But we, when once our race is done,
With Tullus, and Anchifes' fon,

(Though rich like one, like t'other good) To duft and shades, without a fun, Defcend, and fink in deep oblivion's flood.

Who knows, if the kind gods will give
Another day to men that live
In hope of many distant years;
Or if one night more shall retrieve

25

The joys thou losest by thy idle fears?

30

The pleasant hours thou spend'st in health,

The use thou mak'ft of youth and wealth,
As what thou giv'ft among thy friends
Escapes thy heirs, fo thofe the ftealth

Of time and death, where good and evil ends. 35

For when that comes, nor birth, nor fame,
Nor piety, nor honest name,

Can e'er restore thee.

Thefeus bold,

Nor chafte Hippolitus could tame

Devouring Fate, that fpares nor young nor old.

FIB,

SONG,

BY CHARLES COTTON, ESQ.*

I.

IE, pretty Doris! weep no more,
Damon is doubtless safe on fhoar,

Defpight of wind and wave;
The life is fate-free that you cherish,
And 'tis unlike he now should perish

You once thought fit to fave.

II.

Dry (fweet) at laft, thofe twins of light,
Which whilft eclips'd, with us 'tis night,

And all of us are blind :

5

Fie, pretty Doris !. figh no more,
The gods your Damon will restore,

From rocks and quickfands free;

Your wishes will fecure his way,

And doubtless he, for whom you pray,

May laugh at destiny.

* Born 1630; dyed 1688.

15

IV.

Still then those tempefts of your breast,
And fet that pretty heart at rest,

The man will foon return:
Those fighs for heav'n are only fit,
Arabian gums are not so sweet,

Nor off'rings when they burn.

On him

V.

you lavish grief in vain,

Can't be lamented, nor complain,

Whilft you continue true :

That

man' difafter is above,

And needs no pity, that does love

And is belov'd by you.

THE MORNING QUATRAINS.

BY THE SAME.

I.

THE cock has crow'd an hour ago,
'Tis time we now dull fleep forgo;
Tir'd nature is by sleep redress'd,
And labour's overcome by rest.

V, 29. man's,

20

25

30

II.

We have out-done the work of night,
'Tis time we rife t' attend the light,
And e'er he shall his beams display,
To plot new bus'ness for the day.

III.

None but the flothfull, or unfound,

Are by the fun in feathers found,
Nor, without rifing with the fun,

10

Can the world's bus'nefs e'er be done,

IV.

Hark! hark! the watchfull chanticleer
Tells us the day's bright harbinger
Peeps o'er the Eastern hills, to awe
And warn night's fov'reign to withdraw.

V.

The morning curtains now are drawn,
And now appears the blushing dawn;
Aurora has her roses shed,

15

To ftrew the way Sol's fteeds must tread. 20

VI.

Xanthus and Ethon harness'd are,
To roll away the burning carr,

And, fnorting flame, impatient bear
The dreffing of the chariotier.

VII.

The fable cheeks of fullen Night

25

Are streak'd with rofie ftreams of light,

Whilft the retires away in fear,

To shade the other hemisphere.

VIII.

The merry lark now takes her wings,
And long'd-for days loud wellcome fings, 30
Mounting her body out of fight,

As if she meant to meet the light,

IX.

Now doors and windows are unbar'd,
Each-where are chearfull voices heard,
And round about good-morrows fly,
As if day taught humanity.

X.

The chimnies now to smoke begin,
And the old wife fits down to fpin,

Whilft Kate, taking her pail, does trip

35

Mulls fwoln and ftradl'ing paps to ftrip. 40

XI.

Vulcan now makes his anvil ring,

Dick whistles loud, and Maud doth fing,

And Silvio with his bugle horn.

Winds an imprime unto the morn.