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I'll love each fair one that I see, till I find one at last that shall love me. That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil that ends my wand'rings and my toil : I'll settle there, and happy grow; the country does with milk and honey flow. The needle trembles so, and turns about, till it the Northern point find out; but constant, then, and fix'd, does prove, fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move. Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, if it put forth again to sea ; it never more abroad shall roam, tho'it could next voyage bring th’ Indies home. But I must sweat in love and labour yet, till I a coinpetency get; they're slothful fools who leave a trade, till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. Variety I ask not; give me one. : to live perpetually upon. The person Love does to us fit, like manna, has the taste of all in it..

AGAINST HOPE. Hope, whose weak being ruin'd is, alike if it succeed and if it miss, whom good or ill does equally confound, and both the horns of Fate's dilemma wound; vain shadow! which dost vanish quite, both at full noon and perfect night! the stars have not a possibility of blessing thee:

if things, then, from their end we happy call, 'tis Hope is the most hopeless thing of all. Hope! thou bold taster of delight, who, whilst thou should'st but tasté, devour'st it quite! thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor, by clogging it with legacies before! the joys which we entire should wed, come deflow'red virgins to our bed. Good fortunes without gain imported be, such mighty customs paid to thee: for joy, like wine, kept close does better taste ; if it take air before, its spirits waste. Hope ! Fortune's cheating lottery! where for one prize an hundred blanks there be; . fond Archer! Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far, that still or short or wide thine arrows are ! thin empty cloud, which th' eye deceives with shapes that our owu fancy gives ! A cloud which gilt and painted now appears, but must drop presently in tears ! when thy false beams o'er Reason's light prerail, by ignes fatui for North-stars we sail. Brother of Fear! more gayly clad; the merrier fool o'th'two, yet quite as mad; sire of repentance! child of fond Desire! that blow'st the chemic's and the lover's fire ! leading them still insensibly' on by the strange witchcraft of Anon! by thee the one does changing Nature through her endless labyrinths pursue and th'other chases woman, whilst she goes more ways and turns than hunted Nature knows,

FOR HOPE. Hope, of all ills that men endure, the only cheap and universal cure ! thou captive's freedoin ! and thou sick man's liealth ! thou loser's vict'ry! and thou beggar's wealth! thou manna, which from heav'n we eat, to ev'ry taste a sev'ral meat! thou, strong retreat! thou sure entail'd estate, which nought has pow'r to alienate! thou pleasant, honest Flatterer ! for none flatter unhappy men but thou alone! Hope! thou first-fruits of happiness !' thou gentle dawning of a bright success! thou good prepar'tive, without wbich our joy does work too strong, and whilst it cures, destroy : who out of Fortune's reach dost stand, and art a blessing still in hand! whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain, we certain are to gain, whether she her bargain break or else fulfil; thou only good, not worse for ending ill. Brother of faith ! 'twixt whom and thee the joys of heav'n and earth divided be! tho' Faith be heir, and have the rix'd estate, thy portion yet in moveables is great. Happiness itself is all one in thee or in possession ! only the future is thine, the present his ! thine is the more hard and noble bliss ; best apprehender of our joys, which hast so long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast ! No. 77.

Hope ! thou sad lover's only friend ! thou way, that may'st dispute it with the end ! for love, I fear, 's a fruit that does delight the taste itself less than the smell and sight. Fruition more deceitful is than thou canst be when thou dost miss ; men leave thee by obtaining, and straight flee some other way again to thee: and that's a pleasant country, without doubt, to which all soon return that travel out.

AGE. Oft am I by the women told, poor Anacreon! thou grow'st old : look! how thy hairs are falling all; poor Anacreon, how they fall! Whether I grow old or no, by th' effects I do not know; this I know, without being told, 't is time to live, if I grow old ; 't is time short pleasures now to take, of little life the best to make, and manage wisely the last stake.


Spoken by the God of Love.
How shall I lament thine end,
my best servant, and my friend?
nay, and, if from a deity
so much deified as I,

it sound not too profane and odd,
· oh! my master, and my god !

for 'tis true, most mighty poet! (though I like not, men should know it) I am in naked nature less, : less by much, than in thy dress. All thy verse is softer far than the downy feathers are of my wings, or of my arrows, of my mother's doves, or sparrows. Sweet, as lovers freshest kisses; or, their riper following blisses; graceful, cleanly, smooth, and round, all with Venus' girdle bound; and thy life was all the while kind and gentle, as thy style. The smooth-pac'd hours of ev'ry day glided numerously away; like thy verse, each hour did pass; sweet and short, like that it was.

Some do but their youth allow me, just what they, by nature owe me; the time, that's mine, and not their own, the certain tribute of my crown ; when they grow old, they grow to be too busy, or too wise for me. Thou wert wiser, and didst know, none too wise for love can grow; love was with thy life entwin'd close as heat with fire is join'd, a powerful brand prescrib'd the date of thine, like Meleager's fate. Th' antiperistasis of age more enflam'd thy amorous rage; thy silver hairs yielded me more, than even golden curls, before. .

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