V.

Love is the Salt of Life; a higher Tafte

It gives to Pleasure, and then makes it laft.
Those flighted Favours which cold Nymphs difpenfe

Mere common Counters of the Senfe,

Defective both in Mettle and in Measure,

A Lover's Fancy coins into a Treasure.

How vaft the Subject! What a boundless Store
Of bright Ideas, fhining all before

The Mufes Sight, forbids me to give o'er!
But the kind God incites us various Ways,
And now I find him all my Ardour raise,
His Precepts to perform, as well as praise.

ELEGY

TH

HOU lovely Slave to a rude Husband's Will,

By Nature us'd fo well, by him so ill!

For all that Grief we see your Mind endure,
Your Glass presents you with a pleafing Cure;
Thofe Maids you envy for their happier State,
To have your Form, would gladly have your Fate
And of like Slavery each Wife complains,
Without fuch Beauty's Help to bear her Chains.
Husbands like Him we every where may fee,
But where can we behold a Wife like Thee?

While to a Tyrant you by Fate are ty'd,

By Love you tyrannize o'er all befide:

Thofe

Those Eyes, tho' weeping, can no Pity move;

Worthy our Grief! More worthy of our Love!
You while so fair (do Fortune what she please)

Can be no more in Pain, than we at Ease:
Unless unsatisfied with all our Vows,

Your vain Ambition fo unbounded grows,
That you repine a Husband should efcape
Th' united Force of fuch a Face and Shape.
If fo, alas, for all thofe charming Pow'rs,
Your cafe is just as defperate as ours.
Expect that Birds should only fing to you,
And, as you walk, that every Tree fhould bow;
Expect those Statues as you pass fhould burn;
And that with Wonder Men fhould 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 wafte not Sighs you only owe to Love,

Tis pity, Sighs from fuch a Breast should part,
Unless to eafe fome doubtful Lover's Heart;
Who dies because he muft 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

A LETTER from Sea.

Aireft, if Time and Abfence can incline

FA

Your Heart to wand'ring Thoughts no more

than mine;

Then shall my Hand, as changeless as my Mind,
From your glad Eyes a kindly Welcome find;
Then, while this Note my Conftancy affures,
You'll be almost as pleas'd, as I with yours.
And truft me, when I feel that kind Relief,
Absence itself a while fufpends its Grief:
So may it do with you, but ftraight 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;

I

Grieving