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Bright Cynthia's power divinely great,
What heart is not obeying?
And in her eyes are playing.
She seems the queen of love to reign
For she alone dispenses Such
sweets, as best can entertain
guest of all the senses.
Her face a charming prospect brings ;
Her breath gives balmy blisses : I hear an angel when she sings,
And taste of Heaven in kisses.
Four senses thus she feasts with joy,
From Nature's richest treasure : Let me the other sense employ
And I shall die with pleasure.
[In Southerne's “ Oroonoko.")
IN VAIN YOU TELL.
Born 1664-Died 1721.
In vain you tell your parting lover
IF WINE AND MUSIC HAVE THE POWER.
If wine and music have the power
To ease the sickness of the soul, Let Phæbus every string explore,
And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl: Let them their friendly aid employ
To make my Chloe's absence light, And seek for pleasure to destroy
The sorrows of this live long night.
But she to-morrow will return :
Venus, be thou to-morrow great ; Thy myrtles strew, thy odours burn,
And meet thy favourite nymph in state.
Let us to-morrow's blessings own,
But, oh! she scorns to hear or see The wretch that lies so low as me; Her sudden greatness turns her brain, And Strephon hopes, alas ! in vain ! For ne'er 'twas found (though often tried) That Pity ever dwelt with Pride.
No, Phillis, no, your heart to move,
A surer way I'll try :
Will still love on and die.
When killed with grief, Amyntas lies ;
And you to mind shall call
The tears that vainly fall :
Will then begin your pain ;
Can never break in vain.
[The Songs of the celebrated Lord Rochester, are his only writings free from indecency. Horace Walpole happily characterised his verse as having “ much more obscenity than wit, more wit than poetry, more poetry than politeness.")
AN IMITATION OF CORNELIUS GALLUS.
JOHN WILMOT, LORD. ROCHESTER.
My Goddess Lydia, heavenly fair,
Give me ambrosia in a kiss,
JOHN WILMOT, LORD ROCHESTER.
Vulcan, contrive me such a cup
As Nestor us'd of old;
Damask it round with gold.
Up to the swelling brim,
Like ships at sea, may swim.
With war I've nought to do ;
Nor Yarmouth leaguer knew.