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To him the fairest nymphs do show
Like moving mountains topp'd with snow;
And every man a Polypheme
Does to his Galatea seem :
None may presume her faith to prove ;
He proffers death that proffers love.

Ah, Chloris ! that kind Nature thus
From all the world had sever'd us;
Creating for ourselves us two,
As Love has me for only you !

LOVE'S FAREWELL. Treading the path to nobler ends,

A long farewell to love I gave ; Resolvd my country and my friends

All that remain'd of me should have. And this resolve no mortal dame,

None but those eyes could have o'erthrown; The nymph I dare not, need not name,

So high, so like herself alone.
Thus the tall oak, which now aspires
Above the fear of private fires,
Grown and design’d for nobler use,
Not to make warm, but build the house,
Though from our meaner flames secure,
Must that which falls from Heav'n endure.

FROM A CHILD. Madam, as in some climes the warmer sun Makes it full summer e'er the spring's begun, And with ripe fruit the bending boughs can load, Before our violets dare look abroad; So measure not by any common use The early love your brighter eyes produce. When lately your fair hand in woman's weed Wrapp'd my glad head, I wish'd me so indeed, That hasty time might never make me grow Out of those favours you afford me now; That I might ever such indulgence find, And you not blush, or think yourself too kind; Who now, I fear, while I these joys express, Begin to think how you may make them less. The sound of love makes your soft heart afraid, And guard itself, though but a child invade, And innocently at your white breast throw A dart as white, a ball of new-falln snow.

ON A GIRDLE.
That which her slender waist confin'd,
Shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer.
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Did all within this circle move!

A narrow compass ! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair :
Give me but what this ribbon bound,
Take all the rest the sun goes round.

THE FALL.
See! how the willing earth gave way,
To take the impression where she lay.
See! how the mould, as loth to leave
So sweet a burden, still doth cleave
Close to the nymph's stain'd garment. Here
The coming spring would tirst appear,
And all this place with roses strow,
If busy feet would let them grow.

Here Venus smil'd to see blind Chance
Itself before her son advance,
And a fair image to present,
Of what the boy so long had meant.
'Twas such a chance as this made all
The world into this order fall;
Thus the first lovers, on the clay,
Of which they were composed, lay.
So in their prime, with equal grace,
Met the first patterns of our race.

Then blush not, Fair! or on him frown,
Or wonder how you both came down;
But touch him, and he'll tremble straight;
How could he then support your weight?
How could the youth, alas! but bend,
When his whole heav'n upon him lean'd :
If aught by him amiss were done,
"Twas that he let you rise so soon.

OF SYLVIA.

Our sighs are heard ; just Heav'n declares
The sense it has of lovers' cares :
She that so far the rest outshin'd,
Sylvia the fair, while she was kind,
As if her frowns impaird her brow,
Seems only not unhandsome now:
So when the sky makes us endure
A storm, itself becomes obscure.

Hence 'tis that I conceal my flame,
Hiding from Flavia's self her name,
Lest she, provoking Heav'n, should prove
How it rewards neglected love.
Better a thousand such as I,
Their grief untold, should pine and die,
Than her bright morning, overcast
With sullen clouds, should be defac'd.

THE BUD.

Lately on yonder swelling bush,

Big with many a coming rose,
This early bud began to blush,

And did but half itself disclose :
I pluck'd it though no better grown,
And now you see how full 'tis blown.

Still as I did the leaves inspire,

With such a purple light they shone,
As if they had been made of fire,

And spreading so, would flame anon:
All that was meant by air or sun,
To the young flow'r, my breath has done.

If our loose breath so much can do,

What may the same in forms of love, Of purest love, and music too,

When Flavia ii aspires to move? When that which lifeless buds persuades To wax more soft her youth invades?

ON THE

DISCOVERY OF A LADY'S PAINTING.

PYGMALION's fate revers'd is mine;

His marble love took flesh and blood :
All that I worshipp'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 sudden cause of causeless fear,
Although that seeming cause take end,

And they behold no danger near ;
A shaking through their limbs they find,
Like leaves saluted by the wind:

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