They are becalm'd in clearest days,
And in rough weather tost,
They wither under cold delays,
Or are in tempests lost.

One while they seem to touch the port,
Then straight into the main
Some angry wind, in cruel sport,
The vessel drives again.

At first disdain and pride they fear,
Which if they chance to 'scape,
Rivals and falsehood soon appear,
In a more dreadful shape.

By such degrees to joy they come,
And are so long withstood,
So slowly they receive the sum,
It hardly does them good.

'Tis cruel to prolong a pain,
And to defer a joy,

Believe me, gentle Celemene,
Offends the winged boy.

An hundred thousand oaths your

Perhaps would not remove; And, if I gaz'd a thousand years,

I could no deeper love.

fears

SONG.

FAIR Amynta, art thou mad,
To let the world in me

Envy joys I never had,

And censure them in thee?

Fill'd with grief for what is past,

Let us at length be wise;

And to Love's true enjoyments haste, Since we have paid the price.

Love does easy souls despise

Who lose themselves for toys,

And escape for those devise

Who taste his utmost joys.

Love should like the year be crown'd

With sweet variety;

Hope should in the spring abound,

Kind fears, and jealousy.

In the summer, flowers should rise,
And in the autumn, fruit;

His spring doth else but mock our eyes,
And in a scoff salute.

The Indifference.

THANKS, fair Urania, to your scorn,
I now am free, as I was born.
Of all the pain that I endur'd

By your late coldness I am cur'd.

In losing me, proud nymph, you lose
The humblest slave your beauty knows:
In losing you, I but throw down
A haughty tyrant from her throne.

My ranging love did never find
Such charms of person and of mind;
You've beauty, wit, and all things know,
But where you should your love bestow.

I, unawares, my freedom gave,

And to those tyrants grew a slave:

Would

have kept what you

you

had won,

You should have more compassion shown.

Love is a burthen, which two hearts,
When equally they bear their parts,
With pleasure carry; but no one,
Alas! can bear it long alone.

I'm not of those who court their pain,
And make an idol of disdain :

My hope in love does ne'er expire,
But it extinguishes desire:

Nor yet of those who, ill receiv'd,
Would have it otherwise believ'd;
And, where their love could not prevail,
Take the vain liberty to rail.

Whoe'er would make his victor less Must his own weak defence confess; And, while her power he does defame, He poorly doubles his own shame.

Even that malice does betray,
And speak concern another way;
And all such scorn in me is but
The smoke of fires ill put out.

He's still in torment, whom the rage
To detraction does engage:

In love, indifference is sure

The only sign of perfect cure.

SONG.

"HEARS not my Phillis, how the birds Their feather'd mates salute?

They tell their passion in their words ;Must I alone be mute?"

Phillis, without frown or smile,

Sat and knotted all the while.

"The god of love in thy bright eyes
Does like a tyrant reign;

But in thy heart a child he lies,
Without his dart or flame."

Phillis, &c.

"So many months in silence past,

And yet in raging love,

Might well deserve one word at last
My passion should approve."

Phillis, &c.

"Must then your faithful swain expire,

And not one look obtain,

Which he, to sooth his fond desire,

Might pleasingly explain?"

Phillis, without frown or smile,

Sat and knotted all the while.

SONG.

PHILLIS is my only joy,

Faithless as the winds or seas; Sometimes coming, sometimes coy,

Yet she never fails to please.