preceding a1r preceding a1r

An engraved portrait of Elizabeth Rowe in a frame with the text “Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe”. The frame is ornamented with drapes as well as a staff, a crown, a fife, a garland, and some parchment. Mrs Elizabeth Rowe.

preceding a1r preceding a1r

A similar engraved portrait of Elizabeth Rowe in a frame with the text “Mrs Elizabeth Rowe”. This portrait is signed in the lower left hand corner by the engraver: “Tho. Kitchen Sculp.” Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe. Tho. Kitchin Sculp.

preceding a1r preceding a1r

Another engraved portrait of Elizabeth Rowe in a frame with the text “Mrs Elizabeth Rowe”. The border and ornamentation remain the same, but the quality of her expression has improved. This portrait is signed by the engraver: “G. Vertue Sculp.” Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe. G. Vertue Sculp.

a1r

Poems
On Several
Occasions.

Written By
Philomela.

London:
Printed for John Dunton at the Raven
in Jewen-street. 16961696.

a1v a2r

Preface to the
Reader
.

The occasion of this
Preface is, to give
the World some account
of the Author
of these Poems, as far as I’m
permitted to do it: An
Employment I the more willingly
chuse, because our Sex
has some Excuse for a little
Vanity, when they have so
good Reason for’t, and such
a Champion among themselves,
as not many of the other can a2boast a2v
boast of. We are not unwilling
to allow Mankind
the Brutal Advantages of
Strength, they are Superior
to ours in Force, they have
Custom of their side, and have
Ruled
, and are like to do so,
and may freely do it without
Disturbance or Envy; at least
they should have none from
us, if they cou’d but keep
quiet among themselves. But
when they wou’d Monopolize
Sence too, when neither
that, nor Learning, nor so
much as Wit must be allow’d
us, but all over-rul’d by the
Tyranny of the Prouder Sex;
nay, when some of ’em won’t
let us say our Souls are our
own, but wou’d perswade us
we are no more Reasonable
Creatures
then themselves, or
their Fellow-Animals; we then must a3r
must ask their Pardons if we
are not yet so Compleatly passive
as to bear all without so
much as a murmur: We
complain, and we think with
reason, that our Fundamental
Constitutions
are destroyed;
that here’s a plain and an open
design to render us meer
Slaves, perfect Turkish Wives,
without Properties, or Sense,
or Souls; and are forc’d to
Protest against it, and appeal
to all the World, whether
these are not notorious Violations
on the Liberties of Free-
born English Women
? This
makes the Meekest Worm amongst
us all, ready to turn
agen when we are thus trampled
on; But alas! What
can we do to Right our selves?
stingless and harmless as we
are, we can only Kiss the A3Foot a3v
Foot that hurts us. However,
sometimes it pleases
Heaven to raise up some
Brighter. Genius then ordinary
to Succour a Distressed
People—; an Epaminondas in
Thebes; a Timoleon for Corinth;
(for you must know
we Read Plutarch now ’tis
Translated) and a Nassaw for
all the World: Nor is our
Defenceless Sex forgotton—we
have not only Bunduca’s and
Zenobia’s, but Sappho’s, and
Behn’s, and Schurman’s, and
Orinda’s, who have humbled
the most haughty of our Antagonists,
and made ’em
do Homage to our Wit, as
well as our Beauty. ’Tis
true, their Mischievous and
Envious sex have made it
their utmost endeavours to
deal with us, as Hannibal was a4r
was serv’d at Capua, and
to Corrupt that Virtue which
they can no otherwise overcome:
and sometimes they
prevail’d: But, if some Angels
fell, others remain’d in
their Innocence and Perfection,
if there were not also
some addition made to their
Happiness and Glory, by their
continuing stedfast. Angels
Love
, but they love Virtuously
and Reasonably, and
neither err in the Object, nor
the Manner: And if all our
Poetesses had done the same,
I wonder what our Enemies
cou’d have found out to
have objected against us:
However, here they are silenc’d;
and I dare be bold
to say, that whoever does
not come extreamly prejudic’da4 dic’d a4v
to these Poems, will
find in ’em that vivacity of
Thought, that purity of Language,
that softness and delicacy
in the Love-part, that
strength and Majesty of Numbers
almost every where,
especially on Heroical Subjects,
and that clear and unaffected
Love to Virtue; that
heighth of Piety and warmth
of Devotion in the Canticles,
and other Religious Pieces;
which they will hardly find
exceeded in the best Authors
on those Different Kinds
of Writing, much less equall’d
by any single Writer.

And now I have nothing
more, I think, lies upon my
Hands, but to assure the Reader, a5r
Reader, that they were actually
Writ by a young Lady,
(all, but some of the Answers,
as is well-known to
some Persons of Quality and
Worth) whose Name had
been prefix’d, had not her
own Modesty absolutely forbidden
it.

The way of Thinking and
Writing is all along the same,
only varying with the Subject;
and the Whole so very
agreeable a mixture, that unless
Philaret and my Self, who
have the Honour to be her
Friends, and who perswaded
her to Publish this First Volume,
are very partial, ’tis
more than probable, they
will meet with so favourable
a Reception with the Pious a5v
Pious and Ingenious Reader,
that we may e’re long prevail
with Her to oblige the World
with a Second Part, no way
inferior to the former.

Elizabeth Johnson.

To a6r

To The
Author
Of these
Poems,
Known only by Report, and by Her
Works.

No—’tis in vain—attempt not to persuade!

They were not, cou’d not be by Woman
made:

Each Thought so strong, so finish’d every Line,

All o’r we see so rich a Genius shine;

O more then Man, we Cry, O Workmanship
Divine!

Courtly the Stile as Wallers, clear, and neat,

Not Cowley’s Sence more Beautiful, or great:

Numerous a6v

Numerous the verse, as Drydens flowing strain;

Smooth as the Thames, yet Copious as the Main.

But when the Author Royal Mary mourns,

Or in soft Fires for gay Orestes burns

Agen, our sexes Pride is undeceiv’d:

A Soul so Soft in Man yet never liv’d.

In vain, alas in vain our Fate we shun;

We Read, and Sigh, and Love, and are undon:

Circæan charms, and Female Arts we prove,

Transported all to some New World of Love.

“Now our Ears tingle, and each thick-drawn-Breath

Comes hard, as in the Agonys of Death:

Back to the panting Heart the purple Rivers flow,

Our Swimming Eyes, to see, our Feet unlearn to
goe:

“In a7r

In every trembling Nerve a short-liv’d Palsy
reigns,

Strange Feavers boyl our Blood, yet shudder
thro’ our Veins,

Tyrannous Charmer hold! our Sence, our Souls
restore!

Monopolize not Love, nor make the World adore!”

Can Heavenly minds be angry! can she
frown?

What Thunders has one eager Thought pull’d
down?

Diana thus by the bold Hunter found,

Instead of Darts, shot angry Blushes round.

O Goddess Spare—all white as Cyprias Dove

Is thy untarnisht Soul, and Loves as Angels Love;

Honour and Virtue each wild-wish repel,

And doubly sink ’em to their Native Hell.

Saints may by thee their holiest Thoughts refine,

And Vestal-Virgin’s dress their Souls by thine,

Sure a7v

Sure none but you such Passion cou’d restrain;

None ever Lov’d like you, and Lov’d in vain.

What Age can equal, what Historian find

Such Tenderness, with so much Duty joyn’d?

Sappho and Behn reform’d, in thee revive,

In thee we see the Chast Orinda live.

Thy works express thy Soul, we read thee there,

Not thine own Pencil draws more like, or fair.

As Flowers steal unobserv’d from Nature’s Bed,

And silent sweets around profusely shed

So you in Secret shades unknown, unseen

Commence at once a Muse, and Heroine.

Yet you’re in vain unknown, in vain wou’d shrow’d

That Sun, which shines too bright t’ endure a cloud.

Prepare a8r

Prepare then for that Fame which you despise!

But when you’re seen, still hide, O hide your Eyes!

Love Vertue, and adorn’t! still let us see

Such Wit and Beauty joyn’d with Piety.

Let Heaven and Heaven’s Vicegerent always share

Your noblest Thoughts, and your most Dutious care.

William’s a Name, you’re Fated to Record,

No Pen but yours can match the Heroes Sword.

If yon Associate too, you’ll guard Him
more

Then all the Loyal Myriads gon before.

Let harden’d Traitors know what ’tis to’ abuse

The Patience of a King and of a Muse.

Let ’em no more a Monarch’s Justice dare,

Draw off his side, at once, and End the
War
!

These a8v

These just, tho’ poor Acknowledgments I send,

From distant Shades, to Heav’ns and Cesars Friend:

Those but debase, who weakly strive to raise,

You’ll ne’re grow vain with ――’s humble praise.

Poems 2a1r To
A1r 1

Poems
on

Several Occasions.

Platonick Love.

I.

So Angels Love and all the rest is dross,

Contracted, selfish, sensitive and gross.

Unlike to this, all free and unconfin’d,

Is that bright flame I bear thy brighter mind.

II.

No stragling wish, or symptom of desire,

Comes near the Limits of this holy fire;

A Yet A1v 2

Yet ’tis intense and active, tho so fine;

For all my pure immortal part is thine.

III.

Why should I then the Heav’nly spark controul,

Since there’s no brighter Ray in all my Soul,

Why should I blush to indulge the noble flame,

For which even friendship’s a degrading name.

IV.

Nor is the greatness of my Love to thee,

A sacriledge unto the Deity,

Can I th’ enticing stream almost adore,

And not respect its lovely fountain more?

humane A2r 3

Humane Love:
By a
Country Gentleman,
In Answer to
Platonick Love.

I.

“So Angels love,” So let them love for me;

As mortal, I must like a mortal be.

My Love’s as pure as their’s, more unconfin’d;

I love the Body, they but love the Mind.

II.

Without enjoyment, Can desire be ill?

For that which wou’d a Man with pleasure fill;

This more intense and active, sure must be,

Since I both Soul and Body give to thee.

A2 This A2v 4

III.

This flame as much of Heaven as that contains,

And more, for unto that but half pertains:

Friendship one Soul to th’ other doth unite,

But Love joins all, and therefore is more bright.

IV.

Neither doth—Humane Love—Religion harm,

But rather us against our Vices arm:

Shall I not for a charming Mistress dye?

When Heaven commands “increase and multiply”.

To A3r 5

To the Mr. ―― ―― on his
Poem.

I.

Some Tuneful Being now my Breast inspire

With Thoughts as Gay and Noble as Celestial
Fire
;

For Clitus is my Theam;

But ah in vain born on Pindarick Wings,

My ventrous Muse

The mighty Aim pursues;

For to his Native Skies still Clitus mounts and
Sings,

And we are distant still to an extream.

A3 Behold A3v 6

II.

Behold the Heavenly Charmer, how he keeps aloft;

While Angels Crowd, and Listen to his
Song;

And not an Angel-Critick in the throng

That durst correct a Thought.

So Nobly are they Drest,

And Gracefully exprest;

So smoothly glide the Numbers from his
Tongue;

So well his Touch the Charming Strings
obey,

That all his Heavenly Auditors Admire,

To hear him weild an equal Theam with as
much skill as they.

His Voice and Theam did even their Harps inspire;

And the Glad Anthem they repeat
agen,

“Glory to God, Peace and Good-will to
Men.”

To A4r 7

To
Mrs. Mary Friend;
Knowing her but by Report.

’Twere both unjust and stupid to refuse

To so much Worth, the Tribute of my
Muse;

Tho Saints, as well, may those Bright Forms
express,

That in a Rapture they conceive of Bliss;

As I can give such Wondrous Charms their
due,

Or, Dress in Words, my Brighter Thoughts of
You,

Charming, and Gay, your Fair Idea seems

As Gay, as if compos’d of Love and Beams;

Such Heavenly Rays adorn your Lovely Eyes,

That, by Imagination, they surprize,

And, at your Feet, a Female Victim lies:

A4 But A4v 8

But how, Fair Nymph, will your Approaches
Fire,

If Distant Charms such gentle thoughts inspire.

Paraphrase
On INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Joh. 3. 16――“For God so loved
The World, that he gave his only
begotten Son,”
&c.

I.

Yes; so God loved the World; But where

Are this Great Loves Dimensions?

Even Angels stop; for, baffled here

Are their vast Apprehensions.

In vain they strive to Grasp the boundless thing;

Not all their Comments can explain the mighty
Truth I Sing.

Yet A5r 9

II.

Yet still they pause on the Contents

Of this Amazing Story;

How he that fill’d the wide extents

Of Uncreated Glory?

He whom the Heaven of Heavens cou’d not
contain;

Shou’d yet within Sacred Maids contracted
Womb
remain.

III.

They see him Born, and hear him Weep,

To aggravate their Wonder;

Whose Awful Voice had shook the Deep,

And Breath’d his Will in Thunder:

That Awful Voice, chang’d to an Infant’s Cry;

Whilst in a Feeble Woman’s Arms he seems
constrain’d to lye.

A A5v 10

IV.

A God (Ah! Where are Humane boasts?)

Extended in a Manger?

The Lord of all the Heavenly Hosts

Expos’d to Scorn and Danger?

The Onely Blest, the All-sufficient Weeps:

But Oh, who Guides the Staggering World, while
its Protector Sleeps?

V.

And canst thou Man ungrateful prove.

When ’twas for thy Salvation,

He left those Splendid Seats above,

His late bright Habitation?

Where all his Deity Shone, without the Allay

Of a Seraphick Vehicle, or desicated Clay.

VI.

Where he Transcendently possest

The Fullness of Perfection:

Tho here benighted and opprest,

The Type of all Dejection.

He A6r 11

He asks for Food, that gave the Ravens Bread;

And the Great Founder of the World wants
where to lay his Head
.

VII.

But Oh what Dark Catastrophe

Does Hell at last Conspire!

Behold! upon a Cursed Tree

The Lord of Life Expire:

From this, Amaz’d, the Sun withdraws his Eye,

Afraid to see his Maker Bleed, and the Eternal
Dye
.

VIII.

The Seraphims that throng’d about,

’Twixt Hope and Consternation;

Now Blaze the Wondrous News throughout

The Radiant Corporation:

Who vainly strive the Mistery to scan,

And Fathom the Stupendious Depths of this
Great Love to Man.

He A6v 12

IX.

He on the Rights of Justice stood,

With their Exalted Nature,

That now, through Streams of Sacred Blood

Wafts the Terrestial Creature;

Wafts Dusty-Man to that Felicity,

Which the Apostate Son of Light must never
hope to see.

The
Expostulation.

I.

How long, great God, a wretched captive
here,

Must I these hated marks of bondage wear?

How long shall these uneasy chains controul

The willing flights of my impatient Soul?

How A7r 13

How long shall her most pure intelligence

Be strain’d through an infectious screen of gross,
corrupted sence?

II.

When shall I leave this darksome house of clay;

And to a brighter mansion wing away?

There’s nothing here my thoughts to entertain,

But one Tyr’d revolution o’re again:

The Sun and Stars observe their wonted round,

The streams their former courses keep: No Novelty
is found
.

III.

The same curst acts of false fruition o’re,

The same wild hopes and wishes as before;

Do men for this so fondly life caress,

(That airy huff of splendid emptiness?)

Unthinking sots: kind Heaven let me be gone,

I’m tyr’d, I’m sick of this dull Farce’s repetition.

To A7v 14

To my Lady
Carteret
.

Too great your Power, and too soft my
Breast:

The charming Inspiration to resist:

But Oh in what bold Strain shall I begin,

To breathe th’ unusual Potent Instinct in?

Such pleasing looks, in midst of Spring, adorn

The Flowry Fields; so smiles the Beauteous
Morn
.

But, What are these dull Metaphors to you?

Or, What is all, my Fancy has in view?

A Form more fine, more accurately wrought,

Was ne’r conceiv’d by a Poetick Thought?

So mild your eyes, so beautiful and bright,

That lovelier eyes did ne’r salute the Light;

With such a gentle look, and such an air;

So lovely, so exceeding sweet, and fair,

To us, the Heavenly Messengers appear:

Whilst A8r 15

Whilst Man too feeble for their bright extreams,

With such soft Smiles as yours they’r forc’t to allay
their Beams
.

“And, though after my Skin, Worms
destroy this Body, yet in my Flesh
shall I see God,”
INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Job 19. 26

What tho my Soul rent from the close
imbrace

Of this material consort, take its flight,

(Exil’d the Confines of her Native place)

And leave these eyes clos’d in a Dismal Night:

She shall agen resume the dear abode,

And, cloath’d in Flesh, I shall behold my God.

II.

Tho in the Gloomy Regions of the Grave,

Forgotten, and insensible I lye;

That tedious night shall a bright morning have,

The welcome dawnings of Eternity.

My A8v 16

My Soul shall then resume her old abode,

And cloath’d in flesh, I shall behold my God.

III.

Altho resolv’d unto my Native dust,

Its proper part, each Element refine;

Yet at my awfull Makers breath they must

The Individual Particles resign:

And then my Soul shall take her old abode,

And cloath’d in Flesh, I shall behold my God.

To
Sir Chareles Sedley.

But stay ’tis Sedley――and it were a crime

For me to grasp a Subject so sublime:

Since nothing but his own Cœlestial lays

Are fit the Authour of such flights to praise,

Nor dare my thoughts make the unequal choice

My Infant-muse has yet, but try’d her tender
voice.

To B1r 17

To the Honourable
Mrs. E―― Stretchy.

The Artful hand of Nature ne’r display’d

More skill, then when your Charming
Self
was made:

A Shape, a Face, and Meen so rare, that we

Think you her boasted Master-piece to be;

Whilst that Bright Soul that Heaven has plac’t
within,

Makes every Charm with double-lustre shine:

But since I on my Lyre can touch no String,

Equal to those great Merits, I would Sing,

Hopeless, to give such mighty Charms their
due,

I’ll leave the World to Brighter Thoughts of you.

B A B1v 18

A Pindarick Poem on
Habbakuk.

I.

When God from Teman came,

And cloath’d in Glory from Mount-
Paran
shone,

Drest in th’unsufferable Flame

That hides his dazling Throne,

His Glory soon eclips’d the once bright Titan’s
Rays,

And fill’d the trembling Earth with Terror and
Amaze.

Resplendent Beams did crown his awful Head,

And shining brightness all around him spread;

Omnipotence he graspt in his strong Hand,

And listning Death stood waiting on his dread
Command
;

Waiting ’till his resistless Bolts he’d throw;

Devouring Coals beneath his Feet did glow:

All B2r 19

All Natures Frame did quake beneath his Feet,

And with his Hand he the vast Globe did
mete;

The frighted Nations scattered,

And at his sight the bashful Mountains fled,

The everlasting Hills their Founder’s Voice obey,

And stoop their lofty Heads to make th’ Eternal
way.

The distant Ethiops all Confusion are,

And Midian’s trembling Curtains cannot hide
their Fear:

When thy swift Chariots pass’d the yielding
Sea,

The blushing Waves back in amazement flee,

Affrighted Jordan stops his flowing Urn,

And bids his forward Streams back to their Fountain
turn.

(2.)

Arm’d with thy mighty Bow,

Thou marchedst out against thy daring Foe:

B2 And B2v 20

And very terrible thou didst appear

To them, but thus thy darling People cheer.

“Know, Jacob’s Sons, I am the God of Truth,

Your Father Jacob’s God, nor can I break my
Oath.”

The Mountains shook as our dread Lord advanc’d,

And all the little Hills around ’em danc’d:

The neighb’ring Streams their verdant Banks
o’reflow,

The Waters saw and trembled at the sight,

Back to their old Abyss they go,

And bear the News to everlasting Night:

The Mother Deep within its hollow Caverns
roars,

And beats the silent Shores.

The Sun above no longer dares to strive,

Nor will his frighted Steeds their wonted Journey
drive.

ehTThe B3r 21

The Moon, to see her Brother stop his Car,

Grew pale, and curb’d her sable Reins for Fear,

Thy threatning Arrows gild their flaming way,

And at the glittering of thy Spear the Heathen dare
not stay;

The very sight of thee did them subdue,

And arm’d with Fury thou the Vict’ry didst pursue.

So now, great God, wrapt in avenging Thunder,

Meet thin and William’s Foes, and tread them
groveling under.

The Athenians
To the Compiler of the Pindarick
now Recited.

(1.)

We yield! we yield! the Palm, bright
Maid! be thine!

How vast a Genius sparkles in each
Line!

How Noble all! how Loyal! how Divine!

B3 Sure B3v 22

Sure thou by Heaven-inspir’d, art sent

To make the Kings and Nations Foes repent,

To melt each Stubborn Rebel down,

Or the Almighty’s hov’ring Vengeance show,

Arm’d with his glittering Spear and dreadful
Bow
,

And yet more dreadful Frown.

Ah wou’d they hear! ah wou’d they try

Th’ exhaustless Mercy yet in store

From Earths and Heavens offended Majesty,

Both calmly ask, “Why will they dye?”

Ah! wou’d they yet Repent, and sin no more!

(2.)

How bless’d, how happy we,

Cou’d all we write one Convert make,

How gladly New Affronts cou’d take

One Convert to dear Virtue, and dear Loyalty?

Tho’ the full Crop reserv’d for thee.

Oh Virgin! touch thy Lyre:

What B4r 23

What Fiend so stubborn to refuse

The soft, yet powerful Charms of thy Clestial
Muse?

What gentle Thoughts will they inspire!

How will thy Voice, how will thy Hand,

Black Rebel-Legions to the Deep Command!

Black Rebel-Legions murmuring take their
flight,

And sink away to conscious Shades of everlasting
Night
:

While those they left, amazed stand,

And scarce believe themselves, theselves to
find

Cloath’d, calm, and in a better Mind.

(3.)

Begin, begin, thy Noble Choice,

Great William claims thy Lyre, and claims
thy Voice,

All like himself the Hero shew,

Which none but thou canst do.

B4 At B4v 24

At Landen paint him, Spears and Trophies
round,

And Twenty thousand Deaths upon the slippery
ground:

Now, now the dreadful Shock’s begun,

Fierce Luxemburg comes thundering on:

They charge, retreat, return and fly,

Advance, retire, kill, conquer, dye!

Tell me, some God, what Gods are those

Enwrapt in Clouds of Smoak and Foes,

Who oft the tottering Day restore?

’Tis William and Bavaria, say no more!

William―― that lov’d, that dreadful Name!

Bavaria! Rival of his Fame.

A third comes close behind, who shou’d he be?

’Tis Ormond! mighty Ormond! sure ’tis he:

’Tis nobly fought—they must prevail;

Ah no, our Sins weigh down the doubtful
Scale.

Ah B5r 25

Ah thankless England, they engag’d for thee,

Or never cou’d have miss’d the Victory:

With high Disdain from the moist Field they go,

And dreadfully Retreat, yet Face the trembling
Foe.

(4.)

Thus Sing, Bright Maid! thus and yet louder
Sing,

Thy God and King!

Cherish that Noble Flame which warms thy
Breast,

And be by future Worlds admir’d and bless’d:

The present Ages short-liv’d Glories scorn,

And into wide Eternity be born!

There Chast Orinda’s Soul shall meet with
thine,

More Noble, more Divine;

And in the Heaven of Poetry for ever shine:

There all the glorious few,

To Loyalty and Virtue true,

Like her and you.

’Tis B5v 26

’Tis that, ’tis that alone must make you truely
great
,

Not all your Beauty equal to your Wit,

(For sure a Soul so fine

Wou’d ne’r possess a Body less divine)

Not all Mortallity so loudly boast,

Which withers soon and fades,

Can ought avail when hurry’d to th’ uncomfortable
Coasts,

Where wander wide lamenting Ghosts,

And thin unbody’d Shades.

’Tis Virtue only with you goes,

And guards you thro’ Ten thousand Foes;

Hold fast of that, ’twill soon direct your flight

To endless Fame and endless Light;

If that you lose, you sink away,

And take eternal leave of Day.

Then fly false Man, if you’d an Angel prove,

And consecrate to Heaven your Nobler Love.

A B6r 27

A Poetical Question concerning
the Jacobites, sent to the
Athenians.

’Twas nobly thought, and worthy—still;

So I resolv’ t’ employ my Loyal Quill.

Virtue, and our unequall’d Heroes praise!

What Theams more glorious can exact my Lays
?

William! A Name my Lines grow proud to bear!

A Prince as Great, and wondrous Good, as e’re

The sacred Burden of a Crown did wear.

Resolve me, then, Athenians, what are those,

(Can there be any such?) You call his Foes?

His Foes, Curst word, and why they’d pierce his breast,

Ungrateful Vipers! where they warmly rest?

The B6v 28

The Athenians Ansswer.

Their Name is Legion, grinning from a far

Against the Throne, who wage unequal
War
;

Tho’ nearer, on perpetual Guard, attends

A far more numerous Host of brighter Friends:

Around our Prince, Heav’ns Care, the sacred Band

With fiery Arms in firm Battalia stand:

To him mild Light, and Lambent Beams they
show,

But Wrath and Terror to his harden’d Foe.

See the black Phalanx melt, they melt away,

As guilty Ghosts slink from approaching Day,

Behold their Leaders, deckt in horrid State,

Nor wonder why they Heav’n and sar hate.

First mark their haughty General, arm’d compleat

In Plates of glowing Steel! ’tis Lucifer the great!

See B7r 29

See his proud Standard o’re his Tent enlarg’d!

With bloated Toads, an odious Bearing, charg’d.

The ancient Arms which once his Shield adorn’d,

Tho’ ’tis of late to Flour-de-Lis’s turn’d.

Blasphemous Belial! next thy Squadrons stand!

Lawless and Lewd, a baffled blasted band,

Each holds a kindled Pamphlet in his hand.

These make the Gross, the rest we may de­
despise,

(Retailers they of Treason, and of Lies)

Lucifer’s Friends, and sars Enemies.

Ah were there none but these, who wou’d not be

Proud and Ambitious of their Enmity!

There’s one small party, near, too near their Line,

Which hover yet, and scarce know which to
joyn.

No black, no ugly marks of Sin disgrace

Their nobler Forms, no malice in their Face:

A Duskier Gleam they wear then e’re they fell,

Their Plumes just scorcht, too near ally’d to Hell.

What B7v 30

What mad mistaken bravery draws ’em in,

Where Constancy’s no Virtue but a Sin?

How can they still their fallen Prince esteem?

When false to Heaven, why are they true to him?

O! must they sink! a glorious Starry Race!

They are almost too good, for that sad place.

That waits their Fall: It must not, cannot be,

If err we do, wee’l err with Charity,

Father! they may be Sav’d! we’ll joyn with
Thee!

Upon King William’s passing the
Boyn, &c.

What mighty genious thus excites my
Breast

With flames too great to manage or
resist;

And prompts my humbler Muse at once to Sing,

(Unequal Task) the Hero and the King.

Oh B8r 31

Oh were the potent inspiration less!

I might find words its Raptures to express;

But now I neither can its force controul,

Nor paint the great Ideas of my Soul:

Even so the Priests Inspir’d, left half the Mind

Of the unutterable God behind.

Too soft’s my Voice the Hero to express;

Or, like himself, the War-like Prince to dress;

Or, speak him Acting in the dreadful Field,

As Brave Exploits as e’r the Sun beheld;

(Secure, and Threatning as a Martial God,

Among the thickest of his Foes he Rode;

And, like an Angry Torrent forc’t his way

Through all the Horrors that in Ambush lay:)

Or at the Boyne describe him as he stood

Resolv’d, upon the edges of the Flood:

On, on, Great William; for no Breast but
Thine,

Was ever urg’d with such a Bold Design:

Indulge B8v 32

Indulge the Motions of this Sacred Heat;

For none but thee can weild a thought so great.

He’s lanch’d, he’s lanch’d; the foremost from the
Shore;

The Noblest Weight that e’r the River Bore.

To smooth their Streams, the smiling Naides
hast;

And, Rising, did him Homage as he pass’d:

And all the shapes of Death and Horror――

No more—ah stay—though in a cause so good;

’Tis pitty to expend that Sacred Blood.

Why wilt thou thus the boldest Dangers seek,

And foremost through the Hostile Squadrons break?

Why wilt thou thus so bravely venture all?

Oh, where’s unhappy Albion, should’st thou
fall?

Keep near him still, you kind Æthereal Powers,

That Guard him, and are pleas’d, the Task is
yours.

All C1r 33

All the Ill Fate that threatens him oppose;

Confound the Forces of his Foreign Foes,

And Treacherous Friends less generous then those;

May Heaven success to all his Actions give,

And long, and long, and long, let William live.

The Vanity of the World,
In a Poem to the Athenians.

What if serenly blest with Calms I swam

Pactolus in thy golden Sanded stream?

Not all the wealth that lavish Chance cou’d give

My soul from Death cou’d one short Hour reprieve.

When from my Heart the wandring Life must move

No Cordial all my useless Gold cou’d prove.

What tho’ I plung’d in Joys so deep and wide,

’Twou’d tire my Thoughts to reach the distant side,

Fancy it self ’twou’d tire to plumb the Abyss;

If I for an uncertain Lease of this

Sold the fair hopes of an eternal bliss?

C What C1v 34

What if invested with the Royal State

Of dazling Queens, ador’d by Kings I sat?

Yet when my trembling Soul’s dislodg’d wou’d be

No Room of State within the Grave for me.

What if my Youth, in Wits and Beautys bloom

Shou’d promise many a flatt’ring Year to come:

Tho’ Death shou’d pass the beauteous Flourisher,

Advancing Time wou’d all its Glory marr.

What if the Muses loudly sang my Fame,

The barren Mountains ecchoing with my Name?

An envious puff might blast the rising Pride.

And all its bright conspicuous Lustre hide.

If o’re my Relicks Monuments they raise

And fill the World with Flattery, or with Praise,

What wou’d they all avail, if sink I must,

My Soul to endless shades, my Body to the dust?

The C2r 35

The Athenians Answer.

Nothing, Ah nothing! Virtue only gives

Immortal praise that only ever lives.

What pains wait Vice, what endless Worlds of Woe

You know full well, but may you never know.

The Rapture.

1.

Lord! if one distant glimpse of thee

Thus elevate the Soul,

In what a heighth of Extasie

Do those bless’d Spirits roll,

2.

Who by a fixt eternal View

Drink in immortal Raies;

To whom unveiled thou dost shew

Thy Smiles without Allays?

C2 An C2v 36

3.

An Object which if mortal Eyes

Cou’d make approaches to,

They’d soon esteem their best-lov’d Toys

Not worth one scornfull View.

4.

How then, beneath its load of Flesh

Wou’d the vex’d Soul complain!

And how the Friendly Hand she’d bless

Wou’d break her hated Chain!

A Paraphrase on the
Canticles

Chap. 1

(1)

Wilt thou deny the bounty of a Kiss,

And see me languish for the Melting
bliss?

More sweet to me than bright delicious Wine,

Prest from the Purple clusters of the Vine:

As C3r 37

As Fragrant too as Ointments poured forth,

Are the loud Eccho’s of thy matchless worth;

Which makes the Virgins, kindled by thy fame,

Wish to expire in the Celestial Flame:

Come then, display thy Lovely Face, and we,

Drawn by resistless Charmes, will follow thee;

Into thy Royal Chambers brought, where I,

May see my Lord, and fear no Witness by.

I’m black, tis true, for scorching in the Sun;

I kept anothers Vine, and left my own;

But tho thus Clouded, the reflecting Face

Of my Bright Love shall all this blackness chase.

Say then my Dear, much dearer than my Soul;

Where feed thy Milky Flocks? Unto what cool

Refreshing Shade dost thou resort? least I

Should (as I languish) in thy absence dye:

Say, Lovely Shepherd, say, What happy Streams

Are gilded now with thy Illustrious Beams?

C3 I’ll C3v 38

(2)

I’ll tell thee, Fairest of all Women, how,

Thou maist my most frequented Pastures know:

Follow the Footsteps of my Flocks, and there

I will not fail to Meet my Charming Fair.

Whom I, as Mistress of my Flocks will Grace,

And on her Brows immortal Garlands Place.

(3)

The while my Spicknard shall ascend, and
Greet

My Charmer with its Tributary Sweet:

Then, all the Night, upon my Panting Breast,

As Fragrant Mirrh; let my Beloved Rest.

So Sweet he is, that Mirrh, nor Cypress ere

With such Delicious Breathings fill’d the Air.

When thy Two Lovely Eyes Inflame my Heart,

It leaps for Joy, and meets th’ unerring Dart.

Oh C4r 39

(4)

Oh thou more Fair, more vastly bright, then all

The World did ever Bright, or Glorious call:

My Verdant Love still flourishing, to thee

Shall fixt, as our Eternal Mansions be.

Chap. II.

(1)

At thy Approach, my Cheek with Blushes
glows,

And Conscious warmth, which with Thee comes
and goes;

Like the Pale Lilly joyn’d to Sharon’s-Rose;

And Thorns to them I sooner would compare,

Then other Beauties to my Darling Fair.

(2)

And I as soon would rank a Fruitful Tree

With barren shrubs, as Mortal clods with thee.

C4 Beneath C4v 40

Beneath thy Shade, blest, to my wish, I sate,

And of thy Royal Banquet freely eat;

Whilst o’r my head a Banner was display’d:

In which, oh Melting Sight, the God of Love
did Bleed.

Excess of Pleasure will my Soul destroy;

I’m ev’n opprest with the Tyrannick Joy:

Oh therefore turn thy Lovely Eyes away;

(Yet do not, for I die unless they stay.)

I faint, I faint; alas! no Mortal yet,

With eyes undazled half this Splendor met:

But sure I cannot sink, upheld by Thee;

So would I rest unto Eternity.

And now I charge you, Virgins, not to make

The least disturbance, till my Love awake,

(3)

What Charming Voice is that Salutes my Ear?

It must be my Beloved’s; he is near:

He is, and yet unfriendly stays without:

He stays, as if he did a Wellcome doubt.

But C5r 41

But hark, methinks I hear him softly say;

Arise my Fair, arise, and come away!

For loe the Stormy Winter’s past and gone;

And Summer, Drest in all her Pride, comes on:

The Warbling Birds in Airy Raptures Sing

Their glad Pindaricks to the Wellcome-Spring:

The Fig-Trees sprout, the Chearful Vines look
Gay;

Arise my Lovely Fair, and come away!

Come Forth, my Dove, my Charming Innocence;

How canst thou Fear while I am thy Defence?

(4)

Do thou the Spightful Foxes then Destroy,

That would my Young Aspiring Vines Annoy.

Not for the World would I exchange my Bliss,

While my Beloved’s Mine, and I am His.

And till the break of that Eternal Day,

Whose Rising Sun shall chase the Shades away;

Turn, my Beloved, turn again; and thy

Dear sight shall make the lazy Moments fly.

Chap. C5v 42

Chap. III.

Twas in the deadness of a Gloomy Night,

My Love, more pleasant than the wisht-
for Light,

O’re all my Bed I vainly sought; for there

My Arms could Grasp no more than empty air:

Griev’d with my Loss, through all the streets I
rove,

And every Ear with soft Complaints I move:

Then to the Watch, Impatient, thus I Cry;

Tell me, O tell! Did not my Love pass by?

When loe, a Glimpse of my approaching Lord,

A Heaven of Joy did to my Soul afford:

So the dark Souls confin’d to endless Night,

Would smile, and wellcome-in a beam of Light.

I Claspt him, just as meeting Lovers wou’d,

That had the stings of Absence understood:

I held him fast, and Centring in his Breast,

My ravish’d Soul found her desired Rest.

Him C6r 43

Him to my Mothers House I did convey;

Humble it was, and yet he deign’d to stay.

And now I charge you, Virgins, not to make

The least disturbance, till my Love awake.

(Bridegroom.)

Glorious as Titan, from the Eastern Seas

A Beauty comes from yon dark Wilderness:

So Sacred Incense proudly rises up

In cloudy Pillars of perfumed smoak:

Compounded Spices of the greatest cost

Could ne’r such Aromatick sweetness boast.

(Bride.)

The Shining Courts of Princely Solomon

Were nobly crowded with a Warlike Train:

All Arm’d compleatly, all Expert in Fight,

To Guard him from the Terrors of the Night.

A Chariot Royal too himself he had;

Its Pillars of refined Silver made:

The C6v 44

The Seats of Gold, fair Purple Clouds above;

And, all the bottom, softly pav’d with Love.

But loe, a Prince then Solomon, more great;

On whom vast Troops of shining Angels wait:

His Crown more bright, and fixt, than that which
shone

Upon the Nuptial brows of Solomon.

Chap. IV.

(Bridegroom.)

Tho all the lower World should ransackt be,

There could be found no parallel for
thee:

Thy Eyes like Doves, thy fair intangling Locks,

Curl’d, and soft as Gileads Milky Flocks:

Like them thy Pearly Teeth appear, for so

Unsully’d from the Christal Streams they go.

But oh! To what may I thy Lips compare?

Since fragrant Roses Bloom not half so fair.

The C7r 45

The Morning ne’r with such a Crimson blusht,

When from the Arms of sooty Night she rusht.

The ripe Pomegranates Scarlets are but faint,

To those fresh Beauties that thy Cheeks do paint.

Thy Neck and Breasts, in Whiteness, do out-goe

Ungather’d Lillies, or descending Snow.

And till the dawn of that expected Day,

When all my Radiant Glories I display,

And Chase, at once the Injurious Shades away:

I’ll on the Hills of Frankincense reside,

And pass the time with thee my Charming Bride;

My Love, in whom such vast perfections meet,

As renders her transcendently compleat:

Then, come with me, from Lebanon, my Spouse,

O come, and look beyond this Scene of woes:

Thou may’st, and yet it is but darkly, see

The bright abodes I have prepar’d for thee:

So sweet she looks, that in blest Transports I,

Meet the believing glances of her eye;

My C7v 46

My All on Earth, my Sister, and my Spouse;

Whom, from a Vast Eternity I chose:

Not Golden Goblets, Crown’d with noble Wine

E’re gave such Elevating Joys as Thine;

Such, as the soft expressions of thy Love;

So much those dear, those charming accents move.

My Love is like a Flowry Mansion Wall’d,

Or some reserved Chrystal Fountain seal’d;

Whose Waves, untouch’t, through secret Channels
slide,

Untainted, as the Silver Streams, that glide

From Heaven, assaulting Lebanon; and fair,

As Beauteous Edens Gilded Currents were.

(Bride.)

Were I a Garden, every Flower in me

Should proudly yield their conscious Sweets to
thee,

The ruddy fruits should thy arrival greet,

And Smile, and gently bend, thy Lips to meet.

Bridegroom. C8r 47

Bridegroom.

So strongly thy kind Invitations move,

I will my Garden see, my Garden, and my Love.

Not Hybla’s Hives such precious Sweets can
yield,

Nor Clusters brought from rich Engady’s Field,

Which, to my lips, I’ll raise with eager hast;

My Lips that long’d the Heavenly Fruit to tast.

Chap. V.

The Night her blackest Vestments had
put on,

And all the fair remains of day were
gone:

When my dear Lord, as he had oft before,

With Speed and Love approach’d the bolted
Door:

Arise, my Love, he cries, and with a Voice,

Divinely charming, pleads his entrance thus;

My Spouse, my Sister, and my fairest Love,

(Believing, sure, that Dialect would move;)

Arise, C8v 48

Arise, for loaden with the Midnight Dew,

Disorder’d, all my streaming Tresses flew:

I knew the Voice, the moving Eloquence;

But ah! deluded by my drowsie sence;

Careless, and Soft, upon a Mossy Bed,

I lean’d Supine, with Odorous Roses spread;

And long, with weak Excuses, did delay,

Amazing him at my unwonted stay.

Mov’d, with his Patience, my relenting Breast,

Forgetting now to say, I am Undrest.

Unto the Door, at length, I rusht, in spite

Of Darkness, and the Terrors of the Night;

With Rage, to break the guilty Bars I try’d,

Which Entrance to my Lord so long deny’d:

But found the dear resenting Charmer fled,

I curs’d my Sloth, and curs’d my conscious Bed.

Yet such a fragrant Sweetness fill’d the Air

From his dear Hands, I thought he had still been
there.

I D1r 49

I call’d aloud, still hoping he was near,

And louder still , but Ah! he wou’d not hear.

Then thro’ the Streets, distracted with my
Grief

I wildly roving, begg’d of all, relief.

At last I met th’ungentle Watch, and they

Deride my Tears, and force my Veil away.

Ye tender Virgins! you that know the pain

A Breast so soft as mine must needs sustain,

Robb’d of the once kind Partner of my Fires,

And still dear Object of my rackt desires;

I charge you, if you meet my absent Love,

With all the Rhetorick of our Sex, to move

His deafn’d Ears; and tell him, with a Sigh,

Deep as my Wounds, ah tell him how I dy.

—Perhaps that Tragick Word may force the dear

Relentless Author of my Grief to hear.

D Daughters.] D1v 50

Daughters of Jerusalem.

What thy Beloved is, we first wou’d know,

Fairest of Women! thou dost charge us so.

What Charms unequal’d in him dost thou see,

Impatient Fair! to raise these Storms in thee?

Sponsa.

Commencing all Perfection, he is such

Your most exalted Thoughts can hardly touch,

Unsully’d heaps of Snow are not so white,

He’s Fairer than condensed Beams of Light.

His Rosy Cheeks of such a lucent Dy,

As Sol ne’re gilded on the morning Sky.

His Head like polish’d Gold, his graceful Hair,

Dark as the Plumes that jetty Ravens wear.

His D2r 51

His Eyes, the endless Magazines of Love,

How soft! how sweet! how powerfully they
move!

He breathes more sweetness than the Infant Morn,

When Heavenly Dews the Flowry Plains Adorn.

The Fragrant Drops of Rich Arabian Gums

Burnt on the Altar, yield not such Perfumes.

His Hands, surpassing Lillies, grac’d with Gems,

Fit to Enrich Cœlestial Diadems.

His Breast smooth Ivory, Enamel’d all

With Veins, which Saphirs ’twere unjust to call.

Divine his Steps, with his Majestick Air.

Not ev’n the Lofty Cedars can compare.

So sweet his Voice, the listning Angels throng

With silent Harps to th’ Musick of his Tongue,

—He’s altogether—Lovely, This is He,

Now, Virgins! Pity, tho’ you envy Me.

D2 Chap. D2v 52

Chap. VI.

(Virgins.)

But where, ah where can this bright wonder
be

For, till we see Him, we are all on Fire;

We’ll find Him out, or in the search Expire.

(Bride.)

If my Prophetick Hopes can rightly guess,

The Lovely Wanderer in his Garden is

Among the Lillies, and the Spices; He

Is now perhaps kindly expecting Me;

Oh ’tis a Heaven of Joy to think him Mine.

(Bridegroom.)

And who can see those Eyes and not be thine?

2 Thy D3r 53

Thy Face, where all the Conquering Graces
meet;

Where Majesty doth Virgin-softness greet:

Ah turn away those Fair Approachless Eyes;

I Love, but cannot bear the kind Surprize.

Hide, hide the intangling glories of thy Hair;

More bright than Streams of Fluid Silver are:

Expose no more thy Pearly Teeth, the while

Those Rosie Cheeks put on kind looks and smile:

Such genuine charmes, how strongly they allure

My Soul, and all their rivalls beams obscure.

They’r numberless, my Spouse, my Darling
Fair;

But one, the Choice, and all her Mother bare.

The Royal Beauties saw, and blest the Sight;

And Setting, wonder’d at a Star so Bright.

Who is’t, they say, Fair as the breaking
Morn
,

When ruddy beams the bashful Skys adorn?

D3 Clear D3v 54

Clear as the Lamp that Gilds the Sable Night;

Dazling as Sols unsufferable Light:

Gentle, but awfull, as a Scene of War;

At once her Graces conquer and Indear.

And couldst thou think, my Love, I e’re design’d

To leave a Spouse so Beautiful and Kind?

I went but down into the Almond-grove,

A Lone-recess, indulgent to my Love;

Thence rang’d the pleasant Vale, whose Spreading
Vine

May quit my care perhaps with Bounteous
Wine
:

Where the Pomgranets Blooming-Fruits dis
play

More Sanguine-Colours then the Wings of
Day:

Or D4r 55

O e’re I was aware, my happy Eyes

Met Thee, a Juster Object of surprize;

Fair as a Vision breaking from the Skyes:

Scarce could my Breast my leaping heart retain;

Scarce could my Soul the unweildy Joy sustain,

When I beheld those Wellcome Eyes again.

But why that Discontent upon thy Brow?

Thou wilt not leave me, Cruel Beauty, now!

Injurious Charmer, stay—What needs this Art,

To try the Faith of a Too-constant heart:

Return again; let my Companions see

The Sweet Inspirer of my Flames in Thee.

Return, my Dear, return, and shew the most

Victorious Face that e’re the World could boast.

D4 The D4v 56

The
Fable of Phaeton

Paraphrased From
Ovid’s Metamorphosis.

With swelling thoughts fixt on his great
intent,

Now Phaeton had climb’d the Suns ascent;

And to his radiant Father’s Pallace came;

Whose heavenly seat lookt blazon’d all with
flame:

On Stately Pedestalls erected high

Above the Convex of the utmost Sky:

Its Glorious Front, dazled, yet pleas’d the sight,

With vigorous sallys of Æthereal Light.

The entrance, all divinely deckt, was wrought,

Beyond the invention of a humane thought;

With D5r 57

With various figures exquisite and bold,

As the Amazing Novelties they told.

Here awful Neptune rises from the deep,

Around the peaceful Billows seem to sleep:

Here dreadful Whales the Blust’ring Tritons
stride,

And raise a Silver Tempest as they glide:

In mighty shells the lovely Nereids swim,

And blewish gods the lofty billows climb.

Wide from the Shore a pleasant scene of
Land,

With careless Beauty did it self expand:

Here Mountains, Valleys, Springs, and Sacred
Groves,

Flocks, Herds, Unpolish’d Shepherds, and their
Loves;

The Dryads, Satyrs, Silver Gods, and Fawns,

Had here their Rural Pallaces and Lawns.

Above D5v 58

Above all this, appear’d the blest abodes,

And gay Pavilions of th’Immortal Gods:

Upon a Painted-Zodiack brightly shone

With Glittering Emralds Sols refulgent Throne:

Here sate in Purple the Bright God of Day,

(Whom Phaeton now trembles to survey:)

Smooth were his Cheeks, most lovely eyes, his
brows

Adorn’d with rays, and his own sacred boughs:

Around, the days, the months, and years attend,

While, at his feet, the crooked Ages bend:

The beauteous Spring (more gay than all the
rest,)

Stood smiling by, clad in a Flowry Vest:

Summer, with Ears of Corn, her temples bound,

And Autumn with Luxuriant Clusters crown’d:

In order next old hoary-Winter stood;

His Aspect horrid, and congeal’d his blood.

Surrounded D6r 59

Surrounded thus with Majesty and State,

Bold Phaeton’s Illustrious Father sate:

The God his ventrous Off-spring now espyes;

Amaz’d! demands, What urg’d his enterprize?

And what great Embassy cou’d bring him
to the Skies?

“Monarch of Light, the doubtful Youth returns,

Whose absence Life it self and Nature mourns:

Most splendid Ruler of the wellcome Day,

Serenest Spring of all that’s fair and gay――

If bolder I may speak――if e’re――if e’re

The Thoughts of Love and Clymene were dear;

――Then grant a certain sign, that may on
Earth

Resolve the question’d grandeur of my Birth,”

“My best-lov’d-Son, great Phœbus made
Reply,

(And back he casts the radiant Energy

Of his thick beams) my Phaeton draw Nigh:

And D6v 60

And doubt no longer my Paternal rights;

For, by my Clymene, by th’ Intense delights

That gave thee Birth, so――now chuse a sign,

And by the Dark Infernal Lake ’tis thine.”

Straight the ambitious youth demands the
sway

Of his hot Steeds, and Chariot of the Day.

Amaz’d the lucent Deity shook his head,

Revolving his Tremendous Oath, and said;

“Unthinking Phaeton what dost thou ask?

Not Jove himself durst undertake the Task:

Though not a God in the Blew-Arch more great,

Yet even he’d decline our Flaming Seat.

Can’st thou, a Mortal, then supply my Throne?

Curb my fierce Steeds, and pass the Intemperate
Zone
?

So hard and difficult, the ascent of day

Scarce with fresh Horses vanquish I the way:

With D7r 61

With horror, on the distant Earth at Noon,

We from the Zenith’s dismal heighth look
down

The steep Descent; from thence we swiftly
roul:

Nor here our headlong Coursers Brook controul.

Even Lovely Thetis sees my Fall with dread,

Though every Night she expects me to her
Bed.

Besides, thou’lt meet a Thousand rugged Jarrs

From the incountring Motions of the Stars;

Scarce our Immortal Efforts stem their force:

Betwixt the Bulls sharp hornes then lies thy
course,

By Sagitarius, and the Scorpion’s Claws,

The Gastly Crab, and Leo’s dreadful Jaws.

Expect no Groves, nor Flowry Mansions there,

Nor Gods, nor Nymphs; but Monsters every
where,

Then D7v 62

Then let a Father’s timely Care perswade,

And yet retract the dangerous Choice thou’st
made

Be wise, and urge no more this fatal Sign;

Alas, my Grief, too sadly, speaks thee Mine.

Of all the Earths, or Seas rich Bosoms hide,

Or Treasures which in upper Air abide;

Ask what thou wilt, or dar’st (besides) to
wish;

Do, Phaeton, ask any thing but this;

And, by my former Sacred Oath, ’tis thine.”

But the hot Youth, fixt on his rash design,

With such an Enterprize, the more inflam’d

His anxious Father’s Oath, now boldly claim’d,

Who forc’d to yield. The nimble hours soon
brought

His Chariot forth in hot Vesuvio wrought,

By crafty Vulcan, and the Cyclops Art,

Who’d shown immortal skill in every part:

The D8r 63

The Wheels, and Axeltree, the purest Gold,

Bright as those Lucid Tracts in which they
roul’d:

The Harness all Emboss’d with Crysolites,

And twinkling sparks of wondrous colour’d Lights.

But now Aurora from her Eastern Bed,

Had, o’er the Expanse her Dewy Mantle
spread:

The Sickly Moon the Hemisphere resigns;

And, with her Waning, Lucifer declines.

The Dawning grew more fair and ruddy still,

And Sol officious now against his will:

With Sacred Compounds his fierce Orb allays,

Then crowns the Joyful Hero with his Rays:

With tender Speeches caution’d thus the while,

“Let not Presumption thy Fond Thoughts beguile

To give my hot unruly Steeds their course,

But use the Reins, with utmost care and force,

Along D8v 64

Along a beaten, broad, and oblique way,

Far from the Poles, now likes the Road of Day.

Avoid the Altar, and the hissing Snake,

Both opposite, betwixt them keep the Track;

Observe a careful distance from the Skyes,

Lest thou affront the awful Deities;

Nor near the Earth approach, the mean is best;

To Destiny with hope I leave the rest.

For, loe the pale Commandress of the Night

Resigns her Empire to th’ expected Light.

Take up the Reins; or yet, or yet be wise,

And grasp a more proportion’d enterprize:”

But Phaeton, as resolute as great,

Undaunted, leaps into the Blazing Seat;

Pleas’d with his glorious charge, nor doubts his
Skill

To manage it, he Mounts th’ Olympick Hill.

Aloud E1r 65

Aloud th’ Immortal Steeds begin to Neigh,

And strike their Fiery Hoofs, and make new
Day
;

As through the clouds they cut their sparkling
way
:

And finding now the Reeling Chariot fraught

With nothing congruous to Celestial weight;

Unruly grow, and heedless of the Rein,

Its feeble Checks, and trembling Guide disdain;

And, all disorder’d, careless of their way,

Through Paths unknown to Sol himself, they
stray:

Now near the Fair Triones, who, in vain,

Implor’d more Temperate Quarters in the
Main

With Heat reviv’d, see the fierce Serpent roul,

Tho’ fix’d his Station near the Frozen Pole.

Bootes sweats, and drives his Lazy Team

A nimble pace, untry’d before by them.

E As E1v 66

As much distress’d, unhappy Phaeton

From Great Olympus arched Top looks down:

Black horror now, and aggravating fear,

Through all his Conscious thoughts triumphant
were:

He Curst his Pride, conspicuous Seat, and Birth,

And covets the obscurest place on Earth;

To be the Son of Meropes, safe below,

Unknown to Gods and Men, would please him
now:

So, all confus’d, the hopeless Pilot Raves,

And yields, at last, to the relentless Waves.

What can he do? much of the Glowing East

Is yet Unconquer’d; more he dreads the West,

That dangerous Fall; nor one clear Track can
fin’d

In Heaven; nor call his Horses Names to mind:

Who now near where the dreadful Scorpion
lay,

Hurryd the shatter’d Chariot of the Day:

Proud E2r 67

Proud of the Reins, which from his trembling
hands

Now faintly drop, no obstacle withstands

Their furious course; but through the blazing
Sky

They foam, and rave, and all disorder’d fly.

Now upward, to the Stars, a Path they rend,

Then down agen the frightful Steeps descend:

Below, her own Diana from afar,

With wonder, views her radiant Brothers Car:

The exhaled Earth down to its Centre dry,

Wants Juice, her fainting Products to supply:

Assaulted with the too prevailing rays,

In fatal Flames, whole Towns and Mountains
blaze:

High Athos, Oete, and the Pin’y top

Of pleasant Ida into Cinders drop:

Old Tmolus, the Cicillian Mount, and high

Parnassus, smoak up to the darkned Sky:

Vesuvio roars, more fierce its entrails glow;

Nor work the Cyclops at their Anvils now.

E2 Steep E2v 68

Steep Othrys, Cynthus, Erix, Mimas, flame

Nor Rhodopean Snows the fiercer Fire can
tame.

Caucasus frys, Dindyma chaps, and burns

Her kindling Grove; fair Aphrodites mourns.

The Airy Alps, and Gloomy Appenine,

With Ossa, in the conflagration shine:

Surrounded thus with Smoak, and Wrathful
Fires,

Unhappy Phaeton almost expires:

Despair within, and Terror all without,

By’s furious Steeds, at pleasure, hurl’d about;

Gasping, and faint, still hurried round, nor
more,

Tho prop’t by Fate, a Mortal could have bore:

They say, the Ethiopians now with heat

Adust and scorch’t, diffus’d a Sable Sweat;

And all the wasted Fountains sadly ring

Of some fair Nais, Mourning for her Spring.

Nor E3r 69

Nor from the Mightyer Streams the Flame recoils,

For in its Channel antient Tana’is boyls.

Xanthus, whose Waves agen that Fate must
know;

Mænder, whose wild Waters, circling flow.

Melas, Eurotas, Ister, and the Fair

Euphrates, Torrents, half exhausted are.

Orontes, Phasis, and the cooler Stream

Of Sperchius now like boyling Chaldron’s Steam;

Alpheus, Ganges, and the flowing Gold,

That in the Rich Pactolus Channel roul’d:

The Muses Mourn; their Swans, who, as they
dye

In Charming Notes, breath their own Elegy:

Deep, in his utmost Subterranean Bed,

Great Nilus hides his undiscover’d Head.

Earth E3v

Earth cracks, to Hell descend the hated beams,

And Plague the howling Ghosts with worse extreams:

The exhausted Ocean leaves a Field of Sand;

Nor does vext Neptune one cool Wave command.

He has lost his share of the grand Monarchy,

And vainly lifts his forked Trident high.

The Lovely Sisters melt upon the Rocks,

While Aged Doris tares her Silver Locks:

The Phocœ dye; the Dolphins vainly dive

In scalding streams, to keep themselves alive.

As much the Goddess of the Earth distrest,

With trembling Lips the King of Gods addrest;

“If thou the Groaning World’s Destruction
mean,

(Incensed Jove) Why sleep thy Thunders
then?

If E4r 71

If thou the cause of this Calamity;

Or if ’tis some less potent God then thee:

Where’s all thy goodness, all thy gentle care

For Mortals now that should these Ills repair?

Have I for this thy Sacred Victims fed

In Hecatombs, to thy high Altars led?

Those Altars, which with thy bright Temples
smoak,

While Jove, in vain, the gasping-Priests Invoke:

And loe the Mighty Poles begin to fume;

And, Wher’s thy Starry Seat should they consume?

Tyr’d Atlas sweating, of his load complains,

And scarce the burning Axletree sustains.”

But, fainting here, she stop’d, and shrinks her
head

Below the gloomy Lodgings of the Dead.

Jove calls the Gods (with him, whose daring
Son,

Too fond of Glory, had this Mischief done:

To view the dreadful flames; then mounts on
high,

The E4v 72

The loftyest Turret that commands the Sky;

From whence he us’d to shade the sultry Air,

And with kind Showers the Parched Earth to
chear:

But throws his Flood-gates open now in vain,

And prest the light transparent clouds for Rain:

At which incens’d, his ruddy Thunder glows,

Nor durst the God of beams himself oppose.

See the wing’d Vengeance now, see where it
breaks,

On the rash cause of those lamented Wrecks;

And sends the bold Usurper breathless down

To the scorch’t Earth from his affected Throne.

So strike the Gallick Tyrant, that has hurl’d

As guilty flames through the complaining
World.

So awful Jove, so Strike him from his Seat,

And all his Aims, and all his Hopes defeat.

The Aa1r 1

The
Wish,
in a
Poem
to the
Athenians.

Wou’d some kind Vision represent to me

How bright thy Streets, Celestial Salem! be,

I’d trace thy shining pearly Paths, and tell

How bless’d are those that in thy Temple dwell:

How much more bright than e’re proud Phœbus shed

Are those vast Rays the Eternal Sun does spread!

Cou’d I the chiefest of ten thousands view,

Wou’d Angels me their Admirations shew,

Aa I’d Aa1v 2

I’d tell the Virgins, tell ’em o’re agen

How fair he lookt to the black Sons of men.

Might I, but ah, while clogg’d with sinful Flesh,

In vain I breath out the impatient Wish!

But have a glimpse of those fair Fields of Bliss,

Where dress’d in Beams, the shining Saints do move

More gay then all the fancy’d shades of Love:

Where still from pure exhaustless fountains, to

Bright Silver streams the Chrystal Waters flow;

Where the true Son of Glory ne’re declines,

But with unclouded Vigour always shines.

Where endless Smiles cœlestial Faces wear,

No Eye eclips’d with a rebellious Tear,

For Greif is an unheard of Stranger there.

Say then, if ought of that bless’d place you know,

Describe its Bliss, its dazling Glories show!

The Aa2r 3

The Athenians Answer.

Ah! Bright Unknown! you know not what you ask!

Angels wou’d bend beneath the unequal Task.

Were that bless’d World disclos’d, ’twou’d seem so fair,

Who wou’d not leap Lifes Barriers to be there?

Yet see a Glimpse, all, Heav’n permits to see,

And learn the rest from Faith and Extasie.

The Paradise of God, those happy seats which cost

Far more than that fair Eden we have lost;

Exceeds luxuriant Fancies richest dress,

And Beggers Rhime and Numbers self t’ express.

―― No, were we lost in that primæal Grove

Where Father Adam with his New-born Bride

Walkt careless, walkt and lov’d, nor Want, nor Sin,

Nor jealous Rage, nor curst tormenting Hopes

Their Sacred Verge approaching cou’d we pierce

As the blind Bard, with intellectual sight

Thro’ those first happy Mortals Sylvan shade,

Aa2 Thro’ Aa2v 4

Thro’ clust’ring Vines whose swelling Purple Grapes

With generous Juice invited the bless’d Pair

To taste, nor fear to dye; were all the Springs

That from some easie Mountains mossy side

Or hoary Rock ran gently murmuring,

A thousand Flour’s upon the bending Banks,

A thousand Birds upon the fragrant Trees,

And Eve her self all smiling joyn’d the Quire,

With blissful Hymns of chast and holy Love

Were these and more united to compose

A Poets Heaven to the true Heaven ’twou’d be

A Barren Wilderness, nay worse, a World.

Not Reasons self, a Ray of the divine

Off-spring, and Friend of God, when manacled

In sinful mortal mold, altho it trace,

No Sister Truth thro’ each Dedalean maze,

And builds on Sense with well poiz’d Argument,

Not that can tell us what we there shall see,

Or have or know, or do, or ever be.

Nay tho’ with nobler Faiths more perfect Glass,

We Aa3r 5

We look beyond the Christal starry Worlds,

We know but part, sunk in our darksom selves,

And from Life’s dungeon wish the glim’ring Light,

Coasters of Heav’n we beat along the shore,

Some Creeks and Landmarks found, but know no
more.

The Inland Country’s undiscoverd still,

The glorious City of th’eternal King,

Yet of cœstial Growth we bear away,

Some rich immortal Fruit, Joy, Peace and Love,

Knowledge and Praise, Vision and pure Delight,

Rivers of Bliss, ay-dwelling from the Throne

Of the most high, exhaustless Fund of Light.

There, there is Heav’n, ’tis he who makes it so,

The Soul can hold no more, for God is all,

He only equalls its capacious Grasp,

He only o’re fills to spaces infinite,

Ah! who can follow?—That shall only those

Who with intrepid Breasts the World oppose.

Tear out the glitt’ring Snake, tho’ ne’re so close it twine,

And part with mortal Joys for Joys Divine.

Aa3 To Aa3v 6

To one that perswades me to leave the Muses.

Forgo the charming Muses! No, in spight

Of your ill-natur’d Prophecy I’ll write,

And for the future paint my thoughts at large,

I waste no paper at the Hunderds charge:

I rob no Neighbouring Geese of Quills, nor slink

For a collection to the Church for ink:

Besides my Muse is the most gentle thing

That ever yet made an attempt to sing:

I call no Lady “Punk”, nor Gallants “Fops”,

Nor set the married world an edge for Ropes;

Yet I’m so scurvily inclin’d to Rhiming,

That undesign’d my thoughts burst out a chiming;

My active Genius will by no means sleep,

And let it then its proper channel keep.

I’ve told you, and you may believe me too,

That I must this, or greater mischiefe do;

And Aa4r 7

And let the world think me inspir’d, or mad,

I’le surely write whilst paper’s to be had;

Since Heaven to me has a Retreat assignd,

That would inspire a less harmonious mind.

All that a Poet loves I have in view,

Delightsome Hills, refreshing Shades, and pleasant Valleys
too
,

Fair spreading Valleys cloath’d with lasting green,

And Sunny Banks with gilded streams between,

Gay as Elisium, in a Lovers Dream,

Or Floras Mansion, seated by a stream,

Where free from sullen cares I live at ease,

Indulge my Muse, and wishes, as I please,

Exempt from all that looks like want or strife,

I smoothly glide along the Plains of Life,

Thus Fate conspires, and what can I do to’t?

Besides, I am veh’mently in love to boot,

And that theres not a Willow Sprig but knows,

In whose sad shade I breathe my direful woes.

But why for these dull Reasons do I pause,

When I’ve at hand my genuine one, because!

Aa4 And Aa4v 8

And that my Muse may take no counter Spell,

I fairly bid the Boarding Schools farewel:

No Young Impertinent, shall here intrude,

And vex me from this blisful solitude.

Spite of her heart, Old Puss shall damn no more

Great Sedley’s Plays, and never look ’em o’re:

Affront my Novels, no, nor in a Rage,

Force Drydens lofty Products from the Stage,

Whilst all the rest of the melodious crew,

With the whole System of Athenians too,

For Study’s sake out of the Window flew.

But I’to church, shall fill her Train no more,

And walk as if I sojurn’d by the hour.

To Stepwel and his Kit I bid adieu,

Fall off, and on, be hang’d and Coopee too

Thy self for me, my dancing days are o’re;

I’le act th’inspired Bachannels no more.

Eight Notes must for another Treble look,

In Burlesque to make Faces by the book.

Japan Aa5r 9

Japan, and my esteemed Pencil too,

And pretty Cupid, in the Glass adieu,

And since the dearest friends that be must part,

Old Governess farewell with all my heart.

Now welcome all ye peaceful Shades and Springs,

And welcome all the inspiring tender things;

That please my genius, suit my make and years,

Unburden’d yet with all but lovers cares.

A
Poem
Occasioned by the report of the Queens Death.

When fame had blown among the Western swains,

The saddest news that ever reacht their Plains,

Like Thunder in my ears the sound did break;

The killing accents which I dare not speak.

Less was I toucht with that pernicious Dart,

That peirc’d through mine to reach my Daphnes
Heart,

From Aa5v 10

From off my Head the Florid wreath I tore,

That I, to please the fond Orestes, wore;

And quite o’re charg’d with Grief upon the ground,

I sunk my Brows, with mournful Cypress Crown’d;

My trembling Hand sustain’d my drooping Head,

And at my feet my Lire and Songs were laid;

’Twas in a gloomy Shade, where o’re and o’re

I’de mourn’d my Lov’d Companions loss before;

But now I vainly strove my Thoughts t’expose,

In Numbers kind, and sensible as those

For, ah! the Potent ills that fill’d my Breast,

Were much to vast and black to be exprest

Pharaphrase on INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.John 21. 17.

Yes, thou that knowest all, dost know I love thee,

And that I set no Idol up above thee,

To thy unerring censure I appael,

And thou that knowest all things, sure canst tell,

I Love thee more then Life or Interest,

Nor hast thou any Rival in my Breast;

I Love Aa6r 11

I Love thee so, that I would calmly bear

The Mocks of Fools, and bless my happy Ear

Let me from thee but one kind whisper hear;

I Love thee so, that for a smile of thine,

Might this, and all the brighter Worlds be mine,

I would not pause, but with a noble Scorn,

At the unequal slighted offer spurn;

Yes, I to Fools these trifles can resign,

Nor envy them the World, whilst thou art mine;

I love thee as my Centre, and can find

No Point but thee to stay my doubtful mind;

Potent and uncontroul’d its Motions were,

Till fixt in thee its only congruous Sphere.

Urg’d with a thousand specious Baits, I stood,

Displeas’d, and sighing for some distant good,

To calm its genuine Dictates――but betwixt

Them all, remain’d suspended and unfixt.

I love thee so, ’tis more than Death to be,

My Life, my Love, my all, depriv’d of thee;

’Tis Aa6v 12

’Tis Hell, ’tis Horror, shades and darkness then,

Till thou unveil’st thy Heavenly Face agen;

I Love thee so, I’de kiss the Dart should free

My flutterring Soul, and send her up to thee;

O would’st thou break her Chain, with what
delight

She’d spread her Wings, and bid the world
goodnight.

Scarce for my bright conductors would I stay,

But lead thy flaming Ministers the way,

In their known passage to eternal day.

And yet the Climes of Light would not seem fair,

Unless I met my bright Redeemer there;

Unless I saw my Shining Saviours Face,

And cop’t all Heaven in his sweet embrace.

A Aa7r 13

Paraphrase on INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Cant. 5. 6. &c.

Oh! How his Pointed Language, like a Dart,

Sticks to the softest Fibres of my Heart,

Quite through my Soul the charming Accents slide,

That from his Life inspiring Portals glide;

And whilst I the inchanting sound admire,

My melting Vitals in a Trance expire.

Oh Son of Venus, Mourn thy baffled Arts,

For I defye the proudest of thy Darts:

Undazled now, I thy weak Taper View,

And find no fatal influence accrue;

Nor would fond Child thy feebler Lamp appear,

Should my bright Sun deign to approach more near;

Canst thou his Rival then pretend to prove?

Thou a false Idol, he the God of Love;

Lovely beyond Conception, he is all

Reason, or Fancy amiable call,

All Aa7v 14

All that the most exerted thoughts can reach,

When sublimated to its utmost streach.

Oh! altogether Charming, why in thee

Do the vain World no Form or Beauty see?

Why do they Idolize a dusty clod,

And yet refuse their Homage to a God?

Why from a beautious flowing Fountain turn,

For the Dead Puddle of a narrow Urn?

Oh Carnal Madness! sure we falsly call

So dull a thing as man is, rational;

Alas, my shining Love, what can there be

On Earth so splendid to out-glitter thee?

In whom the brightness of a God-head Shines,

With all its lovely and endearing Lines;

Thee with whose sight Mortallity once blest,

Would throw off its dark Veil to be possest;

Then altogether Lovely, why in thee

Do the vain World no Form or Beauty see.

A Aa8r 15

A Pindarick, to the Athenian Society.

I.

Ive toucht each string, each muse I have invok’t,

Yet still the mighty theam,

Copes my unequal praise;

Perhaps, the God of Numbers is provok’t.

I grasp a Subject fit for none but him,

Or Drydens sweeter lays;

Dryden! A name I ne’re could yet rehearse,

But straight my thoughts were all transformed to verse.

II.

And now methinks I rise;

But still the lofty Subject baulks my flight,

And still my muse despairs to do great Athens right;

Yet takes the Zealous Tribute which I bring,

The early products of a Female muse;

Untill the God, into my breast shall mightier thoughts
infuse
.

When Aa8v 16

When I with more Command, and prouder voice
shall sing;

But how shall I describe the matchless men?

I’m lost in the bright labirinth agen.

III.

When the lewd age, as ignorant as accurst,

Arriv’d in vice and error to the worst,

And like Astrea banisht from the stage,

Virtue and Truth were ready stretcht for flight;

Their numerous foes,

Scarce one of eithers Champions ventur’d to oppose;

Scarce one brave mind, durst openly engage,

To do them right.

Till prompted with a generous rage;

You cop’t with all th’ abuses of the age;

Uunmaskt and challeng’d its abhorred crimes,

Nor fear’d to lash the darling vices of the times.

IV.

Successfully go on,

T’ inform and bless mankind as you’ve begun,

Till Bb1r 17

Till like your selves they see;

The frantick world’s imagin’d Joys to be,

Unmanly, sensual and effeminate,

Till they with such exalted thoughts possest;

As you’ve inspir’d into my willing Breast,

Are charm’d, like me, from the impending fate.

V.

For ah! Forgive me Heaven, I blush to say’t,

I with the vulgar world thought Irreligion great,

Tho fine my breeding, and my Notions high;

Tho train’d in the bright tracts of strictest piety,

I’ like my splendid tempters soon grew vain,

And laid my slighted innocence a side;

Yet oft my nobler thoughts I have bely’d,

And to be ill was even reduc’d to feign.

VI.

Untill by you,

With more Heroick sentiments inspir’d,

I turn’d and stood the vigorous torrent too,

Bb And Bb1v 18

And at my former weak retreat admir’d;

So much was I by your example fir’d,

So much the heavenly form did win:

Which to my eyes you’d painted virtue in.

VII.

Oh, could my verse;

With equal flights, to after times rehearse,

Your fame: It should as bright and Deathless be;

As that immortal flame you’ve rais’d in me.

A flame which time:

And Death it self, wants power to controul,

Not more sublime,

Is the divine composure of my Soul;

A friendship so exalted and immense,

A female breast did ne’re before commence.

Para Bb2r 19

Paraphrase on INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Revel. chap. 1. from v. 13. to v. 18.

I.

Who could, and yet out-live the Amasing sight!

Oh, who could stand the stress of so much
Light!

Amidst the Golden Lamps the Vision stood,

Form’d like a Man, with all the awe and lustre of a
God.

II.

A Kingly Vestre cloath’d him to the ground,

And Radiant Gold his sacred breasts surround;

But all too thin the Deity to shrow’d;

For heavenly Rays expresly shone through the unable
Cloud.

III.

His head, his awful head was grac’d with hair,

As soft as snow, as melted silver fair;

And from his eys such active Glories flow.

The conscious Seraphs well may veil their dimmer
faces too.

Bb2 IV. His Bb2v 20

IV.

His Feet were strong and dreadful, as his Port

Worthy the Godlike Form they did support;

His Voice resembled the Majestick Fall

Of mighty Waves: Twas awful, great, divine, and
solemn all.

V.

His powerful hand a Starry Scepter held,

His mouth a threatning two-edg’d sword did
wield,

His face so wondrous, so divinely fair,

As all the glorious Lights above had been contracted
there.

VI.

And now my fainting spirits strove in vain

The uncorrected splendor to sustain,

Unable longer such bright Rays to meet,

I dy’d beneath the Ponderous Load, at the great
Vision’s Feet.

VII. Till Bb3r 21

VII.

Till he that doth the springs of Life contain,

Breath’d back my soul, and bid me live again;

And thus began (but Oh with such an Air,

That nothing but a power divine had made me live
to hear.)

VIII.

From an unviewable Eternity.

I was, I am, and must For ever be:

I have been dead, but live for ever now.

Amen――And have in Triumph let the Kings of
Darkness too.

To Bb3v 22

To a very Young Gentleman at a
Dancing-School.

I.

So when the Queen of Love rose from the Seas,

Divinely Fair in such a blest amaze,

Th’ inamour’d watry Deities did gaze.

II.

As we when charming Flammin did surprize,

More heavenly bright our whole Seraglio’s Eyes;

And not a Nymph her Wonder could disguise.

III.

Whilst with a graceful Pride the lovely boy

Pass’d all the Ladies (like a Sultan) by,

Only he lookt more absolute and coy.

IV.

When with an Haughty air he did advance,

To lead out some transported she to dance,

He gave his hand as carelessly as Chance.

V. Attended Bb4r 23

V.

Attended with a Universal sigh,

On her each Beauty cast a Jealous Eye,

And quite fall out with guiltless Destiny.

To the same Gentleman.

Ah lay this cruel Artifice aside,

This barbarous distance, and affected Pride;

Or else resign my heart, which is too great

For you in this imperious way to treat.

I know you’r gay and charming as the Spring,

And that I ne’r beheld a lovelier thing,

But know as well the influence of my Eyes,

Nor can you think my heart a vulgar prize.

A Bb4v 24

A
Pastoral.

Daphne.

Why sigh you so, What Grievance can annoy,

A Nymph like you? Alas, why sighs my Joy?

My Philomela, why dost bend thy Head,

Hast lost thy Pipe, or is thy Garland dead?

Thy flocks are fruitful, flowry all thy Plain;

Thy Father’s Darling, why should’st thou complain?

Philomela.

Unfriendly thus, when I expect Relief,

To mock the weightier causes of my grief.

Daphne.

Thou dost abuse my Love: How should I guess

The unknown Reason of thy Tears, unless

Thy Bb5r 25

Thy Birds are fled, or else the Winds have blown,

This stormy Night, your tallest Cypress down?

Thy Shepherd’s true, or I had nam’d him first.

Philomela.

Ah! were he so, I would contemn the rest.

Daphne.

Why dost thou fear it? Not a truer Swain

E’re drove his Sheep to this frequented Plain.

Philomela.

Like thee in Ignorance, how blest were I?

But Nymph, a falser thing did never sigh:

Curse on his Charms; accurst the unlucky day,

He sought by chance his wandred flocks this way;

When gay and careless, leaning on my Crook,

My roving Eyes this fatal Captive took,

Well I remember yet with what a grace

The Youthful Conquerer made his first address;

How moving, how resistless were his sighs;

How soft his Tongue, how very soft his Eyes.

When Bb5v 26

When spight of all my Natural Disdain,

I fell a Victim to the smiling Swain!

Ah, how much blest, how happy had I been,

Had I his lovely killing Eyes ne’re seen!

In these delightsome Pastures long I kept

My harmless flocks, and as much pleasure reapt,

In being all I hop’d to be, as they,

Whose awful Nods subjected Nations sway.

The Shepherds made it all their care to gain

My heart, which knew no passion but disdain,

Till this Young Swain, the Pride of all our Grove,

Into my soul infus’d the bane of Love.

To Bb6r 27

To
Celinda.

I.

I Can’t, Celinda, say, I love,

But rather I adore,

When with transported eyes I view,

Your shining merits o’re.

II.

A fame so spotless and serene.

A vertue so refin’d;

And thoughts as great, as e’re was yet

Graspt by a female mind.

III.

There love and honour drest, in all,

Their genuin charms appear,

And with a pleasing force at once

They conquer and indear.

IV. Cele- Bb6v 28

IV.

Celestial flames are scarce more bright,

Than those your worth inspires,

So Angels love and so they burn

In just such holy fires.

V.

Then let’s my dear Celinda thus

Blest in our selves contemn

The treacherous and deluding Arts,

Of those base things call’d men.

Thoughts on Death.

I.

I’m almost to the fatal period. come,

My forward Glass has well nigh run its last;

E’re a few moments, I shall hear that doom

Which ne’re will be recall’d, when once ’tis past.

II. Me- Bb7r 29

II.

Methinks I have Eternity in view,

And dread to reach the edges of the shore,

Nor doth the prospect, the less dismal shew,

For all the thousands that have lanch’d before.

III.

Why weep my friends, what is their loss to mine,

I have but one poor doubtful stake to throw,

And with a dying prayer my hopes resign,

If that be lost, I’m lost for ever too.

IV.

’Tis not the painful agonies of Death,

Nor all the gloomy horrors of the Grave;

Were that the worst, unmov’d I’de yield my breath

And with a smile the King of Terrors brave.

V.

But there’s an after day, ’tis that I fear:

Oh, who shall hide me from that angry brow;

Already I the dreadful accents hear,

Depart from me, and that for ever too.

The Bb7v 30

The
Female Passion,

I.

A Thousand great resolves, as great

As reason could inspire,

I have commenc’d; but ah how soon

The daring thoughts expire!

II.

Honour and Pride I’ve often rouz’d,

And bid ’em bravely stand,

But e’re my charming foe appears

They cowardly disband.

III.

One dart from his insulting eyes,

Eyes I’m undone to meet,

Throws all my boasting faculties

At the lov’d Tyrant’s feet.

IV. In Bb8r 31

IV.

In vain alas, ’tis all in vain,

To struggle with my fate,

I’m sure I ne’re shall cease to love,

How much less can I hate!

V.

Against relentless destiny,

Hopeless to overcome,

Not Sisiphus more sadly strives

With his Eternal Doom.

To
Strephon.

To me his sighs, to me are all his vows,

But there’s my hell the depths of all my woes,

We burn alike, but oh the distant bliss,

A view of that my greatest torment is;

Accurst Bb8v 32

Accurst ambition, groveling interest,

Such heated crimes as yet did never rest

Within my Soul, must now unjustly keep

Me from my Heaven would they may sink as deep,

As that black Chaos whence they sprung, and leave

Those mortals wretched which they now deceive.

Paraphrase on INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Malachy 3. 14.

In vain ye Murmur, we have serv’d the Lord,

As vainly listned to his flattering word,

He has forgot, or spake not as he meant;

Else why are we thus Idly penitent?

Ye call the haughty blest, erecting those

That dare my Judgements impiously oppose,

And own, nay, almost boast themselves my foes,

Whose crimes would (were I not a God) command

The scarlet bolts from my unwilling hand;

Then they that fear’d my great and awful name,

The only few that dar’d oppose the stream,

Unmov’d Cc1r 33

Unmov’d against the vulgar torrent stood,

In spight of numbers resolutely good,

Not taxing with undecent insolence

The dark Enigma’s of my providence.

But saw me still illustrious through the same,

And lov’d and spake, spake often of my name,

As oft I closely listned, nor shall they

Pass unrewarded at the last great day,

When all their pious services I’ll own,

For in my records I shall find ’em down,

Their brows I’ll Crown with wreaths of victory;

Whilst Men and Angels stand spectators by;

A loud I’ll then, aloud proclaim them mine,

And ’mongst my brightest treasures they shall shine.

Their frailty with more tenderness, then e’re

A father did his only son’s I’ll spare,

And then, but ah! too late you’ll find it then,

Who were the wise, the only thinking men;

Then you shall nothing but derision meet,

Whilst Angels them with loud applauses greet.

Cc On Cc1v 34

On Mrs. Rebecka.

I.

So brightly Sweet Florina’s eyes,

Their rising beams display,

That as the scorched Indians, we

Even dread the comeing day.

II.

For if her morning rays with such

Unusual vigour streams,

How must the unhappy world be scorcht,

With her meridian beams?

III.

If now she Innocently kills

With an un-aiming dart,

Who shall resist her when, with skill,

She levels at a heart?

IV. If Cc2r 35

IV.

If with each smile the pretty Nymph,

Now captivates the sence,

What when her glories at the heighth

Will be their influence?

By Dispair.

When the intruding horrors of the night,

Had just depriv’d our hemisphere of light;

And sable foldings seem’d to imitate,

The blackness and confusion of my fate,

As by a Rivers side I walkt along,

Uncurl’d and loose my artless tresses hung.

Dispair and love were seated in my face,

There to the streams, my mournful griefs relate,

Cursing the spightful Stars that rul’d my fate;

Cc2 To Cc2v 36

To see my tears the gentle floods swell high,

The Rocks relent, and groan as oft as I,

The winds less deaf, than my ungreatful Swain,

Listen and breath o’re all my sighs again,

“Ah, never, never,” said I with an Air;

That poor complacent eccho, griev’d to hear,

And softly fearing to increase my pain,

“No, never, never,” she reply’d again,

“Then all things else, as trifles I dispise,”

Said I, and smiling clos’d my wretched eyes.

To Cc3r 37

To
Orestes.

To vex thy Soul with these unjust alarms,

Fye dear mistrustful, can’st thou doubt thy
charms;

Or think a breast so young and soft as mine,

Could e’re resist such charming eyes as thine?

Not love thee! witness all ye powers above,

(That know my heart) to what excess I love,

How many tender sighs for thee I’ve spent,

I who ne’re knew what serious passion meant.

Till to revenge his slighted Votaries,

The God of love, coucht in thy beauteous eyes,

Cc3 A Cc3v 38

At once inspir’d and fixt my roving heart,

Which till that moment sconrrn’d his proudest dart.

And now I languish out my life for thee,

As others unregarded do for me;

Silent as night, and pensive as a dove,

Through shades more gloomy than my thoughts I
rove,

With downcast eyes as languishing an Air,

The Emblem I of Love, and of Dispair.

The Cc4r 39

The Athenians Answer, to the Foregoing
Poem.

What Charms to two such Feuds wou’d equal
prove?

You are possest with Poetry and Love.

Fruitless experiments no more wee’ll try;

Lost to advice, Rime on, Love on, and dye!

Cc4 Paraphrase Cc4v 40

Paraphrase on INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Canticles, 7.11.

I

Come thou most charming object of my love,

What’s all this dull Society to us,

Let’s to the peaceful Shades and Springs remove,

I’m here uneasy tho I linger thus.

II.

What are the triffles that I leave behind,

I’ve more then all the valu’d world in thee,

Where all my Joys and Wishes are confin’d,

Thou’rt Day and Life and Heaven it self to me.

III.

Come my beloved then let us away,

To those blest Seats where we’ll our flames improve,

With how much heat shall I carress thee there,

And in sweet transports give up all my love.

Para- Cc5r 41

Paraphrase on INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Michaah.6.6,7.

I.

Wherewith shall I approach this awful Lord,

What shall I bring,

What sacrifice

Will not so great a deity despise;

Tell me you lofty spirits that fall down,

The nearest to his throne,

Oh tell me how,

Or wherewithal shall I before my own, and your

dread maker bow.

Will Camels verdant top afford,

No equal offering,

Ten thousand rams, a bounteous offering ’tis,

When all the flocks upon a thousand spacious hills are his,

Will Streams of fragrant oil his wrath controul;

Or Cc5v 42

Or the more precious flood,

Of my first born’s blood,

Compound for all my debts and make a full Attonement
for my Soul.

II.

If not great God what then dost thou require,

Or what wilt thou daign to accept from me,

All, that my own thou giv’st me leave to call,

I willingly again resign to thee.

My youth and all its blooming heat,

My muse and every raptur’d thought, to thee I dedicate,

(Tis fit the issues of that sacred fire,

Should to its own celestial orb retire)

And all my darling vanities,

For thee I’ll sacrifice,

My favorite lust and all,

Among the rest promiscuously shall fall;

Nor more that fond beloved sin I’ll spare,

Than the great Patriarck would have done his heir,

And this great God altho a worthless prize,

Is a sincere, intire, and early sacrifice.

The Cc6r 43

The Reflection.

Where gilde my thoughts, rash inclinations stay,

And let me think what ’tis you fool away,

Stay ere it be to late, yet stay and take,

A short review of the great prize at stake.

Oh! stupid folly ’tis eternal Joy,

That I’m about to barter for a toy;

It is my God oh dreadful hazard where,

Shall I again the boundless loss repair!

It is my Soul a Soul that cost the blood,

And painful agonies of an humbled God,

Oh blest occasion made me stay to think,

Ere I was hurri’d off the dangerous brink,

Should I have took the charming venom in,

And cop’d with all these terrors for a sin,

How equal had my condemnation been?

A Song. Cc6v 44

A
Song.

He’s gone the bright way that his honour
directs him,

Oh all ye kind powers let me beg you protect
him.

He’s gone my Dear――and left me here mourning;

But hang these dull thoughts, I’le fancy him returning.

Returning, I’le think the great Hero Victorious,

With joy to my Arms as faithful as Glorious.

Against his bright Eyes, I am sure there’s no standing

He looks like a God, and moves as Commanding.

With a Face so Angelick the Foe will be charmed,

The Conquest were his tho he met ’em disarm’d.

They Cc7r 45

They could not (be sure) of a rational nature,

That wou’d not relent at so moving a feature.

Venus disguis’d he’el be thought by his Beauty;

And spar’d from the sense of a generous Duty.

Yet when I reflect on the Wounded and Dying,

In spight of my Courage it sets me a sighing.

But the resolute brave no danger can stay him,

Tho’ I us’d all my Charms and Arts to delay him.

Yet oh ye kind powers you are bound to protect him,

Since he’es gone the bright way that Glory directs him.

To Cc7v 46

To Madam S―― at the Court.

I.

Come prethee leave the Courts

And range the Fields with me;

A thousand pretty Rural sports

I’le here invent for thee.

II.

Involv’d in blissful innocence

Wee’l spend the shining day,

Untoucht with that mean influence

The duller world obey.

III.

About the flowry Plains wee’l rove,

As gay and unconfin’d:

As are inspir’d by thee and love

The saleys of my mind.

IV. Now Cc8r 47

IV.

Now seated by a lovely Stream,

Where beauteous Mermaids haunt;

My Song while William is my Theam,

Shall them and thee inchant.

V.

Then in some gentle soft retreat;

Secure as Venus Groves,

We’l all the charming things repeat,

That introduuc’d our loves.

VI.

I’le pluck fresh Garlands for thy brows,

Sweet as a Zephirs breath.

As fair and well design’d as those

The Elisyum Lovers wreath.

VII.

And like those happy Lovers we,

As careless and as blest;

Shall in each others coverse be

Of the whole world possest.

VIII. Then Cc8v 48

VIII.

Then prethee Phillis leave the Courts,

And range the Fields with me;

Since I so many harmless sports

Can here procure for thee.

The Dd1r 49

The Vision. To Theron.

Now gentle sleep my willing Eyes had
clos’d,

And this gay Scene the smiling God
impos’d;

Methought I in a Mirtle shade was plac’d,

My Tresses curl’d, my Brows with Laurel
grac’d.

Fresh was the Air, serenely bright the Day,

And all around lookt ravishingly Gay,

Active my Thoughts, my Lyre was in my
hand,

And once more Theron did my Voice command;

Once more the charming Hero did inspire

My daring Muse with an Heroick Fire;

The smiling Cupids softly flutter’d round,

Till animated with the generous sound,

Like fighting Gods, each shook his Dart and
frown’d.

Dd The Dd1v 50

The listning streams inchanted with my Song,

Scarce drove their still preceeding waves along;

Whil’st o’re and o’re complaisant eccho bears,

Through every cavern the immortal Airs;

About my Lips th’impatient Zephirs hung,

To snatch the tuneful Numbers from my
Tongue;

And the pleas’d Graces crowded round to
hear their Darling Sung.

The Queen of Beauty, and her Doves, stood by,

When I, to please the Lovely Deity,

Told her, what Looks, what Eyes, and Smiles
he had,

Not her own Charms more fatally betray’d:

At every strain the wounded Goddess sighs,

Strains, sweet and powerful, as her own fair
Eyes.

Then, smiling, towards her own bright Orb she
flew,

And, with her, all the Sanguine Visions drew.

A Dd2r 51

A Pastoral Elegy.

Philomela.

So, gentle Destinies, decide the strife;

Ah! spare but hers, and take my hated
Life.

Daphne.

Cease, cease, dear Nymph, the Fates ordain
not so.

Philomela.

The more ungentle they; But wilt thou go?

Daphne.

I must; and wish my Epilogue were done,

That from this tiresome stage I may be gone.

Philomela.

Ah me! ah me! this breaks my feeble heart:

But find’st thou no Reluctancy to part?

Dd2 Daphne. Dd2v 52

Daphne.

Without the least Reluctance, all below,

Save thee, dear Nymph, I willingly forego:

My Swain, my Mates, my Flocks and Garland
too.

In those blest shades, to which my soul must
flee,

More beauteous Nymphs, and kinder Shepherds
be;

Who ne’re reflect on what they left behind,

Rapt with the Joys they in Elysium find.

By Silver streams, through blissful shades they
rove,

Their Pleasures to Eternity improve.

There all the Smiling Year is cloth’d with
Green;

No Autumn, but Eternal Spring is seen.

There Dd3r 53

There the wing’d Choir in Loud and Artful
strains

Transmit their Eccho’s to the happy Plains:

And thither Strephon will my Soul pursue,

When he, like me, has bid the World adieu.

There, if her Innocence she still retain,

My Philomela I shall claspe again;

And there, when Death shall stop his Noble
Race,

With a more Godlike and Heroick Grace,

Thou shalt behold the matchless Theron’s
Face.

But now farewel, my latest Sands are run,

And Charon waits impatient to be gone.

Farewel, poor Earth; from thy unhappy shore

None ever launch’d more joyfully before.

Not Death’s Grim Looks affright me, tho so
near;

Alas! why should the Brave and Vertuous fear.

Dd3 Philomela. Dd3v 54

Philomela.

She’s gone, she’s gone, my dear Companion’s
gone,

And left me in this desert World alone;

Unforc’t, her Beauteous Soul has took its flight,

Serene, and Glittering to Eternal Light,

More blind than Love, or Chance, relentless
Death,

Why didst thou stop my charming Daphnes
Breath?

The best, the brav’st, and faithful Friend alive;

Fate—cut my Thread, I’ll not the loss survive.

Alas! Why rises the unwelcome Sun?

There’s nothing worth our sight now Daphne’s
gone.

Go smile on some blest Clime, where thou’lt not
see

A loss so vast, nor Wretch so curst as me;

Whom Dd4r 55

Whom Grief hath wrapt in so condens’d a
shade,

As thy intruding beams shall ne’re invade:

For, What avails thy Light now Daphne’s
gone,

And left me Weeping on the Shore alone?

Yet could the Gentle Fair but see me mourn,

From that Blest Place she would perhaps return.

But vain, alas! are my Complaints; she’s
gone,

And left me in this desert World alone.

For ah! depriv’d my dearer Life of thee,

The World is all a Hermitage to me:

No more together we shall sit or walk,

No more of Pan, or of Elysium talk:

No more, no more shall I the fleeting Day

In kind Endearments softly pass away:

Dd4 No Dd4v 56

No more the Noblest height of Friendship
prove,

Now Daphne’s gone, I know not who to
Love.

Mourn all ye Groves and Streams, mourn every
thing
,

You’l hear no more the pretty Syren Sing.

Tune, Shepherds, tune your Pipes to Mournful
strains;

For we have lost the Glory of our Plains.

Let every thing a sadder Look put on;

For Daphne’s dead, for the Lov’d Nymph is
gone
.

Parthenia, Dd5r 57

Parthenea, an Elegy.

With Singing Angels hence she posts away,

As Lovely now and excellent as they:

For one short Moment Death’s Grim Looks she
bore,

But ne’r shall see his Gastly Visage more.

Releast from her dull Fetters; as the Light,

Active, and Pure, Parthenia takes her flight;

And finds, at last, the awfull Secrecy,

How Spirits act, and what they do, and be.

But now she’s swallow’d in a flood of Light,

And scarce indures the Splendour of the Sight:

Dear Shade, whom Heaven did so soon remove

From these Cold Regions to the Land of Love;

To Dd5v 58

To endless Pleasures, and Eternal day;

How glittering now? How satisfy’d and gay

Art thou? methinks I do but half lament

The Lovely Saint from my Embraces rent:

Nor can to those fair Mansions cast my eyes,

To which she’s fled, and not recall my sighs.

My grief for her were as unjust, as vain,

If from that Bliss ’twould hurry her again:

For tho’ the Charming’st Friend on Earth I’ve
lost,

Yet she the while may the advantage boast:

And should her pure unfetter’d Soul but daign

A careless glance on these dark coasts again,

’Twould Smile, as Conscious, where she left
her Chain;

And smile agen at the surprizing odds

Of her late dwelling, and those bright abodes;

Those bright abodes where now, securely blest,

She Sings the Anthems of Eternal rest.

The Dd6r 59

The Reply to Mr. ――;

No: I’m unmov’d: nor can thy charming
Muse

One tender Thought into my Breast Infuse.

I am from all those sensual motions Free;

And you, in vain, speak pretty things to Me:

For through the Splendid Gallantrys of Love,

Untouch’d, and careless, now I wildly rove,

From all th’ Attacques of those proud Darts secure,

Whose Trifling Force too Tamely you indure;

Nor ought, on Earth’s, so delicate to move

My Nicer Spirit, and exact my Love:

Even Theron’s Lovely and Inticeing Eyes,

Tho’ arm’d with flames, I can at last despise;

With all the Genuine charms and Courtly Arts,

By which your Treacherous Sex invade our
Hearts:

No Dd6v 60

No more those little Things contract my breast

By a Diviner Excellence possest;

And, should I yield agen, it dear must cost

My Victor e’re he shall the Conquest Boast;

For the Mad Venome’s quite expell’d my
Veins,

And calmer Reason now Triumphant Reigns:

No more the dearest object of my sight

Can move a Soft Sensation of Delight;

Or force my lingring Blood a swifter pace,

Or Paint new Smiles and Blushes on my Face.

I’ve rent the Charming Idol from my heart,

And banisht all from thence that took his part.

No more the Smiling Beaux shall tempt me on

To Gaze, and Sigh, and think my self undone;

Whilst Love, like some Fierce Torrent unconfin’d,

Breaks in, o’r-spreads, and swallows up my
Mind;

And with its black ungrateful streams controul

All the Diviner Rays within my Soul.

No, Dd7r 61

No, No: I will, I will no more admire,

And urge the Sparks of the now dormant Fire:

Nor for a wild Fantastick Extasy,

Change the Dear Joys of this blest Liberty;

Free, as a wandring Zephir, through the Air,

Methinks I range, and hate my former Sphear.

I meet the Noblest Forms, yet scorn to pay

A Fond Devotion to well-moulded Clay:

Nor would I even for my late splendid Chain

Forgo this Charming Liberty again;

Which with so sweet a Calmness fill my Breast

As cannot be in Words, no not in thine Exprest.

A Dd7v 62

A
Pastoral on the Queen.

(Phillis.)

Why (Philomela) sleep those chearful
Strains,

With which so much you gratify’d
the Plains?

When every murmuring stream and pretty spring

Of some soft Tale would stop to hear thee Sing

In Notes, that all the Nymphs and Shepherds
mov’d;

And Theron too, had he been by, had Lov’d.

But ah! unwellcome Alteration, now

No pleasant Smile, or Wreath, adorns thy Brow.

About the Plains thy Flocks neglected, stray;

And thou, as careless and forlorn as they:

In hollow Rocks, and Cypress Shades, alone,

Dost Teach the Mournful Dove a sadder Mone.

For, all I heard from thee, when listning by,

Were broken Notes, of some sad Elegy.

But Dd8r 63

But such a great and unaffected Air

Thy Solitary Lamentations were,

I find, no selfish Grief, or Interest

Cou’d draw those Generous Murmurs from thy
Breast.

’Tis sure, the Publick Loss thou dost condole;

’Tis that which yet lies pressing on thy Soul.

(Philomela.)

’Tis that indeed, our common loss and care,

Which, in my Breast, claims this unvulgar share;

Too sadly claims it: Oh! the Queen, the Queen

Has left the World: but Heaven! How black
a Scene

Her Exit makes it? ―― Oh Illustrious Saint!

(By Death, from our most warm Caresses
rent;

Could I but speak thy Worth: But that’s a
Theme

Too mighty for my boldest Thoughts to Stem:

Ev’n my own Grief, I have no words to Paint,

Nor find my Love an Elegant Complaint.

My Dd8v 64

My Lyre it self no more can give me ease,

(Nor the strong Tumults of my Soul appease;

Nor more can give my swelling Breast relief,)

Then Fate reverse the Subject of my Grief:

’Tis all in vain――

Alass! the Royal Shepherdess is gone;

And, with her, the Whole Sex’s Glory flown.

Oh! Could not all those Heavenly Virtues
Save

Divine Maria from th’ Insatiate Grave?

Nor her’s, and our Dear Hero’s Moving Tears?

Nor all the poor Lamenting Nations Fears?

No, no; they could not――She resigns Her
Breath;

The Charming Queen a Trophy falls to
Death.

A Ee1r 65

A
Farewel to Love.

Well, since in spight of all that Love can
do,

The dangerous steps of Honour
thoul’t pursue,

I’ll just grow Wise and Philosophick too:

I’ll bid these tender silly things Farewel;

And Love, with thy great Antidote, expel:

I’ll tread the same Ambitious Paths with thee,

And Glory too shall be my Deity.

And now I’ll once release my Train of Fools,

In Sheer good Nature to the Loving Souls;

For Pity’s-sake at last I’ll set at rights

The vain conceits of the presumptuous Wights:

Ee For Ee1v 66

For tho’ I shake off Therons Chains, yet he

Is all that e’er deserv’d a Smile from me.

But he’s unjust, and false; and I a part

Would not accept, tho’ of a Monarch’s
heart.

And therefore flattering hopes, and wishes too,

With all Loves soft Concomitants, adieu:

No more to its Imperious Yoke I’ll bow;

Pride and Resentment fortify me now.

My Inclinations are reverst; nor can

I but abhor the Slavery of Man,

How e’er the empty Lords of Nature boast

O’re me, their Fond Prerogative is lost:

For, Uncontroul’d, I thus resolve to rove,

And hear no more of Hymen, or of Love:

No more such Wild Fantastick things shall
Charm:

My Breast; nor these Serener Thoughts Alarm.

No Ee2r 67

No more for Farce; I’ll make a Lover Creep,

And look as Scurvy as if he had bit a Sheep.

Nor with Dissembled Smiles indulge the Fops,

In pure Revenge to their Audacious hopes;

Tho’ at my Feet a thousand Victims lay,

I’d proudly spurn the Whining Slaves away.

Deaf, as the Winds, or Theron, would I prove,

And hear no more of Hymen, or of Love:

Like bright Diana now I’ll range the Woods,

And haunt the silent Shades and silver Floods

I’ll find out the Remotest Paths I can,

To shun th’ Offensive, Hated Face of Man.

Where I’ll Indulge my Liberty and Bliss,

And no Endimyon shall obtain a Kiss.

Now Cupid, Mourn; the inlargement of my
fate

Thou’st lost a Politician in thy State:

I could have taught thee, hadst thou lost thy
Arms

To fool the World with more delusive Charms:

Ee2 I Ee2v 68

I could have made thy Taper burn more
bright,

And wing thy Shafts with an unerring flight:

’Twas I directed that successful dart,

That found its way to the Great――’s heart:

’Twas I that made the lovely Fl――n bow,

A proud contemner of thy Laws, till now;

I sung thy Power, and Inspir’d the Swains,

Or thou hadst been no Deity on the Plains,

Yet think no more my freedom to surpirze,

Which nothing can controul but Theron’s eyes;

And every flattering Smile, and every Grace,

With all the Air of that Bewitching Face,

My Pride and Resolutions may deface:

For from those eyes for ever I’ll remove,

To shun the Sight of what I would not love:

And then, tho every Cyclop stretcht his Art,

To form the little angry God a dart,

I’ll yet defy his rage to touch my Heart:

For Ee3r 69

For tho my years compel me to disdain,

Of the false Charmer meanly to complain;

’Tis yet some satisfaction to my Mind,

I for his sake abandon all Mankind.

My Prouder Muse, to love no more a slave,

Shall Sing the Gust, the Fortunate and Brave,

And twine her Promis’d Wreaths for Theron’s
Brow,

The Hero, not the faithless Lover now.

More Blooming Glories mayst thou still acquire,

And urge my Breast with a more active fire.

May new Successes wait upon thy Sword,

And deathless Honour all thy Acts record.

May all thou dost thy Character compleat;

And, like thy self, be loyal still and great:

Whilst in an equal Orb as free I move,

And think no more of Hymen, or of Love.

Finis.

Ee3v

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The Young Lady, who is the Author
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they came from the Press; and is
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Printer’s Errata’s.

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