Here's to thee again; thy fenfeless forrows drown;
Let the glass walk, till all things too go round!
Again, till these two lights be four
No error here can dangerous prove :
Thy paffion, man, deceiv'd thee more ;
None double fee like men in love.
HEN chance or cruel bufinefs parts us two, What do our fouls, I wonder, do? Whilft fleep does our dull bodies tie, Methinks at home they should not stay, Content with dreams, but boldly fly Abroad, and meet each other half the way.
Sure they do meet, enjoy each other there,
And mix, I know not how nor where !
Their friendly lights together twine,
Though we perceive 't not to be fo!
Like loving stars, which oft combine,
Yet not themselves their own conjunctions know.
"Twere an ill world, I'll fwear, for every friend,
If distance could their union end:
But Love itself does far advance
Above the power of time and space;
It fcorns fuch outward circumstance,
His time 's for ever, every where his place.
I'm there with thee, yet here with me thou art,
Lodg'd in each other's heart:
Miracles ceafe not yet in love.
When he his mighty power will try,
Abfence itself does bounteous prove,
And strangely ev'n our presence multiply.
Pure is the flame of Friendship, and divine,
Like that which in Heaven's fun does fhine:
He in the upper air and sky
Does no effects of heat beftow;
But, as his beams the farther fly,
He begets warmth, life, beauty, here below.
Friendship is less apparent when too nigh,
Like objects if they touch the eye.
Lefs meritorious then is love;
For when we friends together fee
So much, fo much both one do prove,
That their love then feems but felf-love to be.
Each day think on me, and each day I fhall
For thee make hours canonical.
By every wind that comes this way,
Send me, at least, a figh or two;
Such and fo many I'll repay,
As fhall themfelves make winds to get to you,
A thousand pretty ways we 'll think upon,
To mock our feparation.
Alas! ten thousand will not do :
My heart will thus no longer stay ;
No longer 'twill be kept from you,
But knocks against the breast to get away.
And, when no art affords me help or ease,
I seek with verfe my griefs t' appease ;
Juft as a bird, that flies about
And beats itself against the cage,
Finding at last no passage out,
It fits and fings, and fo o'ercomes its rage.
TO THE BISHOP OF LINCOLN,
UPON HIS ENLARGEMENT OUT OF THE TOWER.
PARDON, my lord, that I am come fo late
T'exprefs my joy for your return of fate!
So, when injurious Chance did you deprive
Of liberty, at first I could not grieve;
My thoughts awhile, like you, imprison'd lay;
Great joys, as well as forrows, make a stay;
They hinder one another in the crowd,
And none are heard, whilst all would speak aloud.
Should every man's officious gladness haste,
And be afraid to fhew itself the last,
The throng of gratulations now would be
Another lofs to you of liberty.
When of your freedom men the news did hear,
Where it was wish'd-for, that is every where,
"Twas like the fpeech which from your lips does fall; As foon as it was heard, it ravish'd all.
So eloquent Tully did from exile come;
Thus long'd-for he return'd, and cherish'd Rome;
Which could no more his tongue and counfels mifs;
Rome, the world's head, was nothing without his.
Wrong to thofe facred afhes I fhould do,
Should I compare any to him but you;
You, to whom Art and Nature did dispense
The confulfhip of wit and eloquence.
Nor did your fate differ from his at all,
Because the doom of exile was his fall;
For the whole world, without a native home,
Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
But like a melting woman fuffer'd he,
He who before out-did humanity;
Nor could his fpirit conftant and ftedfast prove,
Whose art 't had been, and greatest end, to move.
You put ill-fortune in fo good a dress,
That it out-fhone other men's happiness :
Had your prosperity always clearly gone,
As your high merits would have led it on,
You 'ad half been loft, and an example then
But for the happy-the least part of men.
Your very fufferings did fo graceful shew,
That some strait envy'd your affliction too ;
For a clear confcience and heroic mind
In ills their business and their glory find..
So, though lefs worthy ftones are drown'd in night,
The faithful diamond keeps his native light,
And is oblig'd to darkness for a ray,
That would be more opprefs'd than help'd by day.
Your foul then most fhew'd her unconquer'd power
Was ftronger and more armed than the Tower.
Sure unkind Fate will tempt your spirit no more;
Sh' has try'd her weakness and your strength before.
'T' oppose him ftill, who once has conquer'd fo,
Were now to be your rebel, not your foe;
Fortune henceforth will more of providence have,
And rather be your friend than be your slave.
Little thought the time would ever be,
That, I should wit in dwarfish pofies fee.
As all words in few letters live,
Thou to few words all fense dost give.
'Twas Nature taught you this rare art,
In fuch a little much to fhew;
Who, all the good she did impart
To womankind, epitomiz'd in you.
If, as the ancients did not doubt to fing,
The turning years be well compar'd to' a ring,
We'll write whate'er from you we hear;
For that 's the pofy of the year.
This difference only will remain—
That Time his former face does fhew,
Winding into himself again;
'But your unweary'd wit is always new.
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