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The maze of foo!s, thou shalt no treasure spend,
The Acidalian queen amidst thy bags
Shall twine her myrtles, grant thee pleasant days; With walls and ports encircle Neptune's shore ; She did make clear thy house, and, with her light, To new-found worlds thy fleets make hold their Of churlish stars put back the dismal spight; course,
The Hymenean bed fair brood shall grace, And find of Canada the unknown source ;
Which on the Earth continue shall their race; People those lands which pass Arabian fields While Flora's treasure shall the meads endear; In fragrant woods, and musk which zephyr yields. While sweet Pomona rose-cheek'd fruits shall bear; Thou, fear'd of none, shalt not thy people fear, While Phoebus' beams her brother's emulats: Thy people's love thy greatness shall up-rear: Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates. Still rigour shall not shine, and mercy lower ; What love can do, thou shalt not do by power ; New and vast taxes thou shalt not extort,
MERCURY. Load heavy those thy bounty should support; Thou shalt not strike the hinge nor master-beam GREAT Atlas' nephew shall the works of peace, Of thine estate, but errours in the same,
The springs of plenty, tillage, trade, increase; By harmless justice, graciously reform;
And arts, in time's gulphs lost, again restore Delighting more in calm than roaring storm,
To their perfection; nay, tind inany more, Thou shalt govern in peace, as did thy sire;
More perfect artists ; Cyclops in the'r forge Keep safe thine own, and kingdoms new acquire
Shall inould those brazen Typhons, which disgorge Beyond Alcides' pillars, and those bounds
Proin their hard bowels metal, iarne, and smoke, Where Alexander gain'd the eastern crowns,
Muffling the air up in a sable cloke. Till thou the greatest be among the greats:
Geryons, harpies, dragons, sphinges strange, Thus Heavens ordain, so have decreed the Fates. Wheel, where in spacious gires the fume doth range;
The sea shrinks at the blow, sbake doth the ground,
The world's vast chambers doth the sound rebound; MARS.
The Stygian porter leaveth off to bark, Son of the lion ! thou of loathsome bands
Black Jove, appall’d, doth shroud him in the dark; Shalt free the Earth, and whate'er thee with Many a Typhis, in adventures toss'd, stands
By new-found skill shall many a maiden coast
With thy sail-winged Argoses find out, Thy noble paws shall tear; the god of Thrace
Which, like the Sun, shall run the Earth about; Shall be thy second; and before thy face, To Truth and Justice whilst thou trophies rears,
And far beyond his paths score wavy ways,
To Cathay's lands by Hyperhorean seas; Armies shall fall dismay'd with panic fears.
He shall endụe thee, both in peace and war, As when Aurora in sky's azure lists
With wisdom, which than strength is better far; Makes shadows vanish, doth disperse the mists, And in a twinkling with her opal light
Wealth, honour, arms, and arts shall gracethy states:
Thus Heavens ordain, so do decree the Fates.
The sun of night, thy happy fortunes aids !
Her hand-maid 'Thetis daily walks the round Her garlands twin'd with olive, oak,
About thy Delos, that no force it wound; Thy triumphs finish shall all old debates :
Then when thou left'st it, and abroad didst stray, Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain’d the Fates. Dear pilgrim, she did strew with flowers thy way;
And, turning foreign force and counsel vain,
Quailing Medusa's grim snakes with her shine.
Beneath thy reign Discord (fell mischief's forge,
The bane of people, state and kingdom's scourge,) To thy just reign, which shall far, far surpass Of emperors, kings, the best that ever was:
Pale Envy (with the cockatrice's eye, Look how he dims the stars; thy glories' rays
Which seeing kills, but seen doth forth with die,)
Malice, Deceit, Rebellion, Impadence,
Beyond the Garamants shall pack them bence, And in the Heaven of worthies be the Sun.
With every monster that thy glory hates :
Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates.
Twat beretofore to thy heroic mind
O do not think it strange: times were not come, Why should not he, since of more pare a frame,
But, wretch! what wish I? to the winds 1 send When on this northern region thou shouldst lend These plaints and pray'rs: Destinies cannot lend Thy cheerful presence, and, charg'd with renown, Thee more of time, nor Heavens consent will thus Set on thy brows the Caledonian crown.
Thou leave their starry world to dwell with us; Thy virtues now thy just desire shall grace, Yet shall they not thee keep amidst their spberes Stern chance shall change, and to desert give place. Without these lamentations and tears. Let this be known to all the Fates adinit
Thou wast all virtue, courtesy, and worth ; To their grave counsel, and to every wit
And, as Sun's light is in the Moon set forth, That courts Heaven's inside: this let Sybils know, World's supreme excellence in thee did shine: And those mad Corybants who dance and glow Nor, though eclipsed now, shalt thou decline, On Dindimus' high tops with frantic fire :
But in our memories live, while dolphins streams Let this be knowu to all Apollo's choir,
Shall haunt, while eaglets stare on Titan's beams, And people: let it not be hd from you,
Whilst swans upon their crystal tombs shall sing, What mountains noise, and floods proclaim as true. Whilst violets with purple paint the spring. Wherever fame abroad bis praise shall ring, A gentler shepherd flocks did never feed All shall observe, and serve this blessed king. On Albion's hills, nur sing to oaten reed.
While what she found in thee my Muse would blaze,
How oft have we, environ'd by the throng
Some Chloris' name grav'n in each virgin tree;
And, finding favours fading, the next day
What we had carv'd we did deface away. ON THE DEATH OF SIR WILLIAM ALEXANDER. Woful remembrance! Nor time nor place
Of thy abodement shadows any trace; In sweetest prime and blooming of his age, But there to mc thou shin'st: late glad desires, Dear Alcon, ravish'd from this mortal stage, And ye once roses, how are ye turn'd briars! The shepherds mourn'd, as they him lov'd before. Contentments passed, and of pleasures chief, Among the rout, bim Idmon did deplore;
Now are ye frightful horrours, hells of grief! Idmon, who, whether Sun in east did rise,
When from thy native soil love had thee driven, Or dive in west, pour'd torrents from his eyes (Thy safe return prefigurating) a Heaven Of liquid crystal; under hawthorn shade,
Of flattering hopes did in my fancy move;
The populous city holds him, amongst barms
With thee, sweet youth! the glories of our fields of foreign shepberds, fawns, and fairy courts. Vanish away, and what contentments yields. No pleasure like the fields, an happy state The lakes their silver look, the woods their shades, The swains enjoy, secure from what they hate : The springs their crystal want, their verdure meads, Free of proud cares they innocently spend The years their early seasons, cheerful days; The day, nor do black thoughts their ease offend; Hills gloomy stand, now desolate of rays:
Wise Nature's darlings, they live in the world Their amorous whispers zephyrs not us bring, Perplexing not themselves how it is hurld. Nor do air's choristers salute the spring;
These hillocks Phæbus loves, Ceres these plains, The freezing winds our gardens do deflow'r. These shades the Sylvans; and here Pales strains Ah Destinies, and you whom skies embow'r, Milk in the pails; the maids which haunt the springs To bis fair spoils his spright again yet give, Dance on these pastures; here Amintas sings: And, like another phenix, make him live! (stems, Hesperian gardens, Tempe's shades, are here, The herbs, though cut, sprout fragrant from their Or what the eastern Inde and west hold dear. And make with crimson blush our anadems : Come then, dear youth! the wood-nymphs teine The Sun, when in the west he doth decline,
thee boughs Heaven's brightest tapers at his funerals shine ; With rose and lily to impale thy brows." His face, when wash'd in the Atlantic seas, Thus ignorant I mus'd, not conscious yet Revives, and cheers the welkin with new rays: Of what by Death was done, and ruthless Fate:
Amidst these trances Fame thy loss doth sound, Phil. Learn I pray this, like to thee,
For I’m split on beauty's shelf.
All good hath left this age, all tracks of shame: To me a sacred altar, and a tomb
Mercy is banished, and pity dead; To famous Alcon. Here, as days, months, years
Justice, from whence it came, to Hear'n is fled; Do circling glide, I sacrifice will tears;
Religion, maim d, is thought an idle name. Here spend my remnant time, exil'd from mirth,
Faith to distrust and malice hath giv'n place; Till Death at last turn monarch of my earth.
Envy, with poison'd teeth, hath friendship torn; Shepherds on Forth, and you by Doven rocks,
Renowned knowledge is a despis'd scorn; Which use to sing and sport, and keep your flocks, Now evil't is, all evil not t embrace. Pay tr bute here of tears! ye never had
There is no life, save under servile bands; To aggravate your moans a cause more sad :
To make desert a vassal to their crimes, And to their sorrows bither bring your mands,
Ambition with avarice joins bands : Charged with sweetest flow'rs, and with pure hands;
O ever shameful, O most shameless times ! Fair nymphs, the blushing hyacinth and rose
Save that San's light we see, of good here tell, Spread on the place his relics doth enclose;
This Earth we court so much were very Hell. Weave garlands to his inemory, and put Over his hearse a verse in cypress cut: Virtue did die, goodness but harm did give, After the noble Alcon ceas'd to live:
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move? Friendship an earthquake suffer'd; losing him
Is this the justice which on Earth we find?
Is this that firm decree which all doth bind?
And they who thee, poor idol virtue! love,
Ply like a feather toss’d by storm and wind.
Or why should pride humility make thrall,
And injuries the innocent oppress?
Heav'ns! hinder, stop this fate; or grant a time PHILLIS AND DAMON.
When good may have, as well as bad, their prime.
Wao do in good delight,
That sov’reign justice ever doth reward;
And though sometime it smite,
Yet it doth them regard :
For ev'n amidst their grief
They find a strong relief,
And death itself can work them no despite.
And do in it grow old,
In midst of mirth are charg'd with sin's annoy,
Which is in conscience scrollid;
And when their life's frail thread is cut by time, Phil. Like to what, dear shepherd, say?
They punishment find equal to each crime.
And I shall not ask again;
Look how in May the rose,
At sulphur's azure fumes,
In a short space her crimson blush doth lose,
And, all amaz'd, a pallid white assumes.
So time our best consumes,
Makes youth and beauty pass, Dam. Like to thee, fair cruel May.
And what was pride turns hortour in our glass.
BUILDING NEAR THE STATUE OF MEDEA.
Now Daphnis' arms did grow
Which like gold waves did filow,
In leafy twigs was stretched in the air; That is Medea! there
The grace of either foot
Transform'd was to a root;
He who did cause her ill
Sore wailing stood, and from his blubber'd eyne What other may'st thou hope for, what desire,
Did show'rs of tears upon the rind distil,
Which, water'd thus, did bud and turn more green.
THE BEAR OF LOVE.
In woods and desert bounds
A beast abroad doth roam; Of sleeping Mars put on the horrid arms;
So loving sweetness and the honey-comb, Where gazing in a glass
It doth despise the arms of bees and rounds: To see what thing she was,
I, by like pleasure led,
Whilst therewith I am fed,
And how those eyes afflict and wound my heart.
THE BOAR'S HEAD.
FIVE SONNETS FOR GALATEA. Amidst a pleasant green
1. Which Sun did seldom see, Where play'd Anchises with the Cyprian queen,
Srrephon, in vain thou bring'st thy rhymes and songs, The head of a wild boar hung on a tree:
Deck'd with grave Pindar's old and wither'd flow'rs; And, driven by Zephyrs' breath,
In vain thou count'st the fair Europa's wrongs, Did fall, and wound the lovely youth beneath ;
And ber whom Jove deceiv'd in golden show'rs. On whom yet scarce appears
Thou hast slept never under myrtle's shed; So much of blood as Venus' eyes shed tears. Or, if that passion hath thy soul oppress'd, But, ever as she wept, her anthem was,
It is but for soine Grecian mistress dead, “ Change, cruel change, alas!
Of such old sighs thou dost discharge thy breast;
Thy love a pretty fable needs must prove:
O no! thou learn'st thy love in lovers' books.
II. ASCALAPHUS, tell me,
No more with eandid words infect mine ears; So may night's curtain long time cover thee, Tell me no more bow that you pine in anguish; So ivy ever may
When sound you sleep, no more say that you lanFrom irksome light keep thy chamber and bed ;
guish; And, in Moon's liv'ry clad,
No more in sweet despite say you spend tears. So may'st thou scorn the choristers of day
Who hath such hollow eyes as not to see, When plaining thou dost stay
How those that are hair-brain'd boast of Apollo, Near to the sacred window of my dear,
And bold give out the Muses do them follos, Dost ever thou her hear
Though in love's library, yet no lovers be. To wake, and steal swift hours from drowsy sleep? | If we, poor souls! least favour but them show, And, when she wakes, doth e'er a stolen sigh creep That straight in wanton lines abroad is blaz'd; Into thy listening ear?
Their names doth soar on our fame's overthros; If that deaf god doth yet her careless keep, Mark'd is our lightness, whilst their wits are prais’d. In Jouder notes my grief with thine express, In silent thoughts who can no secret curer, Til by thy shrieks she think on my distress. He may, say we, but not well, be a lover.
TO THAUMANTIA, SINGING.
Is it not too, too much
Thou late didst to me prove
A basilisk of love,
And didst my wits bewitch ?
Unless, to cause more harm,
Made syren too thou with thy voice me charm?
Ah ! though thou so my reason didst controul, Yea, ye yourselves it deem most worthy praise,
That to thy looks I could not prove a mole;
Yet do me not that wrong,
UPON A GLASS.
Where love bis wealth doth show,
But take this glass, and thy fair hair behold.
If whiteness thou wouldst see more white than snow,
Whose thorns do hurt each heart?
Wouldst thou see planets which all good impart,
But take this glass, and gaze upon thine eyne.
No-planets, rose, snow, gold, cannot compare
OF A BEE.
As an audacious knight,
Come with some foe to fight,
O champion strange as stout ! In skies above, or on this lower round,
Who hast by nature found
OF THE SAME.
Do not kill that bee So is 't with love: unless you love me still,
That thus hath wounded thee!
Sweet, it was no despite,
He deemed them a rose.
What wouldst thou further crave?
He wanting wit, and blinded with delight, Brother to death, in silent darkness born,
Would fajn have kiss'd, but mad with joy did bite, Destroy my languish ere the day be light, With dark forgetting of my care's return; Ind let the day be long enough to mourn
OF A KISS,
Ah! of that cruel bee
I found that both they hurt and sweeten'd me: et never rising Sun approve your tears,
This by the sting they have,
Couldst thou at once both please and wound mybeart?