Still as I did the leaves infpire,

With fuch a purple light they fhone,
As if they had been made of fire,

And spreading so, would flame anon:
All that was meant by air or fun,
To the young flower, my breath has done.

If our loose breath fo much can do,
What may the fame in forms of love,
Of pureft love, and music too,

When Flavia it afpires to move?
When that, which lifeless buds perfuades
To wax more foft, her youth invades ?

B

SON G.

EHOLD the brand of beauty tost!

See how the motion does dilate the flame!

Delighted Love his fpoils does boast,

And triumph in this game.

Fire, to no place confin'd,
Is both our wonder, and our fear;
Moving the mind,

As lightning hurled through the air.

High heaven the glory does increase
Of all her shining lamps, this artful way :

The fun in figures, fuch as these,

Joys with the moon to play:

To

To the sweet strains they advance,

Which do refult from their own spheres ;
As this nymph's dance

Moves with the numbers which the hears.

On the Discovery of a Lady's PAINTING.

YGMALEO N's fate revers'd is mine:

PYGM

His marble love took flesh and blood;

All that I worship'd as divine,

That beauty! now 'tis understood,
Appears to have no more of life,
Than that whereof he fram'd his wife.

As women yet, who apprehend

Some fudden caufe of caufelefs fear,
Although that feeming cause take end,
And they behold no danger near,
A shaking through their limbs they find,
Like leaves faluted by the wind:

So, though the beauty do appear

No beauty, which amaz'd me fo;

Yet from my breaft I cannot tear

The paffion, which from thence did grow;

Nor yet out of my fancy rafe

The print of that fuppofed face.

A real

A real beauty, though too near,

The fond Narciffus did admire:
I doat on that which is no where;
The fign of beauty feeds my fire.
No mortal flame was e'er fo cruel
As this, which thus furvives the fuel!

From whom he received a Silver Pen,

MADAM! intending to have try'd

The filver favour which you gave,

In ink the shining point I dy'd,

And drench'd it in the fable wave:
When, griev'd to be fo foully ftain'd,
On you it thus to me complain'd.

Suppose you had deferv'd to take
From her fair hand fo fair a boon;
Yet how deferved I to make

So ill a change; who ever won
Immortal praise for what I wrote,
Instructed by her noble thought?

I, that expreffed her commands

To mighty Lords and Princely dames, Always moft welcome to their hands;

Proud that I would record their names; Muft now be taught an humble style, Some meaner beauty to beguile!

So I, the wronged pen to please,
Make it my humble thanks express
Unto your Ladyship, in these :

And now 'tis forced to confefs,
That your great felf did ne'er indite,
Nor that, to one more noble, write.

CHE

TO CHLORIS.

HLORIS! fince firft our calm of peace
Was frighted hence, this good we find,
Your favours with your fears increase,
And growing mischiefs make you kind.

So the fair tree, which ftill preferves

Her fruit and state, while no wind blows;
In ftorms from that uprightness fwerves,
And the glad earth about her ftrows
With treasure, from her yielding boughs.

W

HILE I liften to thy voice,

Chloris! I feel my life decay:

That powerful noise

Calls my fleeting foul away.
Oh! fupprefs that magic found,
Which deftroys without a wound!

Peace,

Peace, Chloris, peace! or finging die;
That together you and I

To heaven may go:

For all we know

Of what the Bleffed do above

Is, that they fing, and that they love.

OF LOVING AT FIRST SIGHT.

N

い

OT caring to obferve the wind,

Or the new fea explore,

Snatch'd from myself, how far behind
Already I behold the shore!

May not a thousand dangers fleep
In the smooth bofom of this Deep?
No: 'tis fo rocklefs, and fo clear,
That the rich bottom does appear
Pav'd all with precious things; not torn
From fhip-wreck'd veffels, but there born.

Sweetness, truth, and every grace,
Which time, and use, are wont to teach,
The eye may in a moment reach,

And read distinctly in her face..

Some other nymphs, with colours faint,
And pencil flow, may Cupid paint,
And a weak heart in time deftroy;
She has a stamp, and prints the Boy:
Can, with a fingle look, inflame
The coldest breaft, the rudeft tame.