FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER

LOVER,

WHO WAS GOING TO SEA.

Farewell! dear Swain, let neither seas nor wind
Swell like the eyes and hearts you leave behind;
Let no bold billow venture to arise
With fond desire, to gaze upon those eyes ;
Lest winds and waves, enamour'd of thy form,
Should rise, and croud themselves into a storm.

HIS ANSWER.

11

My dearest Celia! further griefs forbear,
Nor let my safety be too much thy care;
Nor roaring winds I fear, nor raging seas;
For when an Angel prays, the storm must cease.
But yet, a ruin threatens still my heart;
You cannot save ine--for ’tis death to part.

The Honeysuckle.

THE CHOICE OF A BACHELOR'S WIFE.

When I am to chuse a woman,

As who knows but I may marry?
I will trust the

eye
of

110 man,
Nor a tongue that may miscarry:
For 'tis in love and fame confess'd,
Each man can tell his

story best.

First, to make my choice the bolder,

I would have her child to such,
Whose free virtuous lives are older

Than antiquity can touch :
For it is seldom seen that blood
A beauty gives both great and good.

Yet an ancient stock may bring

Branches, I confess, of worth :
Like rich mountains shadowing

Those descents that brought them forth;
Yet, though such hills may gilded show,
They soonest feel an age of

snow.

Therefore, to prevent such care,

That repentance soon may bring;
Like merchants I would chuse my ware,

Uusefully good, not glittering :
For he that weds for state or face,
But buys a horse to lose a race.

Yet I would have her fair as any,

But not give her charms away ; I would have her free to many,

Look on all with equal day ; But, when descending to the sea, Still let her set with none but me.

If of proud majestic mien,

Such as they fine women call, In whatsoever place she's seen

She will courted be by all; But let her heart with such pride glow, That still to all she answers no.

Yet I would not have her lose

So much breeding, as to fling Unbecoming scorn on those

That must worship ev'ry thing; To give loose glances if she fear, The loosest man will chaste appear.

Let her be by nature wise,

But not learned grown by arts; In the one a pleasure lies,

Th’ other self-conceit imparts : Good sense will make a wife more civil; But critic learning-a mere devil.

Nor a fam'd, reputed wit,

Shall she 'mong the witlings be ; Such most follies do commit;

For such like too light ships we see, Which with small ballast and great sail Are soonest apt to turn up tail.

Nor she shall not, while she's woo'd,

Blush for ill thoughts that are past;
But so innocently good

That her dreams were ever chaste;
For the maid who dreams a sin
Has betray'd the fort within.

While I court her, as a maid,

Let her shew a thousand fears ;
Tell, that he or he betray’d,

After vows, and after tears ;
Hence will she know my constant life
Rewards a meritorious wife.

When the priest first joins our hands

I would have her think but thus ;
In what high and holy bands,

Like twins, kind heav’n bath planted us;
Then both, like Aaron's rod, together
At once may bud, grow green, and wither.

Gentleman's Magazine.

MONSIEUR MAYNARD

AN OLD SERVANT TO LEWIS THE THIRTEENTH,

To Cardinal Richlieu.

Sick of a life possess’d in vain,

I soon shall wait upon the ghost
Of our late monarch, in whose reign

None who had merit miss'd a post.

Then will I charm him with your name,

Tell all the wonders you have done,
The pow'r of France, the Spaniard's shame,

The rising honours of his son !

Grateful the royal shade will smile,

And dwell delighted on the theme, Fully appeas'd, his griefs beguile,

And drown old losses in new fame.

But should he ask me in what sphere,

I did your wish'd commands obey,
Bid me my services declare-
What would you please to have me say?

The Friends.