Fair Nymph! I have in your delights no share; Nor ought to be concerned in your care: Yet would I fing, if I your forrows knew ; And to my aid invoke no Mufe but you. GALATE A.
Hear then, and let your fong augment our grief, Which is fo great, as not to wish relief.
She that had all which nature gives, or chance; Whom fortune join'd with virtue to advance To all the joys this ifland could afford, The greatest Mistress, and the kindeft Lord: Who with the royal, mixt her noble, blood; And in high grace with GLORIANA stood: Her bounty, fweetness, beauty, goodness, fuch, That none e'er thought her happiness too much: So well-inclin'd her favors to confer, And kind to all, as heav'n had been to her! The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife, So well she acted in the span of life, That tho' few years (too few alas!) she told, She feem'd in all things, but in beauty, old. As unripe fruit, whofe verdant ftalks do cleave Close to the tree, which grieves no lefs to leave The smiling pendent which adorns her fo, And, until autumn, on the bough fhould grow:: So feem'd her youthful foul not eas❜ly forc'd, Or from fo fair, so sweet, a feat divorc'd. Her fate at once did hafty feem, and flow; At once too cruel, and unwilling toô.
Under how hard a law are mortals born!
Whom now we envy, we anon must mourn: What heav'n fets highest, and seems most to prize, Is foon removed from our wond'ring eyes! But fince the * Sifters did fo foon untwine So fair a thread, I'll ftrive to piece the line. Vouchsafe, fad Nymph! to let me know the dame, And to the Mufes I'll commend her name: Make the wide country echo to your moan, The lift'ning trees, and favage mountains, groan: What rock's not moved when the death is fung Of one so good, fo lovely, and fo young?
-whom I had nam'd before,
But naming her, grief lets me fay no more.
On the Head of a STAG.
O we fome antique Herbe's ftrength
Learn by his lance's weight, and length; As thefe vaft beams exprefs the beaft, Whofe fhady brows alive they drest. Such game, while yet the world was new, The mighty NIMROD did persue. What huntfman of our feeble race, Or dogs, dare fuch a monster chase? Refembling, with each blow he strikes, The charge of a whole troop of pikes.. O fertile head! which ev'ry year Could fuch a crop of wonder bear!
The teeming earth did never bring So foon, so hard, fo huge a thing: Which might it never have been caft, (Each year's growth added to the last,) Thefe lofty branches had fupply'd
The EARTH's bold fons' prodigious pride: Heav'n with these engines had been scal'd, When mountains heap'd on mountains fail'd.
EES not my Love, how TIME resumes
The glory which he lent these flow'rs? Though none should taste of their perfumes, Yet muft they live but fome few hours: TIME, what we forbear, devours!
Had HELEN, or th' * EGYPTIAN Queen, Been near fo thrifty of their graces ; Those beauties muft at length have been The fpoil of age, which finds out faces In the most retired places.
Should fome malignant planet bring
A barren drought, or ceaseless show'r, Upon the autumn, or the spring, And spare us neither fruit, nor flow'r; Winter would not stay an hour.
Could the refolve of love's neglect Preferve you from the violation
Of coming years, then more refpect
Were due to fo divine a fashion; Nor would I indulge my paffion.
The Mifer's Speech; in a Masque.
ALLS of this metal flack'd ATLANTA's pace, And on the * amorous youth bestow'd the race: VENUS, (the nymph's mind measuring by her own,) Whom the rich spoils of cities overthrown Had proftrated to MARS, could well advife Th' advent'rous lover how to gain the prize. Nor lefs may JUPITER to gold afcribe: For, when he turn'd himself into a bribe, Who can blame DANAE, or the brazen tow'r, That they withstood not that almighty show'r? Never till then did LovE make Jove put on A form more bright, and nobler than his own: Nor were it juft, would he refume that shape, That flack devotion fhould his thunder fcape. 'Twas not revenge for griev'd APOLLO's wrong, Thofe affe's ears on MIDAS' temples hung: But fond repentance of his happy wish, Because his meat grew metal like his dish.
Would BACCHUS blefs me fo, I'd conftant hold Unto my wish, and die creating gold.
IRROR of Poets! Mirror of our age! Which, her whole face beholding on thy Stage, Pleas'd, and difpleas'd, with her own faults, indures A remedy like those whom mufic cures. Thou haft alone thofe various inclinations, Which nature gives to ages, fexes, nations: So traced with thy all-refembling Pen, That, what-e'er custom has impos'd on men, Or ill-got habit, (which deforms them fo, That scarce a brother can his brother know) Is reprefented to the wond'ring Eyes Of all that fee, or read, thy comedies.. Who-ever in those glaffes looks, may find The fpots return'd, or graces, of his mind:: And, by the help of fo divine an art, At leifure view, and drefs, his nobler part. NARCISSUS, Ccozen'd by that flatt'ring well, Which nothing could but of his beauty tell, Had here, difcov'ring the deform'd eftate Of his fond mind, preferv'd himself with hate. But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad In flesh and blood fo well, that PLATO had Beheld, what his high fancy once embrac'd, Virtue with colors, fpeech, and motion grac'd. The fundry poftures of thy copious Muse Who would exprefs, a thousand tongues must use: Whose fate's no less peculiar than thy art; For as thou could'ft all characters impart, So none could render thine; which still escapes, Like PROTEUS, in variety of fhapes:
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