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But golden laws, like these,

Which nature wrote.

doth please.

That's lawful which

Then amongst flowers and springs,

Making delightful sport,

Sate lovers, without conflict, without shame,

And nymphs and shepherds fings,

Mixing in wanton fort

Whisperings with songs, then kisses with the fame

Which from affection came.

The naked virgin then

Her rofes fresh reveals,

Which now her veil conceals.

The tender apples in her bosom seen,

And oft in rivers clear

The lovers with their loves conforting were.

Honour! thou first didft close

The spring of all delight,

Denying water to the amorous thirst.

Thou taught'ft fair eyes to lose

The glory of their light,

Restrain'd from men, and on themselves re

vers'd.

Thou, in a lawn didst first

Those golden hairs incase

Late spread unto the wind.

Thou madeft loofe grace unkind,

Gav'ft bridle to their words, art to their

pace.

Oh honour! it is thou

Who mad'ft that stealth which love does free

allow,

It is thy work that brings

Our griefs and torments thus.

But, thou fierce lord of nature and of love,

The qualifier of kings,

What doft thou here with us

That are below thy power, shut from above?

Go, and from us remove,

Trouble the mighty's fleep,

Let us neglected, bafe,

Live ftill without thy grace,

And th' use of th' ancient happy ages keep! Let's love! this life of ours

Can make no truce with Time, that all devours.

N. BRETON.

The following pieces are extracted from England's Helicon.

ON

A PASTORAL OF

PHILLIS AND CORYDON.

On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befal the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower,
Where the heavenly muses meet.

In that bow'r there is a chair,
Fringed all about with gold,
Where doth fit the faireft fair

That ever eye did yet behold.

It is Phillis, fair and bright,
She that is the fhepherd's joy,

She that Venus did despite,

And did blind her little boy.

Who would not this face admire?
Who would not this faint adore?
Who would not this fight defire,
Though he thought to fee no more?

O fair eyes, yet let me fee

One good look, and I am gone : Look on me, for I am he,

Thy poor filly Corydon.

Thou, that art the fhepherd's queen, Look upon thy filly fwain;

By thy comfort have been seen Dead men brought to life again.

PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.

In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
With a troop of damfels playing,
Forth I yode forfooth a maying.
When anon by a wood fide,
Where that May was in his pride,
I efpied, all alone,

Phillida and Corydon.

Much ado there was, God wot,
He would love and she would not;

She faid, never man was true;
He fays, none was false to you.

He faid, he had lov'd her long;
She fays, love should have no wrong.
Corydon would kiss her then;
She says, maids must kiss no men,
Till they do for good and all;
When she made the fhepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth
Never lov'd a truer youth;
Then with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,

Such as feely fhepherds use

When they will not love abuse;
Love that had been long deluded,
Was with kiffes sweet concluded;
And Phillida with garlands gay,
Was made the lady of the May.

THE SHEPHERD's ADDRESS тo is MUSE.

GOOD mufe, rock me asleep
With fome sweet harmony:
This weary eyes is not to keep
Thy wary company.

Sweet love, begone a while,
Thou feeft my heaviness:

Beauty is born but to beguile
My heart of happiness.

See how my little flock,

That lov'd to feed on high,

Do headlong tumble down the rock,
And in the valley die.

The bushes and the trees,

That were so fresh and green,

Do all their dainty colours leefe,

And not a leaf is feen.

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