Now is the proper Time to deck the Head,

And Myrtle round the Temple spread,

Or Flow'rs new springing from the teaming Bed.

Now is the Time, the Swains have fo decreed,
A bleating Lamb or tender Kid

To Faunus in the facred Grove must bleed.

Intruding Death, with equal Freedom greets
The low-built Hutt, and ftately Gates
Of lofty Palaces and Royal Seats.

Be wife, O Seftius! to prolong forbear,

Since Life is short, thy Hopes and Care:
The fabled Shades and gloomy State draw near.

Thou must e'er long, without Redemption go
To Pluto's dusky Realm below;

Thy Revels and thy drunken Joys forego.

Then Lycidas no longer fhall be thine,
Whofe Charms our Sex at prefent win,
For whom a thousand Virgins foon fhall pine.

Clarinda's Complaint

In the Time of the late WAR.

ITH Sighing, and Wishing, and Green

Sickness Diet,

With nothing of Pleasure, and little of

Quiet,

With a Grannum's Infpection, and Doctor's Direction,
But not the Specifick that fuits my Complection,

The Flow'r of my Age is full-blown in my Face,
Yet no Man confiders my comfortless Case.

II.

Young Women were valued, as I have been told,

In the late Times of Peace, above Mountains of Gold; But now there is Fighting, there's nothing but Slighting, Few Gallants in Conjugal Matters delighting

Tis a fhame that Mankind should love killing and flaying, And mind not to fupply the Stock that's decaying.

III.

Unlucky Clarinda, to live in a Season,

When Mars has forgotten to do Venus Reason!
Had I any Hand in Rule or Command,
I'd certainly make it a Law of the Land;
That killers of Men, to replenish the Store,

Be bound up to Wedlock, and made to get more.

IV.

Enacted moreover for better Dispatch,

That where a good Captain meets with an o'er-Match, His honeft Lieutenant, with Soldier-like Grace,

Shall relieve him on Duty, and serve in his Place,

Thus Killers and Slayers of able good Men,

Without Beat of Drum may recruit 'em agen.

SONG.

Tnthia with refiftless Power,

O'er ev'ry Heart extends her Sway;

Did the Eaftern Nations know her,

They'd not adore the God of Day:

Night on her Sable Temples lies,

Whilft Morning breaks from her bright Eyes.

II.

When the dances, all the Graces
With her Motions charm'd, rejoyce;
When the fings, fhe doubly pleases,
With her Angelick Form and Voice:

Her Mufick does the Soul Sublime,

Whilft ev'ry throbbing Heart beats Time.

麥涨涨

蓉蓉

THE

THE

Royal Progress.

HEN BRUNSWICK first appear'd, each honeft Heart,

Intent on Verfe, difdain'd the Rules of

Art.;

For him the Songfters, in unmeafur'd Odes,
Debas'd Alcides, and dethron'd the Gods:
In golden Chains the Kings of India led,
Or rent the Turbant from the Sultan's Head.
One, in old Fables, and the Pagan Strain,
With Nymphs and Trytons, wafts him o'er the Main;
Another draws fierce Lucifer in Arms,

And fills th' infernal Region with Alarms;
A Third awakes fome Druid, to foretel
Each future Triumph, from his dreary Cell.

Exploded