Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife,
Thorough the iron gates of life;

Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

A. MARVELL.

LXXXIII

SONG

PHILLIS is my only joy,

Faithless as the winds or seas;
Sometimes coming, sometimes coy,
Yet she never fails to please;
If with a frown
I am cast down,

Phillis smiling

And beguiling,

Makes me happier than before.

Though, alas! too late I find

Nothing can her fancy fix,
Yet the moment she is kind,
I forgive her all her tricks ;
Which though I see,

I can't get free;

She deceiving,

I believing;

What need lovers wish for more?

LXXXIV

SIR C. SEDLEY.

AMORET

FAIR Amoret is gone astray,

Pursue and seek her, ev'ry lover;
I'll tell the signs by which you may
The wand'ring shepherdess discover.

Coquette and coy at once her air,
Both studied, tho' both seem neglected;
Careless she is, with artful care,

Affecting to seem unaffected.

With skill her eyes dart ev'ry glance,

Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them,

For she'd persuade they wound by chance,

Tho' certain aim and art direct them.

She likes herself, yet others hates
For that which in herself she prizes;
And, while she laughs at them, forgets
She is the thing that she despises.

W. CONGREve.

LXXXV

SEMELE TO JUPITER

WITH my frailty don't upbraid me,
I am woman as you made me;
Causeless doubting or despairing,
Rashly trusting, idly fearing.

If obtaining,

Still complaining;

If consenting,

Still repenting;

Most complying,

When denying,

And to be follow'd only flying.

With my frailty don't upbraid me,
I am woman as you made me.

W. CONGREVE.

LXXXVI

CHANSON A BOIRE

COME, let's mind our drinking,

Away with this thinking;

It ne'er, that I heard of, did any one good; Prevents not disaster,

But brings it on faster,

Mischance is by mirth and by courage withstood.

He ne'er can recover

The day that is over,

The present is with us, and does threaten no ill; He's a fool that will sorrow

For the thing call'd to-morrow,

But the hour we've in hand we may wield as we will.

There's nothing but Bacchus

Right merry can make us,

That virtue particular is to the vine;

It fires ev'ry creature

With wit and good-nature,

Whose thoughts can be dark when their noses do

shine?

A night of good drinking

Is worth a year's thinking,

There's nothing that kills us so surely as sorrow; Then to drown our cares, boys,

Let's drink up the stars, boys,

Each face of the gang will a sun be to-morrow.

LXXXVII

C. COTTON.

LOVE ARMED

LOVE in fantastic triumph sat,

Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd;
For whom fresh pains he did create,
And strange tyrannic power 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 desire,
Enough t' inflame the amorous world.

From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
And every killing dart from thee.
Thus thou and I the god have arm'd,
And set him up a deity;

But my poor heart alone is harm'd,

Whilst thine the victor is, and free.

APHRA BEHN.