Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines! Sweet swan of Avon! what a sight it were That so did take Eliza, and our James ! Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage, Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like night, And despairs day, but for thy volumes light. JEALOUSY. WRETCHED and foolish Jealousy, Nor have I yet the narrow mind To vent that poor desire, That others should not warm them at my fire: I wish the sun should shine On all men's fruits and flowers, as well as mine. But under the disguise of love, Think'st thou that love is helped by Go, get thee quickly forth, Inditing and arraigning every day, Something they call a play. Let their fastidious, vain Commission of the brain Run on, and rage, sweat, censure, and condemn : They were not made for thee, less thou for them. Say that thou pour'st them wheat, And they will acorns eat; 'Twere simple fury still thyself to waste On such as have no taste! To offer them a surfeit of pure bread, Whose appetites are dead! No, give them grains their fill, Husks, draff to drink and swill. If they love lees, and leave the lusty wire, Envy them not their palates with the swine. No doubt some mouldy tale, Like Pericles, and stale As the shrieves crusts, and nasty as his fish Scraps, out of every dish Thrown forth, and rank'd into the common tub, May keep up the play-club: For who the relish of these guests will fit, And much good do't you then: Brave plush and velvet men Can feed on orts: and safe in your stage. clothes, Dare quit upon your oaths, Love's sickness, and his noted want of The stagers and the stage-wrights too And though thy nerves be shrunk, and blood be cold, Ere years have made thee old; Strike that disdainful heat Throughout to their defeat: As curious fools, and envious of thy strain, May, blushing, swear no palsy's in thy brain. But when they hear thee sing His zeal to God, and his just awe o'er men : They may, blood-shaken then, powers; As they shall cry, like ours, In sound of peace or wars, No harp e'er hit the stars, In tuning forth the acts of his sweet reign: And raising Charles his chariot 'bove his waine. Long wand'ring in the wood, said I, At length upon a lofty fir Where that dear name most due to her Which whilst with wonder I beheld, The bees their honey brought, As they with gold were wrought. And near that tree's more spacious Then looking on the ground, Which stuck there like a curious seal, Us, wretched mortals, to reveal Besides, the flowers which it had press'd, More fresh and lovely than the rest, The clear drops, in the steps that stood Of that delicious girl, The nymphs, amongst their dainty food, The yielding sand, where she had trod, By the fair posture plainly shew'd "I first upon the mountains high "I taught the shepherds on the downs "Thy colours I devis'd with care, Which were unknown before : Which since that in their braided hair The nymphs and sylvans wore. "Transform me to what shape you can, I pass not what it be: Yea, what most hateful is to man, (Quoth she), "Most welcome to these woods Too mean for one so true. "Here from the hateful world we'll live, "To people the infernal pit, That more and more doth strive; "Whose vileness us shall never awe : "Of simples in these groves that grow, We'll learn the perfect skill: The nature of each herb to know, Which cures and which can kill. "The waxen palace of the bee, We seeking will surprise, "We'll suck the sweets out of the comb And make the gods repine, As they do feast in Jove's great room, "Yet when there haps a honey fall, "The nimble squirrel noting here, Her mossy dray that makes, "The spider's web to watch we'll stand "Sometime we'll angle at the brook, The freckled trout to take, Which when she heard, full pearly floods With silken worms and bait the hocks I in her eyes might view. Which him our prey shall make. |