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It patiently lets her pail fill:
This, doth the babbling ECHO catch;
And so, at length, to me 't doth reach.
Straight, roused up, I verdict pass!
Concluding, from this bonny Lass

And the birds' strains, 'tis hard to say,
Which taught notes first? or she! or they!

Thus ravished, as the night draws on
Its sable curtain, in I'm gone

To my poor cell; which, 'cause 'tis mine,
I judge it doth all else outshine!
Hung with content, and weather proof;
Though neither pavement, nor roof,
Borrow from marble quarr below;
Or from those hills where cedars grow.
There, I embrace and kiss my spouse;
Who, like the VESTA to the house,
A syllabub prepares, to show,

By care and love, what I must owe.
Then, calling in the spawn and fry;
Who, whilst they live, ne'er let us die!
But every face is hers, or mine;
Though minted yet in lesser coin:
She takes an apple, I a plum,
Encouragements for all and some;
Till, in return, they crown the hearth
With innocent and harmless mirth!
Which sends us joyful to our rest;
More than a thousand others blest!


TO HIS (SUPPosed) mistress.

WHOE'ER She be!

That not impossible She

That shall command my heart and me;

Where'er She lie,

Locked up from mortal eye,

In shady leaves of Destiny;

Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth,

And teach her fair steps to our earth;

Till that divine

Idæa take a shrine

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:

Meet you her, my Wishes!

Bespeak her to my blisses!

And be ye called, My absent kisses!

I wish her Beauty,

That owes not all his duty

To gaudy 'tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie!

Something more than

Taffeta, or tissue, can;

Or rampant feather, or rich fan!

More than the spoil

Of shop, or silkworm's toil!

Or a bought blush! or a set smile!

A Face, that's best

By its own beauty drest;

And can, alone, command the rest!

A Face, made up

Out of no other shop

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope!

A Cheek, where Youth

And Blood, with pen of Truth,

Write what the Reader sweetly ru'th!

A Cheek, where grows

More than a morning rose!

Which to no box, his being owes.

Lips, where all day

A Lover's kiss may play;

Yet carry nothing thence away!

Looks, that oppress

Their richest tires; but dress

And clothe their simplest nakedness!

Eyes, that displace

The neighbour diamond; and outface That sunshine, by their own sweet grace!

Tresses, that wear

Jewels but to declare

How much themselves more precious are;

Whose native ray

Can tame the wanton day

Of gems, that in their bright shades play!

Each ruby there,

Or pearl, that dare appear,

Be its own blush! be its own tear!

A well-tamed Heart,

For whose more noble smart,

LOVE may be long choosing a dart!

Eyes, that bestow

Full quivers on Love's bow;

Yet pay less arrows, than they owe [own]

Smiles, that can warm

The blood; yet teach a charm,
That chastity shall take no harm!

Blushes, that bin

The burnish of no sin;

Nor flames of aught too hot within!

Joys, that confess

Virtue their mistress;

And have no other head to dress! ..

Days, that need borrow

No part of their 'Good morrow!'
From a forespent night of sorrow! ...

Life, that dares send

A challenge to his end;

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And, when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend!'

SIDNEAN showers

Of sweet Discourse; whose powers

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers!

Soft, silken hours!

Open suns! shady bowers!

'Bove all, nothing within that lowers!

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