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The Rachel, for which twice feven years and more "Thou didst with faith and labour ferve, And didst (if faith and labour can) deserve, "Though the contracted was to thee, "Given to another, who had store "Of fairer and of richer wives before,

"And not a Leah left, thy recompence to be! "Go on; twice feven years more thy fortune try; "Twice feven years more God in his bounty may "Give thee, to fling away

"Into the court's deceitful lottery:

"But think how likely 'tis that thou, "With the dull work of thy unwieldy plough, "Should't in a hard and barren season thrive, "Should even able be to live;

"Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall, "In the miraculous year when manna rain'd on all."

Thus fpake the Mufe, and spake it with a smile,

That seem'd at once to pity and revile.

And to her thus, raifing his thoughtful head,

The melancholy Cowley faid

"Ah, wanton foe! doft thou upbraid "The ills which thou thyself haft made ? "When in the cradle innocent I lay, "Thou, wicked spirit! stoleft me away,

"And my abused foul didft bear

"Into thy new-found worlds, I know not where, Thy golden Indies in the air;


"And ever fince I ftrive in vain

My ravish'd freedom to regain;

Still I rebel, ftill thou doft reign;

"Lo! still in verfe against thee I complain.
"There is a fort of ftubborn weeds,
"Which, if the earth but once, it ever, breeds;
"No wholfome herb can near them thrive,
"No useful plant can keep alive :
"The foolish sports I did on thee bestow,
"Make all my art and labour fruitless now;
"Where once fuch fairies dance, no grafs doth ever


"When my new mind had no infusion known, "Thou gav'ft fo deep a tincture of thine own, "That ever fince I vainly try

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"To wash away th' inherent dye :

Long work perhaps may spoil thy colours quite, "But never will reduce the native white :

"To all the ports of honour and of gain,
"I often steer my course in vain;

"Thy gale comes cross, and drives me back again.
“Thou flack’neft all my nerves of industry,
"By making them so oft to be

"The tinkling strings of thy loose minstrelfy.
"Whoever this world's happiness would see,
"Muft as entirely caft-off thee,
As they who only heaven defire
"Do from the world retire.


"This was my error, this my grofs mistake,

"Myself a demy-votary to make.

"Thus, with Sapphira and her husband's fate

"(A fault which I, like them, am taught too late),

"For all that I gave up I nothing gain, "And perish for the part which I retain.

"Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Mufe!

"The court, and better king, t' accufe:

"The heaven under which I live is fair, The fertile foil will a full harvest bear : "Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou “Mak'st me fit still and fing, when I should plough.. "When I but think how many a tedious year

"Our patient fovereign did attend

"His long misfortunes' fatal end; "How chearfully, and how exempt from fear, "On the Great Sovereign's will he did depend; "I ought to be accurft, if I refuse

"To wait on his, O thou fallacious Mufe! "Kings have long hands, they fay; and, though I be "So diftant, they may reach at length to me. "However, of all princes, thou

"Should'ft not reproach rewards for being small or flow; Thou! who rewardeft but with popular breath,. "And that too after death."



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S when our kings (lords of the fpacious main) Take in just wars a rich plate-fleet of Spain, The rude unhapen ingots they reduce

Into a form of beauty and of use;

On which the conqueror's image now does thine,
Not his whom it belong'd to in the mine:
So, in the mild contentions of the Mufe
(The war which Peace itself loves and purfues)
So have you home to us in triumph brought
This Cargazon of Spain with treafures fraught.
You have not bafely gotten it by stealth,
Nor by translation borrow'd all its wealth;
But by a powerful spirit made it your own;
Metal before, money by you 'tis grown.
'Tis current now, by your adorning it
With the fair ftamp of your victorious wit.

But, though we praise this voyage of your
And though ourselves enrich'd by it we find ;
We're not contented yet, because we know
What greater stores at home within it grow.
We've seen how well you foreign ores refine;
Produce the gold of your own nobler mine :
The world fhall then our native plenty view,
And fetch materials for their wit from you;
They all fhall watch the travails of your pen,
And Spain on you shall make reprisals then.






RUEL Difeafe! ah, could not it fuffice


Thy old and constant spite to exercise..
Against the gentleft and the faireft fex,
Which still thy depredations most do vex ?
Where ftill thy malice most of all.

(Thy malice or thy luft) does on the fairest fall?
And in them most affault the fairest place,
The throne of emprefs Beauty, ev'n the face?
There was enough of that here to affuage,
(One would have thought) either thy luft or rage.
Was 't not enough, when thou, prophane Disease !
Didst on this glorious temple feize?

Was 't not enough, like a wild zealot, there,
All the rich outward ornaments to tear,
Deface the innocent pride of beauteous images?
Was 't not enough thus rudely to defile,
But thou must quite deftroy, the goodly pile?
And thy unbounded facrilege commit

On th' inward holiest holy of her wit?
Cruel Difeafe! there thou mistook'st thy power;
No mine of death can that devour;

On her embalmed name it will abide

An everlasting pyramid,

As high as heaven the top, as earth the bafis wide.


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