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Waller can never die, of Life fecure

As long as Fame, or aged Time, endure.
A Tree of Life is Sacred Poetry;

Whoe'er has leave to tafte, can never die.
Many Pretenders to the Fruit there be,
Who, against Nature's Will do pluck the Tree;
They nibble, and are Damn'd: But only thofe
Have Life, who are by partial Nature chofe.
Waller was Nature's Darling, free to taste
Of all her Store; the Mafter of the Feast:
Not like old Adam, ftinted in his Choice,
But Lord of all the spacious Paradife.
Mysteriously the Bounteous Gods were kind,
And in his Favour Contradictions join'd.
Honest and Juft, yet courted by the Great ;
A Poet, yet a plentiful Eftate:

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Witty, yet wife, unenvy'd, and yet prais'd;
And fhew'd the Age could be with Merit pleas'd,
Malice and Spite, to Virtue certain Foes,
Were dumb to him, nor durft his Fame oppofe;
Thofe cruel Wolves he tam'd, their Rage difarm'd,
And, with his tuneful Song, like Orpheus charm'de
To Love, or Bufinefs, both he was enclin'd,
Could counsel Senates, or make Virgins kind :
The Factious, with perfuafive Rhetorick, move,
Or teach difdainful Fair Ones how to love;
The ftubborn of each Sex, to Reafon bring:
Like Cato he could Speak, like Ovid Sing.
Our British Kings are rais'd above the Hearfe,
Immortal made, in his immortal Verse,
No more are Mars and Jove Poetick Theams,
But the two peaceful Charleses, and Great James
Julia, and Delia, do no more delight,
But Sacharia now is only bright.

Nor can the Paphian Goddess longer moves
But Gloriana is the Queen of Love.
The Father of fo many Gods is he,
He must himself be fure fome Deity,

Minerva and Apollo fhall fubmit,
And Waller be the only God of Wit.

This equal Rife be to his Merit given,,

On Earth the King, the God of Verse in Heaven.

Ariadne deferted by Thefeus, as she fits upon a Rock in the Ifland Naxos, thus complains.

Hefeus

TH

By Mr. CARTWRIGHT.

Thefeus heark! but yet in vain

Alas deferted I complain!

It was fome neighbouring Rock, more soft than he,
Whofe hollow Bowels pitied me,

And beating back that false, and cruel Name,
Did comfort and revenge my Flame.

Tell me you Gods, who e'er you are,
Why, O why made you him so fair ?
And tell me, Wretch, why thou
Mad'ft not thy felf more true?
Beauty from him may Copies take,
And more Majestick Heroes make,
And falfhood learn a while,
From him too, to beguile.
Reftore my Clew,

'Tis here most due,

For 'tis a Labyrinth of more fubtile Art,
To have so fair a Face, fo foul a Heart.

The ravenous Vulture tear his Breaft,
The rowling Stone disturb his Reft:
Let him next feel
Ixion's Wheel,

And add one Fable more

To curfing Poets ftore;

And then----yet rather let him live, and twine
His Woof of days, with fome thred ftoln from mine;
But if you'll torture him, how e'er,
Torture my Heart, you'll find him there.

Till my Eyes drank up his,

And his drank mine,

I ne'er thought Souls might kifs,
And Spirits join:

Pictures till then

Took me as much as Men,

Nature and Art

Moving alike my Heart.
But his fair Vifage made me find
Pleafures and Fears,

Hopes, Sighs, and Tears,

As feveral Seafons of the Mind.

Should thine Eye, Venus, on his dwell,
Thou wouldst invite him to thy Shell,
And Caught by that live Jet

Venture the fecond Net,

And after all thy Dangers, faithless he,
Shouldst thou but flumber, would forfake ev'n thee,

The Streams fo court the yielding Banks,
And gliding thence ne'er pay their Thanks.
The Winds fo woo the Flow'rs,
Whifp'ring among fiesh Bow'rs,

And having robb'd them of their Smells,
Fly thence perfum'd to other Cells.

This is familiar Hate to Smile and Kill,
Though nothing please thee, yet my Ruin will
Death hover, hover o'er me then,
Waves let your Crystal Womb

Be both my Fate, and Tomb,

I'll fooner truft the Sea, than Men,

And yet O Nymphs below who fit,

In whofe fwift Floods his Vows he writ; Snatch a sharp Diamond from the richer Mines, And in fome Mirrour grave these fadder Lines, which let fome God convey

To him, that so he may

In that both read at once, and fee
Thofe looks that caus'd my Destiny.

In Thetis Arms I Ariadne fleep,

Drown'd firft by my own Tears, then in the deep;
Twice banished, firft by Love, and then by Hate,
The Life that I preferv'd became my Fate;
Who leaving all, was by him left alone,
That from a Monster freed, himself prov'd one,

That then I----But look! O mine Eyes
Be now true Spies,

Yonder, yonder
Comes my Dear,
Now my Wonder,
Once my Fear.
See Satyrs dance along
In a confused Throng,

While Horns and Pipes rude noise

Do mad their lufty Joys,

Rofes his forehead Crown,

And that recrowns the Flow'rs,
Where he walks up and down
He makes the defarts Bow'rs,
The Ivy, and the Grape

Hide, not adorn his Shape.

'And Green Leaves Cloath his waving Rod, Tis either Thefeus, or fome God.

T

The Deferted S WAIN.

HE Mufes Darling, Pride of all the Plains,
Daphnis, the foft, the fweetest of the Swains
Long reign'd in Love, for every Nymph he view'd,
He caught, he only lookt and he fubdu'd:
But now the melancholly Youth retires

Thro' fhady Groves, and wanders thro' the Briars
Sad and alone: At laft beneath a shade
Of spreading Elm and Beech fupinely laid

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When I fo long, fo faithfully did wooe,
And did what Conftancy and Truth could do,
Why is my Suit refus'd, my Prayers in vain,
And warm Endeavours damp'd by cold difdain?
Muft Slights the lean rewards of Virtue prove!
Unhappy Daphnis, fatal in thy Love! -[Bee,
Long drought the Flow'rs, and forms the lab'ring
And unfuccefsful Love hath ruin'd thee.
This Heaven, (had I obferv'd the Omen well)
As conscious of my Fate, did oft foretell;
It show'd my flattering Hope fhould difappear,
And waste like Vapours toft in flitting Air.
Laft Night when careful of my Flocks I went
To fee my Lambs were fed, and Folds were pent,
A Flame fhone round my Head, but foon the Light
Decay'd, and all around ftood deepest Night.
But is Urania fo averfe to Love!

Could none of all the Rival Shepherds move?
Ah, Egon, how I envy thy Success!

Thy Fortune greater, tho' thy Charms were lefs:
Without a long fatigue, and tedious Suit
The Door was open'd, and you reach'd the Fruit &
Oh how I pine at thy furprizing Joys!
Die Daphnis, fhe is partial in her Choice.
Yet once I hop'd (what cannot Love perfwade?)
More kind returns from the obliging Maid:

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