In vain to honour they pretend,

Who guard themselves with ramparts and with walls; Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,

Who can an open breach defend.

Of thy quick lofs can be no doubt, Within fo hated, and fo lov'd without.

IMPOSSIBILITIES.

Mpoffibilities! oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy heart captive home,
As e afily other dangers were o’erthrown,
As Cæfar, after vanquish'd Rome,
His little Afian foes did overcome.

True lovers oft by Fortune are envied;
Oft earth and hell against them ftrive;
But Providence engages on their fide,
And a good end at last does give :
At last, just men and lovers always thrive.

As ftars (not powerful elfe) when they conjoin,
Change, as they please, the world's eftate;

So thy heart in conjunction with mine

Shall our own fortunes regulate;

And to our stars themselves prefcribe a fate.

'Twould grieve me much to find some bold romance, That should two kind examples fhew,

Which before us in wonders did advance;

Net

Not that I thought that story true,

But none should Fancy more, than I would Do.

Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends;
Through local banishment from thee;

Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning ends,
As eafy fhall my paffage be,

As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's fea

In vain the winds, in vain the billows, roar;
In vain the stars their aid deny'd;

He faw the Seftian tower on th' other shore :
Shall th' Hellefpont our loves divide ?
No, not the Atlantick ocean's boundless tide..

Such feas betwixt us easily conquer'd are ;
But, gentle maid! do not deny

To let thy beams shine on me from afar ;
And fill the taper let me espy :

For, when thy light goes out, I fink and die.

SIL E N C E.

URSE on this tongue, that has my heart betray'd,

CURS

And his great fecret open laid!

For, of all perfons, chiefly she

Should not the ills I fuffer know;

Since 'tis a thing might dangerous grow,

Only in her to pity me:

Since 'tis for me to lofe my life more fit,
Than 'tis for her to fave and ranfom it.

Ah!

Ah! never more fhall thy unwilling ear
My helpless story hear;

Difcourfe and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain

That in my breast does reign;

Silence perhaps may make it sleep :
It'll bind that fore up I did ill reveal;

The wound, if once it clofe, may chance to heal.
No, 'twill ne'er heal; my love will never die,
Though it should fpeechlefs lie.

A river, ere it meet the fea,

As well might stay its fource,
As my love can his course,

Unless it join and mix with thee :

If any end or ftop of it be found,

We know the flood runs ftill, though under ground.

THE DISSEMBLER.

UNHURT

NHURT, untouch'd, did I complain,
And terrify'd all others with the pain :

But now I feel the mighty evil;

Ah! there's no fooling with the devil!

So, wanton men, whilft others they would fright,
Themselves have met a real fprite.

I thought, I'll swear, an handfome lye
Had been no fin at all in poetry;

But now I fuffer an arreft,

For words were spoke by me in jeft,

I

Dully

Dull, fottish God of Love! and can it be
Thou understand'ft not raillery?

Darts, and wounds, and flame, and heat,
I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit;
Nor meant my verse should raised be
To this fad fame of prophesy :
Truth gives a dull propriety to my ftyle,
And all the metaphors does spoil.

In things where fancy much does reign,
'Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign;
The play at last a truth does grow,
And Custom into Nature go:

By this curft art of begging I became
Lame, with counterfeiting lame.

"My lines of amorous defire

I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire;
And 'twas a barbarous delight

My fancy promis'd from the fight:
But now, by Love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the firft do try.

THE INCONSTAN T.

Never could fee that face
yet

I Which had no dart for me;

From fifteen years, to fifty's space,
They all victorious be.

Love, thou 'rt a devil, if I may call thee one;
For fure in me thy name is Legion.

Colour, or shape, good limbs, or face,
Goodness, or wit, in all I find;

In motion or in fpeech a grace;

If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind;

And I 'm so weak, the pistol need not be
Double or treble charg'd to murder me.

If tall, the name of proper flays;
If fair, the 's pleasant as the light;
If low, her prettiness does please;

If black, what lover loves not night?
If yellow-hair'd, I love, left it fhould be
Th' excufe to others for not loving me.

The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;
The lean, with love makes me too fo ::
If ftraight, her body's Cupid's dart

To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow:

Nay, age itself does me to rage incline,
And strength to women gives, as well as wine.

Juft half as large as Charity

My richly-landed Love's become ;
And, judg'd aright, is Constancy,

Though it take up a larger room:

Him, who loves always one, why should they call
More conftant than the man loves always all?..

Thus