Miscellaneous Poems

Front matter

MISCELLANEOUS

POEMS

BY

To the Reader

ΤΟ THE

READER.

These are to Certifie every Ingenious Reader, that all these Poems, as also the other things in this Book contained, are Printed according to the exact Copies of my late dear Husband, under his own Hand-Writing, being found since his Death among his other Papers, Witness my Hand this 15th day of October, 1680.

Mary Marvell.

A Dialogue, Between the Resolved Soul, and Created Pleasure

A

DIALOGUE,

BETWEEN

The Resolved Soul, and Created Pleasure.

Courage my Soul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal Shield. Close on thy Head thy Helmet bright. Ballance thy Sword against the Fight. See where an Army, strong as fair, With silken Banners spreads the air. Now, if thou bee'st that thing Divine, In this day's Combat let it shine: And shew that Nature wants an Art To conquer one resolved Heart.

<>Pleasure.

Welcome the Creations Guest, Lord of Earth, and Heavens Heir. Lay aside that Warlike Crest, And of Nature's banquet share: Where the Souls of fruits and flow'rs Stand prepar'd to heighten yours.

<>Soul. I sup above, and cannot stay To bait so long upon the way.

<>Pleasure. On these downy Pillows lye, Whose soft Plumes will thither fly: On these Roses strow'd so plain Lest one Leaf thy Side should strain.

<>Soul. My gentler Rest is on a Thought, Conscious of doing what I ought.

<>Pleasure. If thou bee'st with Perfumes pleas'd, Such as oft the Gods appeas'd, Thou in fragrant Clouds shalt show Like another God below.

<>Soul. A Soul that knowes not to presume Is Heaven's and its own perfume.

<>Pleasure. Every thing does seem to vie Which should first attract thine Eye: But since none deserves that grace, In this Crystal view thy face.

<>Soul. When the Creator's skill is priz'd, The rest is all but Earth disguis'd.

<>Pleasure. Heark how Musick then prepares For thy Stay these charming Aires;

Which the posting Winds recall, And suspend the Rivers Fall.

<>Soul. Had I but any time to lose, On this I would it all dispose. Cease Tempter. None can chain a mind Whom this sweet Chordage cannot bind.

<>Chorus. Earth cannot shew so brave a Sight As when a single Soul does fence The Batteries of alluring Sense, And Heaven views it with delight. Then persevere: for still new Charges sound: And if thou overcom'st thou shalt be crown'd.

<>Pleasure. All this fair, and cost, and sweet, Which scatteringly doth shine, Shall within one Beauty meet, And she be only thine.

<>Soul. If things of Sight such Heavens be, What Heavens are those we cannot see?

<>Pleasure. Where so e're thy Foot shall go The minted Gold shall lie; Till thou purchase all below, And want new Worlds to buy.

<>Soul. Wer't not a price who'ld value Gold? And that's worth nought that can be sold.

<>Pleasure. Wilt thou all the Glory have That War or Peace commend? Half the World shall be thy Slave The other half thy Friend.

<>Soul. What Friends, if to my self untrue? What Slaves, unless I captive you?

<>Pleasure. Thou shalt know each hidden Cause; And see the future Time: Try what depth the Centre draws; And then to Heaven climb.

<>Soul. None thither mounts by the degree Of Knowledge, but Humility.

<>Chorus. Triumph, triumph, victorious Soul; The World has not one Pleasure more: The rest does lie beyond the Pole, And is thine everlasting Store.

On a Drop of Dew

On a Drop of Dew.

See how the Orient Dew, Shed from the Bosom of the Morn Into the blowing Roses, Yet careless of its Mansion new; For the clear Region where 'twas born Round in its self incloses:

And in its little Globes Extent, Frames as it can its native Element. How it the purple flow'r does slight, Scarce touching where it lyes, But gazing back upon the Skies, Shines with a mournful Light; Like its own Tear, Because so long divided from the Sphear. Restless it roules and unsecure, Trembling lest it grow impure: Till the warm Sun pitty it's Pain, And to the Skies exhale it back again. So the Soul, that Drop, that Ray Of the clear Fountain of Eternal Day, Could it within the humane flow'r be seen, Remembring still its former height, Shuns the sweat leaves and blossoms green; And, recollecting its own Light, Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express The greater Heaven in an Heaven less, In how coy a Figure wound, Every way it turns away: So the World excluding round, Yet receiving in the Day. Dark beneath, but bright above: Here disdaining, there in Love. How loose and easie hence to go: How girt and ready to ascend. Moving but on a point below, It all about does upwards bend. Such did the Manna's sacred Dew destil; White, and intire, though congeal'd and chill. Congeal'd on Earth: but does, dissolving, run Into the Glories of th' Almighty Sun.

Ros

Ros.

Cernis ut Eoi descendat Gemmula Roris, Inque Rosas roseo transfluat orta sinu. Sollicitâ Flores stant ambitione supini, Et certant foliis pellicuisse suis. Illa tamen patriæ lustrans fastigia Sphæræ, Negligit hospitii limina picta novi. Inque sui nitido conclusa voluminis orbe, Exprimit ætherei quâ licet Orbis aquas. En ut odoratum spernat generosior Ostrum, Vixque premat casto mollia strata pede. Suspicit at longis distantem obtutibus Axem, Inde & languenti lumine pendet amans, Tristis, & in liquidum mutata dolore dolorem, Marcet, uti roseis Lachryma fusa Genis. Ut pavet, & motum tremit irrequieta Cubile, Et quoties Zephyro fluctuat Aura, fugit. Qualis inexpertam subeat formido Puellam, Sicubi nocte redit incomitata domum. Sic & in horridulas agitatur Gutta procellas, Dum præ virgineo cuncta pudore timet. Donec oberrantem Radio clemente vaporet, Inq; jubar reducem Sol genitale trahat. Talis, in humano si possit flore videri, Exul ubi longas Mens agit usq, moras; Hæc quoque natalis meditans convivia Cœli, Evertit Calices, purpureosque Thoros. Fontis stilla sacri, Lucis scintilla perennis, Non capitur Tyria veste, vapore Sabæ. Tota sed in proprii secedens luminis Arcem, Colligit in Gyros se sinuosa breves. Magnorumque sequens Animo convexa Deorum, Sydereum parvo fingit in Orbe Globum. Quam bene in aversæ modulum contracta figuræ

Oppositum Mundo claudit ubiq; latus. Sed bibit in speculum vadios ornata rotundum; Et circumfuso splendet aperta Die. Qua Superos spectat rutilans, obscurior infra; Cætera dedignans, ardet amore Poli. Subsilit, hinc agili Poscens discedere motu, Undique coelesti cincta soluta Viæ. Totaque in æreos extenditur orbita cursus; Hinc punctim carpens, mobile stringit iter. Haud aliter Mensis exundans Manna beatis Deserto jacuit Stilla gelata solo: Stilla gelata solo, sed Solibus hausta benignis, Ad sua quâ cecidit purior Astra redit.

The Coronet

The Coronet.

When for the Thorns with which I long, too long, With many a piercing wound, My Saviours head have crown'd, I seek with garlands to redress that Wrong: Through every Garden, every Mead, I gather flow'rs (my fruits are only flow'rs), Dismantling all the fragrant Towers That once adorned my Shepherdesses head. And now when I have summ'd up all my store, Thinking (so I my self deceive) So rich a Chaplet thence to weave As never yet the king of Glory wore: Alas I find the Serpent old That, twining in his speckled breast, About the flow'rs disguis'd does fold With wreaths of Fame and Interest. Ah, foolish Man, that would'st debase with them And mortal Glory, Heaven's Diadem! But thou who only could'st the Serpent tame, Either his slipp'ry knots at once untie,

And disintangle all his winding Snare: Or shatter too with him my curious frame: And let these wither, so that he may die, Though set with Skill and chosen out with Care. That they, while Thou on both their Spoils dost tread, May crown thy Feet, that could not crown thy Head.

Eyes and Tears

Eyes and Tears.

<>I. How wisely Nature did decree, With the same Eyes to weep and see! That, having view'd the object vain, They might be ready to complain.

<>II. And, since the Self-deluding Sight, In a false Angle takes each hight; These Tears which better measure all, Like wat'ry Lines and Plummets fall.

<>III. Two Tears, which Sorrow long did weigh Within the Scales of either Eye, And then paid out in equal Poise, Are the true price of all my Joyes.

<>IV. What in the World most fair appears, Yea even Laughter, turns to Tears: And all the Jewels which we prize, Melt in these Pendants of the Eyes.

<>V. I have through every Garden been, Amongst the Red, the White, the Green;

And yet, from all the flow'rs I saw, No Hony, but these Tears could draw.

<>VI. So the all-seeing Sun each day Distills the World with Chymick Ray; But finds the Essence only Showers, Which straight in pity back he powers.

<>VII. Yet happy they whom Grief doth bless, That weep the more, and see the less: And, to preserve their Sight more true, Bath still their Eyes in their own Dew.

<>VIII. * So Magdalen, in Tears more wise Dissolv'd those captivating Eyes, Whose liquid Chaines could flowing meet To fetter her Redeemers feet.

<>IX. Not full sailes hasting loaden home, Nor the chast Ladies pregnant Womb, Nor Cynthia Teeming show's so fair, As two Eyes swoln with weeping are.

<>X. The sparkling Glance that shoots Desire, Drench'd in these Waves, does lose it fire. Yea oft the Thund'rer pitty takes And here the hissing Lightning slakes.

<>XI. The Incense was to Heaven dear, Not as a Perfume, but a Tear. And Stars shew lovely in the Night, But as they seem the Tears of Light.

<>XII. Ope then mine Eyes your double Sluice, And practise so your noblest Use. For others too can see, or sleep; But only humane Eyes can weep.

<>XIII. Now like two Clouds dissolving, drop, And at each Tear in distance stop: Now like two Fountains trickle down: Now like two sloods o'return and drown.

<>XIIII. Thus let your Streams o'reflow your Springs, Till Eyes and Tears be the same things: And each the other's difference bears; These weeping Eyes, those seeing Tears. <>4 * Magdala, lascivos sic quum dimisit Amantes, Fervidaque in castas lumina solvit aquas; Hæsit in irriguo lachrymarum compede Christus, Et tenuit sacros uda Catena pedes.

Bermudas

Bermudas.

Where the remote Bermudas ride In th' Oceans bosome unespy'd, From a small Boat, that row'd along, The listning Winds receiv'd this Song. What should we do but sing his Praise That led us through the watry Maze, Unto an Isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own? Where he the huge Sea-Monsters wracks, That lift the Deep upon their Backs. He lands us on a grassy Stage; Safe from the Storms, and Prelat's rage.

He gave us this eternal Spring, Which here enamells every thing; And sends the Fowl's to us in care, On daily Visits through the Air. He hangs in shades the Orange bright, Like golden Lamps in a green Night. And does in the Pomgranates close, Jewels more rich than Ormus show's. He makes the Figs our mouths to meet; And throws the Melons at our feet. But Apples plants of such a price, No Tree could ever bear them twice. With Cedars, chosen by his hand, From Lebanon, he stores the Land. And makes the hollow Seas, that roar, Proclaime the Ambergris on shoar. He cast (of which we rather boast) The Gospels Pearl upon our Coast. And in these Rocks for us did frame A Temple, where to sound his Name. Oh let our Voice his Praise exalt, Till it arrive at Heavens Vault: Which thence (perhaps) rebounding, may Eccho beyond the Mexique Bay. Thus sung they, in the English boat, An holy and a chearful Note, And all the way, to guide their Chime, With falling Oars they kept the time.

Clorinda and Damon

Clorinda and Damon.

DAmon come drive thy flocks this way. D. No: 'tis too late they went astray. C. I have a grassy Scutcheon spy'd, Where Flora blazons all her pride.

The Grass I aim to feast thy Sheep: The Flow'rs I for thy Temples keep. D. Grass withers; and the Flow'rs too fade. C. Seize the short Joyes then, ere they vade. Seest thou that unfrequented Cave? D. That den? C. Loves Shrine. D. But Virtue's Grave. C. In whose cool bosome we may lye Safe from the Sun. D. not Heaven's Eye. C. Near this, a Fountaines liquid Bell Tinkles within the concave Shell. D. Might a Soul bath there and be clean, Or slake its Drought? C. What is't you mean? D. These once had been enticing things, Clorinda, Pastures, Caves, and Springs. C. And what late change? D. The other day Pan met me. C. What did great Pan say? D. Words that transcend poor Shepherds skill, But He ere since my Songs does fill: And his Name swells my slender Oate. C. Sweet must Pan sound in Damons Note. D. Clorinda's voice might make it sweet. C. Who would not in Pan's Praises meet?

<>Chorus.

Of Pan the flowry Pastures sing, Caves eccho, and the Fountains ring. Sing then while he doth us inspire; For all the World is our Pan's Quire.

A Dialogue between the Soul and Body

A Dialogue between the Soul and Body.

<>Soul. O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise A Soul inslav'd so many wayes? With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands In Feet; and manacled in Hands.

Here blinded with an Eye; and there Deaf with the drumming of an Ear. A Soul hung up, as 'twere, in Chains Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins. Tortur'd, besides each other part, In a vain Head, and double Heart.

<>Body. O who shall me deliver whole, From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul? Which, stretcht upright, impales me so, That mine own Precipice I go; And warms and moves this needless Frame: (A Fever could but do the same.) And, wanting where its spight to try, Has made me live to let me dye. A Body that could never rest, Since this ill Spirit it possest.

<>Soul. What Magick could me thus confine Within anothers Grief to pine? Where whatsoever it complain, I feel, that cannot feel, the pain. And all my Care its self employes, That to preserve, which me destroys: Constrain'd not only to indure Diseases, but, whats worse, the Cure: And ready oft the Port to gain, Am Shipwrackt into Health again.

<>Body. But Physick yet could never reach The Maladies Thou me dost teach; Whom first the Cramp of Hope does Tear: And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear.

The Pestilence of Love does heat: Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat. Joy's chearful Madness does perplex: Or Sorrow's other Madness vex. Which Knowledge forces me to know; And Memory will not foregoe. What but a Soul could have the wit To build me up for Sin so fit? So Architects do square and hew, Green Trees that in the Forest grew.

The Nymph complaining for the death of her Faun

The Nymph complaining for the death of her Faun.

The wanton Troopers riding by Have shot my Faun and it will dye. Ungentle men! They cannot thrive To kill thee. Thou neer didst alive Them any harm: alas nor cou'd Thy death yet do them any good. I'me sure I never wisht them ill; Nor do I for all this; nor will: But, if my simple Pray'rs may yet Prevail with Heaven to forget Thy murder, I will Joyn my Tears Rather then fail. But, O my fears! It cannot dye so. Heavens King Keeps register of every thing: And nothing may we use in vain. Ev'n Beasts must be with justice slain; Else Men are made their Deodands. Though they should wash their guilty hands In this warm life blood, which doth part From thine, and wound me to the Heart, Yet could they not be clean: their Stain Is dy'd in such a Purple Grain.

There is not such another in The World, to offer for their Sin. Unconstant Sylvio, when yet I had not found him counterfeit, One morning (I remember well) Ty'd in this silver Chain and Bell, Gave it to me: nay and I know What he said then; I'me sure I do. Said He, look how your Huntsman here Hath taught a Faun to hunt his Dear. But Sylvio soon had me beguil'd. This waxed tame; while he grew wild, And quite regardless of my Smart, Left me his Faun, but took his Heart. Thenceforth I set my self to play My solitary time away, With this: and very well content, Could so mine idle Life have spent. For it was full of sport; and light Of foot, and heart; and did invite, Me to its game: it seem'd to bless Its self in me. How could I less Than love it? O I cannot be Unkind, t' a Beast that loveth me. Had it liv'd long, I do not know Whether it too might have done so As Sylvio did: his Gifts might be Perhaps as false or more than he. But I am sure, for ought that I Could in so short a time espie, Thy Love was far more better then The love of false and cruel men. With sweetest milk, and sugar, first I it at mine own fingers nurst. And as it grew, so every day It wax'd more white and sweet than they. It had so sweet a Breath! And oft I blusht to see its foot more soft,

And white, (shall I say then my hand?) NAY any Ladies of the Land. It is a wond'rous thing, how fleet 'Twas on those little silver feet. With what a pretty skipping grace, It oft would challenge me the Race: And when 'thad left me far away, 'Twould stay, and run again, and stay. For it was nimbler much than Hindes; And trod, as on the four Winds. I have a Garden of my own, But so with Roses over grown, And Lillies, that you would it guess To be a little Wilderness. And all the Spring time of the year It onely loved to be there. Among the beds of Lillyes, I Have sought it oft, where it should lye; Yet could not, till it self would rise, Find it, although before mine Eyes. For, in the flaxen Lillies shade, It like a bank of Lillies laid. Upon the Roses it would feed, Until its Lips ev'n seem'd to bleed: And then to me 'twould boldly trip, And print those Roses on my Lip. But all its chief delight was still On Roses thus its self to fill: And its pure virgin Limbs to fold In whitest sheets of Lillies cold. Had it liv'd long, it would have been Lillies without, Roses within. O help! O help! I see it faint: And dye as calmely as a Saint. See how it weeps. The Tears do come Sad, slowly dropping like a Gumme. So weeps the wounded Balsome: so The holy Frankincense doth flow.

The brotherless Heliades Melt in such Amber Tears as these. I in a golden Vial will Keep these two crystal Tears; and fill It till it do o'reflow with mine; Then place it in Diana's Shrine. Now my sweet Faun is vanish'd to Whether the Swans and Turtles go: In fair Elizium to endure, With milk-white Lambs, and Ermins pure. O do not run too fast: for I Will but bespeak thy Glave, I and dye. First my unhappy Statue shall Be cut in Marble; and withal, Let it be weeping too: but there Th' Engraver sure his Art may spare; For I so truly thee bemoane, That I shall weep though I be Stone: Until my Tears, still dropping, wear My breast, themselves engraving there. There at my feet shalt thou be laid, Of purest Alabaster made: For I would have thine Image be White as I can, though not as Thee.

Young Love

Young Love.

<>I. Come little Infant, Love me now, While thine unsuspected years Clear thine aged Fathers brow From cold Jealousie and Fears.

<>II. Pretty surely 'twere to see By young Love old Time beguil'd:

While our Sportings are as free As the Nurses with the Child.

<>III. Common Beauties stay fifteen; Such as yours should swifter move; Whose fair Blossoms are too green Yet for Lust, but not for Love.

<>IV. Love as much the snowy Lamb Or the wanton Kid does prize, As the lusty Bull or Ram, For his morning Sacrifice.

<>V. Now then love me: time may take Thee before thy time away: Of this Need wee'l Virtue make, And learn Love before we may.

<>VI. So we win of doubtful Fate; And, if good she to us meant, We that Good shall antedate, Or, if ill, that Ill prevent.

<>VII. Thus as Kingdomes, frustrating Other Titles to their Crown, In the craddle crown their King, So all Forraign Claims to drown.

<>VIII. So, to make all Rivals vain, Now I crown thee with my Love:

Crown me with thy Love again, And we both shall Monarchs prove.

To his Coy Mistress

To his Coy Mistress

Had we but World enough, and Time, This coyness Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long Loves Day. Thou by the Indian Ganges side Should'st Rubies find; I by the Tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood: And you should if you please refuse Till the Conversion of the Jews. My vegetable Love should grow Vaster then Empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go to praise Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze. Two hundred to adore each Breast: But thirty thousand to the rest. An Age at least to every part, And the last Age should show your Heart. For Lady you deserve this State; Nor would I love at lower rate. FarewelltoArmsp165 But at my back I alwaies hear Times winged Charriot hurrying near: And yonder all before us lye Desarts of vast Eternity. Thy Beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble Vault, shall sound My ecchoing Song: then Worms shall try That long preserv'd Virginity: And your quaint Honour turn to dust; And into ashes all my Lust. The Grave's a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hew Sits on thy skin like morning glew, And while thy willing Soul transpires At every pore with instant Fires, Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am'rous birds of prey, Rather at once our Time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r. Let us roll all our Strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one Ball: And tear our Pleasures with rough strife, Thorough the Iron gates of Life. Thus, though we cannot make our Sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.

es:A su esquiva amada

The Unfortunate Lover

The Unfortunate Lover.

<>I Alas, how pleasant are their dayes With whom the Infant Love yet playes! Sorted by pairs, they still are seen By Fountains cool, and Shadows green. But soon these Flames do lose their light, Like Meteors of a Summers night: Nor can they to that Region climb, To make impression upon Time.

<>II 'Twas in a Shipwrack, when the Seas Rul'd, and the Winds did what they please, That my poor Lover floting lay, And, e're brought forth, was cast away: Till at the last the master-Wave Upon the Rock his Mother drave;

And there she split against the Stone, In a Cesarian Section.

<>III. The Sea him lent these bitter Tears Which at his Eyes he alwaies bears. And from the Winds the Sighs he bore, Which through his surging Breast do roar. No Day he saw but that which breaks, Through frighted Clouds in forked streaks. While round the ratling Thunder hurl'd, As at the Fun'ral of the World.

<>IV. While Nature to his Birth presents This masque of quarrelling Elements; A num'rous fleet of Corm'rants black, That sail'd insulting o're the Wrack, Receiv'd into their cruel Care, Th' unfortunate and abject Heir: Guardians most fit to entertain The Orphan of the Hurricane.

<>V. They fed him up with Hopes and Air, Which soon digested to Despair. And as one Corm'rant fed him, still Another on his Heart did bill. Thus while they famish him, and feast, He both consumed, and increast And languished with doubtful Breath, Th' Amphibium of Life and Death.

<>VI. And now, when angry Heaven wou'd Behold a spectacle of Blood,

Fortune and He are call'd to play At sharp before it all the day: And Tyrant Love his brest does ply With all his wing'd Artillery. Whilst he, betwixt the Flames and Waves, Like Ajax, the mad Tempest braves.

<>VII. See how he nak'd and fierce does stand, Cuffing the Thunder with one hand; While with the other he does lock, And grapple, with the stubborn Rock: From which he with each Wave rebounds, Torn into Flames, and ragg'd with Wounds. And all he saies, a Lover drest In his own Blood does relish best.

<>VIII. This is the only Banneret That ever Love created yet: Who though, by the Malignant Starrs, Forced to live in Storms and Warrs; Yet dying leaves a Perfume here, And Musick within every Ear: And he in Story only rules, In a Field Sable a Lover Gides.

The Gallery

The Gallery.

<>I. Clora come view my Soul, and tell Whether I have contriv'd it well. Now all its several lodgings lye Compos'd into one Gallery;

And the great Arras-hangings, made Of various Faces, by are laid; That, for all furniture, you'l find Only your Picture in my Mind.

<>II. Here Thou art painted in the Dress Of an Inhumane Murtheress; Examining upon our Hearts Thy fertile Shop of cruel Arts: Engines more keen than ever yet Adorned Tyrants Cabinet; Of which the most tormenting are Black Eyes, red Lips, and curled Hair.

<>III. But, on the other side, th' art drawn Like to Aurora in the Dawn; When in the East she slumb'ring lyes, And stretches out her milky Thighs; While all the morning Quire does sing, And Manna falls, and Roses spring; And, at thy Feet, the wooing Doves Sit perfecting their harmless Loves.

<>IV. Like an Enchantress here thou show'st, Vexing thy restless Lover's Ghost; And, by a Light obscure, dost rave Over his Entrails, in the Cave; Divining thence, with horrid Care, How long thou shalt continue fair; And (when inform'd) them throw'st away, To be the greedy Vultur's prey.

<>V. But, against that, thou sit'st a float Like Venus in her pearly Boat. The Halcyons, calming all that's nigh, Betwixt the Air and Water fly. Or, if some rowling Wave appears, A Mass of Ambergris it bears. Nor blows more Wind than what may well Convoy the Perfume to the Smell.

<>VI. These Pictures and a thousand more, Of Thee, my Gallery dost store; In all the Forms thou can'st invent Either to please me, or torment: For thou alone to people me, Art grown a num'rous Colony; And a Collection choicer far Then or White-hall's, or Mantuas were.

<>VII. But, of these Pictures and the rest, That at the Entrance likes me best: Where the same Posture, and the Look Remains, with which I first was took. A tender Shepherdess, whose Hair Hangs loosely playing in the Air, Transplanting Flow'rs from the green Hill, To crown her Head, and Bosome fill.

The Fair Singer

The Fair Singer.

<>I. To make a final conquest of all me, Love did compose so sweet an Enemy, In whom both Beauties to my death agree, Joyning themselves in fatal Harmony; That while she with her Eyes my Heart does bind, She with her Voice might captivate my Mind.

<>II. I could have fled from One but singly fair: My dis-intangled Soul it self might save, Breaking the curled trammels of her hair. But how should I avoid to be her Slave, Whose subtile Art invisibly can wreath My Fetters of the very Air I breath?

<>III. It had been easie fighting in some plain, Where Victory might hang in equal choice. But all resistance against her is vain, Who has th' advantage both of Eyes and Voice. And all my Forces needs must be undone, She having gained both the Wind and Sun.

Mourning

Mourning.

<>I. You, that decipher out the Fate Of humane Off-springs from the Skies, What mean these Infants which of late Spring from the Starrs of Chloras Eyes?

<>II. Her Eyes confus'd, and doubled ore, With Tears suspended ere they flow; Seem bending upwards, to restore To Heaven, whence it came, their Woe.

<>III. When, molding of the watry Sphears, Slow drops unty themselves away; As if she, with those precious Tears, Would strow the ground where Strephon lay.

<>IV. Yet some affirm, pretending Art, Her Eyes have so her Bosome drown'd, Only to soften near her Heart A place to fix another Wound.

<>V. And, while vain Pomp does her restrain Within her solitary Bowr, She courts her self in am'rous Rain; Her self both Danae and the Showr.

<>VI. Nay others, bolder, hence esteem Joy now so much her Master grown, That whatsoever does but seem Like Grief, is from her Windows thrown.

<>VII. Nor that she payes, while she survives, To her dead Love this Tribute due; But casts abroad these Donatives, At the installing of a new.

<>VIII. How wide they dream! The Indian Slaves That sink for Pearl through Seas profound, Would find her Tears yet deeper Waves And not of one the bottom sound.

<>IX. I yet my silent Judgment keep, Disputing not what they believe: But sure as oft as Women weep, It is to be suppos'd they grieve.

Daphnis and Chloe

Daphnis and Chloe

<>I. Daphnis must from Chloe part: Now is come the dismal Hour That must all his Hopes devour, All his Labour, all his Art.

<>II. Nature, her own Sexes foe, Long had taught her to be coy: But she neither knew t'enjoy, Nor yet let her Lover go.

<>III. But, with this sad News surpriz'd. Soon she let that Niceness fall; And would gladly yield to all, So it had his stay compriz'd.