While thus I fuffer not my felf to lose

The memory of what

augments my woes : But with my own breath ftill foment the fire, Which flames as high as fancy can afpire!

This laft complaint th' indulgent ears did pierce
Of juft APOLLO, prefident of verfe;

Highly concerned that the Mufe should bring
Damage to one, whom he had taught to fing;
Thus he advis'd me: 66
On yon aged tree
"Hang up thy lute, and hie thee to the sea;
"That there with wonders thy diverted mind
"Some truce at least may with this paffion find."
Ah cruel Nymph! from whom her humble swain
Flies for relief unto the raging Main;

And from the winds, and tempefts, does expect
A milder fate, than from her cold neglect!
Yet there he'll pray, that the unkind may prove
Bleft in her choice; and vows this endless love
Springs from no hope of what she can confer,
But from those gifts which heav'n has heap'd on her.

To my young Lady LUCY SIDNEY.

HY came I fo untimely forth

WHY

Into a world, which, wanting thee,

Could entertain us with no worth,

Or fhadow of felicity?

That time should me fo far remove
From that which I was born to love!

Yet

Yet, fairest bloffom! do not flight

That age which you may know fo foon: The rofy morn refigns her light,

And milder glory, to the noon: And then what wonders fhall you do, Whose dawning beauty warms us fo?

Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime;
And fummer, though it be lefs gay,

Yet is not look'd on as a time

Of declination, or decay:

For, with a full hand, that does bring
All that was promis'd by the spring.

To A MORET.

FAIR! that you may truly know

I will tell you how I do
SACHARISSA love, and You.
Joy falutes me, when I fet
My bleft eyes on AMORET:
But with wonder I am ftrook,
While I on the other look.

If fweet AMORET complains,
I have sense of all her pains:
But for SACHARISSA I
Do not only grieve, but die.
All that of myself is mine,
Lovely AMORET! is thine,

SA

SACHARIS SA's captive fain

Would untie his iron chain;

And, thofe fcorching beams to fhun,
To thy gentle fhadow run.

If the foul had free election
To dispose of her affection;

I would not thus long have born
Haughty SACHARIS SA's fcorn:
But 'tis fure fome Pow'r above,
Which controuls our wills in love!
If not love, a strong defire
To create and spread that fire
In my breaft, follicites me,
Beauteous AMORET! for thee.

'Tis amazement more than love,
Which her radiant eyes do move :
If lefs fplendor wait on thine,
Yet they fo benignly shine,
I would turn my dazled fight
To behold their milder light.
But as hard 'tis to destroy
That high flame, as to enjoy
Which how eas'ly I may do,
Heav'n (as eas'ly fcal'd) does know!
AMORET! as fweet and good

As the most delicious food,
Which, but tafted, does impart
Life and gladness to the heart.

SACHARIS SA's beauty's wine,
Which to madness doth incline:
Such a liquor, as no brain
That is mortal can fuftain.

Scarce

Scarce can I to heav'n excuse

The devotion, which I use

Unto that adored dame:

For 'tis not unlike the fame,
Which I thither ought to fend.
So that if it could take end,
'Twould to heav'n it felf be due
To fucceed her, and not you:
Who already have of me
All that's not idolatry:

Which, though not fo fierce a flame,

Is longer like to be the fame.

Then fmile on me, and I will prove, Wonder is fhorter-liv'd than love.

On the Friendship betwixt SA CHARISSA and AMOR E T.

TE

ELL me, lovely loving Pair!
Why fo kind, and so severe ?

Why fo careless of our care,
Only to your felves fo dear?

By this cunning change of hearts,

You the pow'r of Love controul; While the boy's deluded darts

Can arrive at neither foul.

For in vain to either breaft

Still beguiled Love does come: Where he finds a foreign gueft; Neither of your hearts at home.

Debtors

Debtors thus with like defign,

When they never mean to pay, That they may the law decline, To fome friend make all away.

Not the filver doves that fly,
Yoak'd in CYTHE REA's car;
Not the wings that lift fo high,
And convey her fon so far;

Are so lovely, sweet, and fair,
Or do more ennoble love;
Are fo choicely match'd a pair,
Or with more confent do move.

To A MORE T.

MORET, the Milky Way, Fram'd of many nameless stars! The smooth stream, where none can say, He this drop to that prefers!

AMORET, my lovely foe!

Tell me where thy ftrength does lye?
Where the pow'r that charms us fo?
In thy foul, or in thy eye?,

By that fnowy neck alone;
Or thy grace in motion seen;
No fuch wonders cou'd be done :
Yet thy waist is ftraight, and clean,

As