To her bosom; lastly fall
Down, and wander over all;
Range about those ivory hills,
From whose every part distils
Amber dew, there spices grow,
There pure streams of nectar flow;
There perfume thyself, and bring
All those sweets upon thy wing;
As thou return'st, change by thy power
Every weed into a flower,
Turn each thistle to a vine,
Make the bramble eglantine!
For so rich a booty made,
Do but this, and I am paid.
Thou canst with thy powerful blast
Heat apace, and cool as fast;
Thou canst kindle hidden flame,

And again destroy the same;

Then, for pity, either stir

Up the fire of love in her,

That alike both flames may shine,

Or else quite extinguish mine.

THE CRUEL MISTRESS.

We read of kings and gods that kindly took
A pitcher filled with water from the brook,
But I have daily tendered without thanks
Rivers of tears that overflow their banks;
A slaughtered bull will appease angry Jove,
A horse the Sun, a lamb the god of love,
But she disdains the spotless sacrifice
Of a pure heart that at her altar lies.
Vesta is not displeased if her chaste urn

Do with repaired fuel ever burn,

But my saint frowns, though to her honoured name,

I consecrate a never-dying flame.

The Assyrian king did none i' the furnace throw

But those that to his image did not bow,

With bended knees I daily worship her,
Yet she consumes her own idolater.

Of such a goddess no times leave record,
That burned the temple where she was adored.

A DEPOSITION FROM LOVE.

I was foretold your rebel sex
Nor love, nor pity knew,

And with what scorn you use to vex
Poor hearts that humbly sue;
Yet I believed, to crown our pain,
Could we the fortress win,

The happy lover sure should gain
A paradise within.

I thought Love's plagues, like dragons, sate,
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter and enjoy

What happy lovers prove,

For I could kiss, and sport and toy,
And taste those sweets of love,
Which, if they had a lasting state,
Or if in Celia's breast

The force of love might not abate,
Jove were too mean a guest.

But now her breach of faith far more
Afflicts, than did her scorn before.

Hard fate! to have been once possessed
As victor of a heart,

Achieved with labour and unrest,

And then forced to depart ;
If the stout foe will not resign,
When I besiege a town,

I lose but what was never mine,
But he that is cast down

From enjoyed beauty, feels a woe
Only deposed kings can know.

DISDAIN RETURNED.

He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires,
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind,

Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts, with equal love combined,

Kindle never-dying fires; Where these art not, I despise Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.

No tears, Celia, now shall win,

My resolved heart to return;

I have searched thy soul within

And find nought but pride and scorn;

I have learned thy arts, and now

Can disdain as much as thou!

CELIA SINGING.

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 siren 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.

THE LADY TO HER INCONSTANT SERVANT.

When on the altar of my hand,

Bedewed with many a kiss and tear,

Thy now revolted heart did stand

An humble martyr, thou didst swear
Thus, and the God of Love did hear :-
By those bright glances of thine eye,
Unless thou pity me, I die!

When first those perjured lips of thine,
Bepaled with blasting sighs, did seal
Their violated faith on mine,

From the soft bosom that did heal

Thee, thou my melting heart didst steal;
My soul, enflamed with thy false breath,
Poisoned with kisses, sucked in death.

Yet I nor hand nor lip will move
Revenge or mercy to procure
From the offended god of love;

My curse is fatal, and my pure
Love shall beyond thy scorn endure;

If I implore the gods, they'll find
Thee too ungrateful, me too kind.

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.

Shepherd. Nymph. Chorus.

Shep. This mossy bank they pressed.

Did canopy the happy pair

All night from the damp air.

Nym. That aged oak

Cho. Here let us sit, and sing the words they spoke,
Till the day, breaking, their embraces broke.

Shep. See, Love, the blushes of the morn appear,
And now she hangs her pearly store,
Robbed from the eastern shore,

In the cowslip's bell and roses rare ;
Sweet, I must stay no longer here!

Nym. Those streaks of doubtful light usher not day,
But show my sun must set; no morn

Shall shine till thou return;

The yellow planets and the grey

Dawn shall attend thee on thy way.

Shep. If thine eyes gild my paths, they may forbear
Their useless shine. Nym. My tears will quite
Extinguish their faint light.

Shep. Those drops will make their beams more clear,
Love's flames will shine in every tear.

Cho. They kissed and wept, and from their lips and eyes,
In a mixed dew, of briny sweet

Their joys and sorrows meet;

But she cries out. Nym. Shepherd, arise,

The sun betrays us else to spies.

Shep. The winged hours 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 chase

The day forever from this place.

Shep. Hark! Nym. Ay me! stay! Shep. Forever: Nym. No! arise!

Cho.

We must be gone! Shep. My nest of spice!

Nym. My soul! Shep. My Paradise!

Neither could say farewell, but through their eyes
Grief interrupted speech with tears' supplies.

FROM THE RAPTURE.'

Meanwhile the bubbling stream shall court the shore,
The enamoured chirping wood-choir shall adore
In varied tunes the deity of Love,

The gentle blasts of western winds shall move