A Collection of poems written upon several occasions by several persons with many additions, never before in print.

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Title: A Collection of poems written upon several occasions by several persons with many additions, never before in print.
Publication: London :: Printed for Tho. Collins and John Ford ... and Will. Cademan ...,; 1673.
Rights/Permissions: To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
Subject terms: English poetry -- 17th century.
Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A33849.0001.001
Cite this Item: "A Collection of poems written upon several occasions by several persons with many additions, never before in print." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A33849.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 5, 2024.

AS I sat thoughtful in a shade,
There I spied a loving pair,

VVho closely by each other lay'd, Past their time in softer care:

While she look't sadly on the ground,
On her Eyes the Youth's were fix't;
In which me thought he gladly found
Jealousie with kindness mixt:

But his soon dull and heavier grew,
When she rais'd her drooping Head,
And told him, since he was untrue,
With his Faith her Love was fled.

Though Jealousie be full of pain,
Constant Love can suffer more:
The death of yours, sayes the griev'd Swain,
Shews it was but weak before.

The Nymph replyed, since you can prove
False to one so kind as I,

Alass, how hard is it to love And how easie 'tis to dy!

He answered, and did gently seise,
Her fair hand he did adore;
Since you can dy with so much ease,
You can love me still with more.

Disguise not then your tender heart,
Fear I should anothers be,
Betrayes, in spight of all your Art,
That you were born for only me.

Like gentle Dew on wither'd leaves,
Love is lost on almost all:
But the fresh Flower with joy receives
That which there would vainly fall:

To fairest Nymphs Love adds a grace,
And no kind one can be foul;
Love gives a Beauty to the ••ace,
And a softness to the Soul.

Since therefore fain'd inconstancy,
With the world deceives you too,
Henceforth my flame shall rather be
Seen by all, then not by you.

As by some waters purling noise,
Oft repose we soonest find;
So these fond Turtles murmuring joyes,
Rock't asleep my restless mind.

Which I from this blest couple brought.
Freed from all my duller care;
But, in i•••• pl••ce, ala••s, I thought
Him too happie▪ Her too fair.