THE WORLD.

I SAW Eternity, the other night,

Like a great Ring of pure and endless Light,
All calm as it was bright:

And round, beneath it, Time in Hours, Days, Years,
Driven by the Spheres,

Like a vast Shadow moved; in which, the World
And all her Train were hurled.

The doting Lover, in his quaintest strain,
Did there complain!

Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights;
Wit's sour delights!

With gloves and knots, the silly snares of Pleasure:
Yet his dear treasure

All scattered lay; while he, his eyes did pore
Upon a flower!

The darksome Statesman, hung with weights and woe, Like a thick midnight fog moved there so slow,

He did not stay, nor go!

Condemning thoughts, like sad eclipses, scowl
Upon his soul;

And clouds of crying witnesses without

Pursued him with one shout!

Yet digged the Mole! and lest his ways be found,
Worked under ground,

Where he did clutch his prey; but one did see
That policy!

Churches and altars fed him! Perjuries
Were gnats and flies!

It rained about him blood and tears; but he
Drank them as free!

The fearful Miser, on a heap of rust,
Sat pining all his life there! did scarce trust
His own hands with the dust!

Yet would not place one piece above; but lives
In fear of thieves!

Thousands there, were as frantic as himself;

And hugged, each one, his pelf! The downright Epicure placed heaven in Sense; And scorned pretence!

While others, slipped into a wide excess,
Said little less.

The weaker sort, slight trivial wares inslave!
Who think them brave:

And poor, despisèd Truth sat counting by

Their victory.

Yet some who, all this while, did weep and sing, And sing and weep, soared up into the Ring; But most would use no wing!

'O, fools!' said I, 'thus to prefer dark night Before true light!

To live in grots and caves; and hate the day, Because it shows the way!

The way which, from this dead and dark abode, Leads up to GOD!

A way where you might tread the sun; and be More bright than he!'

But as I did, their madness so discuss;

One whispered thus,

This Ring, the Bridegroom did for none provide, But for his Bride!

THE SURPRISE.

THERE's no dallying with LOVE;
Though he be a child and blind!
Then let none, the danger prove;
Who would, to himself be kind!
Smile he does, when thou dost play;
But his smiles, to death betray!

Lately with the Boy I sported.
Love I did not; yet love feigned.
Had not Mistress; yet I courted.
Sigh I did; yet was not pained.
Till, at last, this love in jest,
Proved in earnest my unrest!

When I saw my Fair One first,
In the feigned fire I burned;

But true flames, my poor heart pierced,
When her eyes on mine she turned,
So a real wound I took,
For my counterfeited look!

Slighted Love, his skill to show,
Struck me with a mortal dart;
Then I learnt that, 'gainst his bow,
Vain are the weak helps of Art!
And, thus captived, found that true
Doth dissembled love pursue.

'Cause his fetters I disclaimed, Now the Tyrant faster bound me! With more scorching brands inflamed, 'Cause in love so cold he found me! And my sighs more scalding made, 'Cause with winds before they played!

None who loves not, then make show!
LOVE 's as ill deceived as Fate!
Fly the Boy; he'll cog and woo!

Mock him; and he wounds thee straight!
Ah! who dally, boast in vain ;
False love wants not real pain!

WEEPING AND KISSING.

A KISS I begged: but, smiling, She
Denied it me!

When, straight, her cheeks with tears o'erflown,
Now kinder grown,

What, smiling, She'd not let me have;

She, weeping, gave!

Then you, whom scornful Beauties awe,
Hope yet relief!

For Love (who tears, from smiles) can draw
Pleasure, from grief!