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But now 'tis done, O let me know
Where those immortal colors grow,
That could this deathless piece compose ?
In lillies ? or the fading rose ?
No; for this theft thou hast climb'd high'r,
Than did PROMETHEUS for his fire.

At PENS-HURST.

HChoice of their Deities

, this facred Shade

made Choice of their Deities, this sacred shade Had held an altar to her pow'r, that gave The peace, and glory, which these alleys have : Embroider'd so with flowers where she stood, That it became a garden of a wood. Her presence has such more than human grace, That it can civilize the rudest place : And beauty too, and order can impart, Where nature ne'er intended it, nor art. The plants acknowledge this, and her admire, No less than those of old did ORPHE U s' lyre: If she fit down, with tops all tow'rds her bow'd, They round about her into arbors crowd: Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand, Like some well-marshal'd and obsequious band. AMPHI 0 N so made ftones and timber leap Into fair figures, from a confus'd heap : And in the symmetry' of her parts is found A pow'r, like that of harmony in found.

Ye lofty beeches, tell this matchless dame, That if together ye fed all one flame,,

It could not equalize the hundredth part,
Of what her eyes have kindled in my

heart!
Go, boy, and carve this passion on the bark
Of yonder tree, which stands the facred mark
Of noble SIDNEY's birth; when such benign,
Such more than mortal-making stars did shine ;
That there they cannot but for ever prove
The monument, and pledge, of humble love:
His humble love, whose hope thall ne'er rise high'r,
Than for a pardon that he dares admire.

To my Lord of LEICESTE R.

NO

OT that thy trees at P EN S-H U R S T groan,

Oppressed with their timely load ;
And feem to make their filent moan,

That their great Lord is now abroad:
They to delight his taste, or eye,
Would spend themselves in fruit, and dye.

Not that thy harmless deer repine,

And think themselves unjustly flain By any other hand than thine,

Whose arrows they would gladly stain : No, nor thy friends, which hold too dear That peace with FRANCE, which keeps thee there.

All these are less than that great cause,

Which now exacts your prefence here; Wherein there meet the divers laws

Of public, and domestic, care.

For

For one bright Nymph our youth contends,
And on your prudent choice depends.

Not the bright shield of * Theris' son,

(For which such stern debate did rise, That the great AJAX TÉ LAMON

Refus'd to live without the Prize) Those ACHIVE Peers did more engage, Than the the gallants of our age.

That beam of beauty, which begun

To warm us so, when thou wert here, Now scorches like the raging fun,

When Sirius does first appear. O fix this flame; and let despair Redeem the rest from endless care!

Of the LADY who can sleep when she pleases.

N

.

O wonder SLEEP from careful lovers flies,

To bathe himself in SACHARI S SA's eyes. As fair AstÆa once from earth to heav'n, By strife, and loud impiety, was driv'n: So with our plaints offended, and our tears, Wife Somnu's to that paradise repairs ; Waits on her will, and wretches does forsake, To court the Nymph, for whom those wretches wake; More proud than PHOE BU S of his throne of gold Is the soft God, those fofter limbs to hold : Nor would exchange with Jove, to hide the skies In dark’ning clouds, the pow'r to close her eyes: Achilles.

Eyes,

Eyes, which so far all other lights controul,
They warm our mortal parts, but these our soul!

Let her free spirit, whose unconquer'd breast
Holds such deep quiet, and untroubled rest,
Know, that tho' Venus, and her Son, shou'd spare
Her rebel heart, and never teach her care;
Yet Hymen may in force his vigils keep;
And, for another's joy, suspend her sleep.

Of the Mif-report of ber being Painted.

A ;

S when a sort of wolves infeft the night,

With their wild howlings at fair Cynthia's light; The noise

may

chase sweet slumber from our eyes, But never reach the mistress of the skies: So, with the news of SACHARI S sa's wrongs, Her vexed servants blame those envious tongues : Call Love to witness, that no painted fire Can scorch men so, or kindle fuch defire : While, unconcerned, she seems mov'd no more With this new malice, than our loves before; But, from the height of her great mind, looks down On both our passions, without smile or frown. So little care of what is done below Hath the bright dame, whom heav'n affecteth so! Paints her, 'tis true, with the same hand which spreads Like glorious colors thro' the flow'ry meads ; When lavish nature with her best attire Cloaths the gay spring, the season of desire: Paints her, 'tis true, and does her cheek adorn, With the same art wherewith the paints the morn:

With the same art, wherewith the gildeth so
Those painted clouds which form THAU MANTIAS' bow.

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Of ber pasing through a Crowd of People.
ASánd fars with rocks together cruth'd and bruis:d:)
The Sun his light no further could extend
Than the next hill, which on his shoulders lean'd:
So in this throng bright SACHARIS SA far'd,
Oppress’d by those who strove to be her guard:
As fhips, tho' never so obsequious, fall
Foul in a tempest on their Admiral.
A greater favor this disorder brought
Unto her servants, than their awful thought
Durst entertain, when thus compellid they prest
The yielding marble of her fnowy breast.
While Love insults, disguised in the cloud,
And welcome force, of that unruly crowd.
So th’amorous tree, while yet the air is calm,
Just distance keeps from his desired Palm:
But when the wind her ravish'd branches throws
Into his arms, and mingles all their boughs ;
Tho' loth he seems her tender leaves to press,
More loth he is that friendly storm should cease;
From whose rude bounty he the double use
At once receives, of pleasure, and excuse.

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