Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe.


Written by Philomela.

LONDON: Printed for Iohn Dunton at the Raven in Iewen-street. 1696.


THE occasion of this Preface is, to give the World some ac­count of the Author of these Poems, as far as I'm permitted to do it: An Employment I the more wil­lingly chuse, because our Sex has some Excuse for a little Vanity, when they have so good Reason for't, and such a Champion among themselves, as not many of the other can [Page] boast of. We are not un­willing to allow Mankind the Brutal Advantages of Strength, they are Superior to ours in Force, they have Custom of their side, and have Ruled, and are like to do so, and may freely do it without Disturbance or Envy; at least they should have none from us, if they cou'd but keep quiet among themselves. But when they wou'd Monopo­lize Sence too, when neither that, nor Learning, nor so much as Wit must be allow'd us, but all over-rul'd by the Tyranny of the Prouder Sex; nay, when some of 'em won't let us say our Souls are our own, but wou'd perswade us we are no more Reasonable Creatures then themselves, or their Fellow-Animals; we then [Page] must ask their Pardons if we are not yet so Compleatly pos­sive as to bear all without so much as a murmur: We complain, and we think with reason, that our Fundamental Constitutions are destroyed; that here's a plain and an open design to render us meer Slaves, perfect Turkish Wives, without Properties, or Sense, or Souls; and are forc'd to Protest against it, and appeal to all the World, whether these are not notorious Viola­tions on the Liberties of Free-born English Women? This makes the Meekest Worm a­mongst us all, ready to turn agen when we are thus tram­pled on; But alas! What can we do to Right our selves? stingless and harmless as we are, we can only Kiss the [Page] Foot that hurts us. Howe­ver, sometimes it pleases Heaven to raise up some Brighter. Genius then ordina­ry to Succour a Distressed People—; an Epaminondas in Thebes; a Timoleon for Co­rinth; (for you must know we Read Plutarch now 'tis Translated) and a Nassaw for all the World: Nor is our Defenceless Sex forgotten—we have not only Bunduca's and Zenobia's, but Sappho's, and Behn's and Schurman's, and Orinda's, who have humbled. the most haughty of our An­tagonists, and made 'em do Homage to our Wit, as well as our Beauty. 'Tis true, their Mischievous and Envious sex have made it their utmost endeavours to deal with us, as Hannibal [Page] was serv'd at Capua, and to Corrupt that Virtue which they can no otherwise over­come: and sometimes they prevail'd: But, if some An­gels fell, others remain'd in their Innocence and Perfecti­on, if there were not also some addition made to their Happiness and Glory, by their continuing stedfast. Angels Love, but they love Virtu­ously and Reasonably, and neither err in the Object, nor the Manner: And if all our Poetesses had done the same, I wonder what our Enemies cou'd have found out to have objected against us: However, here they are si­lenc'd; and I dare be bold to say, that whoever does not come extreamly preju­dic'd [Page] to these Poems, will find in 'em that vivacity of Thought, that purity of Lan­guage, that softness and deli­cacy in the Love-part, that strength and Majesty of Num­bers almost every where, especially on Heroical Sub­jects, and that clear and un­affected Love to Virtue; that heighth of Piety and warmth of Devotion in the Canticles, and other Religious Pieces; which they will hardly find exceeded in the best Authors on those Different Kinds of Writing, much less e­quall'd by any single Wri­ter.

And now I have nothing more, I think, lies upon my Hands, but to assure the [Page] Reader, that they were actu­ally Writ by a young Lady, (all, but some of the An­swers, as is well-known to some Persons of Quality and Worth) whose NAME had been prefix'd, had not her own Modesty absolutely for­bidden it.

The way of Thinking and Writing is all along the same, only varying with the Sub­ject; and the Whole so very agreeable a mixture, that un­less Philaret and my Self, who have the Honour to be her Friends, and who perswaded her to Publish this First Vo­lume, are very partial, 'tis more than probable, they will meet with so favoura­ble a Reception with the [Page] Pious and Ingenious Reader, that we may e're long prevail with Her to oblige the World with a Second Part, no way inferior to the former.

Elizabeth Iohnson.

To The AUTHOR Of these POEMS, Known only by Report, and by Her WORKS.

NO—'tis in vain—attempt not to persuade!
They were not, cou'd not be by Woman made:
Each Thought so strong, so finish'd every Line,
All o'r we see so rich a Genius shine;
O more then Man, we Cry, O Workmanship Divine!
Courtly the Stile as Wallers, clear, and neat,
Not Cowley's Sence more Beautiful, or great:
[Page] Numerous the verse, as Drydens flowing strain;
Smooth as the Thames, yet Copious as the Main.
But when the Author Royal Mary mourns,
Or in soft Fires for gay Orestes burns
Agen, our sexes Pride is undeceiv'd:
A Soul so Soft in Man yet never liv'd.
In vain, alas in vain our Fate we shun;
We Read, and Sigh, and Love, and are undon:
Circaean charms, and Female Arts we prove,
Transported all to some New World of Love.
"Now our Ears tingle, and each thick-drawn- Breath
"Comes hard, as in the Agonys of Death:
"Back to the panting Heart the purple Rivers flow,
"Our Swimming Eyes, to see, our Feet unlearn to goe:
[Page]"In every trembling Nerve a short-liv'd Palsy reigns,
"Strange Feavers boyl our Blood, yet shudder thro' our Veins,
Tyrannous Charmer hold [...] our Sence, our Souls restore!
Monopolize not Love, nor make the World adore!
Can Heavenly minds be angry! can she frown?
What Thunders has one eager Thought pull'd down?
Diana thus by the bold Hunter found,
Instead of Darts, shot angry Blushes round.
O Goddess Spare—all white as Cyprias Dove
Is thy untarnisht Soul, and Loves as Angels Love;
Honour and Virtue each wild-wish repel,
And doubly sink 'em to their Native Hell.
Saints may by thee their holiest Thoughts refine,
And Vestal-Virgin's dress their Souls by thine,
[Page]Sure none but you such Passion, cou'd, restrain;
None ever Lov'd like you, and Lov'd in vain.
What Age can equal, what Historian find
Such Tenderness, with so much Duty joyn'd?
Sappho and Behn reform'd, in thee revive,
In thee we see the Chast Orinda live.
Thy works express thy Soul we read thee there,
Not thine [...] Pencil draws more like, or fair.
As Flowers steal unobserv'd from Natures Bed,
And silent sweets around profusely shed,
So you in Secret shades unknown unseen
Commence at once a Muse, and Heroine.
Yet you're in vain unknown, in vain wou'd shrow'd
That Sun, which shines too bright t' endure a cloud.
Prepare then for that Fame which you despise!
But when you're seen still hide, O hide your Eyes!
Love Vertue, and adorn't still let us see
Such Wit and Beauty joyn'd with Piety.
Let Heaven and Heaven's Vicegerent always share
Your noblest Thoughts, and your most Dutious care.
WILLIAM's a Name, you're Fated to Record;
No Pen but yours can match the Heroes Sword.
If yon ASSOCIATE too, you'll guard Him (more
Then all the Loyal Myriads gon before.
Let harden'd Traitors know what 'tis to' abuse
The Patience of a King and of a Muse.
Let 'em no more a Monarch's Justice dare,
Draw off his side, at once, and END THE WAR!
[Page] These just, tho' poor Acknowledgments I send,
From distant Shades, to Heav'ns and Cesars Friend:
Those but debase, who weakly strive to raise,
You'll ne're grow vain with—'s humble praise.

THE Contents.
THE Contents.

TO the Author of these Poems, known only by Report, and by her Works.

Platonick Love
Page 1
Humane Love, by a Countrey Gentleman, in Answer to Platonick Love
To Mr.—on his Poem
To Mrs. Mary Friend, knowing her but by Report
Paraphrase on John 3. 16. For God so loved the World, that he gave his only Begotten Son, &c.
[Page]The Expostulation
To my Lady Carteret
And though after my Skin, Worms de­stroy this Body, yet in my Flesh shall I see God, Iob 19. 26.
To Sir Charles Sedley
To the Honourable Mrs. E. Stretchy
A Pindarick Poem on Habbakuk
The Athenians to the Compiler of the Pindarick now Recited
A Poetical Question concerning the Jaco­bites, sent to the Athenians
The Athenians Answer
Upon King William's passing the Boyn, &c.
[Page]The Vanity of the World, in a Poem to the Athenians
The Athenians Answer
The Rapture
A Paraphrase on the CANTICLES, Chap. I.
Chap. II.
Chap. III.
Chap. IV.
Chap. V.
Chap. VI.
The Fable of Phaeron Paraphrased from Ovid's Metamorphosis
The Wish, in a Poem to the Athenians, [...]d Alphabet
[Page]The Athenians Answer
To one that perswades me to leave the Muses
A Poem occasion'd by the Report of the Queen's Death
Paraphrase on John 21. 17.
Paraphrase on Cant. 5,6, &c.
A Pindarick to the Athenian So­ciety
Paraphrase on Revel. Chap. 1. from v. 13. to v. 18.
To a very Young Gentleman at a Dan­cing-School
To the same Gentleman
[Page] A Pastoral
To Celinda
Thoughts on Death
The Female Passion
To Strephon
Paraphrase on Malachy 3, 14.
On Mrs. Rebekah
By Dispair
To Orestes
The Athenians Answer to the foregoing Poem
Paraphrase on Canticles, 7, 11
[Page]Paraphrase on Micah, 6. 6, 7.
The Reflection
A Song
To Madam S.—at the Court
The Vision.—To Theron
A Pastoral Elegy
Parthenia, an Elegy
The Reply to Mr.—
A Pastoral on the Queen
A Farewel to Love

POEMS ON Several Occasions.

Platonick Love.

SO Angels Love and all the rest is dross,
Contracted, selfish, sensitive and gross.
Unlike to this, all free and unconfin'd,
Is that bright flame I bear thy brighter mind.
No stragling wish, or symptom of desire,
Comes near the Limits of this holy fire;
[Page 2]Yet 'tis intense and active, tho so fine;
For all my pure immortal part is thine.
Why should I then the Heav'nly spark controul,
Since there's no brighter Ray in all my Soul,
Why should I blush to indulge the noble flame,
For which even friendship's a degrading name.
Nor is the greatness of my Love to thee,
A sacriledge unto the Deity,
Can I th' enticing stream almost adore,
And not respect its lovely fountain more?


SO Angels love, So let them love for me;
As mortal, I must like a mortal be.
My Love's as pure as their's, more unconfin'd;
I love the Body, they but love the Mind.
Without enjoyment, Can desire be ill?
For that which wou'd a Man with pleasure fill;
This more intense and active, sure must be,
Since I both Soul and Body give to thee.
This flame as much of Heaven as that contains,
And more, for unto that but half pertains:
Friendship one Soul to th' other doth unite,
But Love joins all, and therefore is more bright.
Neither doth—Humane Love— Religion harm,
But rather us against our Vices arm:
Shall I not for a charming Mistress dye?
When Heaven commands increase and mulitply.

To Mr.—on his POEM.

SOme Tuneful Being now my Breast in­spire
With Thoughts as Gay and Noble as Celestial Fire;
For Clitus is my Theam;
But ah in vain born on Pindarick Wings,
My ventrous Muse
The mighty Aim pursues;
For to his Native Skies still Clitus mounts and Sings,
And we are distant still to an extream.
Behold the Heavenly Charmer, how he keeps a­loft;
While Angels Crowd, and Listen to his Song;
And not an Angel-Critick in the throng
That durst correct a Thought.
So Nobly are they Drest,
And Gracefully exprest;
So smoothly glide the Numbers from his Tongue;
So well his Touch the Charming Strings obey,
That all his Heavenly Auditors Admire,
To hear him weild an equal Theam with as much skill as they.
His Voice and Theam did even their Harps inspire;
And the Glad Anthem they repeat agen,
"Glory to God, Peace and Good-will to Men.

TO Mrs. MARY FRIEND; Knowing her but by Report.

'T Were both unjust and stupid to refuse
To so much Worth, the Tribute of my Muse;
Tho Saints, as well, may those Bright Forms express,
That in a Rapture they conceive of Bliss;
As I can give such Wondrous Charms their due,
Or, Dress in Words, my Brighter Thoughts of You:
Charming, and Gay, your Fair Idea seems
As Gay, as if compos'd of Love and Beams;
Such Heavenly Rays adorn your Lovely Eyes,
That, by Imagination, they surprize,
And, at your Feet, a Female Victim lies:
[Page 8]But how, Fair Nymph, will your Approaches Fire,
If Distant Charms such gentle thoughts in­spire.


On Joh. 3. 16— For God so loved the World, that he gave his on­ly begotten Son, &c.

YEs; so God loved the World; But where
Are this Great Loves Dimensions?
Even Angels stop; for, baffled here
Are their vast Apprehensions.
In vain they strive to Grasp the boundless thing;
Not all their Comments can explain the migh­ty Truth I Sing.
Yet still they pause on the Contents
Of this Amazing Story;
How he that fill'd the wide extents
Of Uncreated Glory?
He whom the Heaven of Heavens cou'd not contain;
Shou'd yet within the Sacred Maids contracted Womb remain.
They see him Born, and hear him Weep,
To aggravate their Wonder;
Whose Awful Voice had shook the Deep,
And Breath'd his Will in Thunder:
That Awful Voice, chang'd to an Infant's Cry;
Whilst in a Feeble Woman's Arms he seems constrain'd to lye.
A God (Ah! Where are Humane boasts?)
Extended in a Manger?
The Lord of all the Heavenly Hosts
Expos'd to Scorn and Danger?
The Onely Blest, the All-sufficient Weeps:
But Oh, who Guides the Staggering World, while its Protector Sleeps?
And canst thou Man ungrateful prove.
When 'twas for thy Salvation,
He left those Splendid Seats above,
His late bright Habitation?
Where all his Deity Shone, without the Allay
Of a Seraphick Vehicle, or deficated Clay.
Where he Transcendently possest
The Fullness of Perfection:
Tho here benighted and opprest,
The Type of all Dejection.
[Page 11]He asks for Food, that gave the Ravens Bread;
And the Great Founder of the World wants
where to lay his Head.
But Oh what Dark Catastrophe
Does Hell at last Conspire!
Behold! upon a Cursed Tree
The Lord of Life Expire:
From this, Amaz'd, the Sun withdraws his Eye,
Afraid to see his Maker Bleed, and the Eternal Dye.
The Seraphims that throng'd about,
'Twixt Hope and Consternation;
Now Blaze the Wondrous News throughout
The Radiant Corporation:
Who vainly strive the Mistery to scan,
And Fathom the Stupendious Depths of this
Great Love to Man.
He on the Rights of Justice stood,
With their Exalted Nature,
That now, through Streams of Sacred Blood
Wafts the Terrestial Creature;
Wafts Dufty-Man to that Felicity,
Which the Apostate Son of Light must never hope to see.

THE Expostulation.

HOw long, great God, a wretched captive here,
Must I these hated marks of bondage wear?
How long shall these uneasy chains controul
The willing flights of my impatient Soul?
[Page 13]How long shall her most pure intelligence
Be strain'd through an infectious screen of gross, corrupted sence?
When shall I leave this darksome house of clay;
And to a brighter mansion wing away?
There's nothing here my thoughts to entertain,
But one Tyr'd revolution o're again:
The Sun and Stars observe their wonted round,
The streams their former courses keep: No No­velty is found.
The same curst acts of false fruition o're,
The same wild hopes and wishes as before;
Do men for this so fondly life caress,
(That airy huss of splendid emptiness?)
Unthinking sots: kind Heaven let me be gone,
I'm tyr'd, I'm sick of this dull Farce's repetition.

To my Lady CARTERET.

TOo great your Power, and too soft my Breast:
The charming Inspiration to resist:
But Oh in what bold Strain shall I begin,
To breathe th' unusual Potent Instinct in?
Such pleasing looks, in midst of Spring, adorn
The Flowry Fields; so smiles the Beauteous Morn:
But, What are these dull Metaphors to you?
Or, What is all, my Fancy has in view?
A Form more fine, more accurately wrought,
Was ne'r conceiv'd by a Poetick Thought?
So mild your eyes, so beautiful and bright,
That lovelier eyes did ne'r salute the Light;
With such a gentle look, and such an air;
So lovely, so exceeding sweet, and fair,
To us, the Heavonly Messengers appear:
[Page 15]Whilst Man too feeble for their bright extreams,
With such soft Smiles as yours they'r forc't to al­lay their Beams.
‘And, though after my Skin, Worms destroy this Body, yet in my Flesh shall I see God,’Job 19. 26.
WHat tho my Soul rent from the close imbrace
Of this material consort, take its flight,
(Exil'd the Confines of her Native place)
And leave these eyes clos'd in a Dismal Night:
She shall agen resume the dear abode,
And, cloath'd in Flesh, I shall behold my God.
Tho in the Gloomy Regions of the Grave,
Forgotten, and insensible I lye;
That tedious night shall a bright morning have,
The welcome dawnings of Eternity.
[Page 16]My Soul shall then resume her old abode,
And cloath'd in flesh, I shall behold my God.
Altho resolv'd unto my Native dust,
Its proper part, each Element refine;
Yet at my awfull Makers breath they must
The Individual Particles resign:
And then my Soul shall take her old abode,
And cloath'd in Flesh, I shall behold my God.


BVt stay 'tis Sedley— and it were a crime
For me to grasp a Subject so sublime:
Since nothing but his own Coelestial lays
Are fit the Authour of such flights to praise,
Nor dare my thoughts make the unequal choice
My Infant-muse has yet, but try'd her tender voice.

To the Honourable Mrs. E—Stretchy.

THe Artful hand of Nature ne'r display'd
More skill, then when your Charming Self was made:
A Shape, a Face, and Meen so rare, that we
Think you her boasted Master-piece to be;
Whilst that Bright Soul that Heaven has plac't within,
Makes every Charm with double-lustre shine:
But since I on my Lyre can touch no String,
Equal to those great Merits, I would Sing,
Hopeless, to give such mighty Charms their due,
I'll leave the World to Brighter Thoughts of you.

A Pindarick POEM on HABBAKUK.

WHen God from Teman came,
And cloath'd in Glory from Mount-Paran shone,
Drest in th' unsufferable Flame
That hides his dazling Throne,
His Glory soon eclips'd the once bright Titan's Rays,
And fill'd the trembling Earth with Terror and Amaze.
Resplondent Beams did crown his awful Head,
And shining brightness all around him spread;
Omnipotence he graspt in his strong Hand,
And listning Death stood waiting on his dread Command;
Waiting 'till his resistless Bolts he'd throw;
Devouring Coals beneath his Feet did glow:
[Page 19]All Natures Frame did quake beneath his Feet,
And with his Hand he the vast Globe did mete;
The frighted Nations scattered,
And at his sight the bashful Mountains sled,
The everlasting Hills their Founder's Voice obey,
And stoop their lofty Heads to make th' Eternal way.
The distant Ethiops all Confusion are,
And Midian's trembling Curtains cannot hide their Fear:
When thy swift Chariots pass'd the yielding Sea,
The blushing Waves back in amazement flee,
Affrighted Iordan stops his flowing Vrn,
And bids his forward Streams back to their Foun­tain turn.
Arm'd with thy mighty Bow,
Thou marchedst out against thy daring Foe:
[Page 20]And very terrible thou didst appear
To them, but thus thy darling People cheer.
"Know, Iacob's Sons, I am the God of Truth,
"Your Father Iacob's God, nor can I break my Oath.
The Mountains shook as our dread Lord ad­vanc'd,
And all the little Hills around 'em danc'd:
The neighb'ring Streams their verdant Banks o'reflow,
The Waters saw and trembled at the sight,
Back to their old Abyss they go,
And bear the News to everlasting Night:
The Mother Deep within its hollow Caverns roars.
And beats the silent Shores.
The Sun above no longer dares to strive,
Nor will his frighted Steeds their wonted Iour­ney drive.
[Page 21]The Moon, to see her Brother stop his Car,
Grew pale, and curb'd her sable Reins for Fear,
Thy threatning Arrows gild their flaming way,
And at the glittering of thy Spear the Heathen dare not stay;
The very sight of thee did them subdue,
And arm'd with Fury thou the Vict'ry didst pur­sue.
So now, great God, wrapt in avenging Thun­der,
Meet thine and William's Foes, and tread them groveling under.


To the Compiler of the Pindarick now Recited.

WE yield! we yield! the Palm, bright Maid! be thine!
How vast a Genius sparkles in each Line!
How Noble all! how Loyal! how Di­vine!
[Page 22]Sure thou by Heaven-inspir'd, art sent
To make the Kings and Nations Foes repent,
To melt each Stubborn Rebel down,
Or the Almighty's hov'ring Vengeance show,
Arm'd with his glittering Spear and dreadful Bow,
And yet more dreadful Frown.
Ah wou'd they hear! ah wou'd they try
Th' exhaustless Mercy yet in store
From Earths and Heavens offended Majesty,
Both calmly ask, Why will they dye?
Ah! wou'd they yet Repent, and sin no more!
How bless'd, how happy we,
Cou'd all we write one Convert make,
How gladly New Assronts cou'd take
One Convert to dear Virtue, and dear Loyalty?
Tho' the full Crop reserv'd for thee.
Oh Virgin! touch thy Lyre:
[Page 23]What Fiend so stubborn to refuse
The soft, yet powerful Charms of thy Celestial Muse?
What gentle Thoughts will they inspire!
How will thy Voice, how will thy Hand,
Black Rebel-Legions to the Deep Command!
Black Rebel-Legions murmuring take their flight,
And sink away to conscious Shades of everlasting Night:
While those they left, amazed stand,
And scarce believe themselves, themselves to find
Cloath'd, calm, and in a better Mind.
Begin, begin, thy Noble Choice,
Great William claims thy Lyre, and claims thy Voice,
All like himself the Hero shew,
Which none but thou canst do.
[Page 24]At Landen paint him, Spears and Trophies round,
And Twenty thousand Deaths upon the slippery ground:
Now, now the dreadful Shock's begun,
Fierce Luxemburg comes thundering on:
They charge, retreat, return and fly,
Advance, retire, kill, conquer, dye!
Tell me, some God, what Gods are those
Enwrapt in Clouds of Smoak and Foes,
Who oft the tottering Day restore?
'Tis William and Bavaria, say no more!
William— that lov'd, that dreadful Name!
Bavaria! Rival of his Fame.
A third comes close behind, who shou'd he be?
'Tis Ormond! mighty Ormond! sure 'tis he:
'Tis nobly fought-they must prevail;
Ah no, our Sins weigh down the doubtful Scale.
[Page 25]Ah thankless England, they engag'd for thee,
Or never cou'd have miss'd the Victory:
With high Disdain from the moist Field they go,
And dreadfully Retreat, yet Face the trembling Foe.
Thus Sing, Bright Maid! thus and yet louder Sing,
Thy God and King!
Cherish that Noble Flame which warms thy Breast,
And be by future Worlds admir'd and bless'd:
The present Ages short-liv'd Glories scorn,
And into wide Eternity be born!
There Chast Orinda's Soul shall meet with thine,
More Noble, more Divine;
And in the Heaven of Poetry for ever shine:
There all the glorious few,
To Loyalty and Virtue true,
Like her and you.
[Page 26]'Tis that, 'tis that alone must make you truely great,
Not all your Beauty equal to your Wit,
(For sure a Soul so fine
Wou'd ne'r possess a Body less divine)
Not all Mortallity so loudly boast,
Which withers soon and fades,
Can ought avail when hurry'd to th' uncomfor­table Coasts,
Where wander wide lamenting Ghosts,
And thin unbody'd Shades.
'Tis Virtue only with you goes,
And guards you thro' Ten thousand Foes;
Hold fast of that, 'twill soon direct your flight
To endless Fame and endless Light;
If that you lose, you sink away,
And take eternal leave of Day.
Then fly false Man, if you'd an Angel prove,
And consecrate to Heaven your Nobler Love.

A Poetical Question concern­ing the Jacobites, sent to the Athenians.

'TWas nobly thought, and worthy—still;
So I resolv't' employ my Loyal Quill.
Virtue, and our unequall'd Heroes praise!
What Theams more glorious can exact my Lays
William! A Name my Lines grow proud to bear!
A Prince as Great, and wondrous Good, as e're
The sacred Burden of a Crown did wear.
Resolve me, then, Athenians, what are those,
(Can there be any such?) You call his Foes?
His Foes, Curst word, and why they'd pierce his breast,
Vngrateful Vipers! where they warmly rest?

The Athenians Answer.

THeir Name is Legion, grinning from a far
Against the Throne, who wage unequal War;
Tho' nearer, on perpetual Guard, attends
A far more numerous Host of brighter Friends:
Around our Prince, Heav'ns Care, the sacred Band
With fiery Arms in firm Battalia stand:
To him mild Light, and Lambent Beams they show,
But Wrath and Terror to his harden'd Foe.
See the black Phalanx melt, they melt away,
As guilty Ghosts slink from approaching Day,
Behold their Leaders, deckt in horrid State,
Nor wonder why they Heav'n and Caesar hate.
First mark their haughty General, arm'd com­pleat
In Plates of glowing Steel! 'tis Lucifer the great!
[Page 29]See his proud Standard o're his Tent enlarg'd!
With bloated Toads, an odious Bearing, charg'd.
The ancient Arms which once his Shield adorn'd,
Tho' 'tis of late to Flour-de-Lis's turn'd.
Blasphemous Belial! next thy Squadrons stand!
Lawless and Lewd, a baffled blasted band,
Each holds a kindled Pamphlet in his hand.
These make the Gross, the rest we may de­despise,
(Retailers they of Treason, and of Lies)
Lucifer's Friends, and Caesars Enemies.
Ah were there none but these, who wou'd not be
Proud and Ambitious of their Enmity!
There's one small party, near, too near their Line,
Which hover yet, and scarce know which to joyn.
No black, no ugly marks of Sin disgrace
Their nobler Forms, no malice in their Face:
A Duskier Gleam they wear then e're they fell,
Their Plumes just scorcht, too near ally'd to Hell.
[Page 30]What mad mistaken bravery draws 'em in,
Where Constancy's no Virtue but a Sin?
How can they still their fallen Prince esteem?
When false to Heaven, why are they true to him?
O! must they sink! a glorious Starry Race!
They are almost too good, for that sad place.
That waits their Fall: It must not, cannot be,
If err we do, wee'l err with Charity,
Father! they may be Sav'd! we'll joyn with Thee!

Vpon King William's passing the Boyn, &c.

WHat mighty genious thus excites my Breast
With flames too great to manage or resist;
And prompts my humbler Muse at once to Sing,
(Unequal Task) the Hero and the King.
[Page 31]Oh were the potent inspiration less!
I might find words its Raptures to express;
But now I neither can its force controul,
Nor paint the great Ideas of my Soul:
Even so the Priests Inspir'd, left half the Mind
Of the unutterable God behind.
Too soft's my Voice the Hero to express;
Or, like himself, the War-like Prince to dress;
Or, speak him Acting in the dreadful Field,
As Brave Exploits as e'r the Sun beheld;
(Secure, and Threatning as a Martial God,
Among the thickest of his Foes he Rode;
And, like an Angry Torrent forc't his way
Through all the Horrors that in Ambush lay:)
Or at the Boyne describe him as he stood
Resolv'd, upon the edges of the Flood:
On, on, Great William; for no Breast but Thine,
Was ever urg'd with such a Bold Design:
[Page 32]Indulge the Motions of this Sacred Heat;
For none but thee can weild a thought so great.
He's lanch'd, he's lanch'd; the foremost from the Shore;
The Noblest Weight that e'r the River Bore.
To smooth their Streams, the smiling Naides hast;
And, Rising, did him Homage as he pass'd:
And all the shapes of Death and Horror—
No more—ah stay—though in a cause so good;
'Tis pitty to expend that Sacred Blood.
Why wilt thou thus the boldest Dangers seek,
And foremost through the Hostile Squadrons break?
Why wilt thou thus so bravely venture all?
Oh, where's unhappy Albion, should'st thou fall?
Keep near him still, you kind AEthereal Powers;
That Guard him, and are pleas'd, the Task is yours.
[Page 33]All the Ill Fate that threatens him oppose;
Confound the Forces of his Foreign Foes,
And Treacherous Friends less generous then those;
May Heaven success to all his Actions give,
And long, and long, and long, let WILLIAM live:

The Vanity of the World, In a Poem to the Athenians.

WHat if serenely blest with Calms I swam
Pactolus! in thy golden Sanded stream?
Not all the wealth that lavish Chance cou'd give
My soul from Death cou'd one short Hour reprieve.
When from my Heart the wandring Life must move
No Cordial all my useless Gold cou'd prove.
What tho' I plung'd in Ioys so deep and wide,
'Twou'd tire my Thoughts to reach the distant side,
Fancy it self 'twou'd tire to plumb the Abyss;
If I for an uncertain Lease of this
Sold the fair hopes of an eternal bliss?
[Page 34]What if invested with the Royal State
Of dazling Queens, ador'd by Kings I sat?
Yet when my trembling Soul's dislodg'd wou'd be
No Room of State within the Grave for me.
What if my Youth, in Wits and Beautys bloom
Shou'd promise many a flatt'ring Year to come:
Tho' Death shou'd pass the beauteous Flourisher,
Advancing Time wou'd all its Glory marr.
What if the Muses loudly sang my Fame,
The barren Mountains ecchoing with my Name?
An envious puff might blast the rising Pride.
And all its bright conspicuous Lustre hide.
If o're my Relicks Monuments they raise
And fill the World with Flattery, or with Praise,
What wou'd they all avail, if sink I must,
My Soul to endless shades, my Body to the dust?

The Athenians Answer.

NOthing, Ah nothing! Virtue only gives
Immortal praise that only ever lives:
What pains wait Vice, what endless Worlds of Woe
You know full well, but may you never know.


LOrd [...] if one distant glimpse of thee
Thus elevate the Soul,
In what a heighth of Extasie
Do those bless'd Spirits roll,
Who by a fixt eternal View
Drink in immortal Raies;
To whom unveiled thou dost shew
Thy Smiles without Allays?
An Object which if mortal Eyes.
Cou'd make approaches to,
They'd soon esteem their best-lov'd Toys
Not worth one scornfull View.
How then, beneath its load of Flesh
Wou'd the vex'd Soul complain!
And how the Friendly Hand she'd bless
Wou'd break her hated Chain!

A Paraphrase on the CANTICLES.


WIlt thou deny the bounty of a Kiss,
And see me languish for the Melting bliss?
More sweet to me than bright delicious Wine,
Prest from the Purple clusters of the Vine:
[Page 37] As Fragrant too as Ointments poured forth,
Are the loud Eccho's of thy matchless worth;
Which makes the Virgins, kindled by thy fame,
Wish to expire in the Celestial Flame:
Come then, display thy Lovely Face, and we,
Drawn by resistless Charmes, will follow thee;
Into thy Royal Chambers brought, where I,
May see my Lord, and fear no Witness by.
I'm black, tis true, for scorching in the Sun;
I kept anothers Vine, and left my own;
But tho thus Clouded, the reflecting Face
Of my Bright Love shall all this blackness chase.
Say then my Dear, much dearer than my Soul;
Where feed thy Milky Flocks? Vnto what cool
Refreshing Shade dost thou resort? least I
Should (as I languish) in thy absence dye:
Say, Lovely Shepherd, say, What happy Streams
Are gilded now with thy Illustrious Beams?
I'll tell thee, Fairest of all Women, how,
Thou maist my most frequented Pastures know.
Follow the Footsteps of my Flocks, and there
I will not fail to Meet my Charming Fair.
Whom I, as Mistress of my Flocks will Grace,
And on her Brows immortal Garlands Place.
The while my Spicknard shall ascend, and Greet
My Charmer with its Tributary Sweet:
Then, all the Night, upon my Panting Breast,
As Fragrant Mirrh; let my Beloved Rest.
So Sweet he is, that Mirrh, nor Cypress ere
With such Delicious Breathings fill'd the Air.
When thy Two Lovely Eyes Inflame my Heart,
It leaps for Ioy, and meets th' unerring Dart.
Oh thou more Fair, more vastly bright, then all
The World did ever Bright, or Glorious call:
My Verdant Love still flourishing, to thee
Shall sixt, as our Eternal Mansions be.


AT thy Approach, my Cheek with Blushes glows,
And Conscious warmth, which with Thee comes and goes;
Like the Pale Lilly joyn'd to Sharon's-Rose;
And Thorns to them I sooner would compare,
Then other Beauties to my Darling Fair.
And I as soon would rank a Fruitful Tree
With barren shrubs, as Mortal clods with thee.
[Page 40]Beneath thy Shade, blest, to my wish, I sate,
And of thy Royal Banquet freely eat;
Whilst o'r my head a Banner was display'd:
In which, oh Melting Sight, the God of Love did Bleed.
Excess of Pleasure will my Soul destroy;
I'm ev'n opprest with the Tyrannick Joy:
Oh therefore turn thy Lovely Eyes away;
(Yet do not, for I die unless they stay.)
I faint, I faint; alas! no Mortal yet,
With eyes undazled half this Splendor met:
But sure I cannot sink, upheld by Thee;
So would I rest unto Fternity.
And now I charge you, Virgins, not to make
The least disturbance, till my Love awake,
What Charming Voice is that Salutes my Ear?
It must be my Beloved's; he is near:
He is, and yet unfriendly stays without:
He [...]ays, as if he did a Wellcome doubt.
[Page 41]But hark, methinks I hear him softly say;
Arise my Fair, arise, and come away!
For loe the Stormy Winter's past and gone;
And Summer, Drest in all her Pride, comes on:
The Warbling Birds in Airy Raptures Sing
Their glad Pindaricks to the Wellcome-Spring:
The Fig-Trees sprout, the Chearful Vines look Gay;
Arise my Lovely Fair, and come away!
Come Forth, my Dove, my Charming Innocence;
How canst thou Fear while I am thy Defence?
Do thou the Spightful Foxes then Destroy,
That would my Young Aspiring Vines Annoy.
Not for the World would I exchange my Bliss,
While my Beloved's Mine, and I am His.
And till the break of that Eternal Day,
Whose Rising Sun shall chase the Shades away;
Turn, my Beloved, turn again; and thy
Dear sight shall make the lazy Moments fly.


TWas in the deadness of a Gloomy Night,
My Love, more pleasant than the wisht­for Light,
O're all my Bed I vainly sought; for there
My Arms could Grasp no more than empty air:
Griev'd with my Loss, through all the streets I rove,
And every Ear with soft Complaints I move:
Then to the Watch, Impatient, thus I Cry;
Tell me, O tell! Did not my Love pass by?
When loe, a Glimpse of my approaching Lord,
A Heaven of Ioy did to my Soul afford:
So the dark Souls consin'd to endless Night,
Would smile, and wellcome-in a beam of Light.
I Clasps him, just as meeting Lovers wou'd,
That had the stings of Absence understood:
I held him fast, and Centring in his Breast,
My ravish'd Soul found her desired Rest.
[Page 43]Him to my Mothers House I did convey;
Humble it was, and yet he deign'd to stay.
And now I charge you, Virgins, not to make
The least disturbance, till my Love awake.
Glorious as Titan, from the Eastern Seas
A Beauty comes from yon dark Wilderness:
So Sacred Incense proudly rises up
In cloudy Pillars of perfumed smoak:
Compounded Spices of the greatest cost
Could ne'r such Aromatick sweetness boast.
The Shining Courts of Princely Solomon
Were nobly crowded with a Warlike Train:
All Arm'd compleatly, all Expert in Fight,
To Guard him from the Terrors of the Night.
A Chariot Royal too himself he had;
Its Pillars of refined Silver made:
[Page 44]The Seats of Gold, fair Purple Clouds above;
And, all the bottom, softly pav'd with Love.
But loe, a Prince then Solomon, more great;
On whom vast Toops of shining Angels wait:
His Crown more bright, and fixt, than that which shone
Upon the Nuptial brows of Solomon.


THo all the lower World should ransackt be,
There could be found no parallel for thee:
Thy Eyes like Doves, thy fair intangling Locks,
Curl'd, and soft as Gileads Milky Flocks:
Like them thy Pearly Teeth appear, for so
Vnsully'd from the Christal Streams they go.
But oh! To what may I thy Lips compare?
Since fragrant Roses Bloom not half so fair.
[Page 45]The Morning ne'r with such a Crimson blusht,
When from the Arms of sooty Night she rusht.
The ripe Pomgranates Scarlets are but faint,
To those fresh Beauties that thy Cheeks do paint.
Thy Neck and Breasts, in Whiteness, do out-goe
Vngather'd Lillies, or descending Snow.
And till the dawn of that expected Day,
When all my Radiant Glories I display,
And Chase, at once, the Injurious Shades away:
I'll on the Hills of Frankincense reside,
And pass the time with thee my Charming Bride;
My Love, in whom such vast perfections meet,
As renders her transcendently compleat:
Then, come with me, from Lebanon, my Spouse,
O come, and look beyond this Scene of woes:
Thou may'st, and yet it is but darkly, see
The bright abodes I have prepar'd for thee:
So sweet she looks, that in blest Transports I,
Meet the believing glances of her eye;
[Page 46]My All on Earth, my Sister, and my Spouse;
Whom, from a Vast Etornity I chose:
Not Golden Goblets, Crown'd with noble Wine
E're gave such Elevating Ioys as Thine;
Such, as the soft expressions of thy Love;
So much those dear, those charming accents move.
My Love is like a Flowry Mansion Wall'd,
Or some reserved Chrystal Fountain seal'd;
Whose Waves, untouch't, through secret Chan­nels slide,
Untainted, as the Silver Streams, that glide
From Heaven, assaulting Lebanon; and fair,
As Beauteous Edens Gilded Currents were.
Were I a Garden, every Flower in me
Should proudly yield their conscious Sweets to thee,
The ruddy fruits should thy arrival great,
And Smile, and gently bend, thy Lips to meet.
So strongly thy kind Invitations move,
I will my Garden see, my Garden, and my Love.
Not Hybla's Hives such precious Sweets can yield,
Nor Clusters brought from rich Engady's Field,
Which, to my lips, I'll raise with eager hast;
My Lips that long'd the Heavenly Fruit to tast.


THe Night her blackest Vestments had put on,
And all the fair remains of day were gone:
When my dear Lord, as he had oft before,
With Speed and Love approach'd the bolted Door:
Arise, my Love, he cries, and with a Voice,
Divinely charming, pleads his entrance thus;
My Spouse, my Sister, and my fairest Love,
(Believing, sure, that Dialect would move;)
[Page 48]Arise, for loaden with the Midnight Dew,
Disorder'd, all my streaming Tresses flew:
I knew the Voice, the moving Eloquence;
But ah! deluded by my drowsie sence;
Careless, and Soft, upon a Mossy Bed,
I lean'd Supine, with Odorous Roses spread;
And long, with weak Excuses, did delay,
Amazing him at my unwonted stay.
Mov'd, with his Patience, my relenting Breast,
Forgetting now to say, I am Vndrest.
Unto the Door, at length, I rusht, in spite
Of Darkness, and the Terrors of the Night;
With Rage, to break the guilty Bars I try'd,
Which Entrance to my Lord so long deny'd:
But found the dear resenting Charmer fled,
I curs'd my Sloth, and curs'd my conscious Bed.
Yet such a fragrant Sweetness fill'd the Air
From his dear Hands, I thought he had still been
[Page 49]I call'd aloud, still hoping he was near,
And louder still, but Ah! he wou'd not hear.
Then thro' the Streets, distracted with my Grief
I wildly roving, begg'd of all, relief.
At last I met th' ungentle Watch, and they
Deride my Tears, and for [...]e my Veil away.
Ye tender Virgins! you that know the pain
A Breast so soft as mine must needs sustain,
Robb'd of the once kind Partner of my Fires,
And still dear Object of my rackt desires;
I charge you, if you meet my absent Love,
With all the Rhetorick of our Sex, to move
His deafn'd Ears; and tell him, with a Sigh,
Deep as my Wounds, ah tell him how I dy.
—Perhaps that Tragick Word may force the dear
Relentless Author of my Grief to hear.
Daughters of Jerusalem.
What thy Beloved is, we first wou'd know,
Fairest of Women! thou dost charge us so.
What Charms unequal'd in him dost thou see,
Impatient Fair! to raise these Storms in thee?
Commencing all Perfection, he is such
Your most exalted Thoughts can hardly touch,
Unsully'd heaps of Snow are not so white,
He's Fairer than condensed Beams of Light.
His Rosy Cheeks of such a lucent Dy,
As Sol ne're gilded on the morning Sky.
His Head like polish'd Gold, his graceful Hair,
Dark as the Plumes that jetty Ravens wear.
[Page 51]His Eyes, the endless Magazines of Love,
How soft! how sweet! how powerfully they move!
He breathes more sweetness than the Infant Morn,
When Heavenly Dews the Flowry Plains Adorn.
The Fragrant Drops of Rich Arabian Gums
Burnt on the Altar, yield not such Perfumes.
His Hands, surpassing Lillies, grac'd with Gems
Fit to Enrich Coelestial Diadems.
His Breast smooth Ivory, Enamel'd all
With Veins, which Saphirs 'twere unjust to call
Divine his Steps, with his Majestick Air,
Not ev'n the Lofty Cedars can compare.
So sweet his Voice, the listning Angels throng
With silent Harps to th' Musick of his Tongue,
—He's altogether—Lovely, This is He,
Now, Virgins! Pity, tho' you envy Me.


BUt where, ah where can this bright won­der be
For, till we see Him, we are all on Fire;
We'll find Him out, or in the search Expire.
If my Prophetick Hopes can rightly guess,
The Lovely Wanderer in his GARDEN is
Among the Lillies, and the Spices; He
Is now perhaps kindly expecting Me;
Oh 'tis a Heaven of Ioy to think him Mine.
And who can see those Eyes and not be thine?
[Page 53]Thy Face, where all the Conquering Graces meet;
Where Majesty doth Virgin-softness greet:
Ah turn away those Fair Approachless Eyes;
I Love, but cannot bear the kind Surprize.
Hide, hide the intangling glories of thy Hair;
More bright than Streams of Fluid Silver are:
Expose no more thy Pearly Teeth, the while
Those Rosie Cheeks put on kind looks and smile:
Such genuine charmes, how strongly they allure
My Soul, and all their rivalls beams obscure.
They'r numberless, my Spouse, my Darling Fair;
But one, the Choice, and all her Mother bare.
The Royal Beauties saw, the blest the Sight;
And Setting, wonder'd at a Star so Bright.
Who is't, they say, Fair as the breaking Morn,
When ruddy beams the bashful Skys adorn?
[Page 54]Clear as the Lamp that Gilds the Sable Night;
Dazling as Sols unsufferable Light:
Gentle, but awfull, as a Scene of War;
At once her Graces conquer and Indear.
And could'st thou think, my Love, I e're de­sign'd
To leave a Spouse so Beautiful and Kind?
I went but down into the Almond-grove,
A Lone-recess, indulgent to my Love;
Thence rang'd the pleasant Vale, whose Spread­ing Vine
May quit my care perhaps with Bounteous Wine:
Where the Pomgranets Blooming-Fruits dis­play
More Sanguine-Colours then the Wings of Day:
[Page 55]Or e're I was aware, my happy Eyes
Met Thee, a Juster Object of surprize;
Fair as a Vision breaking from the Skyes:
Scarce could my Breast my leaping heart retain;
Scarce could my Soul the unweildy Joy su­stain,
When I beheld those Wellcome Eyes again.
But why that Discontent upon the Brow?
Thou wilt not leave me, Cruel Beauty, now!
Injurious Charmer, stay—What needs this Art,
To try the Faith of a Too-constant heart:
Return again; let my Companions see
The Sweet Inspirer of my Flames in Thee.
Return, my Dear, return, and shew the most
Victorious Face that e're the World could boast.


WIth swelling thoughts fixt on his great intent,
Now Phaeton had climb'd the Suns ascent;
And to his radiant Father's Pallace came;
Whose heavenly seat lookt blazon'd all with flame:
On Stately Pedestalls erected high
Above the Convex of the utmost Sky:
Its Glorious Front, dazled, yet pleas'd the sight,
With vigorous sallys of AEthereal Light.
The entrance, all divinely deckt, was wrought,
Beyond the invention of a humane thought;
[Page 57]With various figures exquisite and bold,
As the Amazing Novelties they told.
Here awful Neptune rises from the deep,
Around the peaceful Billows seem to sleep:
Here dreadful VVhales the Blust'ring Tritons stride,
And raise a Silver Tempest as they glide:
In mighty shells the lovely Nereids swim,
And blewish gods the lofty billows climb.
Wide from the Shore a pleasant scene of Land,
With careless Beauty did it self expand:
Here Mountains, Valleys, Springs, and Sacred Groves,
Flocks, Herds, Unpolish'd Shepherds, and their Loves;
The Dryads, Satyrs, Silver Gods, and Fawns,
Had here their Rural Pallaces and Lawns.
Above all this, appear'd the blest abodes,
And gay-Pavilions of th' Immortal Gods:
Upon a Painted-Zodiack brightly shone
With Glittering Emralds Sols refulgent Throne:
Here sate in Purple the Bright God of Day,
(Whom Phaeton now trembles to survey:)
Smooth were his Cheeks, most lovely eyes, his brows
Adorn'd with rays, and his own sacred boughs:
Around, the days, the months, and years attend,
While, at his feet, the crooked Ages bend:
The beauteous Spring (more gay than all the rest,)
Stood smiling by, clad in a Flowry Vest:
Summer, with Ears of Corn, her temples bound,
And Autumn with Luxuriant Clusters crown'd:
In order next old hoary-Winter stood;
His Aspect horrid, and congeal'd his blood.
Surrounded thus with Majesty and State,
Bold Phaeton's Illustrious Father sate:
The God his ventrous Off-spring now espyes;
Amaz'd! demands, What urg'd his enter­prize?
And what great Embassy cou'd bring him to the Skies?
Monarch of Light, the doubtful Youth returns,
Whose absence Life it self and Nature mourns:
Most splendid Ruler of the wellcome Day,
Serenest Spring of all that's fair and gay—
If bolder I may speak—if e're—if e're
The Thoughts of Love and Clymene were dear;
—Then grant a certain sign, that may on Earth
Resolve the question'd grandeur of my Birth,
My best-lov'd-Son, great Phoebus made Reply,
(And back he casts the radiant Energy
Of his thick beams) my Phaeton draw Nigh:
[Page 60]And doubt no longer my Paternal rights;
For, by my Clymene, by th' Intense delights
That gave thee Birth, so—now chuse a sign,
And by the Dark Infernal Lake 'tis thine.
Straight the ambitious youth demands the sway
Of his hot Steeds, and Chariot of the Day.
Amaz'd, the lucent Deity shook his head,
Revolving his Tremendous Oath, and said;
Vnthinking Phaeton what dost thou ask?
Not Iove himself durst undertake the Task:
Though not a God in the Blew-Arch more great,
Yet even he'd decline our Flaming Seat.
Can'st thou, a Mortal, then supply my Throne?
Curb my fierce Steeds, and pass the Intemperate Zone?
So hard and difficult, the ascent of day
Scarce with fresh Horses vanquish I the way:
[Page 61]With horror, on the distant Earth at Noon,
We from the Zenith's dismal heighth look down
The steep Descent; from thence we swiftly roul:
Nor here our headlong Coursers Brook con­troul.
Even Lovely Thetis sees my Fall with dread,
Though every Night she expects me to her Bed.
Besides, thou'lt meet a Thousand rugged Jarrs
From the incountring Motions of the Stars;
Scarce our Immortal Efforts stem their force:
Betwixt the Bulls sharp hornes then lies thy course,
By Sagitarius, and the Scorpion's Claws,
The Gastly Crab, and Leo's dreadful Jaws.
Expect no Groves, nor Flowry Mansions there,
Nor Gods, nor Nymphs; but Monsters every where,
[Page 62]Then let a Father's timely Care perswade,
And yet retract the dangerous Choice thou'st made
Be wise, and urge no more this fatal Sign;
Alas, my Grief, too sadly, speaks thee Mine.
Of all the Earths, or Seas rich Bosoms hide,
Or Treasures which in upper Air abide;
Ask what thou wilt, or dar'st (besides) to wish;
Do, Phaeton, ask any thing but this;
And, by my former Sacred Oath, 'tis thine.
But the hot Youth, fixt on his rash design,
With such an Enterprize, the more inflam'd
His anxious Father's Oath, now boldly claim'd,
Who forc'd to yield. The nimble hours soon brought
His Chariot forth in hot Vesuvio wrought,
By crafty Vulcan, and the Cyclops Art,
Who'd shown immortal skill in every part:
[Page 63]The Wheels, and Axeltree, the purest Gold,
Bright as those Lucid Tracts in which they roul'd:
The Harness all Emboss'd with Crysolites,
And twinkling sparks of wondrous colour'd Lights.
But now Aurora from her Eastern Bed,
Had, o'er the Expanse her Dewy Mantle spread,
The Sickly Moon the Hemisphere resigns;
And, with her Waning, Lucifer declines.
The Dawning grew more fair and ruddy still,
And Sol officious now against his will:
With Sacred Compounds his fierce Orb allays,
Then crowns the Joyful Hero with his Rays:
With tender Speeches caution'd thus the while,
Let not Presumption thy fond Thoughts be­guile'
To give my hot unruly Steeds their course,
But use the Reins, with utmost care and force,
[Page 64]Along a beaten, broad, and oblique way,
Far from the Poles, now lies the Road of Day.
Avoid the Altar, and the hissing Snake,
Both opposite, betwixt them keep the Track;
Observe a careful distance from the Skyes,
Lest thou assront the awful Deities;
Nor near the Earth approach, the mean is best;
To Destiny with hope I leave the rest.
For, loe the pale Commandress of the Night
Resigns her Empire to th' expected Light.
Take up the Reins; or yet, or yet be wise,
And graspa more proportion'd enterprize:
But Phaeton, as resolute as great,
Undaunted, leaps into the Blazing Seat;
Pleas'd with his glorious charge, nor doubts his Skill
To manage it, he Mounts th' Olympick Hill.
[Page 65]Aloud th' Immortal Steeds begin to Neigh,
And strike their Fiery Hoofs, and make new Day;
As through she clouds they cut their sparkling way:
And finding now the Reeling Chariot fraught
With nothing congruous to Celestial weight;
Unruly grow, and heedless of the Rein,
Its feeble Checks, and trembling Guide disdain;
And, all disorder'd, careless of their way,
Through Paths unknown to Sol himself, they stray:
Now near the Fair Triones, who, in vain,
Implor'd more Temperate Quarters in the Main
With Heat reviv'd, see the fierce Serpent roul,
Tho' fix'd his Station near the Frozen Pole.
Bootes sweats, and drives his Lazy Team
A nimble pace; untry'd before by them,
[Page 66]As much distress'd, unhappy Phaeton
From Great Olympus arched Top looks down:
Black horror now, and aggravating fear,
Through all his Conscious thoughts trium­phant were:
He Curst his Pride, conspicuous Seat, and Birth,
And covets the obscurest place on Earth;
To be the Son of Meropes, safe below,
Unknown to Gods and Men, would please him now;
So, all confus'd, the hopeless Pilot Raves,
And yields, at last, to the relentless Waves.
What can he do? much of the Glowing East
Is yet Unconquer'd; more he dreads the West,
That dangerous Fall; nor one clear Track can fin'd
In Heaven; nor call his Horses Names to mind:
VVho now near where the dreadful Scorpion lay,
Hurryd the shatter'd Chariot of the Day:
[Page 67]Proud of the Reins, which from his trembling hands
Now faintly drop, no obstacle withstands
Their furious course; but through the blazing Sky
They foam, and rave, and all disorder'd fly.
Now upward, to the Stars, a Path they rend,
Then down agen the frightful Steeps descend:
Below, her own Diana from afar,
With wonder, views her radiant Brothers Car:
The exhaled Earth down to its Centre dry,
Wants Iuice, her fainting Products to supply:
Assaulted with the too prevailing rays,
In fatal Flames, whole Towns and Mountains blaze:
High Athos, Oete, and the Pin'y top
Of pleasant Ida into Cinders drop:
Old Tmolus, the Cicillian Mount, and high
Parnassus, smoak up to the darkned Sky:
Vesuvio roars, more fierce its entrails glow;
Nor work the Cyclops at their Anvils now.
[Page 68]Steep Othrys, Cynthus, Erix, Mimas, flame
Nor Rhodopean Snows the fiercer Fire can tame.
Cauoasus frys, Dindyma chaps, and burns
Her kindling Grove; fair Aphrodites mourns.
The Airy Alps, and Gloomy Appenine,
With Ossa, in the conflagration shine:
Surrounded thus with Smoak, and Wrathful Fires,
Unhappy Phaeton almost expires:
Despair within, and Terror all without,
By's surious Steeds, at pleasure, hurl'd about;
Gasping, and saint, still hurried round, nor more,
Tho prop't by Fate, a Mortal could have bore:
They say, the Ethiopians now with heat
Adust, and scorch't, diffus'd a Sable Sweat;
And all the wasted Fountains sadly ring
Of some fair Nais, Mourning for her Spring.
[Page 69]Nor from the Mightyer Streams the Flame re­coils,
For in its Channel antient Tana'is boyls.
Xanthus, whose Waves agen that Fate must know;
Maeander, whose wild Waters, circling flow.
Melas, Eurotas, Ister, and the Fair
Euphrates, Torrents, half exhausted are.
Orontes, Phasis, and the cooler Stream
Of Sperchius now like boyling Chaldron's Steam;
Alpheus, Ganges, and the flowing Gold,
That in the Rich Pactolus Channel roul'd:
The Muses Mourn; their Swans, who, as they dye
In Charming Notes, breath their own Elegy:
Deep, in his utmost Subterranean Bed,
Great Nilus hides his undiscover'd Head.
[Page 70] Earth cracks, to Hell descend the hated beams,
And Plague the howling Ghosts with worse ex­treams:
The exhausted Ocean leaves a Field of Sand;
Nor does vext Neptune one cool Wave com­mand.
He has lost his share of the grand Monarchy,
And vainly lifts his forked Trident high.
The Lovely Sisters melt upon the Rocks,
While Aged Doris tares her Silver Locks:
The Phocoe dye; the Dolphins vainly dive
In scalding streams, to keep themselves alive.
As much the Goddess of the Earth distrest,
With trembling Lips the King of Gods addrest;
If thou the Groaning World's Destruction mean,
(Incensed Iove) VVhy sleep thy THVNDERS then?
[Page 71]If thou the cause of this Calamity;
Or if 'tis some less potent God then thee:
VVhere's all thy goodness, all thy gentle care
For Mortals now-that should these Ills re­pair?
Have I for this thy Sacred Victims fed
In Hecatombs, to thy high Altars led?
Those Altars, which with thy bright Temples smoak,
VVhile Iove, in vain, the gasping-Priests In­voke:
And loe the Mighty Poles begin to fume;
And, Wher's thy Starry Seat should they con­sume?
Tyr'd Atlas sweating, of his load complains,
And scarce the burning Axletree sustains:
But, fainting here, she stop'd, and shrinks her head
Below the gloomy Lodgings of the Dead.
Iove calls the Gods (with him, whose daring Son,
Too fond of Glory, had this Mischief done:)
To view the dreadful flames; then mounts on high,
[Page 72]The lostyest Turret that commands the Sky;
From whence he us'd to shade the sultry Air,
And with kind Showers the Parched Earth to chear:
But throws his Flood-gates open now in vain,
And prest the light transparent clouds for Rain:
At which incens'd, his ruddy Thunder glows,
Nor durst the God of beams himself oppose.
See the wing'd Vengeance now, see where it breaks,
On the rash cause of those lamented Wrecks;
And sends the bold Usurper breathless down
To the scorch't Earth from his affected Throne:
So strike the Gallick Tyrant, that has hurl'd
As guilty flames through the complaining VVorld.
So awful Iove, so Strike him from his Seat,
And all his Aims, and all his Hopes defeat.


WOu'd some kind Vision represent to me
How bright thy Streets, Celestial Salem! be;
I'd trace thy shining pearly Faths, and tell
How bless'd are those that in thy Temple dwell:
How much more bright than e're proud Phoebus shed
Are those vast Rays the Eternal Sun does spread!
Cou'd I the chiefest of ten thousands view,
Wou'd Angels me their Admiration shew,
[Page 2]I'd tell the Virgins, tell 'em o'reagen
How fair he lookt to the black Sons of men:
Might I, but ah, while clogg'd with sinful Flesh,
In vain I breath out the impatient Wish!
But have a glimpse of those fair Fields of Bliss,
Where dress'd in Beams, the shining Saints do move
More gay then all the fancy'd shades of Love:
Where still from pure exhaustless fountains, to
Bright Silver streams the Chrystal Waters flow;
Where the true Son of Glory ne're declines,
But with unclouded Vigour always shines.
Where endless Smiles coelestial Faces wear,
No Eye eclips'd with a rebellious Tear,
For Greif is an unheard of Stranger there.
Say then, if ought of that bless'd place you know,
Describe its Bliss, its dazling Glories show!

The Athenians Answer.

AH! Bright Vnknown! you know not what you ask!
Angels wou'd bend beneath the unequal Task.
Were that bless'd World disclos'd, 'twou'd seem so fair,
Who wou'd not leap Lifes Barriers to be there?
Yet see a Glimpse, all, Heav'n permits to see,
And learn the rest from Faith and Extasie.
The Paradise of God, those happy seats which cost
Far more than that fair Eden we have lost;
Exceeds luxuriant Fancies richest dress,
And Beggers Rhime and Numbers self t' express.
—No, were we lost in that primaeval Grove
Where Father Adam with his New-born Bride
Walkt careless, walkt and lov'd, nor Want, nor Sin,
Nor jealous Rage, nor curst tormenting Hopes
Their Sacred Verge approaching cou'd we pierce
As the blind Bard, with intellectual sight
Thro' those first happy Mortals Sylvan shade,
[Page 4]Thro'clust'ring Vines whose swelling Purple Grapes
With generous Juice invited the bless'd Pair
To taste, nor fear to dye; were all the Springs
That from some easie Mountains mossy side
Or hoary Rock ran gently murmuring,
A thousand Flour's upon the bending Banks,
A thousand Birds upon the fragrant Trees,
And Eve her self all smiling ioyn'd the Quire,
With blissful Hymns of chast and holy Love
Were these and more united to compose
A Poets Heaven to the true Heaven 'twou'd be
A Barren Wilderness, nay worse, a World.
—Not Reasons self, a Ray of the divine
Off-spring, and Friend of God, when manacled
In sinful mortal mold, altho' it trace,
No Sister Truth thro' each Dedalean maze,
And builds on Sense with well poiz'd Argument,
Not that can tell us what we there shall see,
Or have or know, or do, or ever be.
Nay tho' with nobler Faiths more perfect Glass,
[Page 5]We look beyond the Christal starry Worlds,
We know but part, sunk in our darksom selves,
And from Life's dungeon wish the glim'ring Light,
Coasters of Heav'n we beat along the shore,
Some Creeks and Landmarks found, but know no more.
The Inland Country's undiscover d still,
The glorious City of th' eternal King,
Yet of coelestial Growth we bear away,
Some rich immortal Fruit, Joy, Peace and Love,
Knowledge and Praise, Vision and pure Delight,
Rivers of Bliss, ay-dwelling from the Throne
Of the most high, exhaustless Fund of Light.
There, there is Heav'n, 'tis he who makes it so,
The Soul can hold no more, for God is all,
He only equalls its capacious Grasp,
He only o're fills to spaces infinite,
Ah! who can follow?—That shall only those
Who with intrepid Breasts the World oppose.
Tear out the glitt'ring Snake, tho' ne're so close it twine,
And part with mortal Ioys for Ioys Divine.

To one that perswades me to leave the Muses.

FOrgo the charming Muses! No, in spight
Of your ill-natur'd Prophecy I'll write,
And for the future paint my thoughts at large,
I waste no paper at the Hunderds charge:
I rob no Neighbouring Geese of Quills, nor slink
For a collection to the Church for ink:
Besides my Muse is the most gentle thing
That ever yet made an attempt to sing:
I call no Lady Punk, nor Gallants Fops,
Nor set the married world an edge for Ropes;
Yet I'm so seurvily inclin'd to Rhiming,
That undesign'd my thoughts burst out a chiming;
My active Genius will by no means sleep,
And let it then its proper channel keep.
I've told you, and you may believe me too,
That I must this, or greater mischiefe do;
[Page 7]And let the world think me inspir'd, or mad,
I'le surely write whilst paper's to be had;
Since Heaven to me has a Retreat assign'd,
That would inspire a less harmonious mind.
All that a Poet loves I have in view,
Delight some Hills, refreshing Shades, and pleasant Valleys too,
Fair spreading Valleys cloath'd with lasting green,
And Sunny Banks with gilded streams between,
Gay as Elisium, in a Lovers Dream,
Or Flora's Mansion, seated by a stream,
Where free from sullen cares I live at case,
Indulge my Muse, and wishes, as I please,
Exempt from all that looks like want or strife,
I smoothly glide along the Plains of Life,
Thus Fate conspires, and what can I do to 't?
Besides, I'm veh'mently in love to boot,
And that there's not a Willow Sprig but knows,
In whose sad shade I breathe my direful woes.
But why for these dull Reasons do I pause,
When I've at hand my genuine one, because!
And that my Muse may take no counter Spell,
I fairly bid the Boarding Schools farewel:
No Young Impertinent, shall here intrude,
And vex me from this blisful solitude.
Spite of her heart, Old Puss shall damn no more
Great Sedley's Plays, and never look 'em o're;
Affront my Navels, no, nor in a Rage,
Force Drydens lofty Products from the Stage,
Whilst all the rest of the melodious crew,
With the whole System of Athenians too,
For Study's sake out of the Window flew.
But I'to Church, shall fill her Train no more,
And walk as if I sojurn'd by the hour.
To Stepwel and his Kit I bid adieu,
Fall off, and on, be hang'd and Coopee too
Thy self for me, my dancing days are o're;
I'le act th'inspired Bachannels no more.
Eight Notes must for another Treble look,
In Burlesque to make Faces by the book.
[Page 9] Iapan, and my esteemed Pencil too,
And pretty Cupid, in the Glass adieu,
And since the dearest friends that be must part,
Old Governess farewell with all my heart.
Now welcome all ye peaceful Shades and Springs,
And welcome all the inspiring tender things;
That please my genius, suit my make and years,
Unburden'd yet with all but lovers cares.

Occasioned by the report of the Queens Death.

When fame had blown among the Western swains,
The saddest news that ever reacht their Plains,
Like Thunder in my ears the sound did break;
The killing accents which I dare not speak.
Less was I toucht with that pernicious Dart,
That peirc'd through mine to reach my Daphnes Heart,
[Page 10]From off my Head the Florid wreath I tore,
That I, to please the fond Orestes, wore;
And quite o're charg'd with Grief upon the ground,
I sunk my Brows, with mournful Cypress Crown'd;
My trembling Hand sustain'd my drooping Head,
And at my feet my Lire and Songs were laid;
'Twas in a gloomy Shade, where o're and o're
I'de mourn'd my Lov'd Companions loss before;
But now I vainly strove my Thoughts t'expose,
In Numbers kind, and sensible as those
For, ah! the Potent ills that fill'd my Breast,
Were much to vast and black to be exprest

Pharaphrase on John 21. 17.

YEs, thou that knowest all, dost know I love thee,
And that I set no Idol up above thee,
To thy unerring censure I appael,
And thou that knowest all things, sure canst tell,
I Love thee more then Life or Interest,
Nor hast thou any Rival in my Breast;
[Page 11]I Love thee so, that I would calmly bear;
The Mocks of Fools, and bless my happy Ear
Let me from thee but one kind whisper hear;
I Love thee so, that for a smile of thine,
Might this, and all the brighter Worlds be mine,
I would not pause, but with a noble Scorn,
At the unequal slighted offer spurn;
Yes, I to Fools these trifles can resign,
Nor envy them the World, whilst thou art mine;
I love thee as my Centre, and can find
No Point but thee to stay my doubtful mind;
Potent and uncontroul'd its Motions were,
Till fixt in thee its only congruous Sphere.
Urg'd with a thousand specious Baits, I stood,
Displeas'd, and sighing for some distant good,
To calm its genuine Dictates—but betwixt
Them all, remain'd suspended and unfixt.
I love thee so, 'tis more than Death to be,
My Life, my Love, my all, depriv'd of thee;
[Page 12]'Tis Hell, 'tis Horror, shades and darkness then,
Till thou unveil'st thy Heavenly Face agen;
I Love thee so, I'de kiss the Dart should free
My flatterring Soul, and send her up to thee;
O would'st thou break her Chain, with what delight
She'd spread her Wings, and bid the world goodnight.
Scarce for my bright conductors would I stay,
But lead thy flaming Ministers the way,
In their known passage to eternal day.
And yet the Climes of Light would not seem fair,
Unless I met my bright Redeemer there;
Unless I saw my Shining Saviours Face,
And cop't all Heaven in his sweet embrace.

Paraphrase on Cant. 5. 6. &c.

OH! How his Pointed Language, like a Dart,
Sticks to the softest Fibres of my Heart,
Quite through my Soul the charming Accents slide,
That from his Life inspiring Portals glide;
And whilst I the inchanting sound admire,
My melting Vitals in a Trance expire.
Oh Son of Venus, Mourn thy baffled Arts,
For I defye the proudest of thy Darts:
Undazled now, I thy weak Taper View,
And find no fatal influence accrue;
Nor would fond Child thy feebler Lamp appear,
Should my bright Sun deign to approach more near;
Canst thou his Rival then pretend to prove?
Thou a false Idol, he the God of Love;
Lovely beyond Conception, he is all
Reason, or Fancy amiable call,
[Page 14]All that the most exerted thoughts can reach,
When sublimated to its utmost streach.
Oh! altogether Charming, why in thee
Do the vain World no Form or Beauty see?
Why do they Idolize a dusty clod,
And yet refuse their Homage to a God?
Why from a beautious flowing Fountain turn,
For the Dead Puddle of a narrow Urn?
Oh Carnal Madness! sure we falsly call
So dull a thing as man is, rational;
Alas, my shining Love, what can there be
On Earth so splendid to out-glitter thee?
In whom the brightness of a God-head Shines,
With all its lovely and endearing Lines;
Thee with whose light Mortallity once blest,
Would throw off its dark Veil to be possest;
Then altogether Lovely, why in thee
Do the vain World no Form or Beauty see.

A Pindarick, to the Athenian Society.

I'VE toucht each string, each muse I have invok't,
Yet still the mighty theam,
Copes my unequal praise;
Perhaps, the God of Numbers is provok't.
I grasp a Subject fit for none but him,
Or Drydens sweeter lays;
Dryden! A name I ne're could yet rehearse,
But straight my thoughts were all transformed to verse.
And now methinks I rise;
But still the lofty Subject baulks my slight,
And still my muse despairs to do great Athens right;
Yet takes the Zealous Tribute which I bring,
The early products of a Female muse;
Untill the God, into my breast shall mightier thoughts infuse.
[Page 16]When I with more Command, and prouder voice shall sing;
But how shall I describe the matchless men?
I'm lost in the bright labirinth agen.
When the lewd age, as ignorant as accurst,
Arriv'd in vice and error to the worst,
And like Astrea banisht from the stage,
Virtue and Truth were ready stretcht for slight;
Their numerous foes,
Scarce one of eithers Champions ventur'd to oppose;
Scarce one brave mind, durst openly engage,
To do them right.
Till prompted with a generous rage;
You cop't with all th' abuses of the age;
Unmaskt and challeng'd its abhorred crimes,
Nor fear'd to dash the darling vices of the times.
Successfully go on,
T' inform and bless mankind as you've begun,
[Page 17]Till like your selves they see;
The frantick world's imagin'd Joys to be,
Vnmanly, sensual and effeminate,
Till they with such exalted thoughts possest;
As you've inspir'd into my willing Breast,
Are charm'd, like me, from the impending fate.
For ah! Forgive me Heaven, I blush to say't,
I with the vulgar world thought Irreligion great,
Tho fine my breeding, and my Notions high;
Tho train'd in the bright tracts of strictest piety,
I' like my splendid tempters soon grew vain,
And laid my slighted innocence a side;
Yet oft my nobler thoughts I have bely'd,
And to be ill was even reduc'd to feign.
Untill by you,
With more Heroick sentiments inspir'd,
I turn'd and stood the vigorous torrent too,
[Page 18]And at my former weak retreat admir'd;
So much was I by your example fir'd,
So much the heavenly form did win:
Which to my eyes you'd painted virtue in.
Oh, could my verse;
With equal flights, to after times rehearse,
Your fame: It should as bright and Deathless be;
As that immortal flame you've rais'd in me.
A flame which time:
And Death it self, wants power to controul,
Not more sublime,
Is the divine composure of my Soul;
A friendship so exalted and immense,
A female breast did ne're before commence.

Paraphrase on Revel. chap. 1. from v. 13. to v. 18.

WHo could, and yet out-live the Amasing sight!
Oh, who could stand the stress of so much Light!
Amidst the Golden Lamps the Vision stood,
Form'd like a Man, with all the awe and lustre of a God.
A Kingly Vestre cloath'd him to the ground,
And Radiant Gold his sacred breasts surround;
But all too thin the Deity to shrow'd;
For heavenly Rays expresly shone through the unable Cloud
His head, his awful head was grac'd with hair,
As soft as snow, as melted silver fair;
And from his eys such active Glories flow.
The conscious Seraphs well may veil their dimmer faces too.
His Feet were strong and dreadful, as his Port
Worthy the Godlike Form they did support;
His Voice resembled the Majestick Fall
Of mighty Waves: 'Twas awful, great, divine, and solemn all.
His powerful hand a Starry Scepter held,
His mouth a threatning two-edg'd sword did wield,
His face so wondrous, so divinely fair,
As all the glorious Lights above had been contracted there.
And now my fainting spirits strove in vain
The uncorrected splendor to sustain,
Unable longer such bright Rays to meet,
I dy'd beneath the Ponderous Load, at the great
Vision's Feet.
Till he that doth the springs of Life contain,
Breath'd back my soul, and bid me live again;
And thus began (but Oh with such an Air,
That nothing but a power divine had made me live to hear.)
From an unviewable Eternity
I was, I am, and must For ever be:
I have been dead, but live for ever now.
Amen—And have in Triumph led the Kings of Darkness too.

To a very Young Gentleman at a Dancing-School.

SO when the Queen of Love rose from the Seas,
Divinely Fair in such a blest amaze,
Th' inamour'd watry Deities did gaze.
As we when charming Flammin did suprize,
More heavenly bright our whole Seraglio's Eyes;
And not a Nymph her Wonder could disguise.
Whilst with a graceful Pride the lovely boy
Pass'd all the Ladies (like a Sultan) by,
Only he lookt more absolute and coy.
When with an Haughty air he did advance,
To lead out some transported she to dance,
He gave his hand as carelesly as Chance.
Attended with a Universal sigh,
On her each Beauty cast a Jealous Eye,
And quite fall out with guiltless Destiny.

To the same Gentleman.

AH lay this cruel Artifice aside,
This barbarous distance, and affected Pride;
Or else resign my heart, which is too great
For you in this imperious way to treat.
I know you'r gay and charming as the Spring,
And that I ne'r beheld a lovelier thing,
But know as well the influence of my Eyes,
Nor can you think my heart a vulgar prize.


WHy sigh you so, What Grievance can annoy,
A Nymph like you? Alas, why sighs my Joy?
My Philomela, why dost bend thy Head,
Hast lost thy Pipe, or is thy Garland dead?
Thy flocks are fruitful, flowry all thy Plain;
Thy Father's Darling, why should'st thou complain?
Unfriendly thus, when I expect Relief,
To mock the weightier causes of my grief.
Thou dost abuse my Love: How should I guess
The unknown Reason of thy Tears, unless
[Page 25]Thy Birds are fled, or else the Winds have blown,
This stormy Night, your tallest Cypress down?
Thy Shepherd's true, or I had nam'd him first.
Ah! were he so, I would contemn the rest.
Why dost thou fear it? Not a truer Swain
E're drove his Sheep to this frequented Plain.
Like thee in Ignorance, how blest were I?
But Nymph, a falser thing did never sigh:
Curse on his Charms; accurst the unlucky day,
He sought by chance his wandred flocks this way;
When gay and careless, leaning on my Crook,
My roving Eyes this fatal Captive took,
Well I remember yet with what a grace
The Youthful Conquerer made his first address;
How moving, how resistless were his sighs;
How soft his Tongue, how very soft his Eyes.
[Page 26]When spight of all my Natural Disdain,
I fell a Victim to the smiling Swain!
Ah, how much blest, how happy had I been,
Had I his lovely killing Eyes ne're seen!
In these delightsome Pastures long I kept
My harmless flocks, and as much pleasure reapt,
In being all I hop'd to be, as they,
Whose awful Nods subjected Nations sway.
The Shepherds made it all their care to gain
My heart, which knew no passion but disdain,
Till this Young Swain, the Pride of all our Grove,
Into my soul infus'd the bane of Love.


I Can't, Celinda, say, I love,
But rather I adore,
When with transported eyes I view,
Your shining merits o're.
A fame so spotless and serene.
A vertue so refin'd;
And thoughts as great, as e're was yet
Graspt by a female mind.
There love and honour drest, in all,
Their genuin charms appear,
And with a pleasing force at once
They conquer and indear.
Celestial flames are scarce more bright,
Than those your worth inspires,
So Angels love and so they burn
In just such holy fires.
Then let's my dear Celinda thus
Blest in our selves contemn
The treacherous and deluding Arts,
Of those base things call'd men.

Thoughts on Death.

I'm almost to the fatal period. come,
My forward Glass has well nigh run its last;
E're a few moments, I shall hear that doom
Which ne're will be recall'd, when once 'tis past.
Methinks I have Eternity in view,
And dread to reach the edges of the shore,
Nor doth the prospect, the less dismal shew,
For all the thousands that have lanch'd before.
Why weep my friends, what is their loss to mine,
I have but one poor doubtful stake to throw,
And with a dying prayer my hopes resign,
If that be lost, I'm lost for ever too.
'Tis not the painful agonies of Death,
Nor all the gloomy horrors of the Grave;
Were that the worst, unmov'd I'de yield my breath
And with a smile the King of Terrors brave.
But there's an after day, 'tis that I fear:
Oh, who shall hide me from that angry brow;
Already I the dreadful accents hear,
Depart from me, and that for ever too.

THE Female Passion,

A Thousand great resolves, as great
As reason could inspire,
I have commenc'd; but ah how soon
The daring thoughts expire!
Honour and Pride I've often rouz'd,
And bid 'em bravely stand,
But e're my charming foe appears
They cowardly disband.
One dart from his insulting eyes,
Eyes I'm undone to meet,
Throws all my boasting faculties
At the lov'd Tyrant's feet.
In vain alas, 'tis all in vain,
To struggle with my fate,
I'm sure I ne're shall cease to love,
How much less can I hate!
Against relentless destiny,
Hopeless to overcome,
Not Sisiphus more sadly strives
With his Eternal Doom.


TO me his sighs, to me are all his vows,
But there's my hell the depth of all my woes,
We burn alike, but oh the distant bliss,
A view of that my greatest torment is;
[Page 32]Accurst ambition, groveling interest,
Such heated crimes as yet did never rest
Within my Soul, must now unjustly keep
Me from my Heaven would they may sink as deep,
As that black Chaos whence they sprung, and leave
Those mortals wretched which they now deceive.

Paraphrase on Malachy 3. 14.

IN vain ye Murmur, we have serv'd the Lord,
As vainly listned to his flattering word,
He has forgot, or spake not as he meant;
Else why are we thus Idly penitent?
Ye call the haughty blest, erecting those
That dare my Judgements impiously oppose,
And own, nay, almost boast themselves my foes,
Whose crimes would (were I not a God) command
The scarlet bolts from my unwilling hand;
Then they that fear'd my great and awful name,
The only sew that dar'd oppose the stream,
[Page 33]Unmov'd against the vulgar torrent stood,
In spight of numbers resolutely good,
Not taxing with undecent insolence
The dark Enigma's of my providence.
But saw me still illustrious through the same,
And lov'd and spake, spake often of my name,
As oft I closely listned, nor shall they
Pass unrewarded at the last great day,
When all their pious services I'll own,
For in my records I shall find 'em down,
Their brows I'll Crown with wreaths of victory;
Whilst Mon and Angels stand spectators by;
A loud I'll then, aloud proclaim them mine,
And 'mongst my brightest treasures they shall shine
Their frailty with more tenderness, than e're
A father did his only son's I'll spare,
And then, but ah! too late you'll find it then,
Who were the wise, the only thinking men;
Then you shall nothing but derision meet,
Whilst Angels them with loud applauses greet.

On Mrs. Rebecka.

SO brightly Sweet Florina's eyes,
Their rising beams display,
That as the scorched Indians, we
Even dread the comeing day.
For if her morning rays with such
Unusual vigour streams,
How must the unhappy world be scorcht,
With her meridian beams?
If now she Innocently kills
With an an-aiming dart,
Who shall resist her when, with skill,
She levels at a heart?
If with each smile the pretty Nymph,
Now captivates the sence,
What when her glories at the heighth
Will be their influence?

By Dispair.

WHen the intruding horrors of the night,
Had just depriv'd our hemisphere of light
And sable foldings seem'd to imitate,
The blackness and confusion of my fate,
As by a Rivers side I walkt along,
Uncurl'd and loose my artless tresses hung.
Dispair and love were seated in my face,
And down I sunk, upon the bending grass,
There to the streams, my mournful griefs relate,
Cursing the spightful Stars that rul'd my fate;
[Page 36]To see my tears the gentle floods swell high,
The Rocks relent, and groan as oft as I,
The winds less deaf, than my ungreatful Swain,
Listen and breath o're all my sighs again,
Ah, never, never, said I with an Air;
That poor complacent eccho, griev'd to hear,
And softly fearing to increase my pain,
No, never, never, she reply'd again,
Then all things else, as trifles I dispise,
Said I, and smiling clos'd my wretched eyes.


TO vex thy Soul with these unjust alarms,
Fye dear mistrustful, can'st thou doubt thy charms;
Or think a breast so young and soft as mine,
Could e're resist such charming eyes as thine?
Not love thee! witness all ye powers above,
(That know my heart) to what excess I love,
How many tender sighs for thee I've spent,
I who ne're knew what serious passion meant.
Till to revenge his slighted Votaries,
The God of love, coucht in thy beauteous eyes,
[Page 38]At once inspir'd and fixt my roving heart,
Which till that moment sconr'd his proudest dart,
And now I languish out my life for thee,
As others unregarded do for me;
Silent as night, and pensive as a dove,
Through shades more gloomy than my thoughts I rove,
With downcast eyes as languishing an Air,
The Emblem I of Love, and of Dispair.

The Athenians Answer, to the Foregoing Poem.

WHat Charms to two such Feuds wou'd equal
You are possest with Poetry and Love.
Fruitless experiments no more wee'll try;
Lost to advice, Rime on, Love on, and dye!

Paraphrase on Canticles, 7. 11.

COme thou most charming object of my love,
What's all this dull Society to us,
Let's to the peaceful Shades and Springs remove,
I'm here uneasy tho I linger thus.
What are the triffles that I leave behind,
I've more then all the valu'd world in thee,
Where all my Joys and Wishes are confin'd,
Thou'rt Day and Life and Heaven it self to me.
Come my beloved then let us away,
To those blest Seats where we'll our flames improve,
With how much heat shall I carress thee there,
And in sweet transports give up all my love.

Paraphrase on Micha. 6. 6, 7.

WHerewith shall I approach this awful Lord,
What shall I bring,
What sacrifice
Will not so great a deity despise;
Tell me you lofty spirits that fall down,
The nearest to his throne,
Oh tell me how,
Or wherewithal shall I before my own, and your dread maker bow.
Will Carmels verdant top afford,
No equal offering,
Ten thousand rams, a bounteous offering 'tis,
When all the flocks upon a thousand spacious hills are his,
Will Streams of fragrant oil his wrath controul;
[Page 42]Or the more precious flood,
Of my first born's blood,
Compound for all my debts and make a full Attone­ment for my Soul.
If not great God what then dost thou require,
Or what wilt thou daign to accept from me,
All, that my own thou giv'st me leave to call,
I willingly again resign to thee.
My youth and all its blooming heat,
My muse and every raptur'd thought, to thee I dedicate,
('Tis fit the islues of that sacred fire,
Should to its own celestial orb retire)
And all my darling vanities,
For thee I'll sacrifice,
My favourite lust and all,
Among the rest promiscuously shall fall;
No more that fond beloved sin I'll spare,
Than the great Patriarck would have done his heir,
And this great God altho a worthless prize,
Is a sincere, intire, and early sacrifice.

The Reflection.

WHere gilde my thoughts, rash inclinations stay,
And let me think what 'tis you fool away,
Stay ere it be to late, yet stay and take,
A short review of the great prize at stake.
Oh! stupid folly 'tis eternal Joy,
That I'm about to barter for a toy;
It is my God oh dreadful hazard where,
Shall I again the boundless loss repair!
It is my Soul a Soul that cost the blood,
And painful agonies of an humbled God,
Oh blest occasion made me stay to think,
Ere I was hurri'd off the dangerous brink,
Should I have took the charming venom in,
And cop'd with all these terrors for a sin,
How equal had my condemnation been?


HE's gone the bright way that his honour directs him,
Oh all ye kind powers let me beg you protect him.
He's gone my Dear—and left me here mourning;
But hang these dull thoughts, I'le fancy him return­ing.
Returning, I'le think the great Hero Victorious,
With joy to my Arms as faithful as Glorious.
Against his bright Eyes, I am sure there's no standing;
He looks like a God, and moves as Commanding.
With a Face so Angelick the Foe will be charmed
The Conquest were his tho he met'em disarm'd.
[Page 45]They could not (be sure) of a rational nature,
That wou'd not relent at so moving a feature.
Venus disguis'd he'el be thought by his Beauty;
And spar'd from the sense of a generous Duty.
Yet when I reflect on the Wounded and Dying,
In spight of my Courage it sets me a sighing.
But the resolute brave no danger can stay him,
Tho' I us'd all my Charms and Arts to delay him.
Yet oh ye kind powers you are bound to protect him,
Since he'es gone the bright way that Glory directs him.

To Madam S—at the Court.

COme prethee leave the Courts
And range the Fields with me;
A thousand pretty Rural sports
I'le here invent for thee.
Involv'd in blissful innocence
Wee'l spend the shining day,
Untoucht with that mean influence
The duller world obey.
About the flowry Plains wee'l rove,
As gay and unconsin'd:
As are inspir'd by thee and love
The saleys of my mind.
Now seated by a lovely Stream,
Where beauteous Mermaids haunt;
My Song while William is my Theam,
Shall them and thee inchant.
Then in some gentle soft retreat;
Secure as Venus Groves,
We'l all the charming things repeat,
That introduuc'd our loves.
I'le pluck fresh Garlands for thy brows,
Sweet as a Zephirs breath.
As fair and well design'd as those
The Elisyum Lovers wreath.
And like those happy Lovers we,
As careless and as blest;
Shall in each others converse be
Of the whole world possest.
Then prethee Phillis leave the Courts,
And range the Fields with me;
Since I so many harmless sports
Can here procure for thee.

The Vision. To Theron.

NOw gentle sleep my willing Eyes had clos'd,
And this gay Scene the smiling God impos'd;
Methought I in a Mirtle shade was plac'd,
My Tresses curl'd, my Brows with Laurel grac'd
Fresh was the Air, serenely bright the Day,
And all around lookt ravishingly Gay,
Active my Thoughts, my Lyre was in my hand,
And once more Theron did my Voice command;
Once more the charming Hero did inspire
My daring Muse with an Heroick Fire;
The smiling Cupids softly flutter'd round,
Till animated with the generous sound,
Like fighting Gods, each shook his Dart and frown'd.
[Page 50]The listning streams inchanted with my Song,
Scarce drove their still preceeding waves along;
Whil'st o're and o're complaisant eccho bears,
Through every cavern the immortal Airs;
About my Lips th' impatient Zephirs hung,
To snatch the tuneful Numbers from my Tongue;
And the pleas'd Graces crowded round to hear their Darling Sung.
The Queen of Beauty, and her Doves, stood by,
When I, to please the Lovely Deity,
Told her, what Looks, what Eyes, and Smiles he had,
Not her own Charms more fatally betray'd:
At every strain the wounded Goddess sighs,
Strains, sweet and powerful, as her own fair Eyes.
Then, smiling, towards her own bright Orb she flew,
And, with her, all the Sanguine Visions drew.

A Pastoral Elegy.

SO, gentle Destinies, decide the strife;
Ah! spare but hers, and take my hated Life.
Cease, cease, dear Nymph, the Fates ordain not so.
The more ungentle they; But wilt thou go?
I must; and wish my Epilogue were done,
That from this tiresome stage I may be gone.
Ah me! ah me! this breaks my feeble heart:
But find'st thou no Reluctancy to part?
[Page 52]
Without the least Reluctance, all below,
Save thee, dear Nymph, I willingly forego:
My Swain, my Mates, my Flocks and Garland too.
In those blest shades, to which my soul must flee,
More beauteous Nymphs, and kinder Shep­herds be;
Who ne're reflect on what they left behind,
Rapt with the Joys they in Elysium find.
By Silver streams, through blissful shades they rove,
Their Pleasures to Eternity improve.
There all the Smiling Year is cloth'd with Green;
No Autumn, but Eternal Spring is seen.
[Page 53]There the wing'd Choir in Loud and Artful strains
Transmit their Eccho's to the happy Plains:
And thither Strephon will my Soul pursue,
When he, like me, has bid the World adieu.
There, if her Innocence she still retain,
My Philomela I shall claspe again;
And there, when Death shall stop his Noble Race,
With a more Godlike and Heroick Grace,
Thou shalt behold the matchless Theron's Face.
But now farewel, my latest Sands are run,
And Charon waits impatient to be gone.
Farewel, poor Earth; from thy unhappy shore
None ever launch'd more joyfully before.
Not Death's Grim Looks affright me, tho so near;
Alas! why should the Brave and Vertuous fear:
[Page 54]
She's gone, she's gone, my dear Companion's gone,
And left me in this desert World alone;
Unfore't, her Beauteous Soul has took its flight,
Serene, and Glittering to Eternal Light.
More blind than Love, or Chance, relentless Death,
Why didst thou stop my charming Daphnes Breath?
The best the brav'st, and faithful Friend alive;
Fate-cut my Thread, I'll not the loss survive.
Alas! Why rises the unwelcome Sun?
There's nothing worth our sight now Daphne's gone.
Go smile on some blest Clime, where thou'st not see
A loss so vast, nor Wretch so curst as me;
[Page 55]Whom Grief hath wrapt in so condens'd a shade,
As thy intruding beams shall ne're invade:
For, What avails thy Light now Daphne's gone,
And left me Weeping on the Shore alone?
Yet could the Gentle Fair but see me mourn,
From that Blest Place she would perhaps re­turn.
But vain, alas! are my Complaints; she's gone,
And left me in this desert VVorld alone.
For ah! depriv'd my dearer Life of thee,
The World is all a Hermitage to me:
No more together we shall sit or walk,
No more of Pan, or of Elysium talk:
No more, no more shall I the fleeting Day
In kind Endearments softly pass away:
[Page 56]No more the Noblest height of Friendship prove,
Now Daphne's gone, I know not who to Love.
Mourn all ye Groves and Streams, mourn every thing,
You'l hear no more the pretty Syren Sing.
Tune, Shepherds, tune your Pipes to Mournful strains;
For we have lost the Glory of our Plains.
Let every thing a sadder Look put on;
For Daphne's dead, for the Lov'd Nymph is gone.

Parthenea, an ELEGY.

WIth Singing Angels hence she posts a­way,
As Lovely now and excellent as they:
For one short Moment Death's Grim Looks she bore,
But ne'r shall see his Gastly Visage more.
Releast from her dull Fetters; as the Light,
Active, and Pure, Parthenia takes her flight;
And finds, at last, the awfull Secrecy,
How Spirits act, and what they do, and be.
But now she's swallow'd in a flood of Light,
And scarce indures the Splendour of the Sight:
Dear Shade, whom Heaven did so soon remove
From these Cold Regions to the Land of Love;
[Page 58]To endless Pleasures, and Eternal day;
How glittering now? How satisfy'd and gay
Art thou? methinks I do but half lament
The Lovely Saint from my Embraces rent:
Nor can to those fair Mansions cast my eyes,
To which she's [...] and not recall my sighs.
My grief so, [...] were as unjust, as vain,
If from that Bliss 'twould hurry her again:
For tho' the Charming'st Friend on Earth I've lost,
Yet she the while may the advantage boast:
And should her pure unfetter'd Soul but daign
A careless glance on these dark coasts again,
'Twould Smile, as Conscious, where she left her Chain;
And smile agen at the surprizing odds
Of her late dwelling, and those bright abodes;
Those bright abodes where now, securely blest,
She Sings the Anthems of Eternal rest.

The Reply to Mr.—

NO: I'm unmov'd: nor can thy charm­ing Muse
One tender Thought into my Breast In­fuse.
I am from all those sensual motions Free;
And you, in vain, speak pretty things to Me:
For through the Splendid Gallantrys of Love,
Untouch'd, and careless, now I wildly rove,
From all th' Attacques of those proud Darts se­cure,
Whose Trifling Force too Tamely you indure;
Nor ought, on Earth's so delicate to move
My Nicer Spirit, and exact my Love:
Even Theron's Lovely and Inticeing Eyes,
Tho' arm'd with flames, I can at last despise;
With all the Genuine charms and Courtly Arts,
By which your Treacherous Sex invade our Hearts:
[Page 60]No more those little Things contract my breast
By a Diviner Excellence possest;
And, should I yield agen, it dear must cost
My Victor e're he shall the Conquest Boast;
For the Mad Venome's quite expell'd my Veins,
And calmer Reason now Triumphant Reigns:
No more the dearest object of my sight
Can move a Soft Sensaetion of Delight;
Or force my lingring Blood a swifter pace,
Or Paint new Smiles and Blushes on my Face.
I've rent the Charming Idol from my heart,
And banisht all from thence that took his part.
No more the Smiling Beaux shall tempt me on
To Gaze, and Sigh, and think my self undone;
Whilst Love, like some Fierce Torrent uncon­fin'd,
Breaks in, o'f-spreads, and swallows up my Mind;
And with its black ungrateful streams controul
All the Diviner Rays within my Soul.
[Page 61]No, No: I will, I will no more admire,
And urge the Sparks of the now dormant Fire:
Nor for a wild Fantastick Extasy,
Change the Dear Ioys of this blest Liberty;
Free, as a wandring Zephir, through the Air,
Methinks I range, and hate my former Sphear.
I meet the Noblest Forms, yet scorn to pay
A Fond Devotion to well-moulded Clay:
Nor would I even for my late splendid Chain
Forgo this Charming Liberty again;
Which with so sweet a Calmness fill my Breast
As cannot be in Words, no not in thine Ex­prest.

A Pastoral on the QVEEN.

WHy (Philomela) sleep those chearful Strains,
With which so much you gratify'd the Plains?
When every murmuring stream and pretty spring
Of some soft Tale would stop to hear thee Sing
In Notes, that all the Nymphs and Shepherds mov'd;
And Theron too, had he been by, had Lov'd.
But ah! unwellcome Alteration, now
No pleasant Smile, or Wreath, adorns thy Brow:
About the Plains thy Flocks neglected, stray;
And thou, as careless and forlorn as they:
In hollow Rocks, and Cypress Shades, alone,
Dost Teach the Mournful Dove a sadder Mone.
For, all I heard from thee, when listning by,
Were broken Notes, of some sad Elegy:
[Page 63]But such a great and unaffected Air
Thy Solitary Lamentations were,
I find, no selfish Grief, or Interest
Cou'd draw those Generous Murmurs from thy Breast.
'Tis sure, the Publick Loss thou dost condole;
'Tis that which yet lies pressing on thy Soul.
'Tis that indeed, our common loss and care,
Which, in my Breast, claims this unvulgar share;
Too sadly claims it: Oh! the Queen, the Queen
Has left the World: but Heaven! How black a Scene
Her Exit makes it?—Oh Illustrious Saint!
(By Death, from our most warm Caresses rent;
Could I but speak thy Worth: But that's a Theme
Too mighty for my boldest Thoughts to Stem:
Ev'n my own Grief, I have no words to Paint,
Nor find my Love an Elegant Complaint.
[Page 64]My Lyre it self no more can give me ease,
(Nor the strong Tumults of my Soul appease;
No more can give my swelling Breast relief,)
Then Fate reverse the Subject of my Grief:
'Tis all in vain—
Alass! the Royal Shepherdess is gone;
And, with her, the Whole Sex's Glory flown.
Oh! Could not all those Heavenly Virtues Save
Divine Maria from th' Insatiate Grave?
Nor her's, and our Dear Hero's Moving Tears?
Nor all the poor Lamenting Nations Fears?
No, no; they could not—She resigns Her Breath;
The Charming QVEEN a Trophy falls to Death.

A Farewel to LOVE.

WEll, since in spight of all that Love can do,
The dangerous steps of Honour thoul't pursue,
I'll just grow Wise and Philosophick too:
I'll bid these tender silly things Farewel;
And Love, with thy great Antidote, expel:
I'll tread the same Ambitious Paths with thee,
And Glory too shall be my Deity.
And now I'll once release my Train of Fools,
In Sheer good Nature to the Loving Souls;
For Pity's-sake at last I'll set at rights
The vain conceits of the presumptuous Wights:
[Page 66]For tho' I shake off Therons Chains, yet he
Is all that e'er deserv'd a Smile from me.
But he's unjust, and false; and I a part
Would not accept, tho' of a MONARCH's heart.
And therefore flattering hopes, and wishes too,
With all Loves soft Concomitants, adieu:
No more to its Imperious Yoke I'll bow;
Pride and Resentment fortify me now.
My Inclinations are reverst; nor can
I but abhor the Slavery of Man,
How e'er the empty Lords of Nature boast
O're me, their Fond Prerogative is lost:
For, Uncontroul'd, I thus resolve to rove,
And hear no more of Hymen, or of Love:
No more such Wild Fantastick things shall Charm:
My Breast; nor these Serener Thoughts Alarm.
[Page 67]No more for Farce; I'll make a Lover Creep,
And look as Scurvy as if he had bit a Sheep.
Nor with Dissembled Smiles indulge the Fops,
In pure Revenge to their Audacious hopes;
Tho' at my Feet a thousand Victims lay,
I'd proudly spurn the Whining Slaves away.
Deaf, as the Winds, or Theron, would I prove,
And hear no more of Hymen, or of Love.
Like bright Diana now I'll range the Woods,
And haunt the silent Shades and silver Floods
I'll find out the Remotest Paths I can,
To shun th' Offensive, Hated Face of Man.
Where I'll Indulge my Liberty and Bliss,
And no Endimyon shall obtain a Kiss.
Now, Cupid, Mourn; the inlargement of my fate
Thou'st lost a Politician in thy State:
I could have taught thee, hadst thou lost thy Arm [...]
To fool the World with more delusive Ch [...]
[Page 68]I could have made thy Taper burn more bright,
And wing thy Shafts with an unerring flight:
'Twas I directed that successful dart,
That found its way to the Great—'s heart:
'Twas I that made the lovely Fl—n bow,
A proud contemner of thy Laws, till now;
I Sung thy Power, and Inspir'd the Swains,
Or thou hadst been no Deity on the Plains,
Yet think no more my freedom to surprize,
VVhich nothing can controul but Theron's eyes;
And every flattering Smile, and every Grace,
VVith all the Air of that Bewitching Face,
My Pride and Resolutions may deface:
For from those eyes for ever I'll remove,
To shun the Sight of what I would not love:
And then, tho every Cyclop stretcht his Art,
To form the little angry God a dart,
I'll yet defy his rage to touch my Heart:
[Page 69]For tho my years compel me to disdain,
Of the false Charmer meanly to complain;
'Tis yet some satisfaction to my Mind,
I for his sake abandon all Mankind.
My Prouder Muse, to love no more a slave,
Shall Sing the Gust, the Fortunate and Brave,
And twine her Promis'd Wreaths for Theron's Brow,
The Hero, not the faithless Lover now.
More Blooming Glories mayst thou still ac­quire,
And urge my Breast with a more active fire.
May New Successes wait upon thy Sword,
And deathless Honour all thy Acts record.
May all thou dost thy Character compleat;
And, like thy self, be loyal still and great:
[...] in an equal Orb as free I move,
And think no more of Hymen, or of Love.


THe Young Lady, who is the Au­thor of this BOOK, Living at a Great Distance from London, 'twas Im­possible She shou'd see the Sheets as they came from the PRESS; and is therefore no ways Accountable for the Printer's Errata's.

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