OFT

A FAREWEL.

T have I mus'd, but now at length I find, Why thofe that Die, men say, They do Depart: Depart! a word fo gentle to my mind,

Weakly did feem to paint death's ugly dart.

But now the stars, with their ftrange courfe, do bind
Me one to leave, with whom I leave my heart,
I hear a cry of fpirits faint and blind,

That parting thus, my chiefeft Part I part.

Part of my life, the loathed part to me,

Lives to impart my weary clay fome breath; But that good part, wherein all comforts be, Now dead, doth fhew departure is a death:

Yea, worse than death, death's part both woe and joy, From joy I part, ftill living in annoy.

FINDING thofe beams, which I muft ever love,

To mar my mind, and with my hurt to please,

I deem'd it beft, fome absence for to prove,
If farther place might further me to ease.

My eyes thence drawn, where lived all their light,
Blinded forthwith in dark despair did lie,
Like to the mole, with want of guiding fight,
Deep plung'd in earth, deprived of the sky.

In abfence blind, and wearied with that woe,
To greater woes, by presence, I return;
Even as the fly, which to the flame doth go,

Pleas'd with the light, that his fmall coarfe doth burn:

Fair choice I have, either to live or dye.
A blinded mole, or elfe a burned fly.

The SEVEN WONDERS of England.

1.

NEAR Wilton fweet, huge heaps of ftones are found,* But fo confus'd, that neither any eye

Can count them juft, nor reafon reafon try,
What force brought them to fo unlikely ground.

To ftranger weights my mind's wafte foil is bound,
Of paffion-hills, reaching to reafon's sky,
From fancy's earth, paffing all numbers bound,
Paffing all guess, whence into me fhould fly,
So maz'da mafs; or, if in me it grows,
A fimple foul fhould breed fo mixed woes.

Stone-henge on Salsbury-Plain,

II. The

II.

The Bruertons have a lake, which, when the fun
Approaching warms (not elfe) dead logs up fends
From hideous depth; which tribute, when it ends,
Sore fign it is, the lord's laft thread is fpun.

My lake is fenfe, whose still ftreams never run
But when my fun her fhining twins there bends;
Then from his depth with force in her begun,
Long drowned hopes to watry eyes it lends ;-
But when that fails my dead hopes up to take,
Their mafter is fair warn'd his Will to niake..

III.

We have a fifh, by ftrangers much admir'd,
Which caught, to cruel fearch yields his chief part:
(With gall cut out) clos'd up again by art,
Yet lives until his life be new requir'd.

A ftranger fish, myself, not yet expir'd,
Tho' wrap'd with beauty's hook, I did impart
My-felf unto th' anatomy defir'd,

Instead of gall, leaving to her my heart:

Yet live with thoughts clos'd up, 'till that she will, By conqueft's right, instead of searching, kill.

IV.

Peak hath a cave, whofe narrow entries find
Large rooms within, where drops distil amain :
*Till knit with cold, tho' there unknown remain,
Deck that poor place with alabafter lin❜d.

Mine eyes the ftreight, the roomy cave, my mind;
Whose cloudy thoughts let fall an inward rain
Of forrows drops, 'till colder reafon bind
Their running fall into a conftant vein
Of truth, far more than alabaster pure,
Which, tho' defpis'd, yet ftill doth truth endure.

V.

A field there is, where, if a stake be prest
Deep in the earth, what hath in earth receipt,
Is chang'd to stone in hardness, cold and weight,
The wood above doth foon confuming rest.

The earth her ears; the stake is my request;
Of which, how much may pierce to that sweet feat
To honour turn'd, doth dwell in honour's neft,
Keeping that form, tho' vain of wonted heat;
But all the reft, which fear durft not apply,
Failing themselves, with wither'd confcience die.

VI.

Of fhips, by fhipwreck caft on Albion coast, Which rotting on the rocks, their death do die: From wooden bones, and blood of pitch, doth fly

A bird, which gets more life, than ship had loft.

My fhip, defire, with wind of luft long tost,
Brake on fair cliffs of conftant chastity:
Where plagu'd for rafh attempt, gives up his ghoft,
So deep in feas of virtue, beauties lie ;

But of this death flies up the purest love,
Which feeming less, yet nobler life doth move.

VII, Thefe

VII.

These Wonders England breeds; the laft remains
A lady, in despite of nature, chaste,

On whom all love, in whom no love is plac'd,
Where fairness yields to wifdom's fhorteft reins."

An humble pride, a scorn that favour fains;
A woman's mould, but like an an angel grac'd;
An angel's mind, but in a woman cas'd;

A heav'n on earth, or earth that heav'n contains: Now thus this wonder to myself I frame;

She is the caufe that all the rest I am.

To the Tune of Wilhelmus van Naffau, &c.

HO hath his fancy pleased,

WHO

With fruits of happy fight?

Let here his eyes be raised.
On nature's sweetest light:
A light which doth diffever,
And yet unite the eyes;
A light which dying never,
Is, 'cause the looker dies.

She never dies, but lafteth
In life of lover's heart;

He ever dies that wasteth
In love his chiefeft
part.

Thus