A new life gives to others' joys, Whilst that I Grief-stricken lie, Nor can meet With any sweet But what faster mine destroys. What are all the senses' pleasures, When the mind hath lost all measures! Hear, O hear! How sweet and clear The nightingale And waters fall In concert join for others' ears, Whilst to me, For harmony, Echoes despair, And every drop provokes a tear, What are all the senses' pleasures, When the mind hath lost all measures? ROBERT VEEL, Born at Alveston, in Gloucestershire; entered of Edm. Hall, Oxford, in 1663, aged 15;" continued there (says Wood) "about 10 terms; went to the great city, lived after "the manner of poets, in a debauched way, and wrote "partly for the use of his idle and vain companions, but 66 more to gain money to carry on the trade of folly." Among other things he was author of " New Court Songs "and Poems," 8vo. 1672. He seems to have been an easy versifier, though without much originality. VANITY OF WORLDLY HAPPINESS. How eager are our vain pursuits And yet, how empty are the fruits! How full of trouble, grief, and noise! We to our ancestors new follies add, Proving ourselves less happy, and more mad. What, but a tempest, is the world, Which, by ambition wildly hurl'd, Is split against a rock, and lost! The safer vulgar this with wonder see, With costly silks we do adorn These stalking pageants, made of clay, Whose very flowers, when they are worn, But emblems are of our decay: Batter'd by sickness, or inflam'd by lust, Or undermin'd by time, we fall to dust. FRAILTY OF BEAUTY. As poor Aurelia sat alone, Hard by a river's flowery side, Envious at nature's new-born pride, Her slighted self thus she reflected on. Alas! that nature should revive These flowers, which after winter's snow Spring fresh again and brisker show; And for our brighter sex so ill contrive! Beauty, like them, a short-liv'd thing, Beauty, that only once can grow, An autumn has, but knows no second spring. SNOW. SEE how the feather'd blossoms through the air See how they seem to hover near their end, On dunghills some, some on the courts of kings. Of warmest vapours, which the sun exhales, All, of one matter form'd, to one return: Their fall is greatest who are plac'd most high: Let not the proud presume, or poorest mourn: Their fate's decreed, and every one must die. Boast not of endless wealth, or noble birth ; JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER, Was born in 1648, and died in 1680. The anecdotes of his life are too numerous for abridgment, and too well known to require insertion in this place. SONG. INSULTING beauty, you mis-spend Your conquering eyes so partial are, That, while I languish in despair, Many proud senseless hearts declare, To wish you merciful. |