Poems (1686) Part 7

O Wretched Labour crown'd with such a Meed!

Too loud, O Fame! thy Trumpet is, too shrill, To lull a Mind to Rest, Or calme a stormy Breast, Which asks a Musick soft and still.

'Twas not _Amaleck_'s vanquisht Cry, Nor _Israels_ shout of Victory, That could in _Saul_ the rising Pa.s.sion lay, 'Twas the soft strains of _David_'s Lyre the Evil Spirit chace't away.

V.

But Friendship fain would yet itself defend, And Mighty Things it does pretend, To be of this Sad Journey, Life, the Baite, The sweet Refection of our toylsome State.

But though True Friendship a Rich Cordial be, Alas, by most 'tis so alay'd, Its Good so mixt with Ill we see, That Dross for Gold is often paid.

And for one Grain of Friendship that is found, } Falshood and Interest do the Ma.s.s compound, } Or coldness, worse than Steel, the Loyal heart doth wound. } Love in no Two was ever yet the same, No Happy Two ere felt an Equal Flame.

VI.

Is there that Earth by Humane Foot ne're prest?

That Aire which never yet by Humane Breast Respir'd, did Life supply?

Oh, thither let me fly!

Where from the World at such a distance set, All that's past, present, and to come I may forget: The Lovers Sighs, and the Afflicteds Tears, What e're may wound my Eyes or Ears.

The grating Noise of Private Jars, The horrid sound of Publick Wars, Of babling Fame the Idle Stories, The short-liv'd Triumphs Noysy-Glories, The Curious Nets the subtile weave, The Word, the Look that may deceive.

No Mundan Care shall more affect my Breast, My profound Peace shake or molest: But _Stupor_, like to Death, my Senses bind, That so I may antic.i.p.ate that Rest, Which only in my Grave I hope to find.

A Pastoral Dialogue.

_Amintor._ Stay gentle Nymph, nor so solic'tous be?

To fly his sight that still would gaze on thee.

With other Swaines I see thee oft converse, Content to speak, and hear what they rehea.r.s.e: But I unhappy, when I e're draw nigh, Thou streight do'st leave both Place, and Company.

If this thy Flight, from fear of Harm doth flow, Ah, sure thou little of my Heart dost know.

_Alinda._ What wonder, Swain, if the Pursu'd by Flight, Seeks to avoid the close Pursuers Sight?

And if no Cause I have to fly from thee, Then thou hast none, why thou dost follow me.

_Amin._ If to the Cause thou wilt propitious prove, Take it at once, fair Nymph, and know 'tis Love.

_Alin._ To my just Pray'r, ye favouring G.o.ds attend, } These Vows to Heaven with equal Zeal I send, } My flocks from Wolves, my Heart from Love, defend. }

_Amin._ The G.o.ds which did on thee such Charms bestow, Ne're meant thou shouldst to Love have prov'd a Foe, That so Divine a Power thou shouldst defy.

Could there a Reason be, I'd ask thee, why?

_Alin._ Why does _Licoris_, once so bright and gay, Pale as a Lilly pine her self away?

Why does _Elvira_, ever sad, frequent The lonely shades? Why does yon Monument Which we upon our Left Hand do behold, Hapless _Amintas_ youthful Limbs enfold?

Say Shepherd, say: But if thou wilt not tell, _Damon_, _Philisides_, and _Strephon_ well Can speak the Cause, whose Falshood each upbraids, And justly me from Cruel Love disswades.

_Amin._ Hear me ye G.o.ds. Me and my Flocks forsake, If e're like them my promis'd Faith I brake.

_Alin._ By others sad Experience wise I'le be. } } _Amin._ But such thy Wisdom highly injures me: } And nought but Death can give a Remedy. } Ye Learn'd in Physick, what does it avail, That you by Art (wherein ye never fail) Present Relief have for the Mad-dogs Bite?

The Serpents sting? the poisonous _Achonite_?

While helpless Love upbraids your baffl'd skill, And far more certain, than the rest, doth kill.

_Alin._ Fond Swain, go dote upon the new blown Rose, Whose Beauty with the Morning did disclose, And e're Days King forsakes th'enlighted Earth, Wither'd, returns from whence it took its Birth.

As much Excuse will there thy Love attend, As what thou dost on Womens Beauty spend.

_Amin._ Ah Nymph, those Charms which I in thee admire, Can, nor before, nor with thy Life expire.

From Heaven they are, and such as ne're can dye, But with thy Soul they will ascend the Sky!

For though my ravisht Eye beholds in Thee, Such beauty as I can in none else see; That Nature there alone is without blame, Yet did not this my faithful Heart enflame: Nor when in Dance thou mov'st upon the Plaine, Or other Sports pursu'st among the Train Of choicest Nymphs, where thy attractive Grace Shews thee alone, though thousands be in place!

Yet not for these do I _Alinda_ love, Hear then what 'tis, that does my Pa.s.sion move.

That Thou still Earliest at the Temple art, And still the last that does from thence depart; _Pans_ Altar is by thee the oftnest prest, Thine's still the fairest Offering and the Best; And all thy other Actions seem to be, The true Result of Unfeign'd Piety; Strict in thy self, to others Just and Mild; Careful, nor to Deceive, nor be Beguil'd; Wary, without the least Offence, to live, Yet none than thee more ready to forgive!

Even on thy Beauty thou dost Fetters lay, Least, unawares, it any should betray.

Far unlike, sure, to many of thy s.e.x, Whose Pride it is, the doting World to vex; Spreading their Universal Nets to take Who e're their artifice can captive make.

But thou command'st thy Sweet, but Modest Eye, That no Inviting Glance from thence should fly.

Beholding with a Gen'rous Disdain, The lighter Courtships of each amorous Swain; Knowing, true Fame, Vertue alone can give: Nor dost thou greedily even that receive.

And what 'bove this thy Character can raise?

Thirsty of Merit, yet neglecting Praise!

While daily these Perfections I discry, Matchless _Alinda_ makes me daily dy.

Thou absent, Flow'rs to me no Odours yield, Nor find I freshness in the dewy Field; Not _Thyrsis_ Voice, nor _Melibeus_ Lire, Can my Sad Heart with one Gay Thought inspire; My thriving Flock ('mong Shepherds Vows the Chief) I unconcern'd behold, as they my Grief.

This I profess, if this thou not believe, A further proof I ready am to give, Command: there's nothing I'le not undertake, And, thy Injunctions, Love will easie make.

Ah, if thou couldst incline a gentle Ear, Of plighted Faith, and hated _Hymen_ hear; Thou hourly then my spotless Love should'st see, That all my Study, how to please, should be; How to protect thee from disturbing Care, And in thy Griefs to bear the greatest share; Nor should a Joy, my Warie Heart surprize, That first I read not in thy charming Eyes.

_Alin._ If ever I to any do impart, My, till this present hour, well-guarded Heart, That Pa.s.sion I have fear'd, I'le surely prove, For one that does, like to _Amintor_ love.

_Amintor._ Ye G.o.ds----

_Alin._ Shepherd, no more: enough it is that I, Thus long to Love, have listn'd patiently.

Farewel: _Pan_ keep thee, Swain.

_Amintor._ And Blessings Thee, Rare as thy Vertues, still accompany.

A Pastoral Dialogue.

Melibaeus, Alcippe, Asteria, Licida, Alcimedon, _and_ Amira.

_Melibaeus._ Welcome fair Nymphs, most welcome to this shade, Distemp'ring Heats do now the Plains invade: But you may sit, from Sun securely here, If you an old mans company not fear.

_Alcippe._ Most Reverend Swaine, far from us ever be The imputation of such Vanity.

From Hill to Holt w'ave thee unweary'd sought, And bless the Chance that us hath hither brought.

_Asteria._ Fam'd _Melibaeus_ for thy Virtuous Lays, If thou dost not disdain our Female Praise, We come to sue thou would'st to us recite One of thy Songs, which gives such high delight To ev'ry Eare, wherein thou dost dispense Sage Precepts cloath'd in flowing Eloquence.

_Licida._ Fresh Garlands we will make for thee each morne, Thy reverend Head to shade, and to adorne; To cooling Springs thy fainting Flock we'll guide, All thou command'st, to do shall be our Pride.

_Meli._ Cease, gentle Nymphs, the Willing to entreat, To have your Wish, each needs but take a Seat.

With joy I shall my ancient Art revive, With which, when Young, I did for Glory strive.

Nor for my Verse will I accept a Hire, Your bare Attentions all I shall require.