« ZurückWeiter »
We send the GRACE S, and the MU SE S, forth,
courage had to guard th’invaded throne Of Jove, and cast th' ambitious giants down.
Ah, noble friend! with what impatience all
Some happy wind over the ocean blow
In a late dream, the Genius of this land,
(Tho? (Tho' now they joy in our expected harms) We had occasion to resume our arms.
A lion so with felf-provoking smart, (His rebel tail fcourging his nobler part,) Calls up his Courage ; then begins to roar, And charge his foes, who thought him mad before.
For drinking of HEALTH s.
ET brutes, and vegetals, that cannot think,
So far as drought, and nature, urges, drink:
CH For if with thee I longer stay,
For if with thee I
Among the rest, me hither brought :
Made me stay longer than I thought.
For I'm engag'd by word, and oath,
A Servant to another's will:
When thou, foreknowing this abuse,
y. For thou may't say, 'twas not thy fault
That thou didft inconftant prove ; Being by my example taught
To break thy oath, to mend thy love.
No, CHLORI S, no: I will return,
And raise thy story to that height, That strangers shall at distance burn ;
And she diftrust me reprobate.
And gain such trust, that I may come
But make my constant meals at home.
Of my Lady I S A BELLA playing on the lute. SSCH
UCH moving sounds, from such a careless touch!
So unconcern'd her self, and we so much! What art is this, that with so little pains Transports us thus, and o'er our spirits reigns ? The trembling strings about her fingers crowd, And tell their joy for ev'ry kiss aloud : Small force there needs to make them tremble fo; Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too? Here Love takes stand, and, while she charms the ear, Empties his quiver on the lift'ning deer : Music so softens, and difarms, the mind, That not an arrow does resistance find. Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize, And acts her self the triumph of her eyes: So Nero once, with harp in hand, survey'd His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd.
To a Lady singing a Song of his compohng:
When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought,
That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espy'd a feather of his own,
Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
Had ECHO, with so sweet a grace,
NARC I S S U s’ loud complaints return'd, Not for reflexion of his face,
But of his voice, the boy had burn'd.
Of Mrs. ARDEN.
Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air:
So, when a flash of light'ning falls
tho’ from heav'n it came: But, if the the winds with that conspire, Men strive not, but deplore the fire.
Of the Marriage of the DWARF s.
But nature did this match contrive :