Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts / part I, occasionally written by Mrs. Jane Barker, part II, by several gentlemen of the universities, and others.

The Five following Copies done by Mr. C. G. of AEton-Colledge.

A Paraphrase on the 23d Idyll. of Theocritus, from the beginning, to 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c.

I.

AN Amorous little Swain Was set to keep His Father's goodly Flock of Sheep, (Fed in a Common that belong'd to Pan, About the middle of th' Arcadian Plain.) By chance a noble Youth came by, Whom when his sparkling Eyes did spy His watchfull Eyes, That there stood Centinel, And did perform their office well; Stoutly prepar'd for every quick surprize. Marking the Beauty of his Angel's Face, Mix't with sweet carriage, and a heavenly grace, Well satisfy'd, they let him pass;

Who having got admittance, did impart The fatal secret to his wounded heart. Charm'd with the Youth he was that Fate had thither brought, Whose Beauty did surpass desire or thought: In making whom, Nature for once did thus presume, To go beyond her Last, to place On a Man's shoulders a fair Womans face; Or rather to adorn, With more than heav'nly beauty a Terrestial Form.

II.

But ah! his Mind, Not like his Angel Face, proud, scornfull, & unkind, Despising those whom Passion, Whom unresisted Passion mov'd To highest admiration; Those who disdain'd him most, he greatly lov'd: He knew not, nor did he desire to know What Cupid meant, his Arrows, or his Bow, How oft, how usually he throws A Golden Dart, To wound the Heart Of those

Who most unconquerable seem, Iear at his Godship, and his Power contemn. Cruel in deed and word, Who never the least comfort would discover, Or one cool drop of ease afford To a despairing, burning, dying Lover. Choler and anger in his Entrails boils, No pleasant smiles, No rosie Lips, nor blushing Cheeks, Nor languish't Eyes that might betray An inward fondness, and might seem to say, I will thy mutual love repay. No comfortable words he speaks; Nor suffers me to ravish one kind kiss, That entrance to a future, and more perfect bliss: But as a Chased Boar With Vengeance looks upon his Hunter's Spear; Sets up his Bristles on his back, And roaring makes The Forrest all around, and every Creature quake; So he beholds the Swain With desp'rate fury and disdain, Adding more fuel to his never-dying flame.

III.

Disdain did make his Countenance turn pale, And all his other Charms begin to fail; Anger did banish every Grace From the dominions of his lovely Face, VVhilst cruel Eyes, and harder Heart took place. Yet still the Shepherd finds no Arms Fit to resist these languishing, these fainting Charms, His Angel sweetness he must still adore, Troubled that he could manifest his Love no more. Alas! how vain and useless all things prove, VVhen enter'd in Damn'd Cupid's School, VVe learn his Precepts, and his Rules, VVhen shackled in the chains of Love, Turn ••ashionable fools; VVe scarce can call our selves our own, And our affections pay obeisance to anothers Crown.

IV.

No longer able to contain, Though all was needless, all in vain; Tears, like a mighty Flood, Did over-flow their Banks, and drown'd Th' adjacent Barren, fruitless, famish'd Ground.

Trembling with fear, At last he ventur'd to draw near, VVhere all in Glory stood, The object of his Love, the cause of his Despair. First he presumes to kiss The sacred ground whereon he trod, In hopes of ••uture happiness, But all wou'd do no good. Then strove to speak, But ah! Disdain and Fear his forwardness did check, And made his half-out lisping words draw back. Forcing himself at last, stutters such words as these:

V.

O cruel, inexorable, stony Saint, Blind to my Tears, and Dea•• to my Complaint; Sure of some Lyoness, or Tyger born, Unworthy of my Love, as I unworthy of your scorn. A gratefull Gift to you I bring, The welcomest the only thing That now at present do's remain, To ease me of my pain; To ease me of my Love, and you of your Disdain.

And lo, How willingly I go; How willingly I go, where you By your unkindness, destin me unto; I go where every Love-sick Mind Is us'd, an universal Remedy to find; The place is call'd Oblivion's Land, A Lake call'd Lethe in th' midst do's stand: VVhich were it possible that I could dry, In flames unquenchable I still should fry; Nor cou'd I yet forget thy Name, So oft have I repeated o'er the same, But find, alas! no liquor that can quench my flame.

V.

Adieu! lov'd Youth, eternally adieu! But scornfull fair first know what doom, Undoubtedly shall on your Beauty come, And from my dying mouth believe it true. The pleasant Day, alas! is quickly gon, Flowers in th' Morning fresh cut down by Noon; The blushing Rose do's fade, and wither soon,

White Snow do's melt before the scorching Sun; So youthfull Beauty's full of charms, but all are quick∣ly gon, The time will come when you your self will prove How great a Deity is Love. Charm'd by some beauteous she, You'll offer up your sacrifice of Tears, And weary her with your continual Prayers; By Night you'll sigh, and pine, by Day you'll woo, But all's in vain that you can doe, No greater pity will you find, than I from you. Then will your Conscience bring Me into mind, Not to delight, but serve you in your kind; My restless Ghost shall come, Not to cry Ah! but Io! at your doom.

VI.

However grant me this, ev'n this at least; I'll ask no more, but grant me this request: That when thou passest by, Thou woul'st not let me unregarded lye, Seeing the fatal Dagger in my Breast. But come, and grieve, and weep a while, I ask not (what I once so much desir'd) one smile;

But pull the Dagger from the Wound, And close, and close embrace me round; Thy Mantle o'er my liveless Body spread, Give me one kiss, one kiss, when I am dead: I ask no more, O grant me this, That thou may'st joyn Thy Lips to mine, And seal them with a meeting, parting kiss. When forc'd by thy unkindness I am fled, Thou need'st not fear that I can then revive, Though such a kiss cou'd almost raise to life. Hew me a stately Tomb to be my Bed, Where Love and I may lay our head. Then leave me, after thou hast three times said, My Friend, my dearest Friend on Earth is dead; O cruel Death, that canst us two divide; My friend, my friend, would God that I ••or thee had dy'd. Write this Inscription (since they are in fashion) To show how base your scorn, how excellent my pas∣sion. Here lyes a Lover, kill'd by Deep Despair; Stay, Reader, stay, And only be so kind to say, Alas, He lov'd; Alas, He lov'd a Cruel Fair.

CHORUS I. Of Seneca's Agamemnon.

FOrtune, thou setter up of Kings, Upon whose smiles or frowns Depends the standing, or the fall of Crowns. What various Chances Fortune brings? Mounting on deceitfull Wings, She lifteth Kings on high, On Wings of Dignity. Then leaves them all alone, Tells them she must be gone; So let them stand, or ••all, or rise, With Wings spread out, away she flies. Fortune, how canst thou cheat us so With naughty Goods, yet make a show Of honest Ware; thou do'st desire Thy Goods shou'd rich, and gay appear, Though they be truly little worth, and truly very dear.

II.

'Tis not the Scepter, or the bearing sway, Can cares and troubles drive away:

One trouble on anothers neck do's come; The first retreats, another takes his room. The raging Sea contends For passage through the Sands; The skipping Waves do beat and roar, Falling from a lofty shoar; So Fortune head-long throws, Chances of Kings, and those That are exalted unto dignitie. Kings wou'd be feared, yet we see, They fear, lest they that fear them shou'd use treacherie.

III.

'Tis not the Night can give them rest, Whose Hearts with slavish fear are prest; Nor can sweet sleep expell the care Of them, whose Minds unquiet are. What Pallace is not quickly brought, By Prince's Wickedness, to nought? VVhat Tower do's not impious Arms VVeary, with continual harms? All Law and Modesty is fled the Court, No ties of sacred Wedlock there resort.

IV.

But desperate Bellona stands With quavering Spear, and bloody hands: There stands Erinnys too, beside, The Punisher of Courtly Pride; Who always waiteth at the door Of such as swell in Wealth and Pow'r, To lay them level every hour: And yet suppose there shou'd be peace, And th' ills pre-mention'd all shou'd cease.

V.

Still things that are so high, and great, Are over-turn'd by their own weight. If Sails be blown by prosp'rous Wind, We fear those Gales shou'd prove unkind: And Auster smites the Tower that shrouds His lofty top among the Clouds. The little Shrubs, in shades that spread, Do see the tall and ancient Oak, Which blasting Boreas oft has shook, Lie fall'n on th' Ground, wither'd and dead.

Flashes of Lightning smite the Mountains high, Great Bodies open to diseases lie.

Among the Herd's, Kine that are fat, and best, Are chose for slaughter out from all the rest; What ever tott'ring Fortune do's exalt, Has only Crutches lent to learn to halt. Low, mean, and mod'rate things bear longest date, That Man is ••ruly, and is only Great, Who lives contented with a mean Estate. Thrice happy is the Man, whose Means do lye Above, or else below curst Fortune's eye; Too low for Envy, for Contempt too high.

C. G.

THE PENITENT.

I.

BY Heav'n! 'tis scarce ten days ago, Since to my self I made a Vow, That I wou'd never have to do With Duserastes more; Till Wine, and Love, and Ease complying, Bore down before 'em all denying, For having his Perfections, told me, Made me break the Oath I swore; Threw me head-long to his Arms, Where tasting of his usual charms, No Resolution can with-hold me. Now, who but Duserastes in my eye; 'Tis by his smiles I live, and by his frowns I dye.

II.

Your Sunny Face, through Cloudy Frowns, in vain Wou'd make my Gazing Eyes abstain, For I as soon can cease to be, As cease to Love, and gaze on thee; Here cou'd I take up mine Eternitie.

As well one may Touch flaming Coals, or with a Serpent play, And yet receive no harm; As look on you unmoved by your Charms. For my part, I am forc'd to lay down Arms; Although I'm fain To be content with nothing but disdain. And since those things are cheap, we easily obtain, I am content a while to live upon despair, Iust as Chamelions do on Air.

III.

I play and dally on Hells brink, Till I perceive my self begin to sink, Or scorch my self too near so great a fire, And so am forced to retire. Anon forgetfull of my former burn, I must again, I must again return: So do's the little Gnat, by Night, Fly round, and round, the Candles light, Untill its busie daring Wing Too near such heat begins to singe; Yet still unmindfull of the smart, She must, she will repeat her former sport.

IV.

Hence, hence, Heroick Muse, adieu, For I must take my leave of you; Love, that usurps the Rule of my Poetick Vein, Forbids Calliope's Heroick strain; Charges me nothing to endite, Concerning this or t'other fight, Nor of the Scythian, or the Parthian War to write, Unless to beautifie my Poetry, Those stories to my Love I fitly wou'd apply. And now methinks I feign My self an honest faithfull Scythian, And he a perfidious flying Parthian, Whose turned Dart Strikes his Pursuer swiftly to the Heart: So the more eager Phoebus follow'd on, The swifter Daphne did his Presence shun; So much the more encreas'd his Passion higher, As the chast little Virgin, she grew shier. I ask not mutual Love in equal weight, But only give me leave to love thee free from hate.

To DUSERASTES.

O Cruel, Proud, and Fair, Cause of my Love, and cause of my Despair. When first a little sprouting Beard, Those lovely Lips, and Cheeks shall guard, Not soft as Down, but rugged, long, and hard. When lovely Locks, that on your shoulders play, Shall turn to the cold hoary Grey, Or, wasting Time shall eat 'em quite away; As when too much of working spoils The very heart of fruitfull Soils, And makes 'em, without moisture, hard and dry, All Plants and Herbs do wither, fall, and dye. And when that lovely Red and White, That in your charming Cheeks do meet, That make the Lilly, and the Rose, Their sweetness, and their colour lose, Shall turn to Wrinkles, wan, and pale, And all your other Charms shall fail.

Then as you go to gaze Upon you former Angel's face, In your too much frequented Looking-glass; Then your own Presence will you strive to shun, And thus complain in a forsaken Lover's tone. Why was I ever Young? Why was not Beauty long? Why had I ever Charms, or why are they so quickly gone?

The VOW. To the same.

I.

WHy do you vex me with continual fears, And force out needless Tears? Why do you tell me I shall surely dye, Since Courteous Heav'n, and I, Both in one resolution do comply? That whensoever you are fled, unkind; I will not stay, I cannot stay behind.

If envious Fate must strike the Heart, My better part, Why shou'd this liveless lump of Clay Delay To mount the Skies to follow thee away? Propitious Fate has spun Both threds of Life in one; I've made a Vow, yea I have sworn, Nor will I fail (by Heav'n) to perform; We'll travel both together to our long, long home.

II.

In spite of Hell, to Heav'n we will glide, And all the heavy World below deride, Attended by Iove's Messengers on either side: Not Charon's shabby Barge, Shall have so great, so glorious a charge: Apollo's Chariot shall us both transport, With Mercury our Guide, Above Moon, Stars, and Sun, we'll glide, Till we arrive to Iove's Eternal Court, There in Immortal State Shall I on yours, and you on Iove's left hand be set.

Nay, further still our Glories shall extend, You shall be worshipp'd as the God of Beauty, To you shall Mortals pay all sacred Duty, My Name shall signifie a Faithfull Friend; Here shall our love no quarrels know, our joys no end.