Know that all beneath the Moone decayes,
And what by mortalles in this world is brought,
In 'Time's great periods fhall returne to nought,
That fairest states have fatall nights and-dayes:
I know how all the Mufes heavenly layes;
With toyle of spright which are so dearly bought,
As idle founds, of few, or none are fought,
And that nought lighter is than airie praise.
I know fraile Beautie like the purple flowre,
To which one morne of birth and death affords,
That Love a jarring is of mindes accords,
Where Senfe and Will invaffall Reason's power:
Know what I lift, this all can not mee move
But that (oh mee!) I both must write and love.
Drummond, Edinb. 1616.
RESTORE thy Treffes to the golden Oar;
Yield Citherea's Son thofe Arks of Love:
Bequeath the Heav'ns the Stars that I adore;
And to th' Orient do thy Pearls remove.
Yield thy hands pride unto the ivory white;
T' Arabian Odors give thy breathing sweet;
Restore thy Blush unto Aurora bright;
To Thetis give the honour of thy Feet.
Let Venus have thy Graces her refign'd;
And thy fweet Voice give back unto the Spheres ;
But
yet restore thy fierce and cruel Mind
To Hyrcan Tygers, and to ruthlefs Bears.
Yield to the Marble thy hard Heart again;
So fhalt thou ceafe to plague, and I to pain.
Daniel, XIX. Son. 1718. Ed. a V.
SINCE there's no help, come let us kifs and part,
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yeą glad with all my heart,
That thus fo cleanly I myself can free,
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows,
That we one jot of former love retain ;
Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When his pulfe failing, paffion fpeechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is clofing up his eyes,
Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over
From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.
Dayton, LXI. Son.
MY Lute, bee as thou waft, when thou didst grow
With thy greene mother in fome fhadie grove,
When immelodious windes but made thee move,
And birds on thee their ramage did bestow.
Sith that deare voyce, which did thy founds approve
Which used in fuch harmonious ftraines to flow,
Is reft from Earth to tune thofe fpheares above,
What art thou but a harbinger of woe?
Thy pleafing notes be pleafing notes no more,
But orphane wailings to the fainting care,
Each floppe a figh, each found drawes foorth a teare,
Be therefore filent as in woods before,
Or if that any hand to touch thee daigne,
Like widow'd Turtle ftill her loffe complaine.
Drummond, Edin. Ed. 1616.
ARE-charmer Sleep, Son of the fable Night;
Brother to Death, in filent darkness born:
Relieve my languish, and restore the light;
With dark forgetting of my care, return.
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The Shipwreck of my ill-advifed Youth:
Let waking eyes fuffice to wail their fcorn,
Without the torments of the night's untruth.
Ceafe, dreams, the images of day-defires,
To model forth the paffions of the morrow;
Never let rifing Sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my forrow.
Still let me fleep, embracing clouds in vain;
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.
My heart was flain, and none but you and I';
Who fhould I think the murder should commit ?
Since but yourself there was no creature by,
But only I; guiltlefs of murd'ring it.
It flew itself; the verdict on the view
Do quit the dead, and me not acceffary:
Well, well, I fear it will be prov'd by you,
The evidence fo great a proof doth carry.
But O, fee, fee, we need enquire no further,
Upon your lips the scarlet drops are found,
And in your eye the Boy that did the murder,
Your cheeks yet pale, fince first he gave the wound.
By this I fee, however things be past,
Yet Heaven will still have murder out at last.
ALEXIS, here thee stay'd, among these pines
(Sweet Hermitreffe) fhee did alone repaire,
Here did fhe spreade the treasure of her haire,
More rich than that brought from the Cholchian mines.
She fet her by these musket Eglantines;
The happie place the print feemes yet to beare,
Her voyce did fweeten here thy fugred lines,
To which windes, trees, beasts, birds, did lend their eare ;
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