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One morning (I remember well)
My folitary time away,
Of foot, and heart; and did invite
Had it liv'd long, I do not know Whether it too might have done fo 40 As Sylvio did; his gifts might be Perhaps as falfe, or more than he. But I am fure, for ought that I Could in so short a time efpy, Thy love was far more better than The love of falfe and cruel man.
With fweetest milk, and sugar, first ́
I it at mine own fingers nurst:
It wax'd more white and sweet than they.
It is a wond'rous thing how fleet 55
I have a garden of my own,
But fo with roses overgrown,
To be a little wilderness.
And all the fpring-time of the year
Among the beds of lillies I
Have fought it, oft, where it should lye:
Upon the roses it would feed,
Untill its lips ev'n feem'd to bleed:
O help! O help! I fee it faint: 85:
Melt in fuch amber tears as thefe.
I in a golden vial will
Keep these two crystal tears; and fill
In fair Elyzium to endure,
With milk-white lambs, and ermins, pure..
O do not run too fast: for I
Will but bespeak thy grave, and die.
Firft my unhappy statue shall
Be cut in marble; and withal,
HORACE. LIB. IV. ODE 7.
BY SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, BART.
THE fnows are melted all away,
The trees put on their tender leaves;
See! the whole earth has made a change:
Left thou shouldft hope immortal things,
The cold grows soft with western gales,
Born 1628; dyed 1698.