Poems by Hugh Crompton, the son of Bacchus, and god-son of Apollo being a fardle of fancies, or a medley of musick, stewed in four ounces of the oyl of epigrams.

45. To the Venerean Cow-herd.

I.

FAll on, fall on, (fond Cow-herd) fall And hold thy deer in chase. The man that never moves at all, Is alwaies where he was. He playes no play, the fencer knowes, That keeps his guard and makes no blowes.

II.

Go arm'd with courage, and the sin Of Cupid, and assault her. At one essay I'd either win The Mare or lose the halter. It is no progresse unto honour, Only to stand and gaze upon her.

III.

It was not Alexanders wit, To dally and delay: For had he ever practis'd it, He had not born away The worship'd wreath of fame, nor hurl'd Reports of conquest ore the world.

IV.

Despair not thou at thy descent, Nor th' weaknesse of thy strength: Though now she's flinty to relent,

She may grow soft at length. Perpetual and accustom'd knocks, Will bruise and break the hardest rocks.

V.

What though the glistering lumps of fame Upon her beauty strove? Ev'n such whose sparks might yee inflame, Yet could not gain her love. Hold thou thy course, and forward run, A torch burns hotter then the sun.

VI.

The wanton Goats warm bloud will part The Diamond in two, Which neither Vulcans fiery art Or steell could ever doe. Some Girles choose rather swaines in rags, Then mighty Bashawes and their bags.