So torn, and fo defac'd, it lies,

That it could ne'er be known by th' eyes;
But oh at last I heard it groan,

And knew by th' voice that 'twas mine own.
So poor Alcione, when she faw

A fhipwreck'd body tow'rds her draw,
Beat by the waves, let fall a tear,
Which only then did pity wear:

But, when the corpse on shore were cast,
Which she her husband found at laft,
What should the wretched widow do?
Grief chang'd her strait; away fhe flew,

Turn'd to a bird and fo at laft fhall I

:

Both from my murder'd heart and murderer fly.

ANSWER TO THE PLATONICKS.

So angels love; fo let them love for me;

When I'm all foul, such shall my love too be: Who nothing here but like a spirit would do, In a fhort time, believe 't, will be one too. But, fhall our love do what in beafts we fee? Ev'n beasts eat too, but not fo well as we : And you as juftly might in thirst refuse The use of wine, because beafts water use: They taste those pleasures as they do their food; Undrefs'd they take 't, devour it raw and crude.: But to us men, Love cooks it at his fire, And adds the poignant fauce of fharp defire.

Beafts

Beafts do the fame: 'tis true; but ancient Fame
Says, Gods themselves turn'd beafts to do the fame.
The Thunderer, who, without the female bed,
Could Goddeffes bring-forth from out his head,
Chofe rather mortals this way to create;

So much he' esteem'd his pleasure 'bove his state.
Ye talk of fires which fhine, but never burn;
In this cold world they 'll hardly ferve our turn;
As ufelefs to despairing lovers grown,

As lambent flames to men i' th' frigid zone.
The fun does his pure fires on earth bestow
With nuptial warmth, to bring-forth things below;
Such is Love's nobleft and divineft heat,

That warms like his, and does, like his, beget.
Luft

you call this; a name to your's more juft, If an inordinate defire be luft :

Pygmalion, loving what none can enjoy,
More luftful was, than the hot youth of Trey.

Loving one first because she could love Nobody, afterwards loving her with Defire.

W

'HAT new-found witchcraft was in thee,
With thine own cold to kindle me?
Strange art like him that should devife
To make a burning-glafs of ice:
When winter fo, the plants would harm,
Her fnow itself does keep them warm.
VOL. I.

R

Fool

Fool that I was! who, having found

A rich and funny diamond,

Admir'd the hardness of the stone,
But not the light with which it fhone :
Your brave and haughty scorn of all
Was ftately and monarchical.

All gentleness, with that esteem'd,
A dull and flavish virtue feem'd;
Should'ft thou have yielded then to me,
Thou 'dft loft what I moft lov'd in thee ;
For who would ferve one, whom he fees
That he can conquer if he please?
It far'd with me, as if a slave
In triumph led, that does perceive
With what a gay majestic pride

His conqueror through the streets does ride,
Should be contented with his woe,
Which makes up fuch a comely fhow.
I fought not from thee a return,
But without hopes or fears did burn;
My covetous paffion did approve
The hoarding-up, not ufe, of love.
My love a kind of dream was grown,
A foolish, but a pleasant one:

From which I'm waken'd now; but, oh!
Prifoners to die are waken'd fo;

For now th' effects of loving are
Nothing but longings, with despair :
Despair, whofe torments no men, fure,
But lovers and the damn'd, endure.

But fince, alas! too much 'tis prov'd,

That yet 'twas fomething that I lov'd;
Now
my desires are worse, and fly

At an impoffibility:

Defires, which, whilft fo high they foar,

Are proud as that I lov'd before.
What lover can like me complain,
Who firft lov'd vainly, next in vain!

THE

SO UL.

F mine eyes do e'er declare

They 've seen a fecond thing that 's fair;

Or ears, that they have mufick found,

Befides thy voice, in any found;

If my taste do ever meet,

After thy kifs, with aught that's fweet;
If my abufed touch allow

Aught to be smooth, or foft, but you ;
If what feasonable fprings,

Or the Eastern fummer, brings,

Do my fmell perfuade at all

Aught perfume, but thy breath, to call;
If all my senses' objects be
Not contracted into thee,

And fo through thee more powerful pafs,
As beams do through a burning-glafs ;
If all things that in nature are
Either foft, or sweet, or fair,

Be not in thee fo' epitomis'd,

That nought material 's not compris'd;
May I as worthless feem to thee

As all, but thou, appears to me!

If I ever anger know,

Till fome wrong be done to you ;.
If Gods or Kings my envy move,
Without their crowns crown'd by thy love;
If ever I an hope admit,

Without thy image ftamp'd on it;

Or any fear, till I begin

'To find that you 're concern'd therein; If a joy e'er come to me,

That taftes of any thing but thee;

If any forrow touch my mind,

Whilft you are well, and not unkind;

If I a minute's fpace debate,

Whether I fhall curfe and hate

The things beneath thy hatred fall,
Though all the world, myfelf and all ;;
And for love-if ever I
Approach to it again fo nigh,

As to allow a toleration

To the least glimmering inclination :.
If thou alone doft not control
All those tyrants of my foul,
And to thy beauties ty'ft them so,
That conftant they as habits grow
If any paffion of my heart,
By any force, or any art,

Be