Hearing the fair Melantha dead,
Brought all her Odorous Wealth to spread
Over the Grave where fhe was laid.
Then straight the Infant Spring began to fade,
And all the Fields where she did keep,
And fold her bleating Flocks of Sheep,
Their influence loft, with her fair Eyes, decay'd;,
For fair Melantha, by whofe cruel Pride
So many fad despairing Swains had dy'd,
Felt Love at laft, but Death the rather chofe
Than own the lov'd, or the hid flame disclose.
Speak, Mufes, for you hold immortal State
With Gods, and know the Mysteries of Fate,
You all, whatever's paft or prefent, see,
And read th' unwritten Pages o'er
Of times great Chronicle before.
Events, and time,had writ what fate refolv'd fhou'd be.
Tell me, what Beauty is, whofe force controuls
Reafon and Power, and over Mankind rules:
Kings ftoop to Beauty, and the Crowns they wear
Shine not with fo much Luftre, as the Fair.
Beauty a larger Empire do's command
Than the great Monarch of the Seas and Land.
She can the coldest Anchorits inflame,
Cool Tyrants rage, and ftroke their Paffions tame
She can call Youth to her forfaken fear
In wither'd Veins, and give new Life and Heat.
She can fubdue the Fierce, the Proud, and Strong,
Give Courage to the weak, the fearful and the young.
Beauty, the only Deity we know,
With fear and awe we to her Altars go,
And there our pureft Zeal of Prayers, and Vows, beSure then it only feems to die,
And when it leaves us, mounts above
To the eternal Roof of Jove,
To be a Conftellation and inrich the Sky.
But fhou'd I fearch the fpangled Sphear
For Metamorphos'd Beauty there,
Nothing of Helen now is seen,
Nor the fair Egyptian Queen:
Or thou, whofe Eyes were Conftellations here,
Oh then thy Fate we can't enough deplore
With thee thy Beauty dy'd and 'tis no more.
Then let us give Melantha's Fate its due;
Strew Cypress on her Hearfe, and wreaths of Yew,
For fair Melantha, poor Melantha's dead,
Her fighing Soul to death's eternal Empire's fled:
To the NIGHTINGALE Coming in the Spring.
To invite Chloe from the Tumults of the Town to the Innocent Retreat in the Country.
Written by a Perfon of Quality in 1685.
Ittle Songfter, who do'ft bring
Joy and Mufick to the Spring,
Welcome to our grateful Swains,
And the Nymphs, that grace the Plains.
How the Youths thy Abfence mourn?
What their Joy at thy return?
For their Mirth and Sports are done
All the year that thou art gone,
But at thy approach, their Joys
Take new date from thy dear Voice.
Every Shepherd chufes then
Some fair Nymph for Valentine,
While the Maid with equal Love
Do's the happy Choice approve :
Underneath fome Shade he fits,
Where foft filence Love begets;
And in artless Sighs he bears
Untaught Paffion to her Ears.
No deceit is in his Tongue,
Nor the fears, nor fuffers Wrong;
But each others Faith believe,
And each hour their Loves revive.
Often have I wifht to be,
Happy Damon, bleft as thee,
Not that I for Sylvia pine,
Sylvia, who is only thine,
But that Chloe cannot be
Kind, as Sylvia is to thee.
Thou, dear Bird, whofe Voice may find
Charms perhaps to make her kind,
Bear a Meffage to her Breaft,
And make me happy as the reft.
In the Place where Tumult dwells,
Treafons lurk, Ambition fwells,
Pride erects her monftrous Head,
And Perjury fwears the guiltless, dead,
Pow'r oppreffes, Envy pines,
Friends betray, and Fraud defigns,
Fears and Jealousie surprise
Reft and flumber from our Eyes,
And where Vice all Ill contains,
And in gloomy Glory reigns;
Where the Loyal, Brave and Juft
Are Victims to Phanatick Luft,
Where the noble Stafford's Blood
Calls from Heaven Revenge aloud,
In this place there lives a Maid,
Bright as Nature ever made,
Fair beyond dull Beauties Name
Can express her lovely frame.
In her charming Eyes refide
Love, Difdain, Defire, and Pride.
Such, we know not which to call,
But has the excellence of all.
* London in the Plot-time
The firft Blufhes of the Day
Or the new-blown Rofe in May.
Or the rich Sidonian die
• Wrought for Eaftern Majefty,
Is not gayer than the Red
Nature on her Cheeks has fpread.
Her foft Lips ftill feed new Wishes
Of a thousand fancy'd kiffes.
Gently swelling, plump and round,
With young Smiles and Graces crown'd;
Her round Breafts are whiter far
Than the backs of Ermins are,
Or the wanton Breaft of Jove,
When a Swan for Leda's Love.
Eyes that charm when e'er they Dart,
And never mifs the deftin'd Heart.
Wou'dft thou have me tell thee more,
And defcribe her Beauties o'er;
I perhaps might make a Rape
On my Idea's naked shape:
Therefore fly, you'll quickly fee
By this Picture which is the.
Tell her the loud Winds are Dumb,
Winter's paft, and Spring is come,
The delightful Spring! that rains
Sweets and Plenty o'er the Plains,
And with fhady Garlands crown'd
All the Woods and Groves around.
If fhe fee the winged Quire
Chufe this Season to retire
To the shelter of the Grove,
'Tis by Inftin&t (fay) of Love.
If fhe fee the Herds and Flocks
Wanton round the Meads and Rocks,
Thus their wishing Males to move,
'Tis the Inftinct (fay) of Love.
If the fee the Bull among
Crowds of Females fleek and young,
Fight his Rival of the Drove,
'Tis by Inftin&t (fay) of Love.
If the fee the blooming Vines,
In their Seafon, fold their Twines
Round the Oak that near her grows,
Say, 'tis Nature mixt their Boughs:
Then if Inftin&t thefe do move,
We by reafon ought to Love.
Tell the Fair one, every Day-
Youth and Beauty steal away,
And within a little space
Will deftroy her charming Face.
Every grace and fmile, that lyes
Languishing in Lips and Eyes,
Firft he'll make his Prey, and then
Leave to Death what do's remain :
Who old Time does only fend
To begin what he muft end.
If the ask, what hour and place,
Where and when, Time wounds the Face
Say, it is not in the Night,
Nor when Day renews her Light,
In the Morning, or at Noon
Or at Evening when alone,
Or when entertained at home,
Or abroad this hour will come;
But swift time is always by,
Firft to perfect, then destroy.
And in vain you feek a cure
Since his Wounds are every hour:
Bid her view Aurelia's Brow,
Naked of her Glories now,
Yet the once cou'd charm the Throng,
Conquering with her Eyes and Tongue.
Now, only's left this weak relief,
(To fupport her Years and Grief,)
When the cou'd fhe us'd her Prime,
And enjoy'd the Fruits of time:
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