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

Complaining of ABSENCE.

TEN days (if I forget not) wasted are (A year in any Lover's Calendar) Since I was forc'd to part, and bid adieu To all my Joy, and Happiness in you: And still by the same Hindrance am detain'd, Which me at first from your lov'd Sight constrain'd: Oft I resolve to meet my Bliss, and then My Tether stops, and pulls me back agen: So, when our raised Thoughts to Heav'n aspire, Earth stifles them, and choaks the good desire. Curse on that Man, who Bus'ness first design'd, And by't enthral'd a free-born Lover's mind!

A curse on Fate, who thus subjected me, And made me slave to any thing but thee! Lovers should be as unconfin'd as Air, Free as its wild Inhabitants from Care: So free those happy Lovers are above, Exempt from all Concerns but those of Love: But I, poor Lover militant below, The Cares, and Troubles of dull Life must know? Must toil for that, which does on others wait, And undergo the drudgery of Fate: Yet I'll no more to her a Vassal be, Thou now shalt make, and rule my Destiny: Hence troublesom Fatigues! all Bus'ness hence! This very hour my Freedom shall commence: Too long that Jilt has thy proud Rival been, And made me by neglectful Absence sin; But I'll no more obey its Tyranny, Nor that, nor Fate it self shall hinder me, Henceforth from seeing, and enjoying thee.