Under a Ladies Picture.

I'

By another Hand.

F Beauties faintly Copy'd ftrike our Eyes, How muft the Bright Original Surprize! What Mortal's priviledg'd from Glorious Wounds,

That dares behold fuch Charms, and hear fuch Sounds?

Her Looks, Her Words are Darts, nor can they Err,

Unless you're Blind as Love, and Deaf like Her.

R

To Himfelf.

Ouze from thy Lethargy, dull Lovefick thing,

Ceafe to lament and ceafe of her to fing; Why doft thou make imaginary Wounds, And fix to Grief, as to her Praife, no Bounds? Are ftings fo pleafing to be cherish'd on, Canft thou abound in Love when he has None ?

Art

Art thou fo ftor'd with Fewel still to burn Can flames endure tho' back'd with no return? Leave off for shame this whining filly trade, No more her apifh property be made; Women may juftly be compar'd to Days, None are fo bright, but others match their Rays.

Is the of more than Mortal Frame alone? Has Nature Summ'd up all her Charms in

one?

Can Luminaries ftrike thee into Clay?
Or can pure White and Red fteal Soul away?
Empty delufion! Fit for Cupid's Tools,
Since they who first are Lovers, firft are Fools.
Such Raptures only in falfe fancy fhine,
Resume the Sight, and She's no more Divine ;
Then Cruelty as great as Beauty fhows,
And then appears the Thorn as well as Rofe;
No more the Sun conceals attending stains,
Whence once Love's mift is vanish'd, Reafon
Reigns,

Upon Flavia in the Snow.

By another Hand.

Right Flavia ventur'd forth one Day,
And feather'd Snow did briskly play;
Fove came addreffing in a Show'r,
Quitting for Love Almighty Pow'r;
White was the foft beguiling Storm,
Nothing look'd purer, fave her Form;
But fuch a Danae mock'd his Arts,
No fhape could bear her conquering Darts.
The greedy plumes invade her Breaft,
And cling and covet to be bleft;

But by her Whiteness lose their own,
And make in Cryftal Tears their moan;
Till hard'ned by her cold difdain,

1

Once more they change, but change in vain;
From trickling Drops to Diamonds freeze,
Thus to adorn the Fair they'd please ;
Forc'd by her luftre not to stay,
Soon thaw the new made Gems away;
Again their liquid nature own,
And leave her Eyes to fhine alone,
While they with gentle murmurs fall,
And Earth in pity fucks up all.

ADVICE to LOVERS.

D

By Sir Charles Sedley.

I.

AMON, if thou wilt believe me, 'Tis not fighing round the Plain, Songs and Sonnets cann't relieve thee, Faint Attempts in Love are vain,

II.

Urge but home the fair Occafion,
And be Mafter of the Field;
To a powerful kind Invafion
'Tis a Madness not to yield.

III.

Love gives out a large Commiffion,
Still indulgent to the brave;
But one Sin of large Omiffion,
Never Woman yet forgave.

IV.

IV.

Though fhe fwears she'll ne'er permit you,
Cries you're rude, and much to blame,
Or with Tears implores your Pity,
Be not merciful for fhame.

V.

When the fierce Affault is over.
Chloris foon enough may find
This her Cruel furious Lover
Much more gentle, not so kind.

A