Poems upon several occasions with a voyage to the island of love : also The lover in fashion, being an account from Lydicus to Lysander of his voyage from the island of love / by Mrs. A. Behn ; to which is added a miscellany of new poems and songs, by several hands.

A PASTORAL On the Marriage of the right Honourable the Earle of Ossery to the Lady Mary Somerset.

In a Dialogue between Damon and Menal∣cas,

written by Mr. Edmond Arwaker. M. A.

Damon.

WHat mighty Joy affects Menalca's breast, Who's Extasie is in his face exprest? Sure his Laurinda now to smile begins, Or his full Ews increase his Flocks with twins.

Men.

Laurinda's frowns or smiles are now despis'd, Far less her favors than this bliss are pris'd. And all my Ews henceforth may barren be, 'Tis wealth enough this happy day to see.

Dam.

What has this day produc'd to make it blest?

Men.

Joy too transporting to be well exprest! Joys which to Damon should not be unknown, Since they concern the lovely Celladon.

Dam.

The lovely Celladon! ah courteous swain! Repeat and bless me with that name again! Say, what new Triumph, what deserv'd success, Do the large volume of his fame encrease: Has he at wrastling purchas't more Renown Or won some other Race and weares the Crown!

Men.

He has, and justly, won a Nobler Prize, The Dazling Joy of all beholders Eyes, For what can Heav'n inlarge to him beside, Now the admir'd Clorinda is his bride.

Dam.

Clorinda, his? then for this happy day A sacrifice of six choyce Lambs I'le pay, That Ewe with twins shall recompence thy news, Or, cull my Flocks, and, what thou fancyest, chuse, I'm so o're joy'd that should'st thou take'em all, I still shall think it a reward too small.

Men.

The Gods do merit sacrifice, 'tis true, But the bright pair deserve an offering too; To them we'll now an humble Tribute bring: Clorinda you, I Celladon will sing.

Dam.

'Tis well propos'd, and now the Song begin.

Men.

Then rouse, my Muse, and let thy subject be Gay, soft, and fair, yet lofty too as he; To Celladon thy verse is justly due, Thou learn'd thy Art, whence his first Honours grew▪

From his great Ancestors magnificence, And ow'st thy growth to that blest influence: Then what that gave, thou must return again, And to his service consecrate thy pen. Young Celladon, the glory of our Plains, Joy of the Nymphs and envy of the Swains; Whose charming voyce each melting passion moves As gentle Zephyrs bend the yeilding Groves. To him the Nymphs their easy hearts resign, For him despairing Shepherdesses pine. Serene his face, as a rejoycing sky, And Glorious, as a rising Sun, his Eye.

Dam.

Sweet, as a blooming Spring, Clorinda's face, More sooth and clear than her own chrystal Glass; For her with folded Armes and heads hung low The hopeless Shepherds vent their restless woe; While o're the Plains their flocks neglected stray, As in loves maze themselves have lost the way.

But she do's all for Celladon despise, And at his heart alone, the noblest Prize, She darts the poynted Glories of her Eyes.

Men.

The God of Love had not another Dart, Able to peirce the wondrous Shepherds heart. Had he alone attack't th' Heroick Swain The mighty Conqueror had been captive ta'ne, For Celladon inur'd to wars Alarms And, thô all peaceful, takes delight in Arms, Best pleas'd when most expos'd, with noble heat He danger seeks and dares the hand of Fate. Once he persu'd it to a foreign shore, Where his great Fathers name was fear'd before. France. But all the damage by that terror done Has ample reparation from the Son: The favor, they from his Access receiv'd, Aton'd for routed Troops and Towns releiv'd. Monts.

Not only glory did engage his Sword, Duty unsheath'd it too to serve his Lord. When bold Rebellion did the Throne invade With broken faith, and fortune for 'its aid. The Western War. With early zeal the Shepherd did appear; His valor now had found 'its proper sphear: Call'd to the Battle by these loud Alarms. He broke away even from Clorindas Armes. Death, in the Royal cause had more, than Beauty, charms.

Dam.

He left Clorinda's Armes but not her heart, There he was still, nor thence cou'd ever part: That, to the bloody field marcht bravely out, And there with pious prayers and wishes fought. While she at home was never free from fear, For the rich venture she had trusted there; Yet hop't him safe in her great Fathers care.

Nor could she justly any danger dread For him who fought along with Diomed: Duke of Beaufort Eternal Laurels Crown that happy name, The dear, the sweet, the noble theme of fame; To all his proofes of Loyalty before The glorious Hero still is adding more. Firme to his Prince and faithful to his trust And daring to be hazardously just: Profuse of Life in his great Masters cause, And better pleas'd with service than applause. Some happy Muse, worthy a Theme so great, In lofty strains thy fame shall celebrate. Whose noble blood, which no corruption stains, Gives the rich Tincture to Clorinda's veines.

Men.

While Diomede with Armes protects the Throne, Nestor with Councel do's support the Crown; Duke of Ormond.

Nestor, no less couragious still than wise, And able once to act as to advise. Nestor, the partner of his Master's fate, Did all his injuries participate, When usurpation banisht him the Throne, Nestor indur'd not he shou'd go alone, His Kingdom lost, and loyal subjects few, Himself a King in Nestors heart he knew; The Monarchy for which he was design'd Was there preserv'd as thither 'twas confin'd. Nor were his limits scant, for his large soul Has 'its unbounded sphear above the pole. One subject of such vast Magnificence Might make at any time a Glorious Prince. But time sits heavy on his shoulders now, And his declining head begins to bow; Yet still so gracefully he treads the stage, He makes th' admiring World in love with age, Long may he cause their wonder and delight, Long be his day and far remote his night,

The night, when he to us shall disappear, Call'd hence to gild some other Hemisphear. Excellent Prince! in whom the World do's see A Species of untainted Loyalty. May Heav'n indulge our wishes long in thee, But if the fates deny this bliss to give, The Phaenix will in Celladon revive: To him our Homage we must then transfer, As much thy virtues, as thy fortunes, Heir.

Dam.

See, Swain, the Sun exalts his shining head, Brisk as a Bridegroom from Aurora's Bed, While, like a blushing Bride, the dawning morn Do's in her Gay attire herself adorn. 'Tis time the lovely pair, like them, shou'd rise, And we their presence want to bless our Eyes; The expecting World 'its patience has outstay'd, Lets hast and wake 'em with a serinade.