Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

III.

Ever scorning, and denying,
To reward your faithful swain;
Chloe, laughing at his crying,
Told him that he lov'd in vain :
Kiss me, Dear! before my dying;
Kiss me once, and ease my pain!
IV.

Chloe, laughing at his crying,
Told him that he lov'd in vain!
But repenting, and complying,
When he kiss'd, she kiss'd again:
Kiss'd him up before his dying;
Kiss'd him up, and eas'd his pain.

X.

A SONG.

I.

Go tell Amynta, gentle Swain!
I would not die, nor dare complain;
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy words will more prevail than mine.
To souls oppres'd, and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain this kind relief,
That Music should in sounds convey,
What dying lovers dare not say.

15

20

24

5

II.

A sigh or tear, perhaps, she'll give,
But love on pity cannot live;

Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid:

Tell her my pains so fast increase,

That soon they will be past redress:
But, ah! the wretch that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

XI.

10

16

A SONG to a fair young Lady going out of the Town in the Spring.

ASK not the cause why sullen Spring

So long delays her flow'rs to bear;
Why warbling birds forget to sing,
. And winter-storms invert the year:
Chloris is gone, and Fate provides
To make it spring where she resides.

II.

Chloris is gone, the cruel fair!
She cast not back a pitying eye,
But left her lover in despair,
To sigh, to languish, and to die.
Ah, how can those fair eyes endure

To give the wounds they will not cure?

III.

Great god of Love, why haft thou made
A face that can all hearts command,

ΙΟ

ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS.

To the memory of Mr. OLDHAM.

FAREWELL, too little and too lately known,
Whom I began to think and call my own;
For sure our souls were near ally'd, and thine
Cast in the same poetic mould with mine:
One common note on either lyre did strike,
And knaves and fools we both abhorr'd alike:
To the same goal did both our studiesdrive;

The last set out, the soonest did arrive.
Thus Nisus fell upon the slipp'ry place,

[ocr errors]

Whilst his young friend perform'd and won the race.
O early ripe to thy abundant store,

What could advancing age have added more?
It might, what Nature never gives the young,
Have taught the smoothness of thy native tongue.
But satire needs not those, and wit will shine
Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line:
A noble error, and but seldom made,
When poets are by too much force betray'd.
Thy gen'rous fruits, tho' gather'd ere their prime,
Still shew'd a quickness; and maturing Time
But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of

20

11

15

rhyme.

Once more, hail, and farewell; farewell thou young,
But, ah, too short Marcellus of our tongue!
Thy brows with ivy and with laurels bound;

24

But fate and gloomy night encompass thee around.

11.

AN ODE

To the pious memory of the accomplished young Lady

MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW,

Excellent in the two sister-arts of Poesy and Painting.

I.

THOU youngest virgin-daughter of the Skies,
Made in the last promotion of the bless'd;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with immortal green above the rest;
Whether, adopted to some neighb'ring star,
Thou roll'st above us in thy wand'ring race,
Or in procession fix'd and regular,
Mov'd with the heav'n's majestic pace;

Or, call'd to more superior bliss,

Thou tread'st with seraphims the vast abyss;

Whatever happy region is thy place,

Cease thy celestial song a little space;

Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine,
Since heav'ns eternal year is thine:

5

10

15

ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS.

I.

To the memory of Mr. OLDHAM.

FAREWELL, too little and too lately known,
Whom I began to think and call my own;
For sure our souls were near ally'd, and thine
Cast in the same poetic mould with mine:
One common note on either lyre did strike,
And knaves and fools we both abhorr'd alike:
To the same goal did both our studiesdrive;
The last set out, the soonest did arrive.

Thus Nisus fell upon the slipp'ry place,

[ocr errors]

Whilst his young friend perform'd and won the race.
O early ripe to thy abundant store,

What could advancing age have added more?
It might, what Nature never gives the young,
Have taught the smoothness of thy native tongue.
But satire needs not those, and wit will shine
Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line:
A noble error, and but seldom made,
When poets are by too much force betray'd.
Thy gen'rous fruits, tho' gather'd ere their prime,
Still shew'd a quickness; and maturing Time
But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of

rhyme.

20

[ocr errors]

15

« ПредишнаНапред »