignorance impeach , ( Ere your Pretences be allow'd ) Define that Prudence which you Teach ; I fear 't is much above your Learning's Reach . Prudence has no fixt Being , but depends On Person , Time , and Chance , And every petty Circumstance : Actions directed to the Self-same ends , May prudent th' one , the other peccant be ; For what would prove Discreet in Thee Perhaps were wild Extravagance in Me. The Ants are Wise , that from their Summer Hoard Supply their Winter Board ; And doubtless full as wise as They The Grashoppers that Play And Revell all their Harvest Days away ; For 't were in Them a Sensless Drudgery To Toil for a Supply In Winter's Dearth , that must ere Winter , Die. The Cure. A Dialogue . Claius and Coridon . Claius COme Coridon , Sit by me gentle Swain ; Thy Cheek is pale : Speak Shepheard , where 's thy Pain ? Cor. Say , Claius Priest of our great Pan ( for you Of Humane Science th' utmost Limits know ) Is Physicks pow'r to th' Bodies use confin'd , Have you no Medicine for a troubled Mind ? Clai . Yes , for as Balsoms raging Pains appease Sage Councells to distemper'd Souls give ease , Ev'n Love is no incurable Disease . Ha Swain ! What meant that Suddain blush and start ? Have I guest right , and toucht the tender Part ? Cor. I wou'd Conceal 't , but have not learnt to Feign — You 've guest , and while you Nam'd it , Wakt my Pain . Clai . T' effect the Cure we 'll take the Safest course , And Trace the Malady to its first Scource : Say then , what Female Gims and Baits were laid ; Or was your fond Soul by its self betray'd ? Cor. When from Severer Business I withdrew , Twixt Love and Me a fatall Friendship grew : Such was my Ignorance and his Craft , my Brest Admitted the Impostor for its Guest ; With my Hearts Blood our Covenant we seal'd , A Solemn Contract nere to be repeal'd : Then all Delights young Sorcerers Enjoy , A While did my deluded Soul employ , Love fed my waking Thoughts with glorious Theams , And blest my Slumbers with transporting Dreams . When at an awfull Distance I survey'd My Nymph , Transported , to my self I said , Ah Charming Fair ! Oh Excellence Divine ! Whilst Love wou'd Whispering Answer — Swaine She 's Thine . Clai . Thus , Whilst from far our high-plac't Hopes appear , ( The Gulfs between Conceal'd ) we deem them Neer . Cori. Yet boldly through all Obstacles I prest . Clai . Why therefore Shepheard are you not possest ? Cori. Force not th' Unwilling secret from my Brest , There let it Lurk in Sympathizing Night , And never roam from its dark Cell to Fright . Let it suffice that on a Barren Soil I 've Lost of many years th' Expence and Toil. Clai . Do's the false Nymph — The VVages you so dearly Earn'd refuse ? Cori. My self I cannot , will not her Accuse . But my Releif must from your Councells Rise : Examine not good Claius , but Advise ; Bring your best Art ( for 't will your best require ) T'unspell my soul from Love's tormenting Fire . Clai . Call Reason to your Aid , you 'l put to flight The Foe not to be quell'd by other Might . Of happiest Love's Delights Sum up th' Account , And Learn to what the Totall will amount ; Then in the Ballance Love's Vexations Weigh , How certain These , and how uncertain They. Sordid his joyes , and of delight so nice , That Female Coyness only gives them Price . Short-liv'd the warmest Amorist's Desires , At Kindling Hymen's , oft Love's Torch expires . There are that from Large Dow'rs derive their Flame And These in full Career pursue their Game ; They wreck their Witts , the Golden Prize to gain , But dream not how that Gold is wrought into a Chain . Cor. When late Love 's false suggestions I Obey'd , 'T was in Pursuit of Happiness I strayd . My credulous Youth had seen no brighter Flame , And Streight Concluded that from Heaven it came . In Errour 's Night Love's Fire shone bright and gay , But at th' approach of Reasons conqu'ring Ray The Meteor's lost in the full Blaze of Day . Clai . Mistake not Swain , I wou'd not Quench your Flame , But slip your Passion at a Nobler Game . Wave Sensual joys , and with a Flame refind Court those Diviner Pleasures of the Mind . To sacred Virtue next make your Address ; Confess you 've no Regard of Happiness , Or Live henceforth of Virtue 's service proud , The brightest Beauty and the best endow'd . She 'll guard your Youth from Passions banefull Rage , With peacefull Thoughts divert the Pains of Age. But then in Largest Streams her Blessings Flow , When Love grown Bankrupt can no more bestow . When rig'rous Death shall check your Circling Blood , And Life die stifled in the Frozen Flood , Your pensive Nymph at large may tell her Grief , But to your ravisht Soul give no Relief ; 'T will lurk a pensive Ghost in Caves all day , And to it's Reliques Mid-night Visits pay . But pious Souls by Death are Gainers made , By Virtue to th' Elysian Seats convey'd ; There Mirth and Peace , and softest Transports reign , Delights refind from all Allays of Pain ; The Gratefull Soil untill'd her Harvest yields ; Unclouded Skies and ever-verdant Fields . There Aemulation no Dissention gives , For Happy Each in others Blisses Lives . No Cares o' th' Future their free Thoughts Employ , The Business of the Place is to Enjoy . That Swain is most Industrious held that best Improves his Bliss , exceeds in Joyes the Rest. If Love can Bless beyond these Heights , Return To dragg his Chain , and in his Feavour Burn ; Take Leave of blissfull Immortalitie , Chide my impert'nent Zeal to set you Free , And Court the Frowns of some imperious She. Cor. Destroy not thus your gen'rous Courtesies By an unfriendly and unjust Surmize ; Heav'n sends me Freedome , and to sell the Pledge , Must Brand me with the foulest Sacriledge . 'Gainst Love and Beauty I 'll maintain the Fort And fix a Guard of Virtues in my Heart . Clai . If Beauty's Force too rashly you despise , 'T is Odds but you are ruin'd by Surprize : Wou'd you live free from Female Tyranny ? Nere Parly with the Tempting Sex , but Fly. Their very Tears are Fewell to Desire , And with their Sighs They 'l Fan th'expiring Fire . Their Mirth and Grief , their kindness and Disdain , Are fatall All , and Work Poor Shepheards Pain ! Nature and Art Conspire to Arm the Fair ; For in the Charming , All things Charming are ; Their Glances Darts , and ev'ry Curl a Snare . The Hurricane . WHat cheer my Mates ? Luff ho ! We Toil in Vain ! That Nothern Mist forebodes a Hurricane . See how th'expecting Ocean Raves , The Billows Roar before the Fray , Untimely Night devours the Day , I' th' Dead Eclypse we Nought descry But Lightnings Wild Capriches in the Skie , And Scalye Monsters sparkling through the Waves . Ply ! Each a Hand , and furl your Sails . Port , Hard a'Port — The Tackle sails . Sound ho ! — Five Fathom and the most . A Dangerous Shelf ! sh 'as struck , and we are Lost. Speak in the Hold — She Leaks amain — Give ore ; The Crazy Boat can Work no more . She draws apace , and we approach no shore . A Ring my Mates : Let 's joyn a Ring , and so Beneath the Deep Embracing Go. Now to new Worlds we steer , and quickly shall Arrive : Our Spirits shall Mount as fast as our dull Corpses Dive The Gratefull Shepheard . WHilst by his grazing Flock a gentle Swain , His Vacant Hours to entertain , Perus'd a Volumn whos 's each Tragick Page Discours'd of some Intrigue of State , Of Rebell-Insolence and Rage , And some unhappy Monarch's Fate : The Youth into these passionate sounds brake forth What Virtue of my Ancestours So much Oblig'd you ye indulgent Pow'rs , That in these Silent shades you gave me Birth ? You might have made me Fortune's Sport , Doom'd me to some Corrupted Court , Where I this rurall Bliss had never known ; My Cottage might have been a Throne , My Crook a Scepter , and my Wreath a Grown : Some Tyrant-Prince I might have been , ( By your Indulgence now a peacefull Swain ) My Chloris some proud Cruel Queen , The tendrest Nymph of the Arcadian Plain . When for these Blessings I forget t' invoke Your Powers , neglect to make your Altars smoak ; Then Ravisht let me be From this Secure Retreat , And plac't aloft on Grandieur's Seat , An open Mark to the sure Darts of envious Destinie . FINIS .