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WHEN this fly liv'd, she us'd to play
In the sunshine all the day;
Till coming near my Celia's sight,
She found a new and unknown light,
So full of glory, as it made

The noon-day Sun a gloomy shade;
Then this amorous fly became
My rival, and did court my flame.
She did from hand to bosom skip,

And from her breath, her cheek, and lip,
Suck'd all the incense and the spice,
And grew a bird of paradise:

At last into her eye she flew,

There scorch'd in flames and drown'd in dew,
Like Phaeton from the Sun's sphere,
She fell, and with her dropp'd a tear;
Of which a pearl was straight compos'd,

Wherein her ashes lie enclos'd.

Thus she receiv'd from Celia's eye,

Funeral flame, tomb obsequy.



HARK how my Celia, with the choice
Music of her hand and voice

Stills the loud wind; and makes the wild
Incensed boar and panther mild!

1 Cupid.

Mark how these statues like men move, Whilst men with wonder statues prove! The stiff rock bends to worship her, That idol turns idolater.

Now see how all the new inspir'd
Images with love are fir'd!

Hark how the tender marble groans,
And all the late transformed stones
Court the fair nymph with many a tear,
Which she (more stony than they were)
Beholds with unrelenting mind;
Whilst they, amaz'd to see combin'd
Such matchless beauty with disdain,
Are all turn'd into stones again.



You that think Love can convey,
No other way

But through the eyes, into the heart
His fatal dart,
Close up those casements, and but hear
This Syren sing,

And on the wing

Of her sweet voice it shall appear
That Love can enter at the ear:

Then unveil your eyes, behold
The curious mould

Where that voice dwells; and as we know,
When the cocks crow,
We freely may
Gaze on the day;

So may you, when the music's done,
Awake, and see the rising Sun.




SEEK not to know my love, for she
Hath vow'd her constant faith to me;
Her mild aspects are mine, and thou
Shalt only find a stormy brow:
For, if her beauty stir desire

In me, her kisses quench the fire;

Or, I can to Love's fountain go,

Or dwell upon her ills of snow :

But when thou burn'st, she shall not spare

One gentle breath to cool the air;

Thou shalt not climb those alps, nor spy

Where the sweet springs of Venus lie.
Search hidden nature, and there find
A treasure to enrich thy mind;
Discover arts not yet reveal'd,
But let my mistress live conceal'd;
Though men by knowledge wiser grow,
Yet here 'tis wisdom not to know.

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MARK how the bashful morn in vain
Courts the amorous marigold
With sighing blasts and weeping rain;
Yet she refuses to unfold:
But when the planet of the day
Approacheth with his powerful ray,
Then she spreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin leaves'.
So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy;
If thy tears and sighs discover
Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy

The just reward of a bold lover:
But when with moving accents thou
Shalt constant faith and service vow,
Thy Celia shall receive those charms
With open ears, and with unfolded arms.

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A modern poet seems to have availed himself of this beautiful passage, and made a very happy use of it. See the Fables of Flora, Fab. I.We may observe here, that many, very many of the most beautiful passages which are found in the poems of this age, have been borrowed from the neglected bards of the 16th and 17th centuries.

? That the reader may not be surprised at our author's having entitled this piece a Pastoral Dialogue, in which we do not find even the most distant allusion drawn from pastoral life; it may be necessary to inform him, that it was a prevailing custom in our author's time, to style almost every poetical dialogue of which love was the subject, pastoral. Most of the wits of Charles's court left propriety to be studied by the following age.

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They kist, and wept; and from their lips and eyes,
In a mixt dew of briny sweet,
Their joys and sorrows meet 2;
But she crys out. NYм. Shepherd, arise,
The Sun betrays us else to spies.

imitation of the scene between Romeo and Juliet, This pastoral dialogue seems to be entirely an Act. iii. sc. 7. The time, the persons, the sentiments, the expressions, are the same.

JUL. Yon light is not day-light, I know it well;
It is some meteor, &c.

To light thee on thy way to Mantua.

2 It is impossible to pass over these three lines


The winged houres fly fast whilst we embrace;
But when we want their help to meet,
They move with leaden feet.

NYM. Then let us pinion Time, and chace
The day for ever from this place.


Hark! NYM. Ah me stay! SHEP. For ever. NYM. No, arise;

We must be gone. SHEP. My nest of spice. NYM. My soul. SHEP. My paradise. [eyes CHO. Neither could say farewell, but through their Grief interrupted speech with tears supplies.


READ in these roses the sad story
Of my hard fate and your own glory:
In the white you may discover
The paleness of a fanting lover;
In the red, the flames still feeding

On my heart with fresh wounds bleeding.
The white will tell you how I languish,
And the red express my anguish :
The white my innocence displaying,
The red my martyrdom betraying.
The frowns that on your brow resided,
Have those roses thus divided;

Oh! let your smiles but clear the weather,
And then they both shall grow together.




HAPPY youth, that shall possess
Such a spring-tide of delight,
As the sated appetite,

Still enjoying such excess,
With the flood of pleasure, less
When the hymeneal rite

Is perform'd, invoke the night,
That it may in shadows dress
Thy too real happiness;

Else, as Semele', the bright
Deity in her full height

May thy feeble soul oppress.
Strong perfumes and glaring light
Oft destroy both smell and sight.

with inattention. The delicacy of the thought is equalled ouly by the simplicity of the description. Those soft sensations which arise in lovers wher their joys and sorrows meet, as a man of genius only can describe them, so a man of taste only can conceive them.

When Jupiter descended from Heaven to Semele, she was dazzled and overpowered by the splendour of his divinity.




WEEP not, nor backward turn your beams,
Fond eyes; sad sighs, lock in your breath;
Lest on this wind, or in those streams,

My griev'd soul fly, or sail to death,
Fortune destroys me if I stay,
Love kills me if I go away;

Since Love and Fortune both are blind,
Come, Reason, and resolve my doubtful mind.


Fly, and blind Fortune be thy guide,
And 'gainst the blinder god rebel;
Thy love-sick heart shall not reside
Where scorn and self-will'd errour dwell;
Where entrance unto truth is barr'd;
Where love and faith find no reward;
For my just hand may sometime move
The wheel of Fortune, not the sphere of Love.


WEEP not, my dear, for I shall go
Loaden enough with my own woe:
Add not thy heaviness to mine;
Since fate our pleasures must disjoin,
Why should our sorrows meet? If I
Must go, and lose thy company,
I wish not theirs; it shall relieve
My grief, to think thou dost not grieve.
Yet grieve and weep, that I may bear
Every sigh and every tear
Away with me; so shall thy breast
And eyes, discharg'd, enjoy their rest :
And it will glad my heart, to see
Thou wert thus loth to part with me.



THE lady Mary Villiers lies
Under this stone: with weeping eyes
The parents that first gave her breath,
And their sad friends, laid her in earth.
If any of them, reader, were
Known unto thee, shed a tear:
Or if thyself possess a gem,

As dear to thee as this to them;
Though a stranger to this place,
Bewail in their's thine own hard case;
For thou perhaps at thy return
Mayst find thy darling in an urn.

'Daughter of George Villiers duke of Buckingham.


THE purest soul that e'er was sent
Into a clayey tenement

Inform'd this dust; but the weak mould
Could the great guest no longer hold;
The substance was too pure; the flame
Too glorious that thither came :
Ten thousand Cupids brought along
A grace on each wing, that did throng
For place there till they all opprest
The seat in which they sought to rest;
So the fair model broke, for want
Of room to lodge th' inhabitant.


THIS little vault, this narrow room,
Of love and beauty is the tomb :
The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear
Our clouded sky, lies darken'd here,
For ever set to us, by death

Sent to inflame the world beneath '.
'Twas but a bud, yet did contain
More sweetness than shall spring again;
A budding star that might have grown
Into a sun, when it had blown.
This hopeful beauty did create
New life in Love's declining state;
But now his empire ends, and we
From fire and wounding darts are free:
His brand, his bow, let no man fear;
The flames, the arrows, all lie here.




AND here the precious dust is laid,
Whose purely tempered clay was made
So fine that it the guest betray'd.

Else the soul grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shel! of sin,
And so was hatch'd a cherubin.

In height it soar'd to God above,
In depth it did to knowledge move,
And spread in breadth to gen'ral love.

Before, a pious duty shin'd
To parents; courtesy, behind;
On either side an equal mind.

Good to the poor, to kindred dear,
To servants kind, to friendship clear,
To nothing but herself severe.

So, though a virgin, yet a bride
To every grace, she justify'd
A chaste polygamy, and dy'd.

Learn from hence (reader) what small trust
We owe this world, where Virtue must,
Frail as our flesh, crumble to dust.



THE harmony of colours, features, grace,
Resulting airs (the magic of a face)
Of musical sweet tunes, all which combin'd
To crown one sovereign beauty, lie confin'd
To this dark vault: she was a cabinet

Where all the choicest stones of price were set;
Whose native colours and pure lustre lent
Her eye, cheek, lip, a dazzling ornament;
Whose rare and hidden virtues did express
Her inward beauties and mind's fairer dress;
The constant diamond, the wise chrysolite,
The devout sapphire, em'rald apt to write
Records of mem'ry, cheerful agate, grave
And serious onyx, topaz that doth save
The brain's calm temper, witty amethyst;
This precious quarry, or what else the list
On Aaron's ephod planted had, she wore:
One only pearl was wanting to her store;
Which in her Saviour's book she found exprest;
To purchase that, she sold Death all the rest.

Politeness, as well as charity, must incline us to believe, that the bard alludes in this expression to the heathen mythology, and that by the words "world beneath" he means the Elysium of the ancients.




WHEN, in the brazen leaves of fame, The life the death of Buckingham Shall be recorded, if Truth's hand Incise the story of our land, Posterity shall see a fair Structure, by the studious care Of two kings raised, that no less Their wisdom than their pow'r express; By blinded zeal (whose doubtful light Made Murder's scarlet robe seem white, Whose vain-deluding phantasms charm'd A clouded sullen soul, and arm'd A desperate hand thirsty of blood) Torn from the fair earth where it stood; So the majestic fabric fell.

His actions let our annals tell;


She was the eldest daughter of sir Thomas Wentworth, who was afterwards raised to the title of Cleveland, and to several important dignities in the state, by the interest of archbishop Laud.

2 This was George Villiers, the first duke of Buckingham, who was introduced to the court of James I. as his favourite; and afterwards, in the reign of Charles I. ascended to the highest dignities. He was the admiration and terrour of his time.

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