That a bold hand as foon might hope to force
The rolling lights of heav'n as change her course.
Some happy angel, that beholds her there,
Inftruct us to record what fhe was here!
And when this cloud of forrow's overblown,
Thro' the wide world we'll make her graces known.
So fresh the wound is, and the grief fo vast,
That all our art and pow'r of speech is waste.
Here paffion fways, but there the Muse shall raise
Eternal monuments of louder praise.
There our delight complying with her fame,
Shall have occafion to recite thy name,
Fair Sachariffa!and now only fair!
To facred friendship we 'll an altar rear,
(Such as the Romans did erect of old)
Where on a marble pillar shall be told
The lovely paffion each to other bare,
With the resemblance of that matchlefs pair.
Narciffus to the thing for which he pin'd
Was not more like than your's to her fair mind, 60
Save that the grac'd the fev'ral parts of life,
A spotlefs virgin, and a faultlefs wife.
Such was the sweet converfe 'twixt her and
As that she holds with her affociates now.
How falfe is Hope, and how regardless Fate, 65
That fuch a love fhould have fo fhort a date!
Lately I faw her, fighing, part from thee;
(Alas that that the last farewell should be!)
So look'd Aftræa, her remove defign'd,
On those diftreffed friends fhe left behind.
Confent in virtue knit your hearts fo faft,
That still the knot, in spite of death, does laft;
For as your tears, and forrow-wounded foul,
Prove well that on your part this bond is whole,
So all we know of what they do above,
Is that they happy are, and that they love.
Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave,
Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have:
Well chofen love is never taught to die,
But with our nobler part invades the sky.
Then grieve no more that one fo heav'nly fhap'd
The crooked hand of trembling Age escap'd:
Rather, fince we beheld her not decay,
But that the vanish'd fo entire away,
Her wondrous beauty and her goodness merit
We should fuppofe that fome propitious spirit
In that celeftial form frequented here,
And is not dead, but ceases to appear.
ANGER, in hafty words or blows,
Itfelf discharges on our foes;
And forrow, too, finds fome relief
In tears, which wait upon our grief:
So ev'ry paffion, but fond love,
Unto its own redrefs does move;
But that alone the wretch inclines
To what prevents his own defigns;
Makes him lament, and figh, and weep,
Disorder'd, tremble, fawn, and creep;
Poftures which render him defpis'd,
Where he endeavours to be priz'd.
For women, (born to be controll'd)
Stoop to the forward and the bold;
Affect the haughty and the proud,
The gay,
the frolick, and the loud.
Who firft the gen'rous iteed oppreft,
Not kneeling did falute the beaft;
But with high courage, life, and force,
Approaching, tam'd th' unruly horse.
Unwifely we the wifer East
Pity, fuppofing them oppreft
With tyrants' force, whofe law is will,
By which they govern, fpoil, and kill:
Each nymph, but moderately fair,
Commands with no less rigour here.
Should fome brave Turk, that walks among
His twenty laffes, bright and young,
And beckons to the willing dame,
Preferr'd to quench his prefent flame,
Behold as many gallants here,
With modeft guife and filent fear,
All to one female idol bend,
While her high pride does scarce defcend
To mark their follies, he would swear
That these her guard of eunuchs were,
And that a more majestick queen,
Or humbler flaves, he had not seen.
All this with indignation spoke,
In vain I ftruggled with the yoke
Of mighty Love: that conqu'ring look,
When next beheld, like lightning strook
My blasted foul, and made me bow
Lower than those I pity'd now.
So the tall flag, upon the brink
Of fome smooth stream about to drink,
Surveying there his armed head,
With fhame remembers that he fled
The fcorned dogs, refolves to try
The combat next; but if their cry
Invades again his trembling ear,
He ftrait refumes his wonted care,
Leaves the untafted fpring behind,
And, wing'd with fear, outflies the wind.
FOR DRINKING OF HEALTHS.
LET brutes and vegetals, that cannot think,
So far as drought and nature urges, dṛink;
A more indulgent mistress guides our sp'rits,
Reason, that dares beyond our appetites:
She would our care as well as thirst redress,
And with divinity rewards exccfs.
Deferted Ariadne, thus fupply'd,
Did perjur'd Thefeus' cruelty deride:
Bacchus embrac'd, from her exalted thought
Banish'd the man, her paffion, and his fault.
Bacchus and Phoebus are by Jove ally'd,
And each by other's timely heat supply'd:
All that the grapes owe to his rip'ning fires
Is paid in numbers which their juice infpires.
Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood
To give our friends a title to our blood:
Who, naming me, doth warm his courage fo,
Shews for my fake what his bold hand would do. 18
PLAYING ON THE LUTE.
Such moving founds from such a careless touch!
So unconcern'd herself, and we fo much!
What art is this, that with fo little pains
Transports us thus, and o'er our spirits reigns?
The trembling ftrings about her fingers crowd,
And tell their joy for ev'ry kifs aloud,
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