You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist;
Or you may inveigle
The phoenix of the East;
The lioness, ye may move her
To give o'er her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover;
He will find out his way.
THE PROTESTATION.
No more shall meads be deck'd with flowers,
Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers;
Nor greenest buds on branches spring,
Nor warbling birds delight to sing;
Nor April violets paint the grove,
If I forsake my Celia's love.
The fish shall in the ocean burn,
And fountains sweet shall bitter turn:
The humble oak no flood shall know
When floods shall highest hills o'erflow,
Black Lethe shall oblivion leave,
If e'er my Celia I deceive,
Love shall his bow and shaft lay by,
And Venus' doves want wings to fly:
The sun refuse to show his light
And day shall then be turn'd to night,
And in that night no star appear,
If once I leave my Celia dear.
Love shall no more inhabit earth,
Nor lovers more shall love for worth;
Nor joy alone in Heaven dwell,
Nor pain torment poor souls in hell;
Grim Death no more shall horrid prove,
If e'er I leave bright Celia's love.
I NEVER saw her face till now,
That could my fancy move,
I liked, and ventur'd many a vow,
But durst not think of love.
Till beauty charming every sense,
An easy conquest made,
And show'd the vainness of defence
When Phillis doth invade.
But ah, her colder heart denies
The thoughts her looks inspire,
And while in ice that frozen lies,
Her eyes dart only fire.
Between extremes I am undone,
Like plants to northward set,
Burnt by too violent a sun,
Or cold for want of heat.
'Twixt hope and fear I tortur'd am,
And vainly wish for ease;
The more I struggle with my flame,
The more it doth increase,
I woo'd and woo'd to be releas'd
From these soft chains I made,
But if I strive I'm more opprest
When Phillis does invade.
O cruel Love, why dost thou deign
To wound me with such smart,
And not an equal shaft retain
To melt her frozen heart.
Or does she struggle with the flame
Victorious to be said!
For if she does, my hopes are vain, Though Phillis does invade.
THE world was hush'd, and nature lay
Lull'd in a soft repose,
As I in tears reflecting lay
On Chloe's faithless vows: The god of love all gay appear'd To heal my wounded heart; New pangs of joy my soul endear'd, And pleasure charm'd each part: "Fond man," said he, "here end thy woc, Till they my power and justice know, The foolish sex will all do so.
"But for thy ease believe no bliss
Is perfect without pain;
The fairest summer hurtful is
Without some showers of rain :
The joys of Heav'n who would prize
If men too cheaply bought:
The dearest part of mortal joys,
Most charming is when sought:
And though with dross true love they pay,
Those that know finest metal say,
No gold will coin without allay.
But that the generous lover may
Not always sigh in vain ;
The cruel nymph that kills to-day
To-morrow shall be slain."
The little god no sooner spoke,
But from my sight he flew,
And I that groan'd with Chloe's yolo
Found Love's revenge was.true:
Her proud hard heart too late did turn
With fiercer flames than mine did burn,
Whilst I as much began to scorn.
AWAY; let nought to love displeasing,
My Winifreda, move your care;
Let nough delay the heavenly blessing,
Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear.
What tho' no grants of royal donors
With pompous titles grace our blood; We'll shine in more substantial honors, And to be noble we'll be good.
Our name, while virtue thus we tender,
Will sweetly sound where'er 'tis spoke:
And all the great ones they shall wonder
How they respect such little folk,
What though from fortune's lavish bounty
No mighty treasures we possess;
We'll find within our pittance plenty,
And be content without excess.
Still shall each returning season
Sufficient for our wishes give;
For we will live a life of reason,
For that's the only life to live.
Through youth and age in love excelling,
We'll hand in hand together tread;
Sweet smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed.
How should I love the pretty creatures, While round my knees they fondly clung; To see them look their mother's features,
And hear them lisp their mother's tongue.
And when with envy time transported,
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,
And I'll go wooing in my boys.
COLIN'S COMPLAINT.
DESPAIRING beside a clear stream,
A shepherd forsaken was laid;
And while a false nymph was his theme,
A willow supported his head.
The wind that blew over the plain,
To his sighs with a sigh did reply;
And the brook, in return to his pain,
Ran mournfully murmuring by.
Alas! silly swain that I was;
Thus sadly complaining he cry'd; When first I beheld that fair face,
'Twere better by far I had died: She talk'd, and I bless'd her dear tongue; When she smil'd, 'twas a pleasure too great;
I listen'd, and eried when she sung,
Was nightingale ever so sweet!
How foolish was I to believe
She could dote on so lowly a clown,
Or that her fond heart would not grieve
To forsake the fine folk of the town;
To think that a beauty so gay,
So kind and so constant would prove;
Or go clad like our maidens in grey,
Or live in a cottage on love!
What though I have skill to complain,
Tho' the muses my temples have crown'd, What tho', when they hear my soft strain, The virgins sit weeping around?
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