XV.

TO MY LORD OF FALKLAND.

BRAVE Holland leads, and with him Falkland goes:
Who hears this told, and does not straight suppose
We fend the Graces and the Muses forth,
To civilize and to inftruct the North?

Not that these ornaments make swords less sharp; 5
Apollo bears as well his bow as harp:
And tho' he be the patron of that spring,
Where, in calm peace, the facred virgins fing,
He courage had to guard th' invaded throne
Of Jove, and caft th' ambitious giants down.

Ah, noble Friend! with what impatience all
That know thy worth, and know how prodigal
Of thy great foul thou art, (longing to twist
Bays with that ivy which fo early kifs'd
Thy youthful temples) with what horrour we
Think on the blind events of war and thee?
To fate expofing that all-knowing breast
Among the throng as cheaply as the reft;
Where oaks and brambles ( if the copse be burn'd)
Confounded lie, to the fame afhes turn'd.

Some happy wind over the ocean blow

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This tempeft yet, which frights our island fo!
Guarded with fhips, and all the fea our own,
From Heav'n this mischief on our heads is thrown.

In a late dream the Genius of this land,
Amaz'd, I faw, like the fair Hebrew *, stand,
When first fhe felt the twins begin to jar,
And found her womb the feat of Civil war.
Inclin'd to whofe relief, and with prefage
Of better fortune for the prefent age,

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Heav'n fends, quoth I, this discord for our good,
To warm, perhaps, but not to waste our blood;
To raise our drooping fpirits, grown the scorn
Of our proud neighbours, who ere long shall mourn
(Tho' now they joy in our expected harms)
We had occafion to resume our arms.

A lion fo with felf-provoking smart,
(His rebel tail fcourging his nobler part).
Calls up his courage, then begins to roar,

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And charge his foes, who thought him mad before. 40

XVI.

TO A LADY,

SINGING A SONG OF HIS COMPOSING.

CHLORIS! yourself you so excel,

my thought,

When you vouchsafe to breathe
That, like a fpirit, with this fpell
Of my own teaching, I am caught.

That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the fhaft that made him die,

*Rebekah.

Efpy'd a feather of his own,
Wherewith he wont to foar fo high.

Had Echo, with so sweet a grace,
Narciffus' loud complaints return'd,
Not for reflection of his face,

But of his voice, the boy had burn'd.

XVII.

TO THE MUTABLE FAIR,

HERE, Calia! for thy fake I part.

With all that grew fo near my heart; 'being. I'

The paffion that I had for thee,

The faith, the love, the conftancy!

And, that I may successful prove,
Transform myself to what you love..
Fool that I was! fo much to prize:
Those fimple virtues you despise:...‚'
Fool! that with fuch dull arrows frove,
Or hop'd to reach a flying dove; an' worm.
For you, that are in motion ftill, vilke

Decline our force, and mock our skill;

Who, like Don Quixote, do advanceul by dhow ́{" Against a windmill our vain lance...

Now will I wander thro' the air,in z pol sol AIS Mount, make a stoop at ev'ry fair;

And, with a fancy unconfin'd, (As lawless as the fca or wind)

Volume 11.

Purfue you wherefoe'er you fly,

And with your various thoughts comply.
The formal stars do travel fo,

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As we their names and courfes know;

And he that on their changes looks,

Would think them govern'd by our books;
But never were the clouds reduc'd

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To any art: the motion us'd

By those free vapours are so light,
So frequent, that the conquer'd fight
Despairs to find the rules that guide
Thofe gilded fhadows as they flide;
And therefore of the spacious air
Jove's royal confort had the care;
And by that pow'r did once escape,
Declining bold Ixion's rape:

She, with her own refemblance, grac'd
A fhining cloud, which he embrac'd.
Such was that image, fo it fmil'd.
With feeming kindness, which beguil'd
Your Thryfis lately, when he thought
He had his fleeting Cælia caught.
'Twas fhap'd like her, but for the fair,
He fill'd his arms with yielding air.
24A fate for which he grieves the less,
Because the gods had like fuccefs:
For in their story one, we fee,
Pursues a nymph, and takes a tree;

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A fecond, with a lover's hafte,
Soon overtakes whom he had chas'd;

But fhe that did a virgin feem,

Possess'd, appears a wand'ring stream.

For his fuppofed love, a third

Lays greedy hold upon a bird,

And ftands amaz'd to find his dear

A wild inhabitant of th' air!

To these old tales fuch nymphs as you
Give credit, and still make them new;
The am'rous now like wonders find
In the fwift changes of your mind.
But, Cælia, if you apprehend
The Mufe of your incensed friend,
Nor would that he fe cord your blame,
And make it live, repeat the fame;
Again deceive him, and again,

And then he fwears he 'll not complaint...
For ftill to be deluded fo,

Is all the pleasure lovers know;

Who, like good falc'ners, take delight
Not in the quarry, but the flight.

XVIII.

TO A LADY,

FROM WHOM HE RECEIVED A SILVER PEN.

MADAM! intending to have try'd
The filver favour which you gave,

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