And guiding others by his voice, or beck!
Yet shall this man, at ev'ry moment, find
More gall, than honey, in his restless mind!
Now, Monster! since my words have struck thee
dumb;

Behold this Garland! whence such virtues come,
Such glories shine, and piercing beams are thrown,
As make thee blind; and turn thee to a stone!

And thou, whose wand'ring feet were running down Th' infernal steepness, look upon this Crown! Within these folds lie hidden no deceits,

No golden lures, on which perdition waits!
But when thine eyes, the prickly thorns have past;
See, in the circle, boundless joys at last!

PILGRIM.

These things are now most clear! Thee, I embrace! Immortal wealth! Let worldlings count thee base! Choice is thy matter! glorious is thy shape!

Fit Crown for them who, tempting dangers, 'scape!

THE blushing rose and purple flower,
Let grow too long, are soonest blasted!
Dainty fruits, though sweet, will sour,
And rot in ripeness, left untasted!

Yet here is one more sweet than these;
The more you taste, the more She'll please!

Beauty, though inclosed with ice,

Is a shadow chaste as rare;

Then, how much those sweets intice,
That have issue full as fair!

Earth cannot yield from all her powers,
One equal for Dame VENUS' bowers!

WHY art thou slow, thou rest of trouble, Death!
To stop a wretch's breath?

That calls on thee; and offers her sad heart
A prey unto thy dart!

I am nor young, nor fair! Be therefore bold!
Sorrow hath made me old,

Deformed, and wrinkled! All that I can crave,
Is quiet in my grave!

Such as live happy, hold long life a jewel!
But, to me, thou art cruel,

If thou end not my tedious misery;

And I soon cease to be!

Strike! and strike home then! Pity unto me, In one short hour's delay, is tyranny!

A DESCRIPTION OF THE SPRING.

On a bank, as I sat a fishing.

AND now all Nature seemed in love.
The lusty sap began to move!

New juice did stir th' embracing vines;
And birds had drawn their Valentines !
The jealous trout, that low did lie,
Rose at a well-dissembled fly!

There stood my friend, with patient skill,
Attending of his trembling quill!

Already were the eaves possest
With the swift pilgrims' daubèd nest!
The groves already did rejoice
In PHILOMEL'S triumphing voice!

The showers were short, the weather mild,
The morning fresh, the evening smiled!
JOAN takes her neat-rubbed pail, and now
She trips to milk the sand-red cow;
Where, for some sturdy football Swain,
JOAN strokes a syllabub, or twain!

The fields and gardens are beset
With tulip, crocus, violet!

And now, though late, the modest rose,
Did more than half a blush disclose!

Thus all looked gay, all full of cheer,
To welcome the new-liveried year.

ON HIS MISTRESS, [ELIZABETH,]

THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA.

You, meaner Beauties of the night,
That poorly satisfy our eyes,

More by your number, than your light!
You, common people of the skies!
What are you, when the Sun shall rise?

You, curious Chanters of the wood,

That warble forth Dame Nature's lays,
Thinking your voices understood

By your weak accents! What's your praise,
When PHILOMEL her voice shall raise ?

You, Violets, that first appear,

By your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud Virgins of the Year;
As if the Spring were all your own!
What are you, when the Rose is blown?

So, when my Mistress shall be seen,
In form and beauty of her mind,
By Virtue first, then Choice, a Queen;
Tell me, If she were not designed
Th' Eclipse and Glory of her kind?

A DESCRIPTION

OF THE COUNTRY'S RECREATIONS.

QUIVERING fears, heart-tearing cares,
Anxious sighs, untimely tears,

Fly, fly to Courts!

Fly to fond worldlings' sports!

Where strained sardonic Smiles are glozing still; And. Grief is forced to laugh against her will! Where Mirth's but mummery;

And Sorrows only real be!

Fly from our Country Pastimes! Fly,
Sad troop of human misery!

Come, serene looks,

Clear as the crystal brooks,

Or the pure azured heaven, that smiles to see The rich attendance of our poverty!

Peace and a secure mind,

Which all men seek, we only find!