ON THE LADY

WHO CAN SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASES.

No wonder sleep from careful lovers flies,
to bathe himself in Sacharissa's eyes.
As fair Astræa once from earth to heav'n,
by strife and loud impiety was driv'n,
so with our plaints offended, and our tears,
wise Somnus to that paradise repairs;

waits on her will, and wretches does forsake,
to court the nymph for whom those wretches wake.
More proud than Phœbus of his throne of gold,
is the soft God those softer limbs to hold;

nor would exchange with Jove, to hide the skies in dark'ning clouds, the pow'r to close her eyes; eyes which so far all other lights controul, they warm our mortal parts, but these our soul!

Let her free spirit, whose unconquer'd breast hold such deep quiet and untroubled rest, know that tho' Venus and her son should spare her rebel heart, and never teach her care, yet Hymen may in force his vigils keep, and for another's joy suspend her sleep.

THE STORY OF PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE
APPLIED.

Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train,
fair Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain :
like Phœbus sung the no less amʼrous boy;
like Daphne she, as lovely, and as coy!
with numbers he the flying nymph pursues,
with numbers such as Phoebus' self might use !

such is the chase when Love and Fancy leads
o'er craggy mountains, and thro' flow'ry meads;
invok'd to testify the lover's care,

or form some image of his cruel fair.
Urg'd with his fury, like a wounded deer,
o'er these he fled; and now approaching near,
had reach'd the nymph with his harmonious lay,
whom all his charms could not incline to stay.
Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,
tho' unsuccessful, was not sung in vain :
all but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
attend his passion, and approve his song.
Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise,
he catch'd at love, and fill'd his arms with bays.

ON MY LADY ISABELLA

PLAYING ON THE LUTE.

Such moving sounds from such a careless touch!
so unconcern'd herself, and we so much!
what art is this, that with so little pains
transports us thus, and o'er our spirits reigns?
the trembling strings about her fingers crowd,
and tell their joy for ev'ry kiss aloud.

Small force there needs to make them tremble so:
touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too?
here Love takes stand, and while she charms the ear,
empties his quiver on the list'ning deer.
Music so softens and disarms the mind,
that not an arrow does resistance find.
Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,
and acts herself the triumph of her eyes :
so Nero once, with harp in hand, survey'd
bis flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd.
No. 77.

5

ON A GIRDLE.

That which her slender waist confin'd
shall now my joyful temples bind:
no monarch but would give his crown,
his arms might do what this has done.

It was my heav'n's extremest sphere,
the pale which held that lovely dear;
my joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
did all within this circle move!
a narrow compass! and yet there
dwelt all that's good, and all that 's fair.
Give me but what this ribband bound,
take all the rest the sun goes round.

AN APOLOGY FOR HAVING LOVED BEFORE.

They that never had the use
of the grape's surprising juice,
to the first delicious cup
all their reason render up;
neither do nor care to know
whether it be best or no.

So they that are to love inclin'd,

sway'd by chance, not choice, or art,
to the first that's fair or kind,

make a present of their heart:
it is not she that first we love,
but whom dying we approve.

To man, that was in th' ev'ning made,

stars gave the first delight,

admiring, in the gloomy shade

those little drops of light:
then at Aurora, whose fair hand
remov'd them from the skies,

he gazing tow'rd the east did stand,
she entertain'd his eyes.

But when the bright sun did appear,
all those he 'gan despise;

his wonder was determin'd there,
and could no higher rise.

He neither might, nor wish'd to know
a more refulgent light:

for that (as mine your beauties now)
employ'd his utmost sight.

SIGHS.

Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay under the plantain's shade, and all the day with amorous airs my fancy entertain, invoke the Muses, and improve my vein ! no passion there in my free breast should move, none but the sweet and best of passions, Love. There while I sing, if gentle Love be by,

that tunes my lute, and winds the string so high, with the sweet sound of Sacharissa's name, I'll make the list ning savages grow tame.— But while I do these pleasing dreams endite, I am diverted from the promis'd sight.

TO MY YOUNG LADY LUCY SIDNEY, Why came I so untimely forth into a world which, wanting thee, could entertain us with no worth or shadow of felicity?

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that time should me so far remove from that which I was born to love! Yet, fairest Blossom! do not slight that age which you may know so soon: the rosy Morn resigns her light and milder glory to the Noon: and then what wonders shall you do, whose dawning beauty warms us so ! Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime; and summer, tho' it be less gay, yet is not look'd on as a time (of declination or decay:

for with a full hand that does bring all that was promis'd by the spring.

Fair! that you may truly know
what you unto Thyrsis owe,
I will tell you how I do
Sacharissa love and you.
Joy salutes me when I set
my blest eyes on Amoret ;

but with wonder I am struck

while I on the other look.

1

If sweet Amoret complains, :AVY I have sense of all her pains;

but for Sacharissa I