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VIGHING and languishing I lay,
A stranger grown to all delight, Passing with tedious thoughts the day,
And with unquiet dreams the night.
For your dear fake, my only care
fatal love to hide; For ever drooping with despair,
Neglecting all the world beside :
Till, like some angel from above,
CORNELIA came to my relief; And then I found the joys of love
Can make amends for all the grief.
Those pleasing hopes I now pursue,
Might fail, if you could prove unjuft ; But promises from heav'n and you,
Who is so impious to mistrust?
Here all my doubts and troubles end;
soul assures; Nor am I vain, since I depend
Not on my own desert, but yours.
EJECTED, as true converts die,
But yet with fervent thoughts inflam’d, So, fairest! at your feet I lie,
Of all my fex's faults alham'd.
Too long, alas ! have I abus'd
Love's innocent and facred dame, And that divinest pow'r have us’d
To laugh at, as an idle name.
But since so freely I confess
A crime which may your scorn produce, Allow me now to make it less
By any just and fair excufe.
I then did vulgar joys pursue,
Variety was all my bliss ; But ignorant of love and you,
How could I chufe but do amiss?
If ever now my wandring eyes
Seek out amusements as before ; If e'er I look, but to despise
Such charms, and value yours the more;
May sad remorse, and guilty shame,
Revenge your wrongs on faithless me; And, what Wremble ev'n to name,
May I lose all in losing thee.
In Imitation of ANACREON.
HOU flatterer of all the fair,
Come with all your skill and care;
With her tempting eyes begin,
Next, draw her forehead; then her nose,
That if you,
To our very soul they strike,
But so pure a white and red,
In her looks, and in her mien, Such a graceful air is seen,
your art, Can but reach the smallest part; Next to her, the matchless she, We shall wonder molt at thee.
Then her neck, and breasts, and hair, And her—but my charming fair Does in a thousand things excel, Which I must not, dare not tell.
How go on then? oh! I fee, A lovely VENUS drawn by thee; Oh how fair she does appear ! Touch it only here and there. Make her yet feem more divine, Your Venus then may look like mine, Whose bright form if once you saw, You by her would Venus draw.
On Don Alonzo's being killed in Portugal,
upon account of the INFANTA, in the Year 1683.
N such a cause no muse should fail
To bear a mournful part; 'Tis just and noble to bewail
The fate of fall'n defert.
In vain ambitious hopes design'd
To make his soul aspire,
To raise a brighter fire.
Amidst so many dang'rous foes
e ! Reason itself would scarce oppose,
And seems agreed with love.
If from the glorious height he falls,
He greatly daring dies;
An empire is the prize.