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"My mother does unkindly use her fon,
She may be fad, and griev'd, as well as I.
"O Cyclops, Cyclops, where 's thy reason fled? If your young lambs with new-pluck'd boughs you fed, "And watch'd your flock, would you not seem more wife; "Milk what is next, pursue not that which flies.
Perhaps you may, fince this proves fo unkind, "Another fairer Galatea find.
"Me many virgins as I pass invite
"To waste with them in love's soft sports the night;
“And, if I but incline my liftening ear,
"New joys, new fmiles, in all their looks appear.
TO CÆ LI A.
"LY fwift, ye hours; ye sluggish minutes, fly;
In fpite of thee, 'tis night when she's away,
O, my aufpicious star, make haste to rise,
Nature's too prodigal to womankind,
Ev'n where the does neglect t' adorn the mind
As makes mankind with joy and pride obey.
Since love's thy debt, nor is our choice, but fate.
And whenfoe'er fhe does a poet make,
She gives him verse but for thy beauty's fake.'
Should be but fecond in the lift of fame;
Each grove, each shade, should with thy praise be fill'd, And the fam'd Penshurst to our Windfor yield.
SPOKEN TO THE QUEEN,
IN TRINITY COLLEGE NEW COURT.
'HOU equal partner of the royal bed,
That mak'ft a crown fit foft on Charles's head; In whom, with greatness virtue takes her feat, Meeknefs with power, and piety with state; Whose goodness might ev'n factious crowds reclaim, Win the feditious, and the favage tame; Tyrants themselves to gentleft mercy bring, And only useless is on fuch a king! See, mighty princess, see how every breast With joy and wonder is at once poffeft: Such was the joy which the first mortals knew, When gods defcended to the people's view, Such devout wonder did it then afford, To fee those powers they had unfeen ador'd, But they were feign'd; nor, if they had been true, Could shed more bleffings on the earth than you : Our courts, enlarg'd, their former bounds difdain, To make reception for fo great a train : Here may your facred breast rejoice to fee, Your own age strive with ancient piety;
Soon now, fince bleft by your auspicious eyes,
To full perfection fhall our fabric rise.
Lefs powerful charms than yours of old could call The willing ftones into the Theban wall,
And ours, which now its rife to you fhall owe,
More fam'd than that by your great name shall grow.
A PASTORAL, upon the Death of her Grace MARY Duchefs of SOUTHAMPTON 1680.
'ELL me, my Thyrfis, tell thy Damon, why Does my lov'd fwain in this fad pofture lie? What mean these streams still falling from thine eyes, Faft as those fighs from thy fwoln bosom rife?
Has the fierce wolf broke through the fenced ground?
Have thy lambs ftray'd? let them for ever stray:
Ev'n Damon's friendship, or Dorinda's love?
there may be.
THYR. But, Damon,
What if the charming Floriana die?
DAM. Far be the omen! THYR. But fuppofe it true? DAM. Then should I grieve, my Thyrfis, more