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ON THE LADY
WHO CAN SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASES, No wonder sleep from careful lovers fies, 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 Phæbus of his throne of gold, is the soft God those softer limbs to hold; nor would exchange with Jore, 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 vever teach her care, yet Hymen may in force bis vigils keep, and for another's joy suspend her sleep.
THE STORY OF PHBUS AND DAPHNE
Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train,
such is the chase when Love and Fancy leads
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 aloyd. Small force there needs to make them treinble 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 tind. 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.
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 spbere, 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
those little drops of light:
entertain'd his eyes.
SIGHS. Ob! 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.-Bot while I do these pleasing dreams endite, lam diverted from the promis'd sight.
TO MY YOUNG LADY LUCY SIDNEY, Why came I so 'untimely forth: 70' into a world which, wanting thee, could entertain ys with no worth or shadow of felicity?
smo that time should me so far remove from that which I was born to love! Yet, fairést 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 gáy, 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.
Joy salutes me when I set et my blest eyes on Amoret ;
If sweet, Amoret complains, : ,,
All that of myself is mine, lovely Amorét ! is thine : Sacharissa's captive, fain would untiehis iron chain,