Chapter VIII

But time it self, bright Nymph, shall never conquer thee,
For when the Globe of vast Eternity;
Turns up the wrong-side of the World,
And all things are to their first _Chaos_ hurl’d,
Thy lasting praise in thy own lines inroll’d,
With _Roman_ and with the _British_ Names shall Equal honour hold.
And surely none ‘midst the Poetick Quire,
But justly will admire
The Trophies of thy wit,
Sublime and gay as e’er were yet
In Charming Numbers writ.
Or _Virgil’s_ Shade or _Ovid’s_ Ghost,
Of Ages past the pride and boast;
Or _Cowley_ (first of ours) refuse
That thou shouldst be Companion of their Muse.
And if ‘twere lawfull to suppose
(As where’s the Crime or Incongruity)
Those awfull Souls concern’d can be
At any sublunary thing,
Alas, I fear they’ll grieve to see,
That whilst I sing,
And strive to praise, I but disparage thee.

_By F. N. W._

_To Madam_ Behn, _on her Poems._

When th’.lmighty Powers th’.niverse had fram’d,
And Man as King, the lesser World was nam’d.
The Glorious Consult soon his joys did bless.
And sent him Woman his chief happiness.
She by an after-birth Heaven did refine,
And gave her Beauty with a Soul divine;
She with delight was Natures chiefest pride,
Dearer to Man than all the World beside;
Her soft embraces charm’d his Manly Soul,
And softer Words his Roughness did controul:
So thou, great _Sappho_, with thy charming Verse,
Dost here the Soul of Poetry rehearse;
From your sweet Lips such pleasant Raptures fell,
As if the Graces strove which shou’d excell.
Th’admiring World when first your Lute you strung.
Became all ravisht with th’ immortal Song;
So soft and gracefull Love in you is seen,
As if the Muses had design’d you Queen.
For thee, thou great _Britannia_ of our Land,
How does thy Praise our tunefull Feet command?
With what great influence do thy Verses move? }
How hast thou shewn the various sense of Love? }
Admir’d by us, and blest by all above. }
To you all tribute’s due, and I can raise
No glory but by speaking in your praise.
Go on and bless us dayly with your Pen,
And we shall oft return thee thanks again.

_H. Watson._

POEMS UPON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

_The Golden Age._

_A Paraphrase on a Translation out of French._

I.

Blest Age! when ev’ry Purling Stream
Ran undisturb’d and clear,
When no scorn’d Shepherds on your Banks were seen,
Tortur’d by Love, by Jealousie, or Fear;
When an Eternal Spring drest ev’ry Bough,
And Blossoms fell, by new ones dispossest;
These their kind Shade affording all below,
And those a Bed where all below might rest.
The Groves appear’d all drest with Wreaths of Flowers,
And from their Leaves dropt Aromatick Showers,
Whose fragrant Heads in Mystick Twines above,
Exchang’d their Sweets, and mix’d with thousand Kisses,
As if the willing Branches strove
To beautifie and shade the Grove
Where the young wanton Gods of Love
Offer their Noblest Sacrifice of Blisses.

II.

Calm was the Air, no Winds blew fierce and loud,
The Skie was dark’ned with no sullen Cloud;
But all the Heav’ns laugh’d with continued Light,
And scattered round their Rays serenely bright.
No other Murmurs fill’d the Ear
But what the Streams and Rivers purl’d,
When Silver Waves o’er Shining Pebbles curl’d;
Or when young _Zephirs_ fan’d the Gentle Breez,
Gath’ring fresh Sweets from Balmy Flow’rs and Trees,
Then bore ‘em on their Wings to perfume all the Air:
While to their soft and tender Play,
The Gray-Plum’d Natives of the Shades
Unwearied sing till Love invades,
Then Bill, then sing again, while Love and Musick makes the Day.

III.

The stubborn Plough had then,
Made no rude Rapes upon the Virgin Earth;
Who yielded of her own accord her plentious Birth,
Without the Aids of men;
As if within her Teeming Womb,
All Nature, and all Sexes lay,
Whence new Creations every day
Into the happy World did come:
The Roses fill’d with Morning Dew,
Bent down their loaded heads,
T’Adorn the careless Shepherds Grassy Beds
While still young opening Buds each moment grew
And as those withered, drest his shaded Couch a new;
Beneath who’s boughs the Snakes securely dwelt,
Not doing harm, nor harm from others felt;
With whom the Nymphs did Innocently play,
No spightful Venom in the wantons lay;
But to the touch were Soft, and to the sight were Gay.

IV.

Then no rough sound of Wars Alarms,
Had taught the World the needless use of Arms:
Monarchs were uncreated then,
Those Arbitrary Rulers over men:
Kings that made Laws, first broke ‘em, and the Gods
By teaching us Religion first, first set the World at Odds:
Till then Ambition was not known,
That Poyson to Content, Bane to Repose;
Each Swain was Lord o’er his own will alone,
His Innocence Religion was, and Laws.
Nor needed any troublesome defence
Against his Neighbours Insolence.
Flocks, Herds, and every necessary good
Which bounteous Nature had design’d for Food,
Whose kind increase o’er-spread the Meads and Plaines,
Was then a common Sacrifice to all th’agreeing Swaines.

V.

Right and Property were words since made,
When Power taught Mankind to invade:
When Pride and Avarice became a Trade;
Carri’d on by discord, noise and wars,
For which they barter’d wounds and scarrs;
And to Inhaunce the Merchandize, miscall’d it, Fame,
And Rapes, Invasions, Tyrannies,
Was gaining of a Glorious Name:
Stiling their salvage slaughters, Victories;
Honour, the Error and the Cheat
Of the Ill-natur’d Bus’ey Great,
Nonsense, invented by the Proud,
Fond Idol of the slavish Crowd,
Thou wert not known in those blest days
Thy Poyson was not mixt with our unbounded Joyes;
Then it was glory to pursue delight,
And that was lawful all, that Pleasure did invite,
Then ‘twas the Amorous world injoy’d its Reign;
And Tyrant Honour strove t’ usurp in Vain.