Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

But if you fear that I, o'er-grown with Hair,
Without a fire defie the Winter Air,

Know I have mighty ftores of Wood, and know
Perpetual Fires on my bright Hearth do glow.
My Soul, my Life it felf fhould burn for thee,
And this one-Eye, as dear as Life to me.
Why was not I with Fins, like Fishes, made,
That I, like them, might in the Deep have play'd?
Then would I dive beneath the yielding Tide,
And kifs your hand, if you your lips deny'd.
To thee I'd Lillies and red Poppies bear,
And flowers that Crown each Seafon of the Year.
But I'm refolv'd I'll learn to fwim and dive,
Of the next Stranger that does here arrive,
That th' undifcover'd Pleafures I may know
Which you enjoy in the deep Flood below.
Come forth, O Nymph, and coming forth forget,
Like me that on this Rock unmindful fit,
(Of all things elfe unmindful but of thee)
Home to return forget, and live with me.
With me the fweet and pleasing Labour chufe,
To feed the Flock, and milk the burthen'd Ewes,
To prefs the Cheese, and the sharp Runnet to in-
fufe.

My Mother does unkindly use her Son,

By her neglect the Cyclops is undone ;
For me the never labours to prevail,
Nor whispers in your Ear my Am'rous Tale.
No; tho' fhe knows I languifh every day,
And fees my Body waste, and strength decay.
But I more Ills than what I feel will feign,
And of my Head, and of my Feet complain;
That, in her Breaft if any pity lye,

She may be fad, and griev'd as well as I.

7

O Cyclops, Cyclops, where's thy Reason fled? If your young Lambs with new pluckt boughs you fed, And watch'd your Flock, would you not seem more Milk what is next, pursue not that which flies. [wife?

Perhaps you may, fince this proves fo unkind,
Another fairer Galatea find.

Me many Virgins, as I pafs, invite

To wafte with them in Love's foft Sports the Night,
And if I but incline my liftning Ear,

New Joys, new Smiles in all their Looks appear.
Thus we, it feems, can be belov'd; and we,
It seems, are fomebody as well as fhe.
Thus did the Cyclops fan his raging fire,

And footh'd with gentle Verse his fierce defire.
Thus pass'd his hours with more delight and ease,
Than if the Riches of the World were his.

F

Το

CEL I A.

By Mr. DUKE.

LY fwift, ye hours, ye fluggish minutes fly, Bring back my Love, or let her Lover dye. Make hafte, O Sun, and to my Eyes once more, My Calia brighter than thy felf restore.

In fpight of thee, 'tis Night when she's away,
Her Eyes alone can the glad Beams difplay,"
That makes my Sky look clear, and guides my day.
O when will the lift up her facred Light!
And chase away the flying fhades of Night!
With her how faft the flowing hours run on?
But oh! how long they stay when she is gone?
So flowly Time when clogg'd with Grief does move;
So fwift when born upon the Wings of Love!
Hardly three days, they tell me, yet are paft,
Yet 'tis an Age fince I beheld her laft.
O my aufpicious Star make hafte to rife,
To charm our Hearts and bless our longing Eyes!
O how I long on thy dear Eyes to gaze,
And chear my own with their reflected rays!

How

How my impatient, thirsty Soul does long,
To hear the charming Mufick of thy Tongue!
Where pointed Wit with folid Judgment grows,
And in one eafie ftream united flows.

When e'er you speak, with what delight we hear,
You call up every Soul to every Ear!

Nature's too prodigal to Woman-kind,`
Ev'n where she does neglect t' adorn the mind;
Beauty alone bears fuch refiftlefs fway,

As makes Mankind with joy and pride obey.
But oh when Wit and Senfe with Beauty's join'd,
The Woman's sweetness with the manly mind,
When Nature with so just a hand does mix
The moft engaging Charms of either Sex;
And out of both that thus in one combine
Does fomething form not Humane but Divine,
What's her command, but that we all adore
The nobleft work of her almighty power! j
Nor ought our Zeal thy anger to create,
Since Love's thy debt, nor is our Choice but Fate.
Where Nature bids, worship I'm forc'd to pay,
Nor have the Liberty to disobey.

And whenfoe'er fhe does a Poet make,
She gives him Verse but for thy Beauty's fake.
Had I a Pen that could at once impart
Soft Ovid's Nature and high Virgil's Art,
Then the immortal Sachariffa's Name
Should be but fecond in the lift of Fame;

Each Grove, each Shade fhould with thy praise be fill'd,
And the fam'd Penshurst to our Windfor yield.

[blocks in formation]

Spoken to the QUEEN in Trinity-College New-Court in Cambridge.

Written by Mr. Duke.

HOU equal Partner of the Royal Bed,

That mak'a a crown fit foft on Charles's Head;

[claim,

In whom with Greatness, Virtue takes her Seat :
Meekness with Power, and Piety with State;
Whofe Goodness might even Factious Crouds re-
Win the Seditious, and the Savage tame;
Tyrants themselves to gentleft Mercy bring,
And only useless is on fuch a King;
See, mighty Princess, fee how every Breaft
With Joy and Wonder is at once poffeft:
Such was the Joy, which the firft Mortals knew,
When Gods defcended to the Peoples view,
Such devout wonder did it then afford,
To fee those Pow'rs they had unseen ador❜d:
But they were Feign'd: nor-if they had been true,
Could shed more Bleffings on the Earth than you:
Our Courts enlarg'd, their former Bounds difdain,
To make Reception for fo great a Train ;
Here may your facred Breaft rejoice to fee,
Your own Age ftrive with Ancient Piety.
Soon now, fince bleft by your aufpicious Eyes,
To full perfection fhall our Fabrick rife.
Lefs powerful Charms than yours of old could call
The willing Stones into the Theban Wall,
And ours which now its rife to you shall owe,
More fam'd than that by your great Name shall grow.

FLORIAN Α,

A Paftoral upon the Death of her Grace the Dutchefs of SOUTHAMPTON.

By Mr. DUKE.

DAMON.

ELL me my Thyrfis, tell thy Damon, why

What mean these streams ftill falling from thine eyes,
Faft as those fighs from thy fwoln Bofom rife
Has the fierce Wolf broke thro' the fenced ground?
Have thy Lambs ftray'd? or has Dorinda frown'd?
Thyrfis. The Wolf? Ah! let him come, for now he
Have my Lambs ftray'd? let 'em for ever ftray: [may:
Dorinda frown'd? No, She is ever mild;

Nay, I remember but just now she smil'd:
Alas! she smil'd; for to the lovely Maid
None had the fatal Tidings yet convey'd.
Tell me then Shepherd, tell me, canft thou find
As long as thou art true, and fhe is kind,
A Grief fo great, as may prevail above
Even Damon's friendship, or Dorinda's Love?
Damon. Sure there is none. Thyrf. But, Damon,
there may be :

What if the charming Floriana die?

Damon. Far be the Omen! Thyrf. But fuppofe it true. Damon. Then should I grieve, my Thyrfis, more

than you.

She is---Thyrf. Alas! fhe was, but is no more;
Now, Damon, now, let thy fwoln Eyes run o'er:
Here to this Turf by thy fad Thyrfis grow,
And when my ftreams of Grief too fhallow flow,
Let in thy Tide to raise the Torrent high,
Till both a Deluge make, and in it die,

« AnteriorContinuar »