Which ftray or fleep all day, and having loft Light and ftrength, dark and tir'd must then ride poft. All that Man has to do is to live and die; the fum of humanity is comprehended by Donne in the following lines: Think in how poor a prison thou didst lie, After, enabled but to fuck and cry. Think, when 'twas grown to moft, 'twas a poor inn, A province pack'd up in two yards of skin, And And that ufurp'd, or threaten'd with a rage Of fickneffes, or their true mother, age. But think that death hath now enfranchis'd thee; Thou haft thy expanfion now, and liberty; Think, that a rufty piece difcharg'd is flown In pieces, and the bullet is his own, And freely flics: this to thy foul allow, Think thy fhell broke, think thy foul hatch'd but now. THEY were fometimes indelicate and difgufting. Cowley thus apoftro phifes beauty: -Thou -Thou tyrant, which leav'ft no man free! Thou fubtle thief, from whom nought fafe can be! Thou murth'rer, which haft killed, and devil, which would'st damn me. Thus he addreffes his Mistress: Thou, who in many a propriety, Add one more likenefs, which I'm fure you can, And let me and my fun beget a man. Thus he reprefents the meditations of a Lover: Tho' in thy thoughts fcarce any tracts have been So much as of original fin, Such Such charms thy beauty wears as might Doft in each breast a brothel keep; The true taste of tears. Hither with crystal vials, lovers, come, wine, And try your miftrefs' tears at home, For all are falfe, that tafte not just like As the sweet sweat of rofes in a still, As that which from chaf'd mufk-cat's pores doth trill, As the almighty balm of th' early Eaft, Such are the sweet drops of my miftrefs' breast. And on her neck her fkin fuch luftre fets, They feem no fweat drops, but pearl coronets: Rank fweaty froth thy miftrefs' brow defiles. DONNE. THEIR expreffions fometimes raise horror, when they intend perhaps to be pathetic: As |