A

MAN may

live thrice Neftor's life,

Thrice wander out Ulyffes' race,

Yet never find Ulyffes' wife;

Lefs

Such change hath chanced in this cafe!

age will ferve than Paris had,

Small pain (if none be small enow)

To find good ftore of Helen's trade;

Such fap the root doth yield the bough!

For one good wife, Ulyffes flew

A worthy knot of gentle blood: For one ill wife, Greece overthrew

The town of Troy. Sith bad and good

Bring mischief, Lord let be thy will
To keep me free from either ill!

THE fmoky fighs, the bitter tears

That I in vain have wafted, The broken fleep, the woe and fears, That long in me have lasted,

The love, and all I owe to thee,

Here I renounce, and make me free.

The fruits were fair the which did grow

Within thy garden planted,

The leaves were green of every bough,
And moisture nothing wanted;

с

Yet, ere the bloffoms 'gan to fall
The caterpillar wasted all.

Thy body was the garden-place,

And fugar'd words it beareth; The bloffoms all, thy faith it was, Which, as the canker, weareth.

The caterpillar is the fame

That hath won thee, and loft thy name.

Of things that live in grief,

Which at some time may not resort,

Whereas they find relief.

The chaced deer hath foil,

To cool him in his heat;

The ass, after his weary toil,
In ftable is up fet.

The little bird its neft,

From heat and cold themselves to fave,

At all times as they lift.

The owl, with feeble fight,

Lies lurking in the leaves;

The sparrow, in the frofty night,

May shroud her in the eaves.

But, woe to me, alas!

In fun, nor yet in shade,
I cannot find a refting-place

My burthen to unlade.

N. B. The couplet printed in Italics, is faid to have been written by Q. MARY, on a window of Fotheringay Castle.

To this my fong give ear who lift,

And mine intent judge as ye will;
The time is come that I have mifs'd

The thing whereon I hoped ftill;
And, from the top of all my trust
Mishap bath thrown me in the duft.

The time hath been, and that of late,

My heart and I might leap at large,
And was not fhut within the gate

Of love's defire, nor took no charge

Of any thing that did pertain
As touching love, in any pain.

My thought was free, my heart was light,
I marked not who loft, who saught,*

I plaid by day, I flept by night,

I forced not who wept, who laugh'd;

My thought from all fuch things was free, And I myself at liberty.

I took no heed to taunts nor toys,

As lief to fee them frown as fmile; Where fortune laugh'd I fcorn'd their joys, I found their frauds, and every wile; And to myself oftimes I fmiled, To fee how love had them beguiled,

Thus, in the net of my conceit,
I masked ftill among the fort

Of fuch as fed upon the bait,

That Cupid laid for his difport;
And ever, as I faw them caught,
I them beheld and thereat laugh'd.

Till at the end, when Cupid fpied

My fcornful will, and fpiteful use, And how I past not who was tied,

So that myself might still live loose ;

He fet himself to lie in wait,
And in my way he threw a bait.

Such one as Nature never made,

I dare well fay, fave her alone;

Such one she was as would invade

A heart more hard than marble stone;

Such one fhe is, I know it right,
Her Nature made to fhew her might.

Then, as a man that's in a maze,
When use of reason is away,
So I began to ftare and gaze;

And fuddenly, without delay,
Ere ever I had the wit to look,
I swallow'd up both bait and hook.

Which daily grieves me more and more,
By fundry forts of careful woe,

And none alive can falve the fore,
But only the that hurt me fo;

In whom my life doth now confift
To fave or flay me as she lift.

But seeing now that I am caught,

And bound fo faft I cannot flee; Be ye by mine example taught,

free:

That in your fancies feel you Despise not them that lovers are, Left you be caught within his fnare.