Though what you said had not been true, Your fpeech will govern destiny, And Fate will change rather than you should lye. 'Tis true, if human Reason were the guide, Reason, methinks, was on my fide; She faid, the faid herself it would be fo; Error the name of blindness bore ; When they defcend to human view) In a material form would deign to fhine, 'Twould imitate or borrow thine: So dazzling bright, yet so transparent clear, But happier far the eye Which could thy fhape naked like Truth espy! Yet this loft wager costs me nothing more Than what I ow'd to thee before : Who would not venture for that debt to play, If Nature gave me power to write in verse,. Has such a sovereign right to it, That no man's Muse for public vent is free, BATHING IN THE RIVER. HE fish around her crowded, as they do THE To the falfe light that treacherous fishers fhew,, And all with as much eafe might taken be, As fhe at firft took me ; For ne'er did light fo clear. Among the waves appear, Though every night the fun himself set there. Why to mute fish should'st thou thyself discover, Half their rich treasures fo Maids-bury; and, for aught we know, (Poor ignorants !) they 're mermaids all below.. The amorous waves would fain about her stay, I laugh'd the wanton play to view; But 'tis, alas! at land fo too, And ftill old lovers yield the place to new. Kiss her, and as you part, you amorous waves Then tell her what your pride doth cost, When rigorous winter binds you up with froft. As in the ocean thou No privilege doft know Above th' impureft ftreams that thither flow.. Tell her, kind flood! when this has made her fad, Marriage (fay to her) will bring About the self-fame thing. But fhe, fond maid, fhuts and feals-up the fpring. LOVE GIVEN OVER.. IT is enough; enough of time and pain Haft thou confum'd in vain ; Leave, wretched Cowley! leave Think that already loft which thou must never gain. VOL. I. Y Three Three of thy luftiest and thy freshest years (Tofs'd in ftorms of hopes and fears) Like helpless fhips that be Set on fire i' th' midst o' the fea, Have all been burnt in love, and all been drown'd in tears. Resolve then on it, and by force or art Free thy unlucky heart; Since Fate does difapprove Th' ambition of thy love, And not one star in heaven offers to take thy part. If e'er I clear my heart from this defire, If e'er it home to its breast retire, Though thoufand beauties call it out : A lover burnt like me for ever dreads the fire. The pox, the plague, and every small disease, May come as oft as ill-fate please ; But death and love are never found To give a fecond wound, We 're by thofe ferpents bit, but we 're devour'd by · thefe. Alas! what comfort is 't that I am grown Secure of being again o'erthrown? Since fuch an enemy needs not fear Left any elfe should quarter there, Who has not only fack'd, but quite burnt down, town. the A POEM A POE M ON THE LATE CIVIL W_A_R*. THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER. 1679. Meeting accidentally with this poem in manu script, and being informed that it was a piece of the incomparable Mr. A. C's, I thought it unjust to hide fuch a treasure from the world. I remembered that our author, in his preface to his works †, makes mention of fome poems written by him on the late. civil war, of which the following copy is questionably a part. In his most imperfect and unfinished pieces, you will discover the hand of fo great a mafter. And (whatever his own modefty might have advised to the contrary) there is not one carelefs ftroke of his but what should be kept facred to pofterity. He could write nothing that was not worth the preferving, being habitually a poet, and always infpired. In this piece the judicious reader will find the turn of the verfe to be his; the fame copious and lively imagery of fancy, the fame warmth of paffion and delicacy of wit, that sparkles in all his writings. And certainly This and the two following Poems are not given with certainty as Cowley's. They have been afcribed to him; are poffibly genuine; and therefore are preferved in this collection. N. See p. 16 of this Volume. |