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While on the ivory chair, in happy state,
He fits, fecure in innocence, and great

In regal clemency; and views beneath

Averted darts of rage, and pointless arms of death.

THE

SECRETARY.

Written at The HAGUE, 1696.

WHILE with labour affiduous due pleasure I mix

And in one day atone for the business of fix,

In a little Dutch chaife on a Saturday night,

On my left-hand my Horace, a Nymph on my right:
No memoirs to compofe, and no post-boy to move,
That on Sunday may hinder the foftnefs of love;
For her, neither vifits, nor parties at tea,
Nor the long-winded cant of a dull refugee.
This night and the next fhall be her's, fhall be mine,
To good or ill-fortune the third we refign:
Thus fcorning the world, and superior to fate,
I drive on my car in proceffional state.
So with Phia through Athens Pififtratus rode;
Men thought her Minerva, and him a new god.
But why fhould I ftories of Athens rehearse,
Where people knew love, and were partial to verse;
Since none can with juftice my pleasures oppose,
In Holland half drowned in interest and prose ?
By Greece and past ages what need I be tried,
When The Hague and the prefent are both on my fide?

And

And is it enough for the joys of the day,

To think what Anacreon or Sappho would say?
When good Vandergoes, and his provident Vrow,
As they gaze on my triumph, do freely allow,
That, fearch all the province, you'll find no man dar is,
So bleft as the Englishen Heer Secretar' is.

TO CLOE WEEPING.

SE

EE, whilft thou weep'ft, fair Cloe, fee
The world in sympathy with thee.
The chearful birds no longer fing;
Each drops his head, and hangs his wing.
The clouds have bent their bofom lower,
And fhed their forrows in a shower.
The brooks beyond their limits flow;
And louder murmurs fpeak their woe.
The nymphs and swains adopt thy cares ;
They heave thy fighs, and weep thy tears.
Fantastic nymph! that grief should move
Thy heart obdurate against love.

Strange tears! whofe power can soften all,
But that dear breast on which they fall.

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DE

To Mr. HOWARD.

AN ODE.

.I.

EAR Howard, from the foft affaults of love,
Poets and Painters never are fecure;

Can I untouch'd the fair-one's paffions move;
Or thou'draw beauty, and not feel its power?

II.

To great Apelles when young Ammon brought
The darling idol of his captive heart;

And the pleas'd nymph with kind attention fat,
To have her charms recorded by his art

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The amorous mafter own'd her potent eyes;
Sigh'd when he look'd, and trembled as he drew;
Each flowing line confirm'd his first surprize,
And, as the piece advanc'd, the paffion grew.

IV.

While Philip's fon, while Venus' fon, was near,

What different tortures does his bofom feel!

Great was the Rival, and the God fevere :
Nor could he hide his flame, nor durft reveal.
V.

The prince, renown'd in bounty as in arms,
With pity faw the ill-conceal'd distress;
Quitted his title to Campafpe's charms,

And gave the fair-one to the friend's embrace.

VI. Thus

VI.

Thus the more beauteous Cloe fat to thee,

Good Howard, emulous of the Grecian art :
But happy thou, from Cupid's arrow free,
And flames that pierc'd thy predeceffor's heart!
VII.

Had thy poor breaft receiv'd an equal pain;
Had I been vefted with the monarch's power;
Thou must have figh'd, unlucky youth, in vain;
Nor from my bounty hadit thou found a cure.
VIII.

Though, to convince thee that the friend did feel
A kind concern for thy ill-fated care,

I would have footh'd the flame I could not heal;
Given thee the world; though I with-held the fair.

LOVE

DISARME D.

BENEATH a myrtle's verdant shade

As Cloe half asleep was laid,

Cupid perch'd lightly on her breast,'
And in that heaven defir'd to reft:
Over her paps his wings he spread;
Between he found a downy bed,
And neftled-in his little head.

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Still lay the God: the nymph, furpriz'd,
Yet miftrefs of herself, devis'd,
How the the vagrant might inthrall,
And captive him," who captives all.

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Her

Her bodice half-way she unlac'd ;
About his arms fhe flily caft

The filken bond, and held him faft.
The god awak'd; and thrice in vain
He ftrove to break the cruel chain;
And thrice in vain he shook his wing,
Incumber'd in the filken ftring.

Fluttering the God, and weeping, faid,
Pity poor Cupid, generous maid,
Who happen'd, being blind, to stray,
And on thy bofom lost his way;
Who ftray'd, alas! but knew too well,
He never there muft hope to dwell:
Set an unhappy prisoner free,

Who ne'er intended harm to thee.

To me pertains not, the replies,
To know or care where Cupid flies ;
What are his haunts, or which his way;
Where he would dwell, or whither stray:
Yet will I never set thee free;

For harm was meant, and harm to me.
Vain fears that vex thy virgin heart!
I'll give thee up my bow and dart;
Untangle but this cruel chain,
And freely let me fly again.

Agreed: fecure my virgin heart:
Inftant give up thy bow and dart :
The chain I'll in return untie;
And freely thou again fhalt fly.

Thus

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