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 Pindarick. On the Marriage of the Right Honourable the Earle of Dorset and Midlesex, to the Lady Mary Compton. A DIALOGUE.

Between Damon and Aminta.

By Mrs. Behn.

Aminta.

WHither, young Damon, whither in such hast, Swift as the Winds you sweep the Grove, The Amorous God of Day scarce hy'd so fast After his flying Love?

Damon.

Aminta, view my Face, and thence survey My very Soul and all its mighty joy!

A joy too great to be conceal'd, And without speaking is reveal'd; For this eternal Holyday. A Day to place i'th' Shepherds Kalendar, To stand the glory of the circling year. Let it's blest date on every Bark be set, And every Echo its dear name repeat. Let 'em tell all the neighbouring Woods and Plains, That Lysidus, the Beauty of the Swains, Our darling youth, our wonder and our Pride, Is blest with fair Clemena for a Bride. Oh happy Pair! Let all the Groves rejoyce, And gladness fill each heart and every voyce!

Aminta.

Clemena! that bright maid for whom our Shep∣herds pine, For whom so many weeping Eyes decline! For whom the Echos all complain, For whom with sigh and falling tears The Lover in his soft despairs

Disturbs the Peaceful Rivers gliding stream? The bright Clemena who has been so long The destinie of hearts and yet so young, She that has robb'd so many of content Yet is herself so Sweet, so Innocent. She, that as many hearts invades, As charming Lysidus has conquer'd maids, Oh tell me, Damon, is the lovely fair Become the dear reward of all the Shepherds care. Has Lysidus that prize of Glory won For whom so many sighing Swains must be undon?

Damon.

Yes, it was destin'd from Eternity, They only shou'd each other's be, Hail, lovely pair, whom every God design'd In your first great Creation shou'd be joyn'd.

Aminta.

Oh, Damon, this is vain Philosophie, 'Tis chance and not Divinity,

That guides Loves Partial Darts; And we in vain the Boy implore To make them Love whom we Adore. And all the other powers take little care of hearts, The very Soule's by intr'est sway'd, And nobler passion now by fortune is betray'd; By sad experience this I know, And sigh, Alas! in vain because tis true.

Damon.

Too often and too fatally we find Portion and Joynture charm the mind, Large Flocks and Herds, and spacious Plains Becoms the merit of the Swains. But here, thô both did equally abound, 'Twas youth, 'twas wit, was Beauty gave the equal wound; Their Soules were one before they mortal being found, Jove when he layd his awful Thunder by And all his softest Attributes put on,

When Heav'n was Gay, and the vast Glittering Sky With Deities all wondering and attentive shone, The God his Luckyest heat to try Form'd their great Soules of one Immortal Ray, He thought, and form'd, as first he did the World, But with this difference, That from Chaos came, These from a beam, which, from his God-head hurl'd Kindl'd into an everlasting flame. He smiling saw the mighty work was good, While all the lesser Gods around him gazing stood. He saw the shining Model bright and Great But oh! they were not yet compleat, For not one God but did the flames inspire, With sparks of their Divinest fire. Diana took the lovely Female Soul, And did its fiercer Atoms cool; Softn'd the flame and plac'd a Chrystal Ice About the sacred Paradise, Bath'd it all or'e in Virgin Tears,

Mixt with the fragrant Dew the Rose receives, Into the bosom of her untoucht leaves, And dry'd it with the breath of Vestal Prayers, Juno did great Majestick thought inspire And Pallas toucht it with Heroick fire. While Mars, Apollo, Love and Venus sate, About the Hero's Soul in high debate, Each claims it all, but all in vain contend, In vain appeal to mighty Jove, Who equal Portions did to all extend. This to the God of wit, and that to Love, Another to the Queen of soft desire, And the fierce God of War compleats the rest, Guilds it all or'e with Martial fire; While Love, and Wit, Beauty and War exprest Their finest Arts, and the bright Beings all in Glory drest. While each in their Divine imployments strove By every charm these new-form'd l'ghts t'improve, They left a space untoucht for mightyer Love.

The finishing last strokes the Boy perform'd; Who from his Quiver took a Golden Dart That cou'd a sympathizing wound impart, And toucht 'em both, and with one flame they burn'd. The next great work was to create two frames Of the Divinest form, Fit to contain these heavenly flames. The Gods decreed, and charming Lysidus was born, Born, and grew up the wonder of the Plains, Joy of the Nymphs and Glory of the Swains. And warm'd all hearts with his inchanting strains; Soft were the Songs, which from his lips did flow, Soft as the Soul which the fine thought conceiv'd. Soft as the sighs the charming Virgin breath'd The first dear night of the chast nuptial vow. The noble youth even Daphnis do's excel Oh never Shepherd pip'd and sung so well.

Aminta.

Now, Damon, you are in your proper sphear, While of his wit you give a character. But who inspir'd you a Philosopher?

Damon.

Old Colin, when we oft have led our Flocks Beneath the shelter of the shad's and Rocks, While other youths more vainly spent their time, I listen'd to the wonderous Bard; And while he sung of things sublime With reverend pleasure heard. He soar'd to the Divine abodes And told the secrets of the Gods. And oft discours'd of Love and Sympathy; For he as well as thou and I Had sigh't for some dear object of desire; But oh! till now I ne're cou'd prove That secret mystery of Love; Ne're saw two hearts thus burn with equal fire.

Aminta.

But, oh! what Nymph e're saw the noble youth That was not to eternal Love betray'd?

Damon.

And, oh! what swain e're saw the Lovely maid, That wou'd not plight her his eternal faith! Not unblown Roses, or the new-born day Or pointed Sun-beams, when they gild the skys, Are half so sweet, are half so bright and gay, As young Clemena's charming Face and Eyes!

Aminta.

Not full-blown flowrs, when all their luster's on Whom every bosom longs to wear, Nor the spread Glories of the mid-days sun Can with the charming Lysidus compare.

Damon.

Not the soft gales of gentle breez That whisper to the yeilding Trees, Nor songs of Birds that thrô the Groves rejoyce, Are half so sweet, so soft, as young Clemena's voyce.

Aminta.

Not murmurs of the Rivulets and Springs, When thrô the glades they purling glide along And listen when the wondrous shepherd sings, Are half so sweet as is the Shepherds song.

Damon.

Not young Diana in her eager chase When by her careless flying Robe betray'd, Discovering every charm and every Grace, Has more surprising Beauty than the brighter maid.

Aminta.

The gay young Monarch of the cheerful May Adorn'd with all the Trophies he has won, Vain with the Homage of the joyful day Compar'd to Lysidus wou'd be undone.

Damon.

Aminta, cease; and let me hast away, For while upon this Theam you dwell, You speak the noble youth so just, so well, I cou'd for ever listning stay.

Aminta.

And while Clemena's praise becoms thy choyce, My Ravisht soul is fixt upon thy voyce.

Damon.

But see the Nymphs and dancing swains Ascend the Hill from yonder Plains, With Wreathes and Garlands finely made, To crown the lovely Bride and Bridegrooms head, And I amongst the humbler throng My Sacrifice must bring A rural Hymeneal song, Alexis he shall pipe while I will sing. Had I been blest with Flocks or Herd A nobler Tribute I'd prepar'd, With darling Lambs the Altars I wou'd throng: But I, alas! can only offer song. Song too obscure, too humble verse For this days glory to reherse, But Lysidus, like Heav'n, is kind, And for the Sacrifice accepts the Humble mind.

If he vouchsafe to listen to my Ode He makes me happyer than a fancy'd God.