and clearly in this way, than in any other. I am, my Lord, with the most profound refpect,

Your Lordship's most obedient

and faithful fervant,

COMPLAINT

N a deep vision's intellectual scene
Beneath a bower for forrow made,
Th' uncomfortable shade

Of the black yew's unlucky green,

[d] This is one of the prettiest of Mr. COWLEY'S smaller Poems. The plan of it is highly poetical: and, though the numbers be not the most pleasing, the expreffion is almost every where natural and beautiful. But it's principal charm is that air of Mixt

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Mixt with the mourning willow's careful gray,
Where reverend CAM cuts out his famous way,
The melancholy COWLEY lay:
And lo! a Muse appear'd to's closed sight,
(The Muses oft in lands of visions play)
Bodied, array'd, and seen by an internal light:
A golden harp with silver strings she bore,
A wondrous hieroglyphic robe she wore,
In which all colours, and all figures were,
That nature, or that fancy can create,

That art can never imitate;

And with loose pride it wanton'd in the air.
In such a dress, in such a well-cloth'd dream,
She us'd of old, near fair ISMENUS' stream,
PINDAR her THEBAN favourite to meet;
A crown was on her head, and wings were on

She touch'd him with her harp, and rais'd him from the ground;

The shaken strings melodiously refound.

melancholy, thrown over the whole, so expreffive of the poet's character.

The address of the writer is seen in conveying his just reproaches on the Court, under a pretended vindication of it against the Muje.

Art

Art thou return'd at last, said she, To this forsaken place and me ? Thou prodigal, who didst so loosely waste Of all thy youthful years, the good eftate? Art thou return'd here to repent too late; And gather husks of learning up at last, Now the rich harvest-time of life is past, And Winter marches on so fast? But when I meant t' adopt thee for my fon, And did as learn'd a portion thee affign, As ever any of the mighty Nine

Had to her dearest children done; When I resoly'd t' exalt thy anointed name, Among the spiritual lords of peaceful fame [e]; Thou changeling, thou, bewitch'd with noise

and show,

Would'st into courts and cities from me go; Would'st see the world abroad, and have a

share

In all the follies, and the tumults there.

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Business! the frivolous prétence

Of humane lufts to shake off innocence:

Business! the grave impertinence: Business! the thing which I of all things

hate:

Business! the contradiction of thy fate.

III.

Go, renegado, cast up thy account,
And see to what amount

Thy foolish gains by quitting me:
The fale of knowledge, fame, and liberty,
The fruits of thy unlearn'd apostasy.
Thou thought'ft, if once the public storm were

past,

All thy remaining life should fun-shine be:
Behold, the public storm is spent at last,
The sovereign is tost at sea no more,
And thou, with all the noble company,
Art got at last to shore.

But whilst thy fellow voyagers, I see,
All march'd up to possess the promis'd land,
Thou still alone (alas) dost gaping ftand

Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand.

IV. A

IV.

As a fair morning of the blessed spring,
After a tedious stormy night;

Such was the glorious entry of our king: Enriching moisture drop'd on every thing; Plenty he fow'd below, and caft about him

light.

But then (alas) to thee alone, One of old GIDEON's miracles was shown; For every tree, and every herb around, With pearly dew was crown'd, And upon all the quicken'd ground, The fruitful feed of heaven did brooding lye, And nothing but the Muse's fleece was dry.

It did all other threats surpass When God to his own people said, (The men, whom thro' long wanderings he

had led)

That he would give them ev'n a heaven of brass;

They look'd up to that heaven in vain,

That bounteous heaven, which God did not

restrain,

Upon the most unjust to shine and rain.

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V. The