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Gentle Henrietta then,
Then Joan, and Jane, and Andria:
And then a long etcetera.
But should I now to you relate
The powder, patches, and the pins,
That make up all their magazines :
If I should tell the politic arts
The letters, embassies, and spies, The frowns, and smiles, and Aatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,
Numberless, nameless mysteries!
And all the little lime-twigs laid
I more voluminous should grow
Than Holinshed or Stow.
But I will briefer with them be,
An higher and a nobler strain
Whom God grant long to reign.
The life of this accomplished man, who, though principally distinguished by his inflexible patriotism, was generally and justly admired for his learning, his acuteness in controversial writing, his wit, and his poetical talents, is to be found in almost every biographical work (excepting Dr Johnson's Lives of the Poets); and is, besides, incapable of being so far compressed as to find its place in this little miscellany. He was born in 1620, at Kingston upon Hull (the town
wbich he so long represented in Parliament,) was admitted in 1635 of Trinity College, Cambridge, and died in London,
1678. A neat edition of his poems was published by Davis, in two
small volumes, 1772. But the most complete and splendid collection of his works appeared in three volumes, 4to. 1776, under the care of Capt. Edward Thomson.
Daphnis and Chloe.
[From 27 stanzas. ]
Daphnis must from Chloe part:
That must all his hopes devour,
Nature, her own sex's foe,
Long had taught her to be coy:
But she neither knew t enjoy, Nor yet let her lover go.
But, with this sad news surpriz'd,
Soon she let that niceness fall;
And would gladly yield to all, So it had his stay compris’d.
* * * *
He, well read in all the ways
By which men their siege maintain,
Knew not that, the fort to gain, Better 'twas the siege to raise.
But he came so full possess’d
That he had not so much sense
Till love in her language breath'd
But than legacies no more
As the soul of one'scárce dead,
With the shrieks of friends aghast,
Looks distracted back in haste, And then straight again is fled;
So did wretched Daphnis look,
Frighting her he loved most.
At the last, this lover's ghost Thus his leave resolved took.
“ Are my hell and heaven join’d,
“ More to torture him that dies ?
“ Could departure not suffice, “ But that you must then grow kind ?
“ Ah my Chloe ! how have I
“ Such a wretched minute found,
“ When thy favours should me wound “ More than all thy cruelty ?
“ So to the condemned wight
“ The delicious cup we fill,
“ And allow him all he will, « For his last and short delight.