Two books of elegies in imitation of the first books of Ovid de Tristibus, with part of the third to which is added verses upon several occasions with some translations out of the Latin and Greek poets / by Thomas Ball.

The Parting.

CLarinda's Eyes have prov'd Love's Empire True, Made me, tho' long a Rebel, Own it too; When I, Commanded, took my last Farewell, Gods! what strange Disorders did I feel! How my swol'n Eyes discharg'd ther mighty store! And Wept, as tho' they'ad never Wept before; As Snow around the Taller Mountains hangs, Which Rain dissolves, and to the Valleys brings, Whose Rapid Torrent threatens all the Way, Not stopt by Houses till it Reach the Sea: So was it, when my Eyes, brim-full, o'erflow'd, None saw the Stream, but fear'd the growing Flood; And had not I, thro' Weakness, Dy'd away, No doubt, but I my Self had made a Sea:

Often I'ad heard of Venus, and her Son, Often been told what Miracles they'ad done; How they cou'd make the Obstinatest sigh, Nay more, much more, admire, adore, and dye; But these were idle, senceless Tales to me, An Infidel in Love's Divinity: Venus, I thought, might Charm some Amorous Youth, And Cupid's Beauty might have bin a Truth, But to Believe his Arrows, Bow, and Darts, Were Form'd to Murder, or to Soften Hearts, Were Stuff, I thought, but find it very True, And willingly Retract my Error now. Some Months agon, as I Clarinda Gaz'd, My Heart unusual Pulses Beat, amaz'd, I unaccountably began to Sigh, But soon, disorder'd all, thought Death were nigh, Ne'er Dreamt of Love, i'th' least, not I; Till One, whom long Experience made Wise, Told me 'twas Love, the Symptoms had bin his:

No sooner had he told me what he knew, But strait an Arrow from Love's Quiver flew, And prov'd his Story litterally True. Forgive me, Cupid, tho' I late Adore, I Feel, as well as Dread the Conquerour, And if I e'er again Reflect on Thee, May I be Damn'd for my Apostacy.

Forgive me, Venus, for I've injur'd you, Profane, ne'er Worshipt, as I Ought to do; Forgive me, lovely Maid, to you I Bow, Fore you have sinn'd, and humbly Own it too; To see Clarinda, and to Rail at Love, Deserv'd no less than Thunder from above: Tho' you 'ave no need of Forreign Aid, or Skill, Your Eyes with Lightning can as surely Kill, Sooner the Gyants might their Heaven Scale, Than I against Clarinda's Force, Prevail; But Oh! when I a full Obedience show'd, And Own'd you Fair, and found you very Good, Not Proud, Reserv'd, nor yet more Free, Than Well-bred Ladies always ought to be,

How happy was I thought by all that knew! How smoothly did the pleasing Minutes Flow! Till that, (too too severe Decree) that Day, Curse on it's Light! that Hurry'd me away; Not Trembling Ghosts with more Abhorrence Go, Change their Abodes, for Gloomy Walks below, Than I, Confounded, from Clarinda Went, Plung'd in the Deepest Sea of Discontent.