Next Heaven my Vows to thee (O SacredMuse!)I offer'd up, nor didst thou them refuse.O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou'lt inspire,And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire,No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart,Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part,More Rich, more Noble I will ever holdTheMusesLaurel, than a Crown of Gold.An Undivided Sacrifice I'le layUpon thine Altar, Soul and Body pay;Thou shalt my Pleasure, my Employment be,My All I'le make a Holocaust to thee.The Deity that ever does attendPrayers so sincere, to mine did condescend.I writ, and the Judicious prais'd my Pen:Could any doubt Insuing Glory then?What pleasing Raptures fill'd my Ravisht Sense?How strong, how Sweet, Fame, was thy Influence?And thine, False Hope, that to my flatter'd sightDidst Glories represent so Near, and Bright?By thee deceiv'd, methought, each Verdant Tree,Apollostransform'dDaphneseem'd to be;And ev'ry fresher Branch, and ev'ry BowAppear'd as Garlands to empale my Brow.The Learn'd in Love say, Thus the Winged BoyDoes first approach, drest up in welcome Joy;At first he to the Cheated Lovers sightNought represents, but Rapture and Delight,Alluring Hopes, Soft Fears, which stronger bindTheir Hearts, than when they more assurance find.Embolden'd thus, to Fame I did commit,(By some few hands) my most Unlucky Wit.But, ah, the sad effects that from it came!What ought t'have brought me Honour, brought me shame!LikeEsopsPainted Jay I seem'd to all,Adorn'd in Plumes, I not my own could call:Rifl'd like her, each one my Feathers tore,And, as they thought, unto the Owner bore.My Laurels thus an Others Brow adorn'd,My Numbers they Admir'd, but Me they scorn'd:An others Brow, that had so rich a storeOf Sacred Wreaths, that circled it before;Where mine quite lost, (like a small stream that ranInto a Vast and Boundless Ocean)Was swallow'd up, with what it joyn'd and drown'd,And that Abiss yet no Accession found.Orinda, (Albionsand her Sexes Grace)Ow'd not her Glory to a Beauteous Face,It was her Radiant Soul that shon With-in,Which struk a Lustre through her Outward Skin;That did her Lips and Cheeks with Roses dy,Advanc't her Height, and Sparkled in her Eye.Nor did her Sex at all obstruct her Fame,But higher 'mong the Stars it fixt her Name;What she did write, not only all allow'd,But ev'ry Laurel, to her Laurel, bow'd!Th'Envious Age, only to Me alone,Will not allow, what I do write, my Own,But let 'em Rage, and 'gainst a Maide Conspire,So Deathless Numbers from my Tuneful LyreDo ever flow; SoPhebusI by theeDivinely Inspired and possest may be;I willingly acceptCassandrasFate,To speak the Truth, although believ'd too late.
Next Heaven my Vows to thee (O SacredMuse!)I offer'd up, nor didst thou them refuse.
O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou'lt inspire,And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire,No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart,Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part,More Rich, more Noble I will ever holdTheMusesLaurel, than a Crown of Gold.An Undivided Sacrifice I'le layUpon thine Altar, Soul and Body pay;Thou shalt my Pleasure, my Employment be,My All I'le make a Holocaust to thee.
The Deity that ever does attendPrayers so sincere, to mine did condescend.I writ, and the Judicious prais'd my Pen:Could any doubt Insuing Glory then?What pleasing Raptures fill'd my Ravisht Sense?How strong, how Sweet, Fame, was thy Influence?And thine, False Hope, that to my flatter'd sightDidst Glories represent so Near, and Bright?By thee deceiv'd, methought, each Verdant Tree,Apollostransform'dDaphneseem'd to be;And ev'ry fresher Branch, and ev'ry BowAppear'd as Garlands to empale my Brow.The Learn'd in Love say, Thus the Winged BoyDoes first approach, drest up in welcome Joy;At first he to the Cheated Lovers sightNought represents, but Rapture and Delight,Alluring Hopes, Soft Fears, which stronger bindTheir Hearts, than when they more assurance find.
Embolden'd thus, to Fame I did commit,(By some few hands) my most Unlucky Wit.But, ah, the sad effects that from it came!What ought t'have brought me Honour, brought me shame!LikeEsopsPainted Jay I seem'd to all,Adorn'd in Plumes, I not my own could call:Rifl'd like her, each one my Feathers tore,And, as they thought, unto the Owner bore.My Laurels thus an Others Brow adorn'd,My Numbers they Admir'd, but Me they scorn'd:An others Brow, that had so rich a storeOf Sacred Wreaths, that circled it before;Where mine quite lost, (like a small stream that ranInto a Vast and Boundless Ocean)Was swallow'd up, with what it joyn'd and drown'd,And that Abiss yet no Accession found.
Orinda, (Albionsand her Sexes Grace)Ow'd not her Glory to a Beauteous Face,It was her Radiant Soul that shon With-in,Which struk a Lustre through her Outward Skin;That did her Lips and Cheeks with Roses dy,Advanc't her Height, and Sparkled in her Eye.Nor did her Sex at all obstruct her Fame,But higher 'mong the Stars it fixt her Name;What she did write, not only all allow'd,But ev'ry Laurel, to her Laurel, bow'd!
Th'Envious Age, only to Me alone,Will not allow, what I do write, my Own,But let 'em Rage, and 'gainst a Maide Conspire,So Deathless Numbers from my Tuneful LyreDo ever flow; SoPhebusI by theeDivinely Inspired and possest may be;I willingly acceptCassandrasFate,To speak the Truth, although believ'd too late.
While yet it was the Empire of the Night,And Stars still check'r'd Darkness with their Light,From Temples round the cheerful Bells did ring,But with the Peales a churlish Storm did sing.I slumbr'd; and the Heavens like things did show,Like things which I had seen and heard below.Playing on Harps Angels did singing fly,But through a cloudy and a troubl'd Sky,Some fixt a Throne, and Royal Robes display'd,And then a Massie Cross upon it laid.I wept: and earnestly implor'd to know,Why Royal Ensigns were disposed so.An Angel said, The Emblem thou hast seen,Denotes the Birth-Day of a Saint and Queen.Ah, Glorious Minister, I then reply'd,Goodness and Bliss together do resideIn Heaven and thee, why then on Earth belowThese two combin'd so rarely do we know?He said, Heaven so decrees: and such a Sable MorneWas that, in which theSon of Godwas borne.Then Mortal wipe thine Eyes, and cease to rave,God darkn'd Heaven, when He the World did save.
While yet it was the Empire of the Night,And Stars still check'r'd Darkness with their Light,From Temples round the cheerful Bells did ring,But with the Peales a churlish Storm did sing.I slumbr'd; and the Heavens like things did show,Like things which I had seen and heard below.Playing on Harps Angels did singing fly,But through a cloudy and a troubl'd Sky,Some fixt a Throne, and Royal Robes display'd,And then a Massie Cross upon it laid.I wept: and earnestly implor'd to know,Why Royal Ensigns were disposed so.An Angel said, The Emblem thou hast seen,Denotes the Birth-Day of a Saint and Queen.Ah, Glorious Minister, I then reply'd,Goodness and Bliss together do resideIn Heaven and thee, why then on Earth belowThese two combin'd so rarely do we know?He said, Heaven so decrees: and such a Sable MorneWas that, in which theSon of Godwas borne.Then Mortal wipe thine Eyes, and cease to rave,God darkn'd Heaven, when He the World did save.
Long my dullMusein heavy slumbers lay,Indulging Sloth, and to soft Ease gave way,Her Fill of Rest resolving to enjoy,Or fancying little worthy her employ.When NobleCleanorsobliging StrainsHer, the neglected Lyre to tune, constrains.Confus'd at first, she rais'd her drowsie Head,Ponder'd a while, then pleas'd, forsook her Bed.Survey'd each Line with Fancy richly fraught,Re-read, and then revolv'd them in her Thought.And can it be? She said, and can it be?That 'mong the Great Ones I a Poet see?The Great Ones? who their Ill-spent time devide,'Twixt dang'rous Politicks, and formal Pride,Destructive Vice, expensive Vanity,In worse Ways yet, if Worse there any be:Leave to Inferiours the despised Arts,Let their Retainers be theMen of Parts.But here with Wonder and with Joy I find,I'th' Noble Born, a no less Noble Mind;One, who on Ancestors, does not relyFor Fame, in Merit, as in Title, high!The Severe Godess thus approv'd the Laies:Yet too much pleas'd, alas, with her own Praise.But to vain Pride,My Muse, cease to give place,Virgilsimmortal Numbers once did graceASmother'd Gnat: by high Applause is shown,If undeserv'd, the Praisers worth alone:Nor that you should believ't, is't always meant,'Tis often for Instruction only sent,To praise men to Amendment, and display,By its Perfection, where their Weakness lay.This Use of these Applauding Numbers makeThem for Example, not Encomium, take.
Long my dullMusein heavy slumbers lay,Indulging Sloth, and to soft Ease gave way,Her Fill of Rest resolving to enjoy,Or fancying little worthy her employ.When NobleCleanorsobliging StrainsHer, the neglected Lyre to tune, constrains.Confus'd at first, she rais'd her drowsie Head,Ponder'd a while, then pleas'd, forsook her Bed.Survey'd each Line with Fancy richly fraught,Re-read, and then revolv'd them in her Thought.
And can it be? She said, and can it be?That 'mong the Great Ones I a Poet see?The Great Ones? who their Ill-spent time devide,'Twixt dang'rous Politicks, and formal Pride,Destructive Vice, expensive Vanity,In worse Ways yet, if Worse there any be:Leave to Inferiours the despised Arts,Let their Retainers be theMen of Parts.But here with Wonder and with Joy I find,I'th' Noble Born, a no less Noble Mind;One, who on Ancestors, does not relyFor Fame, in Merit, as in Title, high!
The Severe Godess thus approv'd the Laies:Yet too much pleas'd, alas, with her own Praise.But to vain Pride,My Muse, cease to give place,Virgilsimmortal Numbers once did graceASmother'd Gnat: by high Applause is shown,If undeserv'd, the Praisers worth alone:Nor that you should believ't, is't always meant,'Tis often for Instruction only sent,To praise men to Amendment, and display,By its Perfection, where their Weakness lay.This Use of these Applauding Numbers makeThem for Example, not Encomium, take.
Here take no Care, take here no Care, myMuse,Nor ought of Art or Labour use:But let thy Lines rude and unpolisht go,Nor Equal be their Feet, nor Num'rous let them flow.The ruggeder my Measures run when read,They'l livelier paint th'unequal Paths fond Mortals tread.Who when th'are tempted by the smooth Ascents,Which flatt'ring Hope presents,Briskly they clime, and Great Things undertake;But Fatal Voyages, alas, they make:For 'tis not long before their Feet,Inextricable Mazes meet,Perplexing Doubts obstruct their Way,Mountains with-stand them of Dismay;Or to the Brink of black Dispaire them lead,Where's nought their Ruine to impede,In vain for Aide they then to Reason call,Their Series dazle, and their Heads turn round,The sight does all their Pow'rs confound,And headlong down the horrid Precipice they fall:Where storms of Sighs for ever blow,Where raped streams of Tears do flow,Which drown them in a Briny Floud.My Muse pronounce aloud, there's nothing Good,Nought that the World can show,Nought that it can bestow.
Here take no Care, take here no Care, myMuse,Nor ought of Art or Labour use:But let thy Lines rude and unpolisht go,Nor Equal be their Feet, nor Num'rous let them flow.The ruggeder my Measures run when read,They'l livelier paint th'unequal Paths fond Mortals tread.Who when th'are tempted by the smooth Ascents,Which flatt'ring Hope presents,Briskly they clime, and Great Things undertake;But Fatal Voyages, alas, they make:For 'tis not long before their Feet,Inextricable Mazes meet,Perplexing Doubts obstruct their Way,Mountains with-stand them of Dismay;Or to the Brink of black Dispaire them lead,Where's nought their Ruine to impede,In vain for Aide they then to Reason call,Their Series dazle, and their Heads turn round,The sight does all their Pow'rs confound,And headlong down the horrid Precipice they fall:Where storms of Sighs for ever blow,Where raped streams of Tears do flow,Which drown them in a Briny Floud.My Muse pronounce aloud, there's nothing Good,Nought that the World can show,Nought that it can bestow.
}Not boundless Heaps of its admired Clay,}Ah, too successful to betray,}When spread in our fraile Vertues way:For few do run with so Resolv'd a Pace,That for the Golden Apple will not loose the Race.And yet not all the Gold the Vain would spend,Or greedy Avarice would wish to save;Which on the Earth refulgent Beams doth send,Or in the Sea has found a Grave,Joyn'd in one Mass, can Bribe sufficient be,The Body from a stern Disease to free,Or purchase for the Minds reliefOne Moments sweet Repose, when restless made by grief,But what may Laughter, more than Pity, move:When some the Price of what they Dear'st LoveAre Masters of, and hold it in their Hand,To part with it their Hearts they can't command:But chose to miss, what miss't does them torment,And that to hug, affords them no Content.Wise Fools, to do them Right, we these must hold,Who Love depose, and Homage pay to Gold.
}Not boundless Heaps of its admired Clay,}Ah, too successful to betray,}When spread in our fraile Vertues way:For few do run with so Resolv'd a Pace,That for the Golden Apple will not loose the Race.And yet not all the Gold the Vain would spend,Or greedy Avarice would wish to save;Which on the Earth refulgent Beams doth send,Or in the Sea has found a Grave,Joyn'd in one Mass, can Bribe sufficient be,The Body from a stern Disease to free,Or purchase for the Minds reliefOne Moments sweet Repose, when restless made by grief,But what may Laughter, more than Pity, move:When some the Price of what they Dear'st LoveAre Masters of, and hold it in their Hand,To part with it their Hearts they can't command:But chose to miss, what miss't does them torment,And that to hug, affords them no Content.Wise Fools, to do them Right, we these must hold,Who Love depose, and Homage pay to Gold.
Nor yet, if rightly understood,Does Grandeur carry more of Good;To be o'th' Number of the Great enroll'd,A Scepter o're a Mighty Realm to hold.For what is this?If I not judge amiss.But all th'Afflicted of a Land to take,And of one single Family to make?The Wrong'd, the Poor, th'Opprest, the Sad,The Ruin'd, Malecontent, and Mad?Which a great Part of ev'ry Empire frame,And Interest in the common Father claime.Again what is't, but always to abideA Gazing Crowd? upon a Stage to spendA Life that's vain, or Evil without End?And which is yet nor safely held, nor laid aside?And then, if lesser Titles carry less of Care,Yet none but Fools ambitious are to shareSuch a Mock-Good, of which 'tis said, 'tis Best,When of the least of it Men are possest.
Nor yet, if rightly understood,Does Grandeur carry more of Good;To be o'th' Number of the Great enroll'd,A Scepter o're a Mighty Realm to hold.For what is this?If I not judge amiss.But all th'Afflicted of a Land to take,And of one single Family to make?The Wrong'd, the Poor, th'Opprest, the Sad,The Ruin'd, Malecontent, and Mad?Which a great Part of ev'ry Empire frame,And Interest in the common Father claime.Again what is't, but always to abideA Gazing Crowd? upon a Stage to spendA Life that's vain, or Evil without End?And which is yet nor safely held, nor laid aside?And then, if lesser Titles carry less of Care,Yet none but Fools ambitious are to shareSuch a Mock-Good, of which 'tis said, 'tis Best,When of the least of it Men are possest.
But, O, the Laurel'd Fool! that doats on Fame,Whose Hope's Applause, whose Fear's to want a Name;Who can accept for PayOf what he does, what others say;Exposes now to hostile Arms his Breast,To toylsome Study then betrays his Rest;Now to his Soul denies a just Content,Then forces on it what it does resent;And all for Praise of Fools: for such are those,Which most of the Admiring Crowd compose.O famisht Soul, which such Thin Food can feed!O Wretched Labour crown'd with such a Meed!Too loud, O Fame! thy Trumpet is, too shrill,To lull a Mind to Rest,Or calme a stormy Breast,Which asks a Musick soft and still.'Twas notAmaleck's vanquisht Cry,NorIsraelsshout of Victory,That could inSaulthe rising Passion lay,'Twas the soft strains ofDavid's Lyre the Evil Spirit chace't away.
But, O, the Laurel'd Fool! that doats on Fame,Whose Hope's Applause, whose Fear's to want a Name;Who can accept for PayOf what he does, what others say;Exposes now to hostile Arms his Breast,To toylsome Study then betrays his Rest;Now to his Soul denies a just Content,Then forces on it what it does resent;And all for Praise of Fools: for such are those,Which most of the Admiring Crowd compose.O famisht Soul, which such Thin Food can feed!O Wretched Labour crown'd with such a Meed!Too loud, O Fame! thy Trumpet is, too shrill,To lull a Mind to Rest,Or calme a stormy Breast,Which asks a Musick soft and still.'Twas notAmaleck's vanquisht Cry,NorIsraelsshout of Victory,That could inSaulthe rising Passion lay,'Twas the soft strains ofDavid's Lyre the Evil Spirit chace't away.
But Friendship fain would yet itself defend,And Mighty Things it does pretend,To be of this Sad Journey, Life, the Baite,The sweet Refection of our toylsome State.But though True Friendship a Rich Cordial be,Alas, by most 'tis so alay'd,Its Good so mixt with Ill we see,That Dross for Gold is often paid.}And for one Grain of Friendship that is found,}Falshood and Interest do the Mass compound,}Or coldness, worse than Steel, the Loyal heart doth wound.Love in no Two was ever yet the same,No Happy Two ere felt an Equal Flame.
But Friendship fain would yet itself defend,And Mighty Things it does pretend,To be of this Sad Journey, Life, the Baite,The sweet Refection of our toylsome State.But though True Friendship a Rich Cordial be,Alas, by most 'tis so alay'd,Its Good so mixt with Ill we see,That Dross for Gold is often paid.}And for one Grain of Friendship that is found,}Falshood and Interest do the Mass compound,}Or coldness, worse than Steel, the Loyal heart doth wound.Love in no Two was ever yet the same,No Happy Two ere felt an Equal Flame.
Is there that Earth by Humane Foot ne're prest?That Aire which never yet by Humane BreastRespir'd, did Life supply?Oh, thither let me fly!Where from the World at such a distance set,All that's past, present, and to come I may forget:The Lovers Sighs, and the Afflicteds Tears,What e're may wound my Eyes or Ears.The grating Noise of Private Jars,The horrid sound of Publick Wars,Of babling Fame the Idle Stories,The short-liv'd Triumphs Noysy-Glories,The Curious Nets the subtile weave,The Word, the Look that may deceive.No Mundan Care shall more affect my Breast,My profound Peace shake or molest:ButStupor, like to Death, my Senses bind,That so I may anticipate that Rest,Which only in my Grave I hope to find.
Is there that Earth by Humane Foot ne're prest?That Aire which never yet by Humane BreastRespir'd, did Life supply?Oh, thither let me fly!Where from the World at such a distance set,All that's past, present, and to come I may forget:The Lovers Sighs, and the Afflicteds Tears,What e're may wound my Eyes or Ears.The grating Noise of Private Jars,The horrid sound of Publick Wars,Of babling Fame the Idle Stories,The short-liv'd Triumphs Noysy-Glories,The Curious Nets the subtile weave,The Word, the Look that may deceive.No Mundan Care shall more affect my Breast,My profound Peace shake or molest:ButStupor, like to Death, my Senses bind,That so I may anticipate that Rest,Which only in my Grave I hope to find.
Amintor.Stay gentle Nymph, nor so solic'tous be?To fly his sight that still would gaze on thee.With other Swaines I see thee oft converse,Content to speak, and hear what they rehearse:But I unhappy, when I e're draw nigh,Thou streight do'st leave both Place, and Company.If this thy Flight, from fear of Harm doth flow,Ah, sure thou little of my Heart dost know.Alinda.What wonder, Swain, if the Pursu'd by Flight,Seeks to avoid the close Pursuers Sight?And if no Cause I have to fly from thee,Then thou hast none, why thou dost follow me.Amin.If to the Cause thou wilt propitious prove,Take it at once, fair Nymph, and know 'tis Love.}Alin.To my just Pray'r, ye favouring Gods attend,}These Vows to Heaven with equal Zeal I send,}My flocks from Wolves, my Heart from Love, defend.Amin.The Gods which did on thee such Charms bestow,Ne're meant thou shouldst to Love have prov'd a Foe,That so Divine a Power thou shouldst defy.Could there a Reason be, I'd ask thee, why?Alin.Why doesLicoris, once so bright and gay,Pale as a Lilly pine her self away?Why doesElvira, ever sad, frequentThe lonely shades? Why does yon MonumentWhich we upon our Left Hand do behold,HaplessAmintasyouthful Limbs enfold?Say Shepherd, say: But if thou wilt not tell,Damon,Philisides, andStrephonwellCan speak the Cause, whose Falshood each upbraids,And justly me from Cruel Love disswades.Amin.Hear me ye Gods. Me and my Flocks forsake,If e're like them my promis'd Faith I brake.}Alin.By others sad Experience wise I'le be.}}Amin.But such thy Wisdom highly injures me:}And nought but Death can give a Remedy.Ye Learn'd in Physick, what does it avail,That you by Art (wherein ye never fail)Present Relief have for the Mad-dogs Bite?The Serpents sting? the poisonousAchonite?While helpless Love upbraids your baffl'd skill,And far more certain, than the rest, doth kill.Alin.Fond Swain, go dote upon the new blown Rose,Whose Beauty with the Morning did disclose,And e're Days King forsakes th'enlighted Earth,Wither'd, returns from whence it took its Birth.As much Excuse will there thy Love attend,As what thou dost on Womens Beauty spend.Amin.Ah Nymph, those Charms which I in thee admire,Can, nor before, nor with thy Life expire.From Heaven they are, and such as ne're can dye,But with thy Soul they will ascend the Sky!For though my ravisht Eye beholds in Thee,Such beauty as I can in none else see;That Nature there alone is without blame,Yet did not this my faithful Heart enflame:Nor when in Dance thou mov'st upon the Plaine,Or other Sports pursu'st among the TrainOf choicest Nymphs, where thy attractive GraceShews thee alone, though thousands be in place!Yet not for these do IAlindalove,Hear then what 'tis, that does my Passion move.That Thou still Earliest at the Temple art,And still the last that does from thence depart;PansAltar is by thee the oftnest prest,Thine's still the fairest Offering and the Best;And all thy other Actions seem to be,The true Result of Unfeign'd Piety;Strict in thy self, to others Just and Mild;Careful, nor to Deceive, nor be Beguil'd;Wary, without the least Offence, to live,Yet none than thee more ready to forgive!Even on thy Beauty thou dost Fetters lay,Least, unawares, it any should betray.Far unlike, sure, to many of thy Sex,Whose Pride it is, the doting World to vex;Spreading their Universal Nets to takeWho e're their artifice can captive make.But thou command'st thy Sweet, but Modest Eye,That no Inviting Glance from thence should fly.Beholding with a Gen'rous Disdain,The lighter Courtships of each amorous Swain;Knowing, true Fame, Vertue alone can give:Nor dost thou greedily even that receive.And what 'bove this thy Character can raise?Thirsty of Merit, yet neglecting Praise!While daily these Perfections I discry,MatchlessAlindamakes me daily dy.Thou absent, Flow'rs to me no Odours yield,Nor find I freshness in the dewy Field;NotThyrsisVoice, norMelibeusLire,Can my Sad Heart with one Gay Thought inspire;My thriving Flock ('mong Shepherds Vows the Chief)I unconcern'd behold, as they my Grief.This I profess, if this thou not believe,A further proof I ready am to give,Command: there's nothing I'le not undertake,And, thy Injunctions, Love will easie make.Ah, if thou couldst incline a gentle Ear,Of plighted Faith, and hatedHymenhear;Thou hourly then my spotless Love should'st see,That all my Study, how to please, should be;How to protect thee from disturbing Care,And in thy Griefs to bear the greatest share;Nor should a Joy, my Warie Heart surprize,That first I read not in thy charming Eyes.Alin.If ever I to any do impart,My, till this present hour, well-guarded Heart,That Passion I have fear'd, I'le surely prove,For one that does, like toAmintorlove.Amintor.Ye Gods——Alin.Shepherd, no more: enough it is that I,Thus long to Love, have listn'd patiently.Farewel:Pankeep thee, Swain.Amintor.And Blessings Thee,Rare as thy Vertues, still accompany.
Amintor.Stay gentle Nymph, nor so solic'tous be?To fly his sight that still would gaze on thee.With other Swaines I see thee oft converse,Content to speak, and hear what they rehearse:But I unhappy, when I e're draw nigh,Thou streight do'st leave both Place, and Company.If this thy Flight, from fear of Harm doth flow,Ah, sure thou little of my Heart dost know.
Alinda.What wonder, Swain, if the Pursu'd by Flight,Seeks to avoid the close Pursuers Sight?And if no Cause I have to fly from thee,Then thou hast none, why thou dost follow me.
Amin.If to the Cause thou wilt propitious prove,Take it at once, fair Nymph, and know 'tis Love.
}Alin.To my just Pray'r, ye favouring Gods attend,}These Vows to Heaven with equal Zeal I send,}My flocks from Wolves, my Heart from Love, defend.
Amin.The Gods which did on thee such Charms bestow,Ne're meant thou shouldst to Love have prov'd a Foe,That so Divine a Power thou shouldst defy.Could there a Reason be, I'd ask thee, why?
Alin.Why doesLicoris, once so bright and gay,Pale as a Lilly pine her self away?Why doesElvira, ever sad, frequentThe lonely shades? Why does yon MonumentWhich we upon our Left Hand do behold,HaplessAmintasyouthful Limbs enfold?Say Shepherd, say: But if thou wilt not tell,Damon,Philisides, andStrephonwellCan speak the Cause, whose Falshood each upbraids,And justly me from Cruel Love disswades.
Amin.Hear me ye Gods. Me and my Flocks forsake,If e're like them my promis'd Faith I brake.
}Alin.By others sad Experience wise I'le be.}}Amin.But such thy Wisdom highly injures me:}And nought but Death can give a Remedy.Ye Learn'd in Physick, what does it avail,That you by Art (wherein ye never fail)Present Relief have for the Mad-dogs Bite?The Serpents sting? the poisonousAchonite?While helpless Love upbraids your baffl'd skill,And far more certain, than the rest, doth kill.
Alin.Fond Swain, go dote upon the new blown Rose,Whose Beauty with the Morning did disclose,And e're Days King forsakes th'enlighted Earth,Wither'd, returns from whence it took its Birth.As much Excuse will there thy Love attend,As what thou dost on Womens Beauty spend.
Amin.Ah Nymph, those Charms which I in thee admire,Can, nor before, nor with thy Life expire.From Heaven they are, and such as ne're can dye,But with thy Soul they will ascend the Sky!For though my ravisht Eye beholds in Thee,Such beauty as I can in none else see;That Nature there alone is without blame,Yet did not this my faithful Heart enflame:Nor when in Dance thou mov'st upon the Plaine,Or other Sports pursu'st among the TrainOf choicest Nymphs, where thy attractive GraceShews thee alone, though thousands be in place!Yet not for these do IAlindalove,Hear then what 'tis, that does my Passion move.That Thou still Earliest at the Temple art,And still the last that does from thence depart;PansAltar is by thee the oftnest prest,Thine's still the fairest Offering and the Best;And all thy other Actions seem to be,The true Result of Unfeign'd Piety;Strict in thy self, to others Just and Mild;Careful, nor to Deceive, nor be Beguil'd;Wary, without the least Offence, to live,Yet none than thee more ready to forgive!Even on thy Beauty thou dost Fetters lay,Least, unawares, it any should betray.Far unlike, sure, to many of thy Sex,Whose Pride it is, the doting World to vex;Spreading their Universal Nets to takeWho e're their artifice can captive make.But thou command'st thy Sweet, but Modest Eye,That no Inviting Glance from thence should fly.Beholding with a Gen'rous Disdain,The lighter Courtships of each amorous Swain;Knowing, true Fame, Vertue alone can give:Nor dost thou greedily even that receive.And what 'bove this thy Character can raise?Thirsty of Merit, yet neglecting Praise!While daily these Perfections I discry,MatchlessAlindamakes me daily dy.Thou absent, Flow'rs to me no Odours yield,Nor find I freshness in the dewy Field;NotThyrsisVoice, norMelibeusLire,Can my Sad Heart with one Gay Thought inspire;My thriving Flock ('mong Shepherds Vows the Chief)I unconcern'd behold, as they my Grief.This I profess, if this thou not believe,A further proof I ready am to give,Command: there's nothing I'le not undertake,And, thy Injunctions, Love will easie make.Ah, if thou couldst incline a gentle Ear,Of plighted Faith, and hatedHymenhear;Thou hourly then my spotless Love should'st see,That all my Study, how to please, should be;How to protect thee from disturbing Care,And in thy Griefs to bear the greatest share;Nor should a Joy, my Warie Heart surprize,That first I read not in thy charming Eyes.
Alin.If ever I to any do impart,My, till this present hour, well-guarded Heart,That Passion I have fear'd, I'le surely prove,For one that does, like toAmintorlove.
Amintor.Ye Gods——
Alin.Shepherd, no more: enough it is that I,Thus long to Love, have listn'd patiently.Farewel:Pankeep thee, Swain.
Amintor.And Blessings Thee,Rare as thy Vertues, still accompany.
Melibæus.Welcome fair Nymphs, most welcome to this shade,Distemp'ring Heats do now the Plains invade:But you may sit, from Sun securely here,If you an old mans company not fear.Alcippe.Most Reverend Swaine, far from us ever beThe imputation of such Vanity.From Hill to Holt w'ave thee unweary'd sought,And bless the Chance that us hath hither brought.Asteria.Fam'dMelibæusfor thy Virtuous Lays,If thou dost not disdain our Female Praise,We come to sue thou would'st to us reciteOne of thy Songs, which gives such high delightTo ev'ry Eare, wherein thou dost dispenseSage Precepts cloath'd in flowing Eloquence.Licida.Fresh Garlands we will make for thee each morne,Thy reverend Head to shade, and to adorne;To cooling Springs thy fainting Flock we'll guide,All thou command'st, to do shall be our Pride.Meli.Cease, gentle Nymphs, the Willing to entreat,To have your Wish, each needs but take a Seat.With joy I shall my ancient Art revive,With which, when Young, I did for Glory strive.Nor for my Verse will I accept a Hire,Your bare Attentions all I shall require.Alci.Lo, from the Plain I see draw near a PairThat I could wish in our Converse might share.Amira'tis and youngAlcimedon.Lici.Serious Discourse industriously they shun.Alci.It being yet their luck to come this way,The Fond Ones to our Lecture we'll betray:And though they only sought a private shade,Perhaps they may depart more Vertuous made.I will accost them. Gentle Nymph and Swaine,GoodMelibæusus doth entertainWith Lays Divine: if you'll his Hearers be,Take streight your Seats without Apology.Alci.Paying short thanks, at fairAmirasfeet,I'le lay me down: let her choose where 'tis meetAl.Shepherd, behold, we all attentive sit.Meli.What shall I sing? what shall myMusereherse?Love is a Theme well sutes a Past'ral Verse,That gen'ral Error, Universal Ill,That Darling of our Weakness and our Will;By which though many fall, few hold it shame;Smile at the Fault, which they would seem to blame.What wonder then, if those with Mischief play,It to destruction them doth oft betray?But by experience it is daily found,That Love the softer Sex does sorest wound;In Mind, as well as Body, far more weakThan Men: therefore to them my Song shall speak,Advising well, however it succeed:But unto All I say,Of Love take heed.So hazardous, because so hard to knowOn whom they are we do our Hearts bestow;How they will use them, or with what regardOur Faith and high Esteem they will reward:For few are found, that truly acted beBy Principles of Generosity.That when they know a Virgins Heart they've gain'd,(And though by many Vows and Arts obtain'd)Will think themselves oblig'd their Faith to holdTempted by Friends, by Interest, or by Gold.Expect it not: most, Love their Pastime make,Lightly they Like, and lightly they forsake;Their Roving Humour wants but a pretenceWith Oaths and what's most Sacred to dispence.When unto such a Maid has given her Heart,And said,Alone my Happiness thou art,In thee and in thy Truth I place my Rest.Her sad Surprize how can it be exprest,When all on which she built her Joy she finds,Vanish, like Clouds, disperst before the Winds;Her self, who th'adored Idol wont to be,A poor despis'd Idolater to see?Regardless Tears she may profusely spend,Unpitty'd sighs her tender Breast may rend:But the false Image she will ne're erace,Though far unworthy still to hold its place:So hard it is, even Wiser grown, to takeTh'Impression out, which Fancy once did make.Believe me Nymphs, believe my hoary hairs,Truth and Experience waits on many years.Before the Eldest of you Light beheld,A Nymph we had, in Beauty all excell'd,Rodanthecall'd, in whom each Grace did shine,Could make a Mortal Maid appear Divine.And none could say, where most her Charms did lye,In her inchanting Tongue, or conquering Eye.Her Vertue yet her Beauties so out-shon,As Beauty did the Garments she put on!Among the Swains, which here their Flocks then fed,Alcanderwith the highest held his head;The most Accomplish't was esteem'd to be,Of comely Forme, well-grac't Activity;TheMusestoo, like him, did none inspire,None so did stop the Pipe, or touch the Lyre;Sweet was his Voice, and Eloquent his Tongue;Alike admired when he Spoke, or Sung!But these so much Excelling parts the Swain,With Imperfections no less Great, did stain:For proud he was, of an Ungovern'd Will,With Love Familiar, but a Stranger stillTo Faith and Constancy; and did his Heart,Retaining none, expose to ev'ry Dart.HaplessRodanthe, the Fond Rover, caught,To whom, for Love, with usual Arts he sought;Which she, ah too unwary, did bestow:'Cause True her self, believ'd that he was so.But he, alas, more wav'ring than the Wind,Streight broke the Chain, she thought so fast did bind;For he no sooner saw her Heart was gain'd,But he as soon the Victory disdain'd;Mad Love else-where, as if 'twere like Renown,Hearts to subdue, as to take in a Town:But in the One as Manhood does prevail,Both Truth and Manhood in the other fail.And now the Nymph (of late so gay and bright,The Glory of the Plains and the Delight,Who still in Wit and Mirth all Pastimes led)Hung like a wither'd Flow'r her drooping Head.I need not tell the GriefRodanthefound,How all that should asswage, enrag'd her Wound;Her Form, her Fame, her Vertue, Riches, Wit,Like Deaths sad Weights upon her Soul did sit:Or else like Furies stood before her Face,Still urging and Upbraiding her Disgrace,In that the World could yield her no Content,But what alone the FalseAlcandersent.'Twas said, through just Disdain, at last she brokeThe Disingenious and Unworthy Yoke:But this I know, her Passion held long time,Constancy, though Unhappy, is no Crime.Remember when you Love, from that same hourYour Peace you put into your Lovers Power:From that same hour from him you Laws receive,And as he shall ordain, you Joy, or Grieve,Hope, Fear, Laugh, Weep; Reason aloof does stand,Disabl'd both to Act, and to Command.Oh Cruel Fetters! rather wish to feel,On your soft Limbs, the Gauling Weight of Steel;Rather to bloudy Wounds oppose your BreastNo Ill, by which the Body can be prest;You will so sensible a Torment find,As Shackles on your captivated Mind.The Mind from Heaven its high Descent did draw,And brooks uneasily any other Law,Than what from Reason dictated shall be,Reason, a kind of In-mate Deity.Which only can adapt to ev'ry SoulA Yoke so fit and light, that the ControleAll Liberty excels; so sweet a Sway,The same 'tis to be Happy, and Obey;Commands so Wise and with Rewards so drestThat the according Soul replys,I'm Blest.This teaches rightly how to Love and Hate,To fear and hope by Measure and just Weight;What Tears in Grief ought from our Eyes to flow,What Transport in Felicity to show;In ev'ry Passion how to steer the Will,Tho rude the Shock, to keep it steady still.Oh happy Mind! what words can speak thy Bliss,When in a Harmony thou mov'st like this?Your Hearts fair Virgins keep smooth as your Brow,Not the least Am'rous Passion there allow;Hold not a Parly with what may betrayYour inward Freedom to a Forraign Sway;And while thus ore your selves you Queens remain,Unenvy'd, ore the World, let others reign:The highest Joy which from Dominion flows,Is short of what a Mind well-govern'd knows.Whither myMuse, would'st uncontrouled run?Contend in Motion with the restless Sun?Immortal thou, but I a mortal SireExhaust my strength, and Hearers also tire.Al.O Heaven-taught Bard! to Ages couldst prolongThy Soul-instructing, Health-infusing Song,I with unweary'd Appetite could hear,And wish my Senses were turn'd all to Ear.Alcim.Old Man, thy frosty Precepts well betrayThy Blood is cold, and that thy Head is grey:Who past the Pleasure Love and Youth can give,To spoyl't in others, now dost only live.Wouldst thou, indeed, if so thou couldst perswade,The Fair, whose Charms have many Lovers made,Should feel Compassion for no one they wound,But be to all Inexorable found?Me.Young man, if my advice thou well hadst weigh'd,Thou would'st have found, for either Sex 'twas made;And would from Womens Beauty thee no lessPreserve, than them secure from thy Address.But let thy Youth thy rash Reproach excuse.Alci.FairestAmiralet him not abuseThy gentle Heart, by his imprinting thereHis doting Maxims——But I will not fear:For when 'gainst Love he fiercest did inveigh,Methoughts I saw thee turn with Scorn away.Ami.Alcimedonaccording to his WillDoes all my Words and Looks interpret still:But I shall learn at length how to Disdain,Or at the least more cunningly to feign.Alci.No wonder thouAlcimedonart rude,When with no Gen'rous Quality endu'd:But hop'st by railing Words Vice to defend,Which Foulers made, by having such a Friend.Amira, thou art warn'd, wisely beware,Leap not with Open-Eyes into the Snare:The Faith that's given to thee, was given beforeToNais,Amoret, and many more:The Perjur'd did the Gods to Witness call,That unto each he was the only Thrall.Aste.Y'ave made his Cheeks with Conscious blushes glow.Alci.'Tis the best Colour a False Heart can show;And well it is with Guilt some shame remains.Meli.Hast, Shepherd, hast to cleanse away thy stains,Let not thy Youth, of Time the goodly spring,Neglected pass, that nothing forth it bringBut noxious Weeds: which cultivated mightProduce such Crop, as now would thee delight,And give thee after Fame: For Vertues FruitBelieve it, not alone with Age does sute,Nought adorns Youth like to a Noble Mind,In thee this Union letAmirafind.Lici.O fear her not! she'l serve him in his kind.Meli.See how Discourse upon the Time does prey,Those hours pass swiftest, that we talk away.DecliningSolforsaken hath the Fields,And Mountains highest Summits only gildes:Which warns us home-wards with our Flocks to make.Alci.Along with thee our Thanks and Praises take.Aste.In which our Hearts do all in One unite.Lici.Our Wishes too, That on thy Head may light,What e're the Gods as their Best Gifts bestow.Meli.Kind Nymphs on you may Equal Blessings flow.
Melibæus.Welcome fair Nymphs, most welcome to this shade,Distemp'ring Heats do now the Plains invade:But you may sit, from Sun securely here,If you an old mans company not fear.
Alcippe.Most Reverend Swaine, far from us ever beThe imputation of such Vanity.From Hill to Holt w'ave thee unweary'd sought,And bless the Chance that us hath hither brought.
Asteria.Fam'dMelibæusfor thy Virtuous Lays,If thou dost not disdain our Female Praise,We come to sue thou would'st to us reciteOne of thy Songs, which gives such high delightTo ev'ry Eare, wherein thou dost dispenseSage Precepts cloath'd in flowing Eloquence.
Licida.Fresh Garlands we will make for thee each morne,Thy reverend Head to shade, and to adorne;To cooling Springs thy fainting Flock we'll guide,All thou command'st, to do shall be our Pride.
Meli.Cease, gentle Nymphs, the Willing to entreat,To have your Wish, each needs but take a Seat.With joy I shall my ancient Art revive,With which, when Young, I did for Glory strive.Nor for my Verse will I accept a Hire,Your bare Attentions all I shall require.
Alci.Lo, from the Plain I see draw near a PairThat I could wish in our Converse might share.Amira'tis and youngAlcimedon.
Lici.Serious Discourse industriously they shun.
Alci.It being yet their luck to come this way,The Fond Ones to our Lecture we'll betray:And though they only sought a private shade,Perhaps they may depart more Vertuous made.I will accost them. Gentle Nymph and Swaine,GoodMelibæusus doth entertainWith Lays Divine: if you'll his Hearers be,Take streight your Seats without Apology.
Alci.Paying short thanks, at fairAmirasfeet,I'le lay me down: let her choose where 'tis meet
Al.Shepherd, behold, we all attentive sit.
Meli.What shall I sing? what shall myMusereherse?Love is a Theme well sutes a Past'ral Verse,That gen'ral Error, Universal Ill,That Darling of our Weakness and our Will;By which though many fall, few hold it shame;Smile at the Fault, which they would seem to blame.What wonder then, if those with Mischief play,It to destruction them doth oft betray?But by experience it is daily found,That Love the softer Sex does sorest wound;In Mind, as well as Body, far more weakThan Men: therefore to them my Song shall speak,Advising well, however it succeed:But unto All I say,Of Love take heed.So hazardous, because so hard to knowOn whom they are we do our Hearts bestow;How they will use them, or with what regardOur Faith and high Esteem they will reward:For few are found, that truly acted beBy Principles of Generosity.That when they know a Virgins Heart they've gain'd,(And though by many Vows and Arts obtain'd)Will think themselves oblig'd their Faith to holdTempted by Friends, by Interest, or by Gold.Expect it not: most, Love their Pastime make,Lightly they Like, and lightly they forsake;Their Roving Humour wants but a pretenceWith Oaths and what's most Sacred to dispence.When unto such a Maid has given her Heart,And said,Alone my Happiness thou art,In thee and in thy Truth I place my Rest.Her sad Surprize how can it be exprest,When all on which she built her Joy she finds,Vanish, like Clouds, disperst before the Winds;Her self, who th'adored Idol wont to be,A poor despis'd Idolater to see?Regardless Tears she may profusely spend,Unpitty'd sighs her tender Breast may rend:But the false Image she will ne're erace,Though far unworthy still to hold its place:So hard it is, even Wiser grown, to takeTh'Impression out, which Fancy once did make.Believe me Nymphs, believe my hoary hairs,Truth and Experience waits on many years.Before the Eldest of you Light beheld,A Nymph we had, in Beauty all excell'd,Rodanthecall'd, in whom each Grace did shine,Could make a Mortal Maid appear Divine.And none could say, where most her Charms did lye,In her inchanting Tongue, or conquering Eye.Her Vertue yet her Beauties so out-shon,As Beauty did the Garments she put on!Among the Swains, which here their Flocks then fed,Alcanderwith the highest held his head;The most Accomplish't was esteem'd to be,Of comely Forme, well-grac't Activity;TheMusestoo, like him, did none inspire,None so did stop the Pipe, or touch the Lyre;Sweet was his Voice, and Eloquent his Tongue;Alike admired when he Spoke, or Sung!But these so much Excelling parts the Swain,With Imperfections no less Great, did stain:For proud he was, of an Ungovern'd Will,With Love Familiar, but a Stranger stillTo Faith and Constancy; and did his Heart,Retaining none, expose to ev'ry Dart.HaplessRodanthe, the Fond Rover, caught,To whom, for Love, with usual Arts he sought;Which she, ah too unwary, did bestow:'Cause True her self, believ'd that he was so.But he, alas, more wav'ring than the Wind,Streight broke the Chain, she thought so fast did bind;For he no sooner saw her Heart was gain'd,But he as soon the Victory disdain'd;Mad Love else-where, as if 'twere like Renown,Hearts to subdue, as to take in a Town:But in the One as Manhood does prevail,Both Truth and Manhood in the other fail.And now the Nymph (of late so gay and bright,The Glory of the Plains and the Delight,Who still in Wit and Mirth all Pastimes led)Hung like a wither'd Flow'r her drooping Head.I need not tell the GriefRodanthefound,How all that should asswage, enrag'd her Wound;Her Form, her Fame, her Vertue, Riches, Wit,Like Deaths sad Weights upon her Soul did sit:Or else like Furies stood before her Face,Still urging and Upbraiding her Disgrace,In that the World could yield her no Content,But what alone the FalseAlcandersent.'Twas said, through just Disdain, at last she brokeThe Disingenious and Unworthy Yoke:But this I know, her Passion held long time,Constancy, though Unhappy, is no Crime.Remember when you Love, from that same hourYour Peace you put into your Lovers Power:From that same hour from him you Laws receive,And as he shall ordain, you Joy, or Grieve,Hope, Fear, Laugh, Weep; Reason aloof does stand,Disabl'd both to Act, and to Command.Oh Cruel Fetters! rather wish to feel,On your soft Limbs, the Gauling Weight of Steel;Rather to bloudy Wounds oppose your BreastNo Ill, by which the Body can be prest;You will so sensible a Torment find,As Shackles on your captivated Mind.The Mind from Heaven its high Descent did draw,And brooks uneasily any other Law,Than what from Reason dictated shall be,Reason, a kind of In-mate Deity.Which only can adapt to ev'ry SoulA Yoke so fit and light, that the ControleAll Liberty excels; so sweet a Sway,The same 'tis to be Happy, and Obey;Commands so Wise and with Rewards so drestThat the according Soul replys,I'm Blest.This teaches rightly how to Love and Hate,To fear and hope by Measure and just Weight;What Tears in Grief ought from our Eyes to flow,What Transport in Felicity to show;In ev'ry Passion how to steer the Will,Tho rude the Shock, to keep it steady still.Oh happy Mind! what words can speak thy Bliss,When in a Harmony thou mov'st like this?Your Hearts fair Virgins keep smooth as your Brow,Not the least Am'rous Passion there allow;Hold not a Parly with what may betrayYour inward Freedom to a Forraign Sway;And while thus ore your selves you Queens remain,Unenvy'd, ore the World, let others reign:The highest Joy which from Dominion flows,Is short of what a Mind well-govern'd knows.Whither myMuse, would'st uncontrouled run?Contend in Motion with the restless Sun?Immortal thou, but I a mortal SireExhaust my strength, and Hearers also tire.
Al.O Heaven-taught Bard! to Ages couldst prolongThy Soul-instructing, Health-infusing Song,I with unweary'd Appetite could hear,And wish my Senses were turn'd all to Ear.
Alcim.Old Man, thy frosty Precepts well betrayThy Blood is cold, and that thy Head is grey:Who past the Pleasure Love and Youth can give,To spoyl't in others, now dost only live.Wouldst thou, indeed, if so thou couldst perswade,The Fair, whose Charms have many Lovers made,Should feel Compassion for no one they wound,But be to all Inexorable found?
Me.Young man, if my advice thou well hadst weigh'd,Thou would'st have found, for either Sex 'twas made;And would from Womens Beauty thee no lessPreserve, than them secure from thy Address.But let thy Youth thy rash Reproach excuse.
Alci.FairestAmiralet him not abuseThy gentle Heart, by his imprinting thereHis doting Maxims——But I will not fear:For when 'gainst Love he fiercest did inveigh,Methoughts I saw thee turn with Scorn away.
Ami.Alcimedonaccording to his WillDoes all my Words and Looks interpret still:But I shall learn at length how to Disdain,Or at the least more cunningly to feign.
Alci.No wonder thouAlcimedonart rude,When with no Gen'rous Quality endu'd:But hop'st by railing Words Vice to defend,Which Foulers made, by having such a Friend.Amira, thou art warn'd, wisely beware,Leap not with Open-Eyes into the Snare:The Faith that's given to thee, was given beforeToNais,Amoret, and many more:The Perjur'd did the Gods to Witness call,That unto each he was the only Thrall.
Aste.Y'ave made his Cheeks with Conscious blushes glow.
Alci.'Tis the best Colour a False Heart can show;And well it is with Guilt some shame remains.
Meli.Hast, Shepherd, hast to cleanse away thy stains,Let not thy Youth, of Time the goodly spring,Neglected pass, that nothing forth it bringBut noxious Weeds: which cultivated mightProduce such Crop, as now would thee delight,And give thee after Fame: For Vertues FruitBelieve it, not alone with Age does sute,Nought adorns Youth like to a Noble Mind,In thee this Union letAmirafind.
Lici.O fear her not! she'l serve him in his kind.
Meli.See how Discourse upon the Time does prey,Those hours pass swiftest, that we talk away.DecliningSolforsaken hath the Fields,And Mountains highest Summits only gildes:Which warns us home-wards with our Flocks to make.
Alci.Along with thee our Thanks and Praises take.
Aste.In which our Hearts do all in One unite.
Lici.Our Wishes too, That on thy Head may light,What e're the Gods as their Best Gifts bestow.
Meli.Kind Nymphs on you may Equal Blessings flow.
The Darling of a Father Good and Wise,The Vertue, which a Vertuous Age did prize;The Beauty Excellent, even to those were Faire,Subscrib'd unto, by such as might compare;The Star that 'bove her Orb did always move,And yet the Noblest did not Hate, but Love;And those who most upon their Title stood,Vail'd also to, because she did more Good.}To whom the Wrong'd, and Worthy did resort,}And held their Sutes obtain'd, if only brought;}The highest Saint in all the Heav'n of Court.So Noble was her Aire, so Great her Meen,She seem'd a Friend, not Servant to the Queen.To Sin, if known, she never did give way,Vice could not Storm her, could it not betray.When angry Heav'n extinguisht her fair Light,It seem'd to say,Nought's Precious in my sight;As I in Waves this Paragon have drown'd,The Nation next, and King I will confound.
The Darling of a Father Good and Wise,The Vertue, which a Vertuous Age did prize;The Beauty Excellent, even to those were Faire,Subscrib'd unto, by such as might compare;The Star that 'bove her Orb did always move,And yet the Noblest did not Hate, but Love;And those who most upon their Title stood,Vail'd also to, because she did more Good.}To whom the Wrong'd, and Worthy did resort,}And held their Sutes obtain'd, if only brought;}The highest Saint in all the Heav'n of Court.So Noble was her Aire, so Great her Meen,She seem'd a Friend, not Servant to the Queen.To Sin, if known, she never did give way,Vice could not Storm her, could it not betray.When angry Heav'n extinguisht her fair Light,It seem'd to say,Nought's Precious in my sight;As I in Waves this Paragon have drown'd,The Nation next, and King I will confound.
No sooner I pronouncedCelindasname,But Troops of wing'd Pow'rs did chant the same:Not those the Poets Bows and Arrows lend,But such as on the Altar do attend.Celindanam'd, Flow'rs spring up from the Ground,Excited meerly with the Charming Sound.Celinda, the Courts Glory, and its fear,The gaz'd at Wonder, where she does appear.Celindagreat in Birth, greater in Meen,Yet none so humble as this Fair-One's seen.Her Youth and Beauty justly might disdain,But the least Pride her Glories ne're did stain.Celindaof each State th'ambitious Strife,At once a Noble Virgin, and a WifeWho, while her Gallant Lord in Forraign partsAdorns his Youth with all accomplisht Arts,Grows ripe at home in Vertue, more than Years,And in each Grace a Miracle appears!When other of her Age a madding go,To th' Park and Plays, and ev'ry publick Show,Proud from their Parents Bondage they have broke,Though justly freed, she still does wear the Yoke;Preferring more her Mothers Friend to be,Than Idol of the Towns Loose-Gallantry.On her she to the Temple does attend,Where they their Blessed Hours both save and spend.They Smile, they Joy, together they do Pray,You'd think two Bodies did One Soul obey:Like Angels thus they do reflect their Bliss,And their bright Vertues each the other kiss.Return young Lord, while thou abroad dost romeThe World to see, thou loosest Heaven at Home.
No sooner I pronouncedCelindasname,But Troops of wing'd Pow'rs did chant the same:Not those the Poets Bows and Arrows lend,But such as on the Altar do attend.Celindanam'd, Flow'rs spring up from the Ground,Excited meerly with the Charming Sound.Celinda, the Courts Glory, and its fear,The gaz'd at Wonder, where she does appear.Celindagreat in Birth, greater in Meen,Yet none so humble as this Fair-One's seen.Her Youth and Beauty justly might disdain,But the least Pride her Glories ne're did stain.Celindaof each State th'ambitious Strife,At once a Noble Virgin, and a WifeWho, while her Gallant Lord in Forraign partsAdorns his Youth with all accomplisht Arts,Grows ripe at home in Vertue, more than Years,And in each Grace a Miracle appears!When other of her Age a madding go,To th' Park and Plays, and ev'ry publick Show,Proud from their Parents Bondage they have broke,Though justly freed, she still does wear the Yoke;Preferring more her Mothers Friend to be,Than Idol of the Towns Loose-Gallantry.On her she to the Temple does attend,Where they their Blessed Hours both save and spend.They Smile, they Joy, together they do Pray,You'd think two Bodies did One Soul obey:Like Angels thus they do reflect their Bliss,And their bright Vertues each the other kiss.Return young Lord, while thou abroad dost romeThe World to see, thou loosest Heaven at Home.