My Fancy's pris'ner to thy gold and thee,
Thy favours rob me of my liberty.
I'le to my speculations. Is't best
To be confin'd to some dark, narrow chest
And idolize thy stamps, when I may

be
Lord of all Nature, and not slave to thee ?
The world's my palace. I'le contemplate there,
And make my progress into ev'ry sphere.
The chambers of the Air are mine; those three
Well furnish'd stories' my possession be.
I hold then all in capite, and stand
Propt by my Fancy there. I scorn your Land,
It lies so far below me.

Here I see How all the sacred stars do circle me. Thou to the great giv'st rich food, and I do Want no content; I feed on manna too. They have their tapers ; I gaze without fear On flying lamps, and flaming comets here. Their wanton flesh, in silks and purple shrouds, And Fancy wraps me in a robe of clouds. There some delicious beauty they may woo, And I have Nature for my

mistris too. But these are mean; the Archtype I can see, And humbly touch the hem of Majestie. The power of my soul is such, I can

Expire, and so analyse all that's man.
First my dull clay I give unto the Earth,
Our common mother, which gives all their birth.
My growing faculties I send as soon
Whence first I took them, to the humid moon.
All subtilties and every cunning art
To witty Mercury I do impart.
Those fond' affections which made me a slave
To handsome faces, Venus, thou shalt have.
And saucy Pride-if there was ought in me-
Sol, I return it to thy royalty.
My daring Rashness and presumptions be
To Mars himself an equal legacy.
My ill-plac'd Avarice—sure 'tis but small :
Jove, to thy flames I do bequeath it all.
And

my false Vagic, which I did believe,
And mystic lyes, to Saturn I do give.
My dark imaginations rest you there,
This is your grave and superstitious sphære.

Get up my disintangled soul, thy fire
Is now refind and nothing left to tire,
Or clog thy wings. Now my auspicious flight
Hath brought me to the empyrean light.
I am a sep’rate essence, and can see
The emanations of the Deitie,

And how they pass the seraphims, and run
Through ev'ry throne and domination.
So rushing through the guard, the sacred streams
Flow to the neighbour stars, and in their beams

- A glorious cataract !-descend to Earth,
And give impressions unto ev'ry birth.
With angels now and spirits I do dwell,
And here it is my nature to do well.
Thus, though my body you confined see,
My boundless thoughts have their ubiquitie.
And shall I then forsake the stars and signs,
To dote upon thy dark and cursèd mines ?
Unhappy, sad exchange ! what, must I buy
Guiana with the loss of all the skie?
Intelligences shall I leave, and be
Familiar only with mortalitie ?
Must I know nought, but thy exchequer ? shall
My purse and fancy be symmetrical ?
Are there no objects left but one ? must we
In gaining that, lose our varietie?

Fortune, this is the reason I refuse
Thy wealth ; it puts my books all out of use.
'Tis poverty that makes me wise ; my mind
Is big with speculation, when I find
My purse as Randolph's' was, and I confess

1 Thomas Randolph, the poet, as before. G.

There is no blessing to an emptinesse!
The species of all things to me resort
And dwell then in my breast, as in their port.
Then leave to court me with thy hated store,
Thou gir'st me that, to rob my soul of more.

TO I. MORGAN OF WHITE-HALL, ESQ., UPON HIS SUDDEN JOURNEY AND SUCCEEDING MARRIAGE."

10 from our cold, rude world, which all

things tires To his warm Indies the bright sun re

tires. Where in those provinces of gold and spice Perfumes, his progress, pleasures, fill his eyes, Which so refresh'd in their return convey Fire into rubies, into chrystals, day ; And prove, that light in kinder climates can Work more on senselesse stones, than here on man.

But you, like one ordain'd to shine, take in

1 This was John Morgan of Wenallt in Llandetty, nearly opposite Lower Newton on the other side of the Usk. He married a daughter of Dr. William Awbrey, chancellor of St. Davids. Wen in Welsh means' white' an]. Wenallt’is · White Grove' rather than "White-hall' which would have been in Welsh Neuadd-wen'. G.

Both light and heat: can love and wisdom spin
Into one thred, and with that firmly tye
The same bright blessings on posterity :
Which so intail'd, like jewels of the crown,
Shall with your name descend still to your

own.

When I am dead, and malice or neglect The worst they can upon my dust reflect; -For poets yet have left no names, but such As men have envied or despis d too much ; You above both-and what state more excells, Since a just fame like health, nor wants, nor

swells ? To after ages shall remain entire, And shine still spotles[s], like your planet's fire. No single lustre neither; the access Of your fair love will your's adorn and bless ; Till from that bright conjunction, men may view A constellation circling her and you :

So two sweet rose-buds from their virgin-beds First peep and blush, then kiss and couple heads; Till yearly blessings so increase their store, Those two can number two and twenty more, And the fair bank — by heav'ns free bounty

crown'dWith choice of sweets and beauties doth abound; Till Time, which familys, like flowers, far spreads,