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No mortal flame was e'er fo cruel
As this, which thus survives the fuel !

To a LADY, from whom he receiv'd a.

Silver Pen.



ADAM! intending to have try'd

The filver favor which you gave, In ink the shining point I dy'd,

And drench'd it in the fable wave: When, griev'd to be so foully stain'd, On you it thus to me complain'd.

Suppose you had deserv'd to take

From her fair hand so fair a boon; Yet how deserved I to make

So ill a change; who ever won Immortal praise for what I wrote, Instructed by her noble thought?

1, that expressed her commands

To mighty Lords, and Princely dames,
Always most welcome to their hands;

Proud that I would record their names,
Must now be taught an humble ftyle,
Some meaner beauty to beguile !

So I, the wronged pen to please,

Make it my humble thanks express Unto your Ladyship, in These :

And now 'tis forced to confess,


That your great self did ne'er indite,
Nor that, to one more noble, write.



HLORIS! since first our calm of peace

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Your favors with your fears increase,

And growing mischiefs make you kind.

So the fair tree, which ftið preserves

Her fruit, and state, while no wind blows, In storms from that uprightness swerves ;

And the glad earth about her strows
With treasure, from her yielding boughs.

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Hile I listen to thy voice,

CHLORIS! I feel my life decay:
That pow'rful noise
Calls my fleeting foul away.
Oh! suppress that magic sound,
Which destroys without a wound.

Peace, CHLORIS, peace! or singing die;

That together you, and I,

To heav'n may go-:

For all we know
Of what the Blessed do above
Is, that they fing, and that they love

Of Loving at First Sight.


OT caring to observe the wind,

Or the new sea explore, Snatch'd from my self, how far behind

Already I behold the shore !

May not a thousand dangers sleep
In the smooth bosom of this Deep?
No: 'tis fo rockless, and so clear,
That the rich bottom does appear
Pav'd all with precious things; not torn
From ship-wreck'd vessels, but there born.

Sweetness, truth, and ev'ry grace
Which time, and use, are wont to teach,
The eye may in a moment reach,
And read distinctly in her face.

Some other nymphs, with colors faint,
And pencil flow, may CUPID paint,
And a weak heart in time destroy ;
She has a stamp, and prints the Boy :
Can, with a single look, inflame
The coldest breast, the rudest tame.

The Self - Banilld.

T is not that I love you less,
Than when before your feet I lay:


But, to prevent the sad increase

Of hopeless love, I keep away.

In vain, alas! for every thing,

Which I have known belong to you, Your form does to my fancy bring,

And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

Who in the spring, from the new sun,

Already has a fever got,
Too late begins those shafts to fhun,

Which PHOE BU S thro' his veins has shot:

Too late he would the pain afswage,

And to thick shadows does retire : About with him he bears the rage,

And in his 'tainted blood the fire.

But vow'd I have, and never must

Your banish'd servant trouble you: For if I break, you may

miftruft The vow I made to love you too.


Go, lovely role!

Tell her that wastes her time, and me,

That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet, and fair, he seems to be.

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Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spyd,

That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended dy'd.

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retir'd:

Bid her come forth,
Suffer her self to be desir'd,
And not blush so to be admir'd.

Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare

May read in thee :
How small a part of time they share,
That are so wond'rous sweet, and fair !



S lately I on filver THAM E did ride,

Sad GALATEA on the bank I spy'd :
Such was her look as forrow taught to shine;
And thus the grac'd me with a voice divine.

G4 L A T E A. You that can tune your founding ftrings fo well, Of Ladies' beauties, and of love to tell, Once change your note; and let your The justest grief that ever touch'd the Court.

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