'Tis done; Now farewel thou most happy place,
Farewel ye ftreams that foftly creep,
I.ne're again in you fhall view my face.
Farewel ye Bowers, in you I ne're shall sleep.
Farewel ye Trees, ye flowery Beds farewel
You ne're will bless my tafte, nor you my smell.
Farewel thou Guardian divine,
To thee my happy Rival I refign.
O whither now, whither fhall I repair
Exil'd from this Angelic Coaft?
There's nothing left that's pleasant, good or fair,
The World can't recompence for Eden loft.
'Tis true, I've here a Univerfal Sway,
The Creatures me as their chief Lord obey;
But yet the World tho all my Seat,
Can't make me happy, tho it make me great.
Had I loft leffer and but seeming Blifs,
Reafon my Sorrows might relieve.
But when the lofs great and fubftantial is,
To think is but to fee good caufe to grieve.
'Tis well I'm mortal, 'tis well I shortly muft
Lofe all the thoughts of Eden in the Duft..
Senfelefs and Thoughtless now I'd be,
I'd lofe even my self, fince I've lost thee.
Reak off thy Slumber gentle God
And hither bring thy charming Rod;
The Rod that weeping Eyes does clofe
And gives to Melancholy Hearts repofe;
With that my Temples ftroke, and let me be
Held by thy foft Captivity.
But do not all my Senses bind,
Nor fetter up too close my
my mind:
Let mimic Fancy wake, and freely rove,
And bring th' Idea of the Saint I love.
Her lovely Image has been brought
So often to my waking thought,
That 'tis at length worn out and dead,
And with its fair Original is fled.
Or elfe my working over-thoughtful mind
With much intention is made blind,
Like those who look on Objects bright
So long till they quite lofe their fight.
Ah Cruel Fates, is't not enough for you
To take my Saint, but I must lose her Image too?
III.
Thee gentle Charmer I implore
This my loft Treasure to restore;
Thy magic Vertues all apply,
Set up again my Bank-rupt memory.
Search every Cell and corner of my Brain,
And bring my Fugitive again.
To thy dark Cave thy felf betake
And 'mong thy Dreams enquiry make;
Summon the best Ideas to appear
And bring that Form which most resembles her.
But if in all thy store there be
None (as I fear) fo fair as the,
Then let thy Painter Phancy limn
Her Form anew, and fend it by a Dream.
Thou can'ft him all her lively Features tell
For fure I think thou knew'ft her well.
But if defcription wont fuffice
For him to draw a Piece fo nice,
Then let him to my Breaft and Heart repair,
For fure her Image is not worn out there.
Was when the Tide of the returning day
"TBegan to chafe ill forms away,
When pious Dreams the Senfe employ,
And all within is Innocence and Joy,
My melancholy, thoughtful Mind
O'recome at length, to fleep refign'd;
Not common Sleep, for I was bleft
With fomething more divine, more sweet than reft.
She who her fine-wrought Clay had lately left,
Of whofe fweet Form I was bereft,
Was by kind Fancy to me brought,
And made the Object of my happy thought.
Clad fhe was all in Virgin white,
And fhone with Empyrean Light;
A radiant Glory Crown'd her Head,
She stream'd with Light and Love, and thus fhe faid.
III.
And why this Grief and Paffion for the Bleft?
Let all your Sorrows with me rest.
My ftate is Blifs, but I fhould live
Yet much more happy, would.you ceafe to grieve.
Dry up your tears (Dear Friend) and be
Happy in my Felicity.
By this your Wisdom you'll approve,
Nay (what you'd moft of all commend) your Love.
She fpake, diffolv'd I lay and overcome,
And was with Extafie ftruck dumb;
But ah the fierce tumultuous joy
Its own weak Being, haften'd to deftroy.
To fee that lovely Form appear
My Spirits in fuch commotion were,..
Sleep could no more their force controul,
They fhook their Fetters off,and free'd my unwilling Soul.
What Blifs do we oft to Delufion owe!
Who would not ftill be cheated fo!
Opinion's an Ingredient
That goes fo far to make up true Content,
That even a Dream of Happiness
With real joy the Soul does blefs;
Let me but always dream of this,
And I will envy none their waking Blifs.
[OW long great God, how long must I
Immur'd in this dark Prifon lye!
Where at the Grates and Avenues of fenfe
My Soul must watch to have Intelligence.
Where but faint gleams of thee falute my fight,
Like doubtful Moon-fhine in a Cloudy night.
When fhall I leave this Magic Sphere,
And be all Mind, all Eye, all Ear!
How Cold this Clime! and yet my
Perceives even here thy Influence.
Even here thy ftrong Magnetic Charms I feel,
And pant
and tremble like the Amorous steel.
To lower good, and Beauties lefs Divine
Sometimes my erroneous Needle does decline;
But yet (fo ftrong the Sympathy)
It turns, and points again to thee.
III.
I long to fee this Excellence
Which at fuch distance strikes my sense.
My impatient Soul struggles to difengage
Her wings from the confinement of her Cage.
Would't thou great Love this Prifoner once fet free,
How would the haften to be link'd to thee!
She'd for no Angels Conduct ftay,
But fly, and love on all the way.
Hat I am colder in my Friendship grown,
My Faith and Conftancy you blame,
But fore th' inconftancy is all your own,
I am, but you are not the fame.
The flame of Love must needs expire
fubtract what fhould maintain the fire.
II.
While to the Laws of Vertue you were true,
You had, and might retain my Heart;
Now give me leave to turn Apoftate too,
Since you do from your felf depart.
Thus the Reform'd are counted free
From Schifm, tho they defert the Roman See.
III.
The ftrictest Union to be found below
Is that which Soul and Body ties,
They all the Mysteries of Friendship know,
And with each other fympathife.
And yet the Soul will bid adieu
T'her much diftemper'd Mate, as I leave you.
'Ve often charg'd all fublunary Blifs,
With Vanity and Emptiness:
You Woods and Streams have heard me oft complain
How all things, how even your delights were vain.
Methought I could with one fhort fimple view
Glance o're all humane Joys and fee them through.
But now great Preacher pardon me,
|