Whate'er delight

Can make Day's forehead bright;

Or give down to the wings of Night!

In her whole frame,

Have Nature all the name;

Art and Ornament, the shame!

Her flattery,

Picture and Poesy!

Her counsel, her own virtue be!

I wish her store

Of worth may leave her poor
Of Wishes! And I wish-

Now, if Time knows

-No more!

That Her, whose radiant brows

Weave them a garland of my vows;

Her, whose just bays

My future hopes can raise

A trophy to her present praise;

Her, that dares be

What these Lines wish to see:

I seek no further! It is She!

'Tis She! and here,

Lo, I unclothe, and clear,
My Wishes' cloudy Character!

May she enjoy it,

Whose merit dares apply it;

But modesty dares still deny it!

Such worth as this is

Shall fix my flying Wishes;

And determine them to kisses!

Let her full glory,

My Fancies, fly before ye!

Be ye my fictions; but her story!

OUT OF THE ITALIAN.

To thy Lover,

Dear! discover

That sweet Blush of thine! that shameth (When those roses

The air does woo thee!

Winds cling to thee!

Might a word once fly from out thee,
Storm and thunder

Would sit under;

And keep silence round about thee!

But if Nature's

Common creatures,

So dear glories dare not borrow;
Yet thy beauty

Owes a duty

To my loving, ling'ring sorrow!

When, to end me,

Death shall send me

All his terrors, to affright me:
Thine eyes' graces

Gild their faces;

And those terrors shall delight me!

When my dying

Life is flying,

Those sweet Airs, that often slew me, Shall revive me;

Or reprive me,

And to many deaths renew me!

AN EPITAPH

UPON A YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE
DEAD AND BURIED TOGETHER.

To these, whom Death again did wed;
This grave's their second Marriage Bed.
For though the hand of Fate could force,
'Twixt soul and body a divorce;

It could not sunder Man and Wife!
'Cause they both livèd but one life.
Peace, good Reader! do not weep!
Peace, the Lovers are asleep!
They, sweet turtles, folded lie

In the last knot Love could tie!

And though they lie as they were dead
(Pillow hard; and sheets not warm!);
Love made the bed! They'll take no harm!
Let them sleep! Let them sleep on,

Till this stormy night be gone;
And th' eternal morrow dawn!

Then, the curtains will be drawn!
And they wake into that Light;

Whose Day shall never die in Night!

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