Page images

A goblet next I'll drink
To OVID! and suppose
Made he the pledge, he'd think
The World had all one nose.

Then, this immensive cup
Of aromatic wine,
CATULLUS! I quaff up

To that terse Muse of thine!

Wild I am now, with heat!

O, BACCHUS! Cool thy rays; Or, frantic, I shall eat

Thy Thyrse, and bite the bays!

Round, round, the roof does run!
And, being ravished thus,
Come, I will drink a tun

Now, to TIBULLUS next;

This flood I drink to thee!

But stay! I see a text

That this presents to me.

Behold, TIBULLUS lies

Here burnt! whose small return

Of ashes scarce suffice

To fill a little urn.

Trust to Good Verses then!
They only will aspire,
When pyramids, as men,

Are lost i' th' funeral fire!

And when all bodies meet

In Lethe, to be drowned;
Then only Numbers sweet,
With endless life are crowned!


A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;

An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly;

A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;

A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility;

Do more bewitch me, than when Art Is too precise in every part.



CHARM me asleep! and melt me so
With thy delicious Numbers;
That, being ravished, hence I go
Away in easy slumbers!
Ease my sick head,

And make my bed,

Thou, Power that canst sever

From me this ill!

And quickly still,

Though thou not kill,

My fever!

Thou sweetly canst convert the same

From a consuming fire,

Into a gentle-licking flame,
And make it thus expire!
Then make me weep
My pains asleep,

And give me such reposes,
That I, poor I!

May think, thereby,

I live and die

'Mongst roses!

Fall on me, like a silent dew;
Or like those maiden showers,
Which, by the peep of day, do strew
A baptism o'er the flowers!
Melt, melt my pains

With thy soft strains!
That, having ease me given,
With full delight,

I leave this light,
And take my flight
For Heaven!


Me pay the debt
I owe thee, for a kiss,
Thou lend'st to me;

And I to thee

Will render ten for this!

If thou wilt say,

'Ten will not pay

For that so rich a one!'

I'll clear the sum!

If it will come

Unto a million.

By this I guess,
Of happiness,

Who has a little measure;

He must, of right,

To th' utmost mite,

Make payment for his pleasure!

[ocr errors]



ONE silent night, of late,

When every creature rested,

Came one unto my gate,

And, knocking, me molested.

'Who's that,' said I, 'beats there;
And troubles thus the sleepy?'
'Cast off,' said he, 'all fear!

And let not locks thus keep ye!

For I a Boy am, who

By moonless nights have swervèd; And all with showers wet through, And e'en with cold half starvèd.'

I pitiful arose,

And soon a taper lighted,
And did myself disclose

Unto the lad benighted.

« PreviousContinue »