And that thou may'st behold my helpless state, All things below, alas! uncertain stand;
Learn the extremcst rigour of y fate."

The firmest rocks are fix'd upon the sand :
Amidst th' innumerable beauteous train, Under this law both kings and kingdoms bend,
Paris, the queen of cities does contain,

And no beginning is without an end.
(The fairest town, the lingest, and the best) A sacrifice to Time, Pate dooms us all,
The fair Almeria shirdibove the rest :

And at the tyrant's feet we daily fall :
From her bright eyes to quel a hopeless Alamc, Time, whose bold hand will bring alike to dust
Was of our youth the must ambitious aim; Mankind, and temples too, in which they trust
Her chains were marks of honour to the brave, Her wasted spirits now begin to faint,
She made a prince whene'er she made a slave. Yet patience ties her tongue from all complaint,
Lore, under whose tyrannic power I groan, And in her heart as in a fort remains ;
Shew'd me this beauty ere 'twas fully blown ; But yields at last to her resistless pains.
Her timorous charms, and her upractis'd look, Thus while the Fever, amorous of bis prey,
Their first assurance froin my conquest took ; Through all her veins makes his delightful way,
By wounding me, she learn'd the fatal art,

Fler fate's like Semcle's; the flames destroy
And the first sigh she had was from my heart; That beauty they too eagerly enjoy.
My eyes, with tears moistening her snowy arms, Her charming face is in its spring decay'd,
Render'd the tribute owing to her charms.

Pale grow the roses, and the lilies fade;
But, as I soonest of all mortals paid

Her skin has lost that lustre which surpass'd
My vows, and to her beauty altars made; The Sun's, and well deserv'd as long to last :
So, among all those slaves that sigh'd in vain, Her eyes, which us’d to pierce the hardest bearts,
She thought ine only worthy of my chain :

Are now disarmd of all their flames and darts;
Love's heavy burden my submissive heart

Those stars now heavily and slowly move;
Endur'd not long, before she bore her part; And Sickness triumphs in the throne of Love.
My violent fame melted her frozen breast, The fever every moment more prevails,
And in soft sighs her pity she express'd;

Its rage her body feels, and tongue bewails:
Her gentle voice allay'd my raging pains,

She, whose disdain so many lovers prove, And her fair hands sustaind me in my chains ; Sighs now for torment, as they sigh for love, Ev'n tears of pity waited on my moan,

And with loud cries, which rend the neighbouring And tender looks were cast on me alone.

air,
My hopes and dangers were less inine than her's, Wounds my sad heart, and weakens my despair.
Those fill'd her soul with joys, and these with fears; Both men and gods I charge now with my loss,
Our hearts, united, had the same desires,

And, wild with grief, my thoughts each other cross, And both alike burn'd with impatient fires. My heart and tongue labour in both extremes,

Too faithful Memory! I give thee leave This sends up humble prayers, while that blasThy wretched master kindly to deceive;

phemes: Oh, make me not possessor of her charms, I ask their help, whose malice I defy, Let me not find her languish in my arms !

And mingle sacrilege with piety. Past joys are now my fancy's moumful theines; But, that which must yet more perplex my mind, Make all my happy nights appear but dreams: 'To love her truly, I must seem unkind; Let not such bliss before my eyes be brought, So unconcern'd a face my sorrow wears, O hide those scenes from my tormenting thought; I must restrain unruly foods of tears. And in their place disdainful beauty show; My eyes and tongue put on dissembling forms, If thou would'st not be cruel, make her so: I show a calmness in the midst of storms ; And, something to abate my deep despair, I seem to hope when all my hopes are gone, O let her seem less gentle, or less fair!

And, almost dead with grief, discover none. But I in vain flatter my wounded mind;

But who can long deceive a loving eye, Never was nymph so lovely or so kind :

Or with dry eyes behold his mistress die; No cold repulses my desire supprest,

When passion had with all its terrours brought
I seldom sigh’d, but on Almeria's breast:

Th' approaching danger nearer to my thought,
Of all the passions which mankind destroy, Off on a sudden fell the forc'd disguise,
I only felt excess of love and joy:

And show'd a sighing heart in weeping eyes :
Unnumber'd pleasures charm'd iny sense, and they My apprehensions, now no more confin'd,
Were, as my love, without the least allay, Expos'd my sorrows, and betray'd my mind.
As pure, alas! but not so sure, to last,

The fair afflicted soon perceives my tears, Por, like a pleasing dream, they are all past. Explains my sighs, and thence concludes my fears : From Heaven her beauties like fierce lightnings with sad presages of her hopeless case, came,

She reads her fate in my dejected face ;
Which break through darkness with a glorious Then feels my torment, and neglects her own,
flame ;

While I ain sensible of hers alone;
Awhile they shine, awhile our minds amaze Each does the other's burthen kindly bear,
Our wondering eyes are dazzled with the blaze; I fear her death, and she bewails iny fear;
But thunder follows, whose resistless rage

Though thus we suffer under Fortune's darts,
None can withstand, and nothing can assuage ; "l'is only those of Love which reach our hearts.
And all that light which those bright flashes gave, Mean while the fever mocks at all our fears,
Serves only to conduct us to our grave.

Grows by our sighs, and rages at our tears :
When I had just begun love's joys to taste, Those vain etlects of our as vain desire,
(“Those full rewards for fears and dangers past) Like wind and oil, increase the fatal fire.
A fever seiz'd her, and to nothing brought

Almeria then, feeling the destinies
The richest work that ever Nature wrought. About to shut her lips, and close heị cyes.

Weeping, in mine, fix'd her fair trembling hand, And through the closest pores a passage find, And with these words I scarce could understand, Like that of light, to shine o'er all the mind. Her passion in a dying voice express'd

The want of love does both extremes produce; Half, and her sighs, alas ! made out the rest. Maids are too nice, and men as much too loose; “'Tis past; this pang - Nature gives o'er the While oqual good an amorous couple find, strife;

She makes him constant, and he makes her kind. Thou must thy mistress lose, and I my life.

New charms in vain a lover's faith would prove; I die; but dying thine, the Fates may prove

Hermits or bed-rid men they'll sooner move: Their conquest over me, but not my love:

The fair inveigler will but sadly find Thy memory, my glory and my pain,

There's no such eunuch as a man in love. In spite of Death itself shall still remain.

But when by his chaste nymph embrac', Dearest Orontes, my hard fate denies,

(For Love makes all embraces chaste) That hope is the last thing which in us dies: fed, Then the transported creature can From my griev'd breast all those soft thoughts are Do wonders, and is more than man. And love survives it, though my hope is dead;

Both Heaven and Earth would our desires confine; I yield my life, but keep my passion yet,

But yet in vain both Heaven and Earth combine, And can all thoughts, but of Orontes, quit. Unless where Love blesses the great design.

“ My fame increases as my strength decays ; Hymen makes fast the band, but Love the heart; Death, which puts out the light, the heat will He the fool's god, thou Nature's Hymen art; raise :

Whose laws, once broke, we are not held by force, That still remains, though I from hence remove; But the false breach itself is a divorce. E I lose my lover, but I keep my love." [word,

For Love the miser will his gold despise, The sighs which sent forth that last tender E l'p tow'rds the Heavens like a bright meteor soar'd ; Cautious the young, and complaisant thc old,

The false grow faithful, and the foolish wise ; And the kind nymph, not yet bereft of charms,

The cruel gentle, and the coward bold. Fell cold and breathless in her lover's arms.

Thou glorious Sun within our souls, Goddess, who now my fate hast understood,

Whose influence so much controls ; Spare but my tears, and freely take my blood : = Here let me end the story of my cares;

Ev'n dull and heavy lumps of Love,

Quicken’d by thee, more lively move;
My dismal grief enough the rest declares.
Judge thou, by all this misery display'd,

And, if their heads but any substance hold,

Love ripens all that dross into the purest gold. Whether sought not to implore thy aid :

In Heaven's great work thy part is such,
Thus to survive, reproaches on me draws;
Nerer sad wishes had so just a cause.

That, master-like, thou giv'st the last great touch

To Heaven's own master-piece of man; Come then, my only hope ; in every place

And finishest what Nature but began : Thou visitest, men tremble at thy face,

Thy happy stroke can into softness bring And fear thy name: once let thy fatal hand

Reason, that rough and wrangling thing.
Fall on a swain that does the blow demand.

From childhood upwards we decay,
Vouchsafe thy dart; I need not one of those,
With which thou dost unwilling kings depose :

And grow but greater children every day:

To Reason, how can we be said to rise ?
A welcome death the slightest wound can bring,
And free a Soul already on her wing.

So many cares attend the being wise,

'T'is rather falling down a precipice. Without thy aid, most miserable I

From Sense to Reason unimprov'd we move; Must ever wish, yet not obtain to die.

We only then advance, when Reason turns to Love.

Thou reignest o'er our earthly gods;

Uncrown’d by thee, their other crowns are loads; ODE ON LOVE.

One Beauty's smile their meanest courtier brings

Rather to pity than to envy kings; Let others songs or satires write,

His fellow slaves he takes them now to be, Prorok'd by vanity or spite;

Favour'd by Love, perhaps, much less than he. My Muse a nobler cause shall move,

For Love, the timorous bashful maid To sound aloud the praise of Love :

Of nothing but denying is afraid ; That gentle, yet resistless heat,

For love she overcomes her shame, Which raises men to all things good and great : Forsakes her fortune, and forgets her fame; While other passions of the mind

Yet, if but with a constant lover 'blest, To los brutality debase mankind,

Thanks Heaven for that, and never minds the rest. Ry Love we are above ourselves sehin'd.

Love is the salt of life; a higher taste
Oh, Love, thou trance divine! in which the Soul,
Unclogg'd with worldly carcs, may range without It gives to pleasure, and then makes it last.

Those slighted favours which cold nymphs dispense, control;

[can teach And, soaring to her Hearen, from thence inspir'd Mere common counters of the sense,

Defective both in metal and in measure, - High mysteries, above poor Reason's feeble reach.

A lover's fancy coins into a treasure.
To weak old age, Prudence some aid may prove, How vast the subject! what a boundless store
And curb those appetites that faintly move; Of bright ideas, shining all before !
But wild, impetnous youth, is tam'd by nothing | The Muse's sighs forbid me to give o'er !
less than Love.

But the kind god incites us various ways,
Of men too rough for peace, too rude for arts, And now I find him all my ardour raise,
Lore's power can penetrate the hardest hearts; His precepts to perform, as well as praise
VOL X.

6

ye,

my wishes

A heart by kindness only gain'd,
TO ONE WHO ACCUSED HIM OF

Will a dear conquest prove;
BEING TOO SENSUAL IN HIS LOVE.

And, to be kept, must be maintain'd

At vast expense of love.
Tuink not, my fair, 'tis sin or shame,

To bless the man who so adores ;
Nor give so hard, unjust a name
To all those favours he implores,

THE VENTURE.
Beauty is Heaven's most bounteous gift esteem'd,

Oh, how I languish! what a strange Because by love men are from vice redeem'd.

Unruly fierce desire ! Yet wish not vainly for a love

My spirits feel some wondrous change, From all the force of nature clear;

My heart is all on Gre,
That is reserv'd for those above,
And 'tis a fault to claim it here.

Now, all ye wiser thoughts, away,
For sensual joys ye scorn that we should love

In vain your tale ye tell But love, without them, is as much above ye.

Of patient hopes, and dull delay,

Love's foppish part; farewell. Suppose one week's delay would give All that

inove; THE WARNING.

Who, who so long a time can live, Lovers, who waste your thoughts and youth

Stretch'd on the rack of Love? In passion's fond extremes,

Her soul, perhaps, is too sublime, Who Iream of women's love and truth,

To like such slavish fear; And doat upon your dreams :

Discretion, prudence, all is criine, I should not here your fancy take

If once condemn'd by her. From such a pleasing state,

When honour does the soldier call Were you not sure at last to wake,

To some unequal fight, And find your fault too late.

Resolv'd to conquer, or to fall, Then learn, betimes, the love which crowns

Before his general's sight; Our cares is all but wiles,

Advanc'd the happy hero lives; Compos'd of false fantastic frowns,

Or, if ill Fate denies, And soft dissembling smiles.

The noble rashness Heaven forgives, With anger, which sometimes they feign,

And gloriously he dies.
They cruel tyrants prove;
And then turn fatterers again,
With as affected love,

INCONSTANCY EXCUSED. As if some injury was meant

SONG.
To those they kindly us’d,
Those lovers are the most content

I Must confess, I am untrue
That have been still refus'd.

To Gloriana's eyes ;

But he that's smild upon by you,
Since each has in his bosom nurst

Must all the world despise,
Å false and fawning foe,
Tis just and wise, by striking first,

In winter, fires of little worth
To 'scape the fatal blow.

Excite our dull desire;
But when the Sun breaks kindly forth,

Those fainter flames expire.

Then blame me not for slighting now TO AMORETTA.

What I did once adore; When I held out against your eyes,

0, do but this one change allow, You took the surest course

And I can change no more: A heart unwary to surprise,

Fixt by your never-failing charms, You ne'er could take by force,

Till I with age decay, However, though I strive no more,

Till languishing within your arms, The fort will now be priz'd,

I sigh my soul away. Which, if surrender'd up before,

Perhaps had been despis'd. Bat, gentle Amoretta, though

SONG, I cannot love resist,

Ou, conceal that charming creature Think not, when you have caught me so,

From my wondering, wishing eyes! To use me as you list.

Every motion, every feature, Inconstancy or coldness will

Does some ravish'd heart surprise; My foolish heast reclaim:

But, oh! I sighing, sighing, see Then I come off with honour still,

The happy swain! she ne'er can be But you, alas! with shame.

False to hin, or kind to me.

Yet, if I could humbly show her,

Had I at distance only seen Ah' how wretched I remain;

That lovely face, I might have been 'Tis not, sure a thing below her,

With the delightful object pleas'd, Still to pity so much pain.

But not with all this passion seiz'd. The gods some pleasure, pleasure take,

When afterwards so near I came Happy as themselves to make

As to be scorch'd in Beauty's flame; Those who suffer for their sake.

To so much softness, so much sense, ,

Reason itself made no defence. Since your hand alone was given

What pleasing thoughts possess'd my mind, To a wretch not worth your care ;

When little favours showd you kind! Like some angel sent from Heaven,

And though, when coldness oft prevailid, Come, and raise me from despair.

My heart would sink, and spirits failid, Your heart I cannot, cannot miss,

Yet willingly the yoke I bore, And I desire no other bliss;

And all your chains as bracelets wore :
Let all the world besides be his.

At your lov'd feet all day would lie,
Desiring, without knowing why;
For, not yet blest within your arms,

Who could have thought of half your cbarms?
DESPAIR.

Charms of such a wondrous kind, All hopeless of relief,

Words we cannot, must not find, Incapable of rest,

A body worthy of your mind. In vain I'strive to vent a grief

Fancy could ne'er so high reflect, That's not to be exprest.

Nor love itself such joys expect.

After such embraces past, This rage within my veins

Whose memory will ever last, No reason can remove;

Love is still reflecting back ; Of all the mind's most cruel pains,

All my soul is on a rack : The sharpest, sure, is love.

To be in Hell's sufficient curse, Yet while I languish so,

But to fall from Heaven is worse. And on thee vainly call;

I liv'd in grief ere this I knew, Take heed, fair cause of all my woe,

But then I dwelt in darkness too. What fate may thee befall.

Of gains alas ! I could not boast;

But little thought how much I lost. Ungrateful, cruel faults

Now heart-devouring eagerness, Suit not thy gentle sex ;

And sharp impatience to possess ; Hereafter, how will guilty thoughts

Now restless cares, consuming fires, Thy tender conscience vex!

Anxious thoughts, and fierce desires, When welcome Death shall bring

Tear my heart to that degree, Relief to wretched me,

For ever fix'd on only thee: My soul enlarg'd, and once on wing,

Then all my comfort is, I shall In haste will fly to thee.

Live in thy arins, or not at all. When in thy lonely bed

My ghost its moan shall make,
With saddest signs that I am dead,

THE RECONCILEMENT,
And dead for thy dear sake;
Struck with that conscious blow,
Thy very soul will start:

Come, let us now resolve at last
Pale as my shadow thou wilt grow,

To live and love in quiet ; And cold as is thy heart.

We'll tie the knot so very fast,

That Time shall ne'er untie it.
Too late remorse will then
Untimely pity show

The truest joys they seldom prove,
To him, who, of all mortal men,

Who free from quarrels live; Did most thy value know.

'Tis the most tender part of love,

Each other to forgive. Yet, with this broken heart,

When least I secm'd concern'd, I took I wish thou never be

No pleasure, por no rest; Tormented with the thousandth part

And when I feign'd an angry look,
Of what I feel for thee.

Alas ! I loy'd you best.
Own but the same to me, you'll find

How blest will be our fate;
ON APPREHENSION OF LOSING Oh, to be happy, to be kind,

Sure never is too late.

SONG.

WHAT HE HAD NEWLY GAIXED

IN IMITATION OF OVID.

Sure I of all men am the first
That ever was by kindness curst,
Who must my only bliss bemoan,
And am by happiness undone.

SONG.
From all uneasy passions free,
Revenge, ambition, jealousy,