G. HERBERT.

LIFE.

I

MADE a pofy, while the day ran by:. Here will I fmell my remnant out, and tie

My life within this band.

But time did beckon to the flow'rs, and they
By noon, moft cunningly, did steal away,

And wither in my hand.

My hand was next to them, and then my heart;
I took, without more thinking, in good part,

Time's gentle admonition;

Who did fo fweetly death's sad taste convey,

Making my mind to fmell my fatal day,

Yet fug'ring the fufpicion.

Farewel, dear flow'rs! fweetly your time ye spent, Fit, while ye liv'd, for smell and ornament,

And after death for cures.

I follow ftraight, without complaints or grief,
Since, if my scent be good, I care not if

It be as short as yours.

MRS. BEHN.

SONG.

Love in fantastic triumph fat,

While bleeding hearts around him flow'd, For whom fresh pains he did create,

And strange tyrannic pow'r he show'd: From thy bright eyes he took his fire, Which round about in sport he hurl'd; But 'twas from mine he took defire, Enough t' inflame the amorous world.

From me he took his fighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty,
From me his languishment and fears,
And ev'ry killing dart from thee.
Thus thou and I the god have arm'd,
And fet him up a deity;

But my poor heart alone is harm'd,
Whilft thine the victor is, and free.

From Select Ayres, printed for J. Playford,

1669.

HUE AND CRY AFTER CHLORIS.

I.

TELL me, ye wand'ring spirits of the air,
Did
you not fee a nymph more bright, more fair
Than beauty's darling, or of looks more sweet
Than ftol'n content? If fuch a one ye meet,
Wait on her hourly, wherefoe'er she flies,
And cry, and cry, Amyntor for her abfence dies.

II.

Go fearch the valleys, pluck up ev'ry rofe,
You'll find a scent, a blush of her in those.
Fish, fish for pearl or coral, there you'll fee
How oriental all her colours be.

Go call the echoes to your aid, and cry,

Chloris, Chloris, for that's her name for whom I die.

III.

But ftay awhile, I have inform'd you ill,

Were the on earth, she had been with me ftill;

Go, fly to heav'n, examine ev'ry sphere,

And try what ftar hath lately lighted there.

If any brighter than the fun you fee,

Fall down, fall down, and worship it, for that is fhe!

DR. KING.

THE SURRENDER.

My once dear love, hapless that I no more
Muft call thee fo, the rich affection's store
That fed on hopes, lies now exhaust and spent,
Like fums of treasure unto bankrupts lent.
We that did nothing ftudy, but the way
To love each other, with which thoughts the day
Rofe with delight to us, and with them fet,
Muft learn the hateful art, how to forget.
We that did nothing wish that Heav'n could give,
Beyond ourselves, nor did defire to live
Beyond that wish; all these now cancel muft,
As if not writ in faith, but words, and duft.
Yet witness those clear vows that lovers make;
Witnefs the chafte defires that never brake
Into unruly hearts; witness that breast
Which in thy bofom anchor'd his whole reft;
'Tis no default in us, I dare acquit

Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white
As thy pure felf; crofs planets did envy
Us to each other, and Heav'n did untie
Fafter than vows could bind-

Diflodged from their haunts, we must in tears
Unwind a love, knit up in many years;
In this laft kifs I here furrender thee
Back to thyfelf; fo thou again art free.
Thou, in another, fad as that, re-fend
The trueft heart that lover e'er did lend.
Now torn from each, fo fare our fever'd hearts

As the divorc'd foul from her body parts.