WIS DO M.

IS mighty wife that

you

would now be thought,

"TIS

With your grave rules from mufty morals brought;
Through which some streaks too of divinity ran,
Partly of Monk and partly Puritan ;

With tedious repetitions too you 'ave ta’en
Often the name of vanity in vain.

Things, which, I take it, friend, you'd ne'er recite,
Should the I love but say t' you, "Come at night."
The wifeft king refus'd all pleasures quite,
Till Wisdom from above did him enlight;
But, when that gift his ignorance did remove,
Pleasures he chose, and plac'd them all in love.
And, if by' event the counsels may be seen,
This Wisdom 'twas that brought the fouthern queen;
She came not, like a good old wife, to know
The wholesome nature of all plants that grow;
Nor did fo far from her own country roam,
To cure fcald-heads and broken-fhins at home:
She came for that, which more befits all wives,
The art of giving, not of faving, lives.

B

f

ENEATH this gloomy fhade,
By Nature only for my forrows made,
́I'll spend this voice in cries ;
In tears I'll waste these eyes,
By Love fo vainly fed :

So Luft, of old, the Deluge punished.

"Ah, wretched youth!" said I;

"Ah, wretched youth !" twice did I fadly cry; "Ah, wretched youth!" the fields and floods reply.

When thoughts of Love I entertain,

I meet no words but " Never,” and “ In vain.” "Never," alas! that dreadful name

Which fuels the internal flame:

"Never" my time to come must waste ;

"In vain" torments the present and the past.
"In vain, in vain," said I;

“In vain, in vain!" twice did I fadly cry ;
"In vain, in vain !" the fields and floods reply.

No more fhall fields or floods do fo;

For I to fhades more dark and filent go :
All this world's noife appears to me

A dull, ill-acted comedy:

No comfort to my wounded fight,

In the fun's bufy and impertinent light.
Then down I laid my head,

Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
And my freed foul to a frange fomewhere fled.

"Ah,

Ah, fottish Soul !" faid I,

When back to' its cage again I saw it fly;
"Fool, to refume her broken chain,

"And row her galley here again!
"Fool, to that body to return

"Where it condemn'd and deftin'd is to burn!
"Once dead, how can it be,

"Death should a thing so pleasant seem to thee, "That thou should'st come to live it o'er again in me?”

W

ELL then; I now do plainly fee
This bufy world and I shall ne'er agree

The very honey of all earthly joy

Does of all meats the fooneft cloy;
And they, methinks, deserve my pity,

Who for it can endure the ftings,
The crowd, and buz, and murmurings,
Of this great hive, the city.

Ah, yet, ere I defcend to th' grave,
May I a small house and large garden have!
And a few friends, and many books, both true,
Both wife, and both delightful too!

And, fince love ne'er will from me flee,

A mistress moderately fair,

And good as guardian-angels are,

Only belov'd, and loving me I

Oh,

Oh, fountains! when in you fhall I Myself, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, espy? Oh fields! oh woods! when, when shall I be made The happy tenant of your shade ? Here's the fpring-head of pleasure's flood; Where all the riches lie, that fhe

Has coin'd and stamp'd for good.

Pride and ambition here,
Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear;

Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs fcatter,
And nought but echo flatter.

The Gods, when they defcended, hither

From heaven did always chuse their way ;

And therefore we may boldly fay,

That 'tis the way too thither.

How happy here should I,

And one dear She, live, and embracing die !
She, who is all the world, and can exclude
In defarts folitude.

I should have then this only fear

Left men, when they my pleasures fee,
Should hither throng to live like me,
And fo make a city here.

MY

MY DIET.

NOW, by my Love, the greatest oath that is,

None loves you half fo well as I:

I do not ask your love for this;
But for Heaven's fake believe me, or I die.
No fervant e'er but did deserve

His master should believe that he does ferve;
And I'll ask no more wages, though I starve.

'Tis no luxurious diet this, and sure

I fhall not by 't too lufty prove;
Yet fhall it willingly endure,
If 't can but keep together life and love.
Being your prifoner and your flave,

I do not feasts and banquets look to have;
A little bread and water 's all I crave..

On a figh of pity I a year can live;

One tear will keep me twenty, at least ;
Fifty, a gentle look will give;

An hundred years on one kind word I'll feast:
A thousand more will added be,

If you an inclination have for me;
And all beyond is vast eternity!

THE