Amoret, my lovely foe!
Tell me where thy strength does lie? Where the power that charms us fo? In thy foul, or in thy eye?
By that fnowy neck alone:
Or thy grace in motion feen ;
No fuch wonders could be done ;
Yet thy waift is straight, and clean,
As Cupid's fhaft; or Hermes' rod:
And powerful too, as either God.
H lovely Amoret, the care
Of all that know what 's good, or fair!
Is Heaven become our rival too?
Had the rich gifts, confer'd on you
So amply thence, the common end
Of giving lovers,-to pretend?
Hence, to this pining sickness (meant
weary thee to a confent
Of leaving us) no power is given,
Thy beauties to impair: for Heaven
Sollicits thee with fuch a care,
As rofes from the stalks we tear :
When we would ftill preferve them new,
And fresh, as on the bush they grew.
With fuch a grace you entertain,
And look with fuch contempt on pain,
That languishing you conquer more,
And wound us deeper than before.
So lightnings which in ftorms appear
Scorch more than when the fkies are clear.
And as pale fickness does invade
Your frailer part, the breaches made
In that fair lodging, ftill more clear
Make the bright guest, your foul, appear.
So nymphs o'er pathless mountains borne,
Their light robes by the brambles torn
From their fair limbs, expofing new
And unknown beauties to the view
Of following Gods, increase their flame,
And hafte, to catch the flying game.
Upon the Death of my Lady RICH.
AY thofe already curs'd Effexian plains,
Where hafty death and pining fickness reigns, Prove all a defart! and none there make stay, But savage beasts, or men as wild as they ! There the fair light, which all our island grac'd, Like Hero's taper in the window plac'd, Such fate from the malignant air did find, As that exposed to the boisterous wind.
Ah, cruel heaven! to snatch so soon away Her, for whofe life had we had time to pray, With thousand vows, and tears, we should have fought That fad decree's fufpenfion to have wrought.
But we, alas, no whisper of her pain
Heard, till 'twas fin to wish her here again,
That horrid word, at once, like lightning fpread,
Strook all our ears-the Lady Rich is dead!
Heart-rending news! and dreadful to those few
Who her resemble, and her steps pursue:
That Death fhould licence have to rage among
The fair, the wife, the virtuous, and the young!
The Paphian Queen from that fierce battle borne, With goared hand, and veil fó rudely torn,
Like terror did among th` Immortals breed;
Taught by her wound that Goddesses may bleed.
All stand amazed! but beyond the rest
Th' † heroic dame whose happy womb she bleft,
Mov'd with juft grief, expoftulates with Heaven;
Urging the promise to th' obfequious given,
Of longer life for ne'er was pious foul
More apt t' obey, more worthy to control.
A fkilful eye at once might read the race
Of Caledonian Monarchs in her face.
And sweet humility: her look and mind
At once were lofty, and at once were kind.
There dwelt the fcorn of vice, and pity too,
For those that did what the difdain'd to do:
So gentle and fevere, that what was bad,
At once her hatred, and her pardon had.
Gracious to all; but where her love was due,
So faft, fo faithful, loyal, and so true,
That a bold hand as foon might hope to force
The rolling lights of heaven, as change her courfe.
Some happy Angel, that beholds her there,
Inftruct us to record what he was here!
+ Chriftian Countess of Devonshire.
And when this cloud of forrow 's over-blown,
Through the wide world we 'll make her
So fresh the wound is, and the grief so vaft,
That all our art, and power of speech, is wafte.
Here paffion fways, but there the Muse shall raife
Eternal monuments of louder praise.
There our delight, complying with her fame,
Shall have occafion to recite thy name,
Fair Sachariffa !—and now only fair!
To facred friendship we 'll an altar rear;
(Such as the Romans did erect of old :)
Where, on a marble pillar, fhall be told
The lovely paffion each to other bare,
With the refemblance of that matchlefs Pair.
Narciffus to the thing for which he pin'd
Was not more like, than your's to her fair mind;
Save that she grac'd the several parts of life,
A fpotless virgin, and a faultless wife;
Such was the fweet converfe 'twixt her and you,
As that fhe holds with her affociates now.
How falfe is Hope, and how regardless Fate,
That fuch a love fhould have fo fhort a date !
Lately I saw her fighing part from thee:
(Alas that fuch the last farewel should be!)
So look'd Aftræa, her remove defign'd,
On those diftreffed friends fhe left behind.
Confent in virtue knit your hearts so fast,
That ftill the knot, in fpite of death, does last:
For, as your tears, and forrow-wounded foul,
Prove well that on your part this bond is whole:
F 2
So, all we know of what they do above,
Is, that they happy are, and that they love.
Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave,
Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have:
Well-chofen love is never taught to die,
But with our nobler part invades the sky.
Then grieve no more, that one so heavenly shap'd
The crooked hand of trembling age escap'd.
Rather, fince we beheld her not decay,
But that the vanish'd fo entire away,
Her wondrous beauty, and her goodness, merit
We should suppose, that some propitious spirit
In that cœleftial form frequented here ;
And is not dead, but ceases to appear.
THE BATTLE OF THE SUMMER-ISLANDS.
What fruits they have, and how heaven smiles
Upon those late-discover'd iles.
ID me, Bellona! while the dreadful fight
Betwixt a nation, and two whales, I write :
Seas ftain'd with gore I fing, adventurous toil!
And how these monsters did difarm an ifle.
Bermuda wall'd with rocks who does not know?
That happy ifland! where huge lemons grow;
And orange trees, which golden fruit do bear,
Th' Hefperian garden boasts of none so fair :
Where fhining pearl, coral, and many a pound,
On the rich shore, of amber-gris, is found.
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