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ON CHLORIS WALKING IN THE SNOW.
I saw fair CHLORIS walk alone,
The wanton snow flew to her breast,
WHEN THIRSIS did the splendid eye
Fair PHILLIS, with a blushing Air,
Then, with a winning smile and look,
FINE young Folly! though you were
For we, Courtiers, learn at school,
Only with your Sex to fool!
When I sigh, and kiss your hand
Then dilate on my desires,
Swear, the sun ne'er shot such fires : All is but a handsome lie!
When I eye your curl, or lace,
And your virtue doth begin
To grow scrupulous of my sin : When I talk, to show my wit!
Therefore, Madam, wear no cloud !
'Tis the powder in your hair,
Not your breath, perfumes the air ! And your clothes, that set you out!
Yet though truth hath this confest;
And protest an amorous flame;
You will swear I, in earnest am ! Bedlam! This is pretty sport!
WRITTEN AT THE TIME OF THE EXECUTION OF
THOMAS WENTWORTH, EARL OF STRAFFORD;
AND IN HIS NAME.
Go, empty joys,
With all your noise;
Your vain and fleet delight!
Go, and insnare,
With your false ware,
Rain on his head, a shower
Fill his big mind
Of insolent applause!
Nor King! nor people's frown !
Let him appear,
In his bright Sphere,
Such, for their number and their light,
Welcome, sad Night;
Grief's sole delight! Your mourning best agrees With Honour's funeral obsequies !
In Thetis lap he lies, Mantled with soft securities; Whose too much sunshine blinds his eyes!
Was he too bold,
That needs would hold, With curbing reins, the Day; And make Sol's fiery steeds obey ?
Then, sure, as rash was I ! Who, with ambitious wings, did fly In CHARLES his Wain too loftily!