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, 'O stay!' said he, ''tis done, I vow! FINE young Folly! though you were Y' are not worth the serious part! When I sigh, and kiss your hand; Swear, the sun ne'er shot such fires: When I eye your curl, or lace, Therefore, Madam, wear no cloud! Yet though truth hath this confest; And protest an amorous flame; You will swear I, in earnest am! Bedlam! This is pretty sport! VERSES WRITTEN AT THE TIME OF THE EXECUTION OF THOMAS WENTWORTH, EARL OF STRAFFORD; AND IN HIS NAME. Go, empty joys, With all your noise; And leave me here alone, Go, and insnare, With your false ware, Some other easy wight; And cheat him, with your flattering light! Of Honours, Favour, Wealth, and Power! Fill his big mind Of insolent applause! Let him not fear all-curbing Laws! But dream of something like a crown; Let him appear, Like CYNTHIA in her pride; Such, for their number and their light, As may, at last, o'erwhelm him quite; And blend us both in one dead night. Welcome, sad Night; Your mourning best agrees 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! |