Make it fo large, that, fill'd with fack
Up to the fwelling brim,
Vaft toafts on the delicious lake,

Like ships at fea, may fwim.

Engrave not battle on his cheek;

With war I've nought to do;
I'm none of those that took Mæftrick,
Nor Yarmouth leaguer knew.

IV.

Let it no name of planets tell,

Fix'd ftars, or conftellations:

For I am no Sir Sidrophel,

Nor none of his relations.

V.

But carve thereon a spreading vine;

Then add two lovely boys;

Their limbs in amorous folds intwine,

The type of future joys.

VI. Cupid

VI.

Cupid and Bacchus my faints, are.
May drink and love still reign!
With wine I wash away my cares,
And then to Love again.

A S O N G.

1.

S Chloris full of harmlefs thoughts
Beneath a willow lay,

Kind Love a youthful shepherd brought,
To pass the time away.

II.

She blush'd to be encounter'd fo,
And chid the amorous fwain ;
But, as fhe ftrove to rife and go,
He pull'd her down again.

III.

A fudden paffion feiz'd her heart,
In fpight of her disdain ;

She found a pulse in every part,

And love in every vein.

IV.

Ah, youth! (faid fhe) what charms are thefe,

That conquer and furprize?

Ah! let me----for, unless you pleafe,

I have no power to rise.

V. She

V.

You that could my heart fubdue,
To new conquefts ne'er pretend:
Let th' example make me true,

And of a conquer'd foe a friend.

I Cannot change, as others do,

Though you unjustly scorn;

Since that poor fwain that fighs for you,

No, Phillis, no, your heart to move

A furer way I'll try;

And, to revenge my flighted love,

Will still love on, will still love on, and die.

II.

When, kill'd with grief, Amyntas lies,

And you to mind fhall call

The fighs that now unpity'd rife,

The tears that vainly fall:

That

That welcome hour that ends this fmart,
Will then begin your pain;

For fuch a faithful tender heart

Can never break, can never break in vain.

MY

Soft as thofe kind looks fhe gave me,

When, with love's refiftlefs art,

And her eyes, she did enslave me.

But her conftancy's fo weak,

She 's fo wild and apt to wander, That my jealous heart would break, Should we live one day afunder.

II.

Melting joys about her move,

Killing pleasures, wounding bliffes :

She can dress her eyes in love,

And her lips can warm with kiffes.

Angels liften when the speaks,

She's my delight, all mankind's wonder

But my jealous heart would break,
Should we live one day afunder.

A LETTER

From ARTEMISA in the Town,
To CLOE in the Country.

C

LOE, by your command in verfe I write ;
Shortly you 'Il bid me ride astride and fight :
Such talents better with our fex agree,
Than lofty flights of dangerous poetry.
Among the men, I mean the men of wit,
(At least they pafs'd for fuch before they writ)
How many
bold adventurers for the bays,

Proudly defigning large returns of praise;

Who durft that ftormy pathless world explore,

Were foon dafh'd back, and wreck'd on the dull fhore,
Broke of that little stock they had before!
How would a woman's tottering barque be toft,
Where ftouteft ships (the men of wit) are loft!
When I reflect on this, I straight grow wife,
And my own felf I gravely thus advise :
Dear Artemifa! poetry's a fnare ;
Bedlam has many manfions, have a care;

Your Mufe diverts you, makes the reader fad ;
You think yourself inspir'd, he thinks mad.
Confider too, 'twill be difcreetly done,

To make yourself the fiddle of the town.

you

To find th' ill-humour'd pleasure at their need : Curs'd when you fail, and scorn'd when you fucceed.

Thus,