Expect those statues, as you pass, should burn;
And that with wonder men should statues turn ;
Such beauty is enough to give things life,
But not to make a husband love his wife :
A husband, worse than statues, or than trees;
Colder than thofe, lefs fenfible than these.
Then from fo dull a care your thoughts remove,
And waste not fighs you only owe to love.
'Tis pity, fighs from such a breast should part,
Unless to eafe fome doubtful lover's heart;
Who dies because he must too justly prize
What yet the dull poffeffor does despise.
Thus precious jewels among Indians grow,
Who nor their ufe, nor wondrous value know;
But we for those bright treasures tempt the main,
And hazard life for what the fools difdain.

A LETTER FROM SE A.

FAireft, if time and abfence can incline

Your heart to wandering thoughts no more than mine; Then fhall my hand, as changelefs as my mind, From your glad eyes a kindly welcome find; Then, while this notes my conftancy affures, You'll be almost as pleas'd, as I with yours. And trust me, when I feel that kind relief, Abfence itself awhile fufpends its grief: So may it do with you, but strait return ; For it were cruel not fometimes to mourn

His fate, who this long time he keeps away,
Mourns all the night, and fighs out all the day;
Grieving yet more, when he reflects that you
Muft not be happy, or must not be true.
But fince to me it seems a blacker fate
To be inconftant, than unfortunate;
Remember all thofe vows between us paft,
When I from all I value parted last ;

May you

alike with kind impatience burn,
And fomething mifs, till I with joy return;
And foon may pitying heaven that bleffing give,
As in the hopes of that alone I live.

GR

LOVE'S

SLAVERY.

RAVE fops my envy now beget,
Who did my pity move;

They, by the right of wanting wit,

Are free from cares of love.

Turks honour fools, because they are

By that defect secure
From flavery and toils of war,
Which all the reft endure.

So I, who fuffer cold neglect
And wounds from Celia's eyes,
Begin extremely to refpect

Thefe fools that feem fo wife.

'T

Tis true, they fondly fet their hearts

On things of no delight;

To pafs all day for men of parts,

They pass alone the night.

But Celia never breaks their reft;
Such fervants fhe difdains;
And fo the fops are dully bleft,
While I endure her chains.

THE

DRE A M.

RE

EADY to throw me at the feet
Of that fair nymph whom I adore,

Impatient thofe delights to meet
Which I enjoy'd the night before ;

By her wonted scornful brow,
Soon the fond mistake I find;

Ixion mourn'd his error fo,

When Juno's form the cloud refign'd.

Sleep, to make its charms more priz'd
Than waking joys, which moft prevail,

Had cunningly itself difguis'd

In a fhape that could not fail.

There my Celia's fnowy arms,
Breafts, and other parts more dear,
Expofing new and unknown charms,
To my tranfported foul appear.

Then

Then you fo much kindness fhow,

My defpair deluded flies ;
And indulgent dreams bestow
What your cruelty denies.

Blush not that your image Love
Naked to my fancy brought;
'Tis hard, methinks, to difapprove
The joys I feel without your fault.

Wonder not a fancy'd blifs

Can fuch griefs as mine remove; That honour as fantastic is,

Which makes you flight fuch constant love.

The virtue which you value fo,

Is but a fancy frail and vain;

Nothing is folid here below,

Except my love and your difdain.

To One who accufed him of being too fenfual in

his Love.

HINK not, my fair, 'tis fin or shame,

TH

To blefs the man who fo adores;

Nor give fo hard, unjust a name,

To all those favours he implores.

Beauty is heaven's most bounteous gift esteem'd,
Because by love men are from vice redeem'd.

Yet

Yet with not vainly for a love

From all the force of nature clear:

That is referv'd for those above,

And 'tis a fault to claim it here.

For fenfual joys ye fcorn that we should love ye,
But love without them is as much above ye.

THE

WARNING.

LOVERS, who wafte your thoughts and youth

In paffion's fond extremes,

Who dream of women's love and truth,

And doat upon your dreams :

I should not here your fancy take
From fuch a pleasing state,
Were you not fure at last to wake,
And find your fault too late.

Then learn betimes, the love which crowns

Our cares is' all but wiles, Compos'd of falfe fantastic frowns,

And foft diffembling smiles.

With anger, which fometimes they feign,
They cruel tyrants prove;

And then turn flatterers again,

With as affected love.

As if fome injury was meant

To those they kindly us'd,

Thofe lovers are the most content

That have been still refus'd.

Since