Or, after a few moments dear, And at last Perish entirely like a beaft. But women, wine, and mirth, we know, Of what the knaves invent. SONG. [1671.] SIR CHARLES SEDLEY. I. COME, Chloris, hie we to the bower, II. And if a flower but chance to die With my fighs' blaft, or mine eyes' rain, Thou canst revive it with thine eye, And with thy breath make sweet again. The wanton suckling, and the vine, To keep the burning sun away. THE ACADEMY OF COMPLIMENTS. LOVE'S BRAVO. [1674.] WHY fhould we murmur, why repine, Like prisoners, why do we these fetters shake, If mortals would but mind it, And 'tis not hard to find it: Who would be happy, must be desperate. THOMAS FLATMAN. SONG. [1675.] CUPID, I scorn to beg the art If he be coy, my airy mind Brooks not a fiege; if she be kind, Love is a game; hearts are the prize; The game is done. Love is a coward, hunts the flying prey, SIR FRANCIS FANE. UNCERTAIN LOVE. [1676.] THE labouring man that plants and sows, His certain times of profit knows ; But my too much loved Celia's mind Now with affured hope raised high, Hope that a dying saint may own, But ere my swifteft thought can thence Yet Celia's ne'er will come agen. THOMAS DUFFETT. THE MOWER TO THE GLOW-WORMS. [1677?] YE living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does fit so late, And ftudying all the summer night, Ye country comets, that portend Than to presage the grass's fall; Ye glow-worms, whose officious flame Your courteous lights in vain ye waste, For fhe my mind hath so displaced, That I shall never find my home. ANDREW MARVELL. LOVE AND LIFE. [1678?] ALL my past life is mine no more, The time that is to come is not, Then talk not of inconftancy, False hearts, and broken vows; If I, by miracle, can be This livelong minute true to thee, 'Tis all that Heaven allows. JOHN WILMOT, Earl of Rochefter. |