The Picture of little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers.

Ee with what simplicity

SE

This Nimph begins her golden daies!

In the green Grass she loves to lie,

And there with her fair Aspect tames

The Wilder Flow'rs, and gives them names:

But only with the Roses playes;

And them does tell

What Colour best becomes them, and what Smell.

Who can foretel for what high cause
This Darling of the Gods was born!
Yet this is She whose chaster Laws
The wanton Love shall one day fear,
And, under her command severe,
See his Bow broke and Ensigns torn.
Happy, who can
Appease this virtuous Enemy of Man!

O then let me in time compound,
And parly with those conquering Eyes;
Ere they have try'd their force to wound,
Ere, with their glancing wheels, they drive

In Triumph over Hearts that strive,

And them that yield but more despise.

Let me be laid,

Where I may see thy Glories from some Shade.

ΤΟ

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Mean time, whilst every verdant thing
It self does at thy Beauty charm,
Reform the errours of the Spring;
Make that the Tulips may have share
Of sweetness, seeing they are fair;
And Roses of their thorns disarm :
But most procure

That Violets may a longer Age endure.

But O young beauty of the Woods,

Whom Nature courts with fruits and flow'rs,
Gather the Flow'rs, but spare the Buds;
Lest Flora angry at thy crime,

To kill her Infants in their prime,

Do quickly make th' Example Yours;

And, ere we see,

Nip in the blossome all our hopes and Thee.

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Andrew Marvell.

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To my Excellent Lucasia, on our Friendship.

I

Did not live until this time

Crown'd my felicity,

When I could say without a crime,

I am not thine, but Thee.

This Carcass breath'd, and walkt, and slept,

So that the World believ'd

There was a Soul the Motions kept;

But they were all deceiv'd.

For as a Watch by art is wound

To motion, such was mine:
But never had Orinda found

A Soul till she found thine;

Which now inspires, cures and supplies,
And guides my darkned Breast:

For thou art all that I can prize,
My Joy, my Life, my Rest.

No Bridegrooms nor Crown-conquerors mirth
To mine compar'd can be:

They have but pieces of this Earth,

I've all the World in thee.

Then let our Flames still light and shine,

And no false fear controul,

As innocent as our Design,

Immortal as our Soul.

Katherine Philips.

To my Lucasia, in defence of declared
Friendship.

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My Lucasia, let us speak our Love,
And think not that impertinent can be,
Which to us both doth such assurance prove,
And whence we find how justly we agree.

Before we knew the treasures of our Love,
Our noble aims our joys did entertain;
And shall enjoyment nothing then improve?
"Twere best for us then to begin again.

G

ΙΟ

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Now we have gain'd, we must not stop, and sleep

Out all the rest of our mysterious reign: It is as hard and glorious to keep

A victory, as it is to obtain.

Nay to what end did we once barter Minds,
Only to know and to neglect the claim?
Or (like some Wantons) our Pride pleasure finds
To throw away the thing at which we aim.

If this be all our Friendship does design,
We covet not enjoyment then, but power:
To our Opinion we our Bliss confine,

And love to have, but not to smell, the flower.

Ah! then let Misers bury thus their Gold,

Who though they starve, no farthing will produce: But we lov❜d to enjoy and to behold,

And sure we cannot spend our stock by use.

Think not 'tis needless to repeat desires;
The fervent Turtles alwaies court and bill,
And yet their spotless passion never tires,
But does increase by repetition still.

Although we know we love, yet while our Soul
Is thus imprison'd by the Flesh we wear,
There's no way left that bondage to controul,

But to convey transactions through the Ear.

Nay, though we read our passions in the Eye,
It will oblige and please to tell them too:
Such joys as these by motion multiply,

Were't but to find that our Souls told us true.

ΤΟ

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Believe not then, that being now secure
Of either's heart, we have no more to do:
The Spheres themselves by motion do endure,
And they move on by Circulation too.

And as a River, when it once hath paid

The tribute which it to the Ocean owes,
Stops not, but turns, and having curl'd and play'd
On its own waves, the shore it overflows:

So the Soul's motion does not end in bliss,
But on her self she scatters and dilates,
And on the Object doubles till by this
She finds new joys which that reflux creates.

But then because it cannot all contain,

It seeks a vent by telling the glad news,
First to the Heart which did its joys obtain,
Then to the Heart which did those joys produce.

When my

Soul then doth such excursions make,

Unless thy Soul delight to meet it too,

What satisfaction can it give or take,

Thou being absent at the interview?

"Tis not Distrust; for were that plea allow'd,
Letters and Visits all would useless grow :
Love's whole expression then would be its cloud,
And it would be refin'd to nothing so.

If I distrust, 'tis my own worth for thee,
'Tis my own fitness for a love like thine;
And therefore still new evidence would see,
T'assure my wonder that thou canst be mine.

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