Ah! never more shall thỳ unwilling ear
My helpless ftory hear;

Difcourfe and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain

That in my breast does reign;

Silence perhaps may make it sleep :
I'll bind that fore up I did ill reveal ;
The wound, if once it close, may chance to heal,
No, 'twill ne'er heal; my love will never die,
Though it should speechless lie..

A river, ere it meet the sea,

As well might ftay its fource,.
As my love can his course,

Unless it join and mix with thee :

If any end or stop of it be found,

We know the flood runs ftill, though under ground.

THE DISSEMBLER.

UNHURT, untouch'd, did I complain,

And terrify'd all others with the pain :
But now I feel the mighty evil;

Ah! there's no fooling with the devil!
So, wanton men, whilst others they would fright,
Themselves have met a real sprite.

I thought, I'll fwear, an handfome lye
Had been no fin at all in poetry;

But now I fuffer an arreft,

For words were spoke by me in jest.

Dull,

Dull, fottish God of Love! and can it be
Thou understand'st not raillery ?

Darts, and wounds, and flame, and heat,
I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit;
Nor meant my verfe fhould raised be
To this fad fame of prophefy :
Truth gives a dull propriety to my style,
And all the metaphors does fpoil.

In things where fancy much does reign,
"Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign;
The play at laft a truth does grow,
And Custom into Nature go:
By this curft art of begging I became
Lame, with counterfeiting lame.

My lines of amorous defire

I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire;
And 'twas a barbarous delight

My fancy promis'd from the fight:
But now, by Love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the first do try.

I

THE IN CONSTANT.

Never yet could fee that face

Which had no dart for me;

From fifteen years, to fifty's space,
They all victorious be.

Love, thou 'rt a devil, if I may call thee one;
For fure in me thy name is Legion..

Colour, or fhape, good limbs, or face,
Goodness, or wit, in all I find;
In motion or in fpeech a grace;

If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind ; ·
And I'm fo weak, the pistol need not be
Double or treble charg'd to murder me.

If tall, the name of proper flays;

If fair, fhe's pleafant as the light;..
If low, her prettiness does please;

If black, what lover loves not night?
If yellow-hair'd, I love, left it fhould be
Th' excufe to others for not loving me..

The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;
The lean, with love makes me too fo :
If ftraight, her body's Cupid's dart
To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow:

Nay, age itself does me to rage incline,

And strength to women gives, as well as wine..

Juft half as large as Charity

My richly-landed Love 's become ;
And, judg'd aright, is Conftancy,

Though it take up larger room:

Him, who loves always one, why should they call:
More conftant than the man loves always all.?

Thus,

Thus with unwearied wings I flee

Through all Love's gardens and his fields;
And, like the wife, industrious bee,

No weed but honey to me yields !

Honey still spent this diligence still supplies,
Though I return not home with laden thighs.

My foul at first indeed did

prove

Of pretty strength against a dart,
Till I this habit got of love;

But my confum'd and wasted heart,
Once burnt to tinder with a strong defire,
Since that, by every spark is set on fire.

GR

THE CONSTAN T.

REAT and wife conqueror, who, where'er
Thou com'st, doft fortify, and fettle there!
Who canft defend as well as get,

And never hadft one quarter beat-up yet;
Now thou art in, thou ne'er wilt part
With one inch of my vanquish'd heart;
For, fince thou took'ft it by aflault from me,
'Tis garrifon'd fo ftrong with thoughts of thee,
It fears no beauteous enemy.

Had thy charming frength been lefs,
I 'ad ferv'd ere this an hundred mistresses :
I'm better thus, nor would compound

To leave my prison to be a vagabond;
A prifon in which I still would be,
Though every door ftood ope to me.

In

In spite both of thy coldness and thy pride,
All love is marriage on thy lover's fide,

For only death can them divide.

Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind

As that which fpirits above to good does bind,
Gentle and sweet Neceffity,

Which does not force, but guide, our liberty!

Your love on me were spent in vain,

Since my love ftill could but remain Juft as it is; for what, alas! can be Added to that which hath infinity Both in extent and quality?

W

ITH more than Jewish reverence as yet
Do I the facred name conceal;

When, ye kind stars, ah when will it be fit
This gentle mystery to reveal?

When will our love be nam'd, and we poffefs
That christening as a badge of happiness ?

So bold as yet no verse of mine has been,
To wear that gem on any line;

Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse be seen,
Shall any ftanza with it shine.

Reft, mighty name ! till then; for thou must be

Laid down by her, ere taken up by me.

Then