Thy heart no ruder than the rugged stone,

I might, like Orpheus, with my numerous moan
Melt to compaffion: now, my traiterous fong
With thee confpires, to do the finger wrong:
While thus I fuffer not myself to lose

The memory

of what augments my woes:

But with my own breath ftill foment the fire,
Which flames as high as fancy can aspire!

This last complaint th' indulgent ears did pierce
Of juft Apollo, prefident of verfe;

Highly concerned that the Muse should bring
Damage to one, whom he had taught to fing;
Thus he advis'd me: "On yon aged tree
"Hang up thy lute, and hie thee to the fea;
"That there with wonders thy diverted mind
"Some truce at least may with this paffion find.”
Ah cruel Nymph! from whom her humble fwain
Flies for relief unto the raging Main;

And from the winds and tempefts does expect
A milder fate, than from her cold neglect !
Yet there he 'll pray, that the unkind may prove
Bleft in her choice; and vows this endless love
Springs from no hope of what she can confer,
But from those gifts which Heaven has heap'd on her.

To my young Lady LUCY SIDNEY.

WHY came I fo untimely forth

Into a world, which, wanting thee,

Could entertain us with no worth,

Or shadow of felicity?

That

That time should me fo far remove

From that which I was born to love!

Yet, faireft bloffom! do not flight

know fo foon:

That age which you may The rofy morn refigns her light,

And milder glory, to the noon : And then what wonders fhall you do, Whofe dawning beauty warms us fo?

Hope waits upon the flowery prime;
And fummer, though it be less gay,
Yet is not look'd on as a time

Of declination, or decay :

For, with a full hand, that does bring
All that was promis'd by the spring.

FA

TO AMORET.

AIR! that you may truly know
What you unto Thyrfis owe;

I will tell you how I do
Sachariffa love, and You.

Joy falutes me, when I fet My bleft eyes on Amoret : But with wonder I am strook, While I on the other look:

And, thofe fcorching beams to fhun,
To thy gentle fhadow run.

If the foul had free election

To difpofe of her affection;
I would not thus long have borne
Haughty Sachariffa's scorn :

But 'tis fure fome Power above,
Which controls our wills in love!
If not a love, a strong defire
To create and spread that fire
In my breast, follicits me,
Beauteous Amoret! for thee.

'Tis amazement more than love,
Which her radiant eyes do move :
If lefs fplendor wait on thine,
Yet they fo benignly shine,
I would turn my dazzled fight
To behold their milder light.
But as hard 'tis to destroy
That high flame, as to enjoy :
Which how eas❜ly I may do,

Heaven (as eas❜ly fcal'd) does know!

Amoret! as fweet and good As the most delicious food, Which, but tafted, does impart Life and gladness to the heart. Sacharifla's beauty 's wine, Which to madness doth incline: Such a liquor, as no brain

That is mortal can fuftain.

Scarce can I to heaven excufe
The devotion, which I use
Unto that adored dame:
For 'tis not unlike the fame,
Which I thither ought to fend.
So that if it could take end,
'Twould to heaven itself be due,
To fucceed her, and not you:
Who already have of me

AH that 's not idolatry:

Which, though not fo fierce a flame,

Is longer like to be the fame.

Then fmile on me, and I will prove, Wonder is fhorter-liv'd than love.

On the Friendship betwixt SACHARISSA and

AMORET.

ELLL me, lovely loving Pair!

TE

Why fo kind, and fo fevere?

Why fo careless of our care,
Only to yourselves so dear ?

By

By this cunning change of hearts,

You the power of Love controul; While the boy's deluded darts

Can arrive at neither foul.

For in vain to either breaft

Still beguiled Love does come : Where he finds a foreign gueft; Neither of your hearts at home.

Debtors thus with like defign,

When they never mean to pay, That they may the law decline, To fome friend make all away.

Not the filver dovés that fly,
Yok'd in Cytherea's car;
Not the wings that lift fo high;
And convey her fon fo far;

Are fo lovely, fweet, and fair,
Or do more ennoble love;
Are fo choicely match'd a pair,
Or with more confent do move.

ΤΟ

AMORE T.

AMORET, the Milky Way,

Fram'd of many nameless stars!

The smooth stream, where none can say,

He this drop to that prefers!

Amoret,