Fool that I was! fo much to prize
Those fimple virtues
Fool that with fuch dull arrows ftrove,
Or hop'd to reach a flying dove.
For you, that are in motion still,
Decline our force, and mock our skill:
Who, like Don Quixote, do advance
Against a wind-mill our vain lance.
Now will I wander through the air,
Mount, make a ftoop at every Fair;
And, with a fancy unconfin'd,
(As lawless as the fea or wind)
Pursue you wherefoe'er
And with your various thoughts comply.
The formal ftars do travel so,
As we their names and courfes know;
And he that on their changes looks,
Would think them govern'd by our books:
But never were the clouds reduc'd
any art: the motion us'd
By thofe free vapors are fo light,
So frequent, that the conquer'd fight
Defpairs to find the rules that guide
Thofe gilded fhadows as they slide.
And therefore of the fpacious air
Jove's royal confort had the care-:
And by that power did once escape,
Declining bold Ixion's rape;
She with her own resemblance grac'd
A fhining cloud, which he embrac'd.
Such was that image, fo it fmil'd
With feeming kindnefs, which beguil'd
Your Thyrfis lately, when he thought
He had his fleeting Cælia caught.
'Twas shap'd like her; but for the Fair,
He fill'd his arms with yielding air.
A fate for which he grieves the lefs,
Because the Gods had like fuccefs.
For in their story, one, we see,
Purfues a nymph, and takes a tree:
A fecond, with a lover's hafte,
Soon overtakes whom he had chac'd;
But she that did a Virgin feem,
Poffeft, appears a wandering stream :
For his fuppofed Love, a third
Lays greedy hold upon a bird;
And ftands amaz'd, to find his dear
A wild inhabitant of th' air.
To these old tales such nymphs as you
Give credit, and still make them new;
The amorous now like wonders find,
In the swift changes of your mind.
But, Cælia, if you apprehend
The Mufe of your incenfed friend:
Nor would that he record your blame,
And make it live, repeat the fame;
Again deceive him, and again,
And then he fwears he 'll not complain.
For ftill to be deluded fo,
Is all the pleasure lovers know;
Who, like good falconers, take delight,
Not in the quarry, but the flight.
And yet he shines as bright as you,
If brightnefs could our fouls fubdue.
EE! how the willing earth gave way,
To take th' impreffion where the lay! See! how the mould, as loth to leave
So fweet a burden, ftill doth cleave
Clofe to the nymph's ftain'd garment! Here
The coming fpring would first appear;
And all this place with rofes ftrow,
If busy feet would let them grow.
Here Venus fmil'd, to fee blind Chance Itself, before her Son, advance;
And a fair image to present,
Of what the Boy fo long had meant.
'Twas fuch a chance as this made all
The world into this order fall;
Thus the first lovers, on the clay
Of which they were compofed lay :
So in their prime, with equal grace,
Met the first patterns of our race.
Then blush not, Fair! or on him frown,
Or wonder how you both came down ;
But touch him, and he 'll tremble strait :
How could he then fupport your weight?
How could the youth, alas! but bend
When his whole heaven upon him lean'd?
If aught by him amifs were done,
'Twas that he let you rise so foon.
OF SYLVIA.
OUR fighs are heard, juft Heaven declares
The fenfe it has of lovers' cares :
She that has fo far the rest outshin'd,
Sylvia the fair, while fhe was kind,
As if her frowns impair'd her brow,
Seems only not unhandsome now.
So when the sky makes us endure
A ftorm, itself becomes obfcure.
Hence 'tis that I conceal my flame,
Hiding from Flavia's felf her name;
Left fhe, provoking heaven, fhould prove
How it rewards neglected love.
Better a thousand fuch as I,
Their grief untold, fhould pine and die;
Than her bright morning, overcast
With fullen clouds, fhould be defac'd.
LATELY on yonder fwelling bush,
Big with many a coming rofe,
This early bud began to blush,
And did but half itself difclofe :
I pluck'd it, though no better grown ;
And now you fee how full 'tis blown.
|