TO PRIMROSES

FILLED WITH MORNING DEW.

WHY do ye weep, sweet babes? Can tears
Speak grief in you!

Who were but born

Just as the modest Morn
Teemed her refreshing dew!

Alas, you have not known that shower
That mars a flower!

Nor felt th' unkind
Breath of a blasting wind!
Nor are ye worn with years,
Or warped, as we!

Who think it strange to see

Such pretty flowers (like to orphans young)
To speak by tears, before ye have a tongue!

Speak, whimp'ring Younglings! and make known
The reason, why

Ye droop and weep!

Is it for want of sleep,
Or childish lullaby?

Or that ye have not seen, as yet,
The Violet?

Or brought a kiss

From that Sweetheart, to this?
No! no! this sorrow shown

By your tears shed,

Would have this lecture read.

That things of greatest, so of meanest, worth, Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.

FOUR THINGS MAKE US HAPPY HERE.
HEALTH is the first good lent to men;
A gentle disposition then;
Next, to be rich by no by-ways;
Lastly, with friends, t' enjoy our days.

TO BE MERRY.

LET 's now take our time,
While w' are in our prime;
And old, old age is afar off!
For the evil, evil days

Will come on apace;

Before we can be aware of!

HIS WISH TO PRIVACY.

GIVE me a cell

To dwell,

Where no foot hath
A path!
There, will I spend,
And end,

My wearied years

In tears!

THE HAG.

THE Hag is astride,

This night for to ride,
The Devil and she together;

Through thick and through thin,
Now out and then in,
Though ne'er so foul be the weather.

A thorn, or a burr,

She takes for a spur;

With a lash of a bramble she rides now! Through brakes and through briars, O'er ditches and mires,

She follows the Spirit that guides now.

No beast, for his food,

Dares now range the wood;
But hushed in his lair he lies lurking:
While mischiefs, by these,

On land and on seas,
At noon of night, are a working.

The storm will arise

And trouble the skies,

This night! and, more for the wonder,
The ghost, from the tomb,

Affrighted shall come;

Called out by the clap of the thunder.

TO MEADOWS.

YE have been fresh and green!
Ye have been filled with flowers!
And ye, the walks have been,
Where Maids have spent their hours!

Ye have beheld, how they,

With wicker arks did come,

To kiss, and bear away

The richer cowslips home!

Y'ave heard them sweetly sing;
And seen them in a Round!
Each Virgin, like a Spring,
With honeysuckles crowned.

But now, we see none here!
Whose silv'ry feet did tread;
And, with dishevelled hair,
Adorned this smoother mead.

Like Unthrifts, (having spent
Your stock; and needy grown)

Y' are left here to lament

Your poor estates alone!

TO ANTHEA;

WHO MAY COMMAND HIM ANY THING.

BID me to live! and I will live

Thy Protestant to be;

Or bid me love! and I will give
A loving heart to thee!

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free,
As in the whole world thou canst find;
That heart I'll give to thee!

Bid that heart stay! and it will stay,
To honour thy decree;

Or bid it languish quite away!
And 't shall do so for thee!

Bid me to weep! and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see!
And having none; yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee!

Bid me despair! and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree!

Or bid me die! and I will dare

E'en death, to die for thee!