Expect those ftatues, as you pass, should burn;
And that with wonder men fhould ftatues turn;
Such beauty is enough to give things life,
But not to make a husband love his wife:
A husband, worse than statues, or than trees;
Colder than those, lefs fenfible than these.
Then from fo dull a care your thoughts remove,
And waste not fighs you only owe to love.
'Tis pity, fighs from fuch a breast should part,
Unless to ease some doubtful lover's heart;
Who dies because he must too justly prize
What yet the dull poffeffor does despise.
Thus precious jewels among Indians grow,
Who nor their use, nor wondrous value know;
But we for those bright treafures tempt the main,
And hazard life for what the fools difdain.

A

LETTER FROM SEA.

FAireft, if time and abfence can incline

Your heart to wandering thoughts no more than
mine;

Then shall my hand, as changeless as my mind,
From your glad eyes a kindly welcome find;
Then, while this note my conftancy affures,
You'll be almost as pleas'd, as I with yours.
And trust me, when I feel that kind relief,
Abfence itself awhile fufpends its grief:

So

may it do with you, but ftrait return; For it were cruel not fometimes to mourn

His

His fate, who this long time he keeps away,
Mourns all the night, and fighs out all the day;
Grieving yet more, when he reflects that you
Must not be happy, or must not be true.
But fince to me it seems a blacker fate
To be inconftant, than unfortunate ;
Remember all thofe vows between us past,
When I from all I value parted last ;
May you alike with kind impatience burn,
And fomething mifs, till I with joy return;
And foon may pitying Heaven that bleffing give,.
As in the hopes of that alone I live.

GR

LOVE'S

SLAVERY.

RAVE fops my envy now beget,
Who did my pity move;

They, by the right of wanting wit,
Are free from cares of love.

Turks honour fools, because they are

By that defect fecure

From flavery and toils of war,
Which all the rest endure.

So I, who fuffer cold neglect
And wounds from Celia's eyes,
Begin extremely to refpect

Thefe fools that seem so wife.

'Tis true, they fondly fet their hearts
On things of no delight;

To pafs all day for men of parts,
They pafs alone the night.

But Celia never breaks their reft;
Such fervants fhe difdains;
And fo the fops are dully bleft,
While I endure her chains.

RE

THE

DREA M.

EADY to throw me at the feet
Of that fair nymph whom I adore,
Impatient thofe delights to meet
Which I enjoy'd the night before;

By her wonted fcornful brow,
Soon the fond mistake I find;
Ixion mourn'd his error so,

When Juno's form the cloud refign'd.

Sleep, to make its charms more priz'd
Than waking joys, which moft prevail,
Had cunningly itself difguis'd
In a shape that could not fail.

There my Celia's fnowy arms,
Breafts, and other parts more dear,
Expofing new and unknown charms,
To my tranfported foul appear.

Then

Then

you

fo much kindness show,

My defpair deluded flies;
And indulgent dreams bestow
What your cruelty denies.

Blush not that your image Love
Naked to my fancy brought;
'Tis hard, methinks, to disapprove
The joys I feel without

Wonder not a fancy'd bliss

your fault.

Can fuch griefs as mine remove;

That honour as fantastic is,

Which makes you flight such constant love.

Is but a fancy frail and vain ;

Nothing is folid here below,

Except my love and your difdain.

TO ONE WHO ACCUSED HIM OF BEING TOO

SENSUAL IN HIS LOVE.

THINK not, my fair, 'tis fin or fhame,

To blefs the man who fo adores;

Nor give fo hard, unjust a name

To all thofe favours he implores.

Beauty is Heaven's most bounteous gift efteem'd,
Becaufe by love men are from vice redeem❜d.

Yet

Yet wish not vainly for a love

From all the force of nature clear:

That is referv'd for those above,
And 'tis a fault to claim it here.

For fenfual joys ye scorn that we should love ye,
But love without them is as much above ye.

W

THE

ARN

I N G.

LOVERS, who waste your thoughts and youth
In paffion's fond extremes,

Who dream of women's love and truth,

And doat upon your dreams:

I fhould not here your fancy take
From fuch a pleasing state,
Were you not fure at laft to wake,
And find your fault too late.

Then learn betimes, the love which crowns
Our cares is all but wiles,
Compos'd of falfe fantastic frowns,

And foft diffembling fmiles.

With anger, which sometimes they feign,

They cruel tyrants prove;

And then turn flatterers again,

With as affected love.

As if fome injury was meant

To thofe they kindly us❜d,

Thofe lovers are the most content

That have been still refus’d.

Since