Poems, and translations by the author of the Satyrs upon the Jesuits.

SOME ELEGIES OUT OF OVID'S Amours, IMITATED.

Book II. ELEGY IV. That he loves Women of all sorts and sizes.

Non ego mendosos ausim defendere mores, &c.

NOT I, I never vainly durst pretend My Follies, and my Frailties to defend: I own my Faults, if it avail to own, While like a graceless wretch I still go on:

I hate my self, but yet in spite of Fate Am fain to be that loathed thing I hate: In vain I would shake off this load of Love, Too hard to bear, yet harder to remove: I want the strength my fierce Desires to stem, Hurried away by the impetuous stream. 'Tis not one Face alone subdues my Heart, But each wears Charms, and every Eye a Dart: And wheresoe're I cast my Looks abroad, In every place I find Temptations strow'd. The modest kills me with her down-cast Eyes, And Love his ambush lays in that disguise. The Brisk allures me with her gaity, And shews how Active she in Bed will be: If Coy, like cloyster'd Virgins, she appears, She but dissembles, what she most desires: If she be vers'd in Arts, and deeply read, I long to get a Learned Maidenhead: Or if Untaught, and Ignorant she be, She takes me then with her simplicity:

One likes my Verses, and commends each Line, And swears that Cowley's are but dull to mine: Her in mere Gratitude I must approve, For who, but would his kind Applauder love? Another damns my Poetry, and me, And plays the Critick most judiciously: And she too fires my Heart, and she too charms, And I'm agog to have her in my arms. One with her soft and wanton Trip does please, And prints in every step, she sets, a Grace: Another walks with stiff ungainly tread; But she may learn more pliantness abed, This sweetly sings; her Voice does Love inspire, And every Breath kindles, and blows the fire: Who can forbear to kiss those Lips, whose sound The ravish'd Ears does with such softness wound? That sweetly plays: and while her Fingers move, While o're the bounding Strings their touches rove, My Heart leaps too, and every Pulse beats Love:

What Reason is so pow'rful to withstand The magick force of that resistless Hand? Another Dances to a Miracle, And moves her numerous Limbs with graceful skill: And she, or else the Devil's in't, must charm, A touch of her would bed-rid Hermits warm. If tall; I guess what plenteous Game she'l yield, Where Pleasure ranges o're so wide a Field: If low; she's pretty: both alike invite, The Dwarf, and Giant both my wishes fit, Undress'd; I think how killing she'd appear, If arm'd with all Advantages she were: Richly attir'd; she's the gay Bait of Love, And knows with Art to set her Beauties off. I like the Fair, I like the Red-hair'd one, And I can find attractions in the Brown: If curling Jet adorn her snowy Neck, The beauteous Leda is reported Black:

If curling Gold; Aurora's painted so: All sorts of Histories my Love does know. I like the Young with all her blooming Charms, And Age it self is welcom to my Arms: There uncropt Beauty in its flow'r assails, Experience here, and riper sense prevails. In fine, whatever of the Sex are known To stock this spacious and well-furnish'd Town; Whatever any single man can find Agreeable of all the num'rous kind: At all alike my haggard Love does fly, And each is Game, and each a Miss for me.

BOOK II. ELEGY V. To his Mistriss that jilted him.

Nullus amor tanti est: abeas pharetrate Cupido, &c.

NAY then the Devil take all Love! if I So oft for its damn'd sake must wish to die: What can I wish for but to die, when you, Dear faithless Thing, I find, could prove untrue? Why am I curs'd with Life? why am I fain For thee, false Jilt, to bear eternal Pain? 'Tis not thy Letters, which thy Crimes reveal, Nor secret Presents, which thy Falshood tell: Would God! my just suspicions wanted cause, That they might prove less fatal to my ease: Would God! less colour for thy guilt there were, But that (alas!) too much of proof does bear:

Bless'd he, who what he loves can justifie, To whom his Mistriss can the Fact deny, And boldly give his Jealousie the lye. Cruel the Man, and uncompassionate, And too indulgent to his own Regret, Who seeks to have her guilt too manifest, And with the murd'ring secret stabs his Rest. I saw, when little you suspected me, When sleep, you thought, gave opportunity, Your Crimes I saw, and these unhappy eyes Of all your hidden stealths were Witnesses: I saw in signs your mutual Wishes read, And Nods the message of your Hearts convey'd: I saw the conscious Board, which writ all o're With scrawls of Wine, Love's mystick Cypher bore: Your Glances were not mute, but each bewray'd, And with your Fingers Dialogues were made: I understood the Language out of hand, (For what's too hard for Love to understand?)

Full well I understood for what intent All this dumb Talk, and silent Hints were meant: And now the Ghests were from the Table fled, And all the Company retir'd to bed. I saw you then with wanton Kisses greet, Your Tongues (I saw) did in your Kisses meet: Not such as Sisters to their Brothers give, But Lovers from their Mistrisses receive: Such as the God of War, and Paphian Queen Did in the height of their Embraces joyn. Patience, ye Gods! (cried I) what is't I see? Vnfaithful! why this Treachery to me? How dare you let another in my sight Invade my native Property, and Right? He must not, shall not do't: by Love I swear I'll seize the bold usurping Ravisher: You are my Free-hold, and the Fates design, That you should be unalienably mine: These Favours all to me impropriate are: How comes another then to trespass here?

This, and much more I said, by Rage inspir'd, While conscious shame her Cheeks with Blushes fir'd: Such lovely stains the face of Heav'n adorn, When Light's first blushes paint the bashful Morn: So on the Bush the flaming Rose does glow, When mingled with the Lillies neighb'ring Snow: This, or some other Colour much like these, The semblance then of her Complexion was: And while her Looks that sweet Disorder wore Chance added Beauties undisclos'd before: Upon the ground she cast her jetty Eyes, Her Eyes shot fiercer Darts in that Disguise: Her Face a sad and mournful Air express'd, Her Face more lovely seem'd in sadness dress'd: Urg'd by Revenge, I hardly could forbear, Her braided Locks, and tender Cheeks to tear: Yet I no sooner had her Face survey'd, But strait the tempest of my Rage was laid:

A look of her did my Resentments charm, A look of her did all their Force disarm: And I, that fierce outrageous thing e're-while, Grow calm as Infants, when in sleep they smile: And now a Kiss am humbly fain to crave, And beg no worse than she my Rival gave: She smil'd, and strait a throng of Kisses prest, The worst of which, should Iove himself but taste, The brandish'd Thunder from his Hand would wrest: Well-pleas'd I was, and yet tormented too, For fear my envied Rival felt them so: Better they seem'd by far than I e're taught, And she in them shew'd something new methought: Fond jealous I my self the Pleasure grutch, And they displeas'd, because they pleas'd too much: When in my mouth I felt her darting Tongue, My wounded Thoughts it with suspicion stung:

Nor is it this alone afflicts my mind, More reason for complaint remains behind: I grieve not only that she Kisses gave, Tho that affords me cause enough to grieve: Such never could be taught her but in Bed, And Heav'n knows what Reward her Teacher had.

BOOK II. ELEGY X. To a Friend, Acquainting him, that he is in Love with two at one time.

Tu mihi, tu certè (memini) Graecine, negabas, &c.

I'VE heard, my Friend, and heard it said by you, No Man at once could ever well love two: But I was much deceiv'd upon that score, For single I at once love one, and more: Two at one time reign joyntly in my Breast, Both handsom are, both charming, both well-dress'd, And hang me, if I know, which takes me best:

This Fairer is than that, and that than this, That more than this, and this than that does please: Tost, like a Ship, by diff'rent gusts of Love, Now to this point, and now to that I move. Why, Love, why do'st thou double thus my pains? Was't not enough to bear one Tyrant's chains? Why, Goddess, do'st thou vainly lavish more On one, that was top-full of Love before? Yet thus I'd rather love, than not at all, May that ill Curse my Enemies befal: May my worst Foe be damn'd to love of none, Be damn'd to Continence, and lie alone: Let Loves alarms each night disturb my Rest, And drowsie sleep never approach my Breast, Or strait-way thence be by new Pleasure chas'd. Let Pleasures in succession keep my Sense Ever awake, or ever in a Trance: Let me lie melting in my fair One's Arms, Riot in Bliss, and surfeit on her Charms:

Let her undo me there without controul, Drain nature quite, suck out my very Soul! And, if by one I can't enough be drawn, Give me another, clap more Leeches on. The Gods have made me of the sporting kind, And for the Feat my Pliant Limbs design'd: What Nature has in Bulk to me denied, In Sinews, and in vigor is supplied: And should my Strength be wanting to Desire, Pleasure would add new Fewel to the Fire: Oft in soft Battles have I spent the Night, Yet rose next Morning vig'rous for the Fight, Fresh as the Day, and active as the Light: No Maid, that ever under me took pay, From my Embrace went unoblig'd away. Bless'd he, who in Loves service yields his Breath, Grant me, ye Gods, so sweet, so wish'd a Death! In bloody Fields let Souldiers meet their Fate, To purchase dear-bought Honor at the rate:

Let greedy Merchants trust the faithless Main, And shipwrack Life and Soul for sordid gain: Dying, let me expire in gasps of Lust, And in a gush of Joy give up the ghost: And some kind pitying Friend shall say of me, So did he live, and so deserv'd to die.