On bankrupt mortals who believe and love His name. "Then, my Chariffa, all is thine. And thine, my Mitio, the fair faint replies. "Life, death, the world below, and worlds on high, "'Tis for our health and sweet refreshment, (while Covering our flumbers, all with starry gold Panting afpire; when fhall that dearest hour "Shine and releafe us hence, and bear us high, "Bear us at once unfever'd to our better home?" O bleft connubial state ! O happy pair, Envy'd by yet unfociated fouls Who seek their faithful twins! Your pleasures rife Sweet as the morn, advancing as the day, In which we breathe and live: There's not one thought But every paffage open as the day To one another's breaft, and inmoft mind. Thus ftreams of mingled blifs fwell higher as they flow, The THIRD PART: Or The Acco UNT balanced. SHOUL HOULD fovereign love before me stand, And bid the daring Mufe relate His comforts and his cares; Thy Thy cares and comforts, fovereign Love, And to a larger audit grow Than all the stars above. Thy mighty loffes and thy gains Are their own mutual measures; Say, Damon, fay, how bright the fscene, Leaning his head on his Fiorella's breast, Without a jealous thought, or bufy care between: Nor can thy foul's remoteft part Conceal a thought or wifh from the beloved fair. When friendship all-fincere grows up to ecstacy, Or fporting innocently at thy feet Thy kindeft thoughts engage: Thofe little images of thee, What pretty toys of youth they be, And growing props of age! But fhort is earthly blifs! The changing wind Malignant fevers on its fultry wings, Relentless death fits clofe behind: Now gafping infants, and a wife in tears, In those dear miseries of life, Those tendereft pieces of his bleeding foul. Mixt with the heart-ake may the pain beguile, And hope alone with wakeful eyes Darkling and folitary waits the flow-returning light. Here then let my ambition reft, When I the laws of Love obey : Or mount by turns and fink again, On this dull ftage of clay : The tribes beneath the northern Bear Submit to dark nefs half the year, Since half the year is day. On On the Death of the Duke of GLOUCESTER, juft after Mr. DRYDEN. An EPIGRAM. 1700. DRYDEN is dead, Dryden alone could fing By that immortal breath that Poet's give; An Epigram of MARTIAL to CIRINUS. "Sic tua, Cirini, promas Epigrammata vulgo Infcribed to Mr. JOSIAH HORTE. 1694. S fmooth your numbers, friend, your verse so sweet, So sharp the jest, and yet the turn so neat, That with her Martial Rome would place Cirine, Rome would prefer your fenfe and thought to mine. Yet modeft you decline the public stage, To fix your friend alone amidst th' applauding age, * Afterwards Archbishop of Tuamn. So |