And all the Day,
With Pride and Joy,
We'll let the Neighb'ring Shepherds see,
That none like us,
Did e'er express,
The heights of Love and Amity;
And all the day, &c.
A PINDARIC to Mr. P. who sings finely. By Mrs. A. B.
Damon, altho you waste in vain
That pretious breath of thine,
Where lies a Pow'r in every strain,
To take in any other heart, but mine;
Yet do not cease to sing, that I may know,
By what soft Charms and Arts,
What more than Humane 'tis you do,
To take, and keep your hearts;
Or have you Vow'd never to wast your breath,
But when some Maid must fall a Sacrifice,
As Indian Priests prepare a death,
For Slaves t'addorn their Victories,
Your Charm's as powerful, if I live,
For I as sensible shall be,
What wound you can, to all that hear you, give,
As if you wounded me;
And shall as much adore your wondrous skill,
As if my heart each dying Note cou'd kill.
And yet I should not tempt my Fate,
Nor trust my feeble strength,
Which does with ev'ry softning Note abate
And may at length
Reduce me to the wretched Slave I hate;
Tis strange extremity in me,
To venture on a doubtful Victory,
Where if you fail, I gain no more,
Than what I had before;
But 'twill certain comfort bring,
If I unconquer'd do escape from you;
If I can live, and hear you sing,
No other Forces can my Soul subdue;
Sing, Damon, then, and let each Shade,
Which with thy Heavenly voice is happy made,
Bear witness if my courage be not great,
To hear thee sing, and make a safe retreat.
On the Author of that Excellent Book Intituled The Way to Health, Long Life, and Happiness. By Mrs. A. B.
Hail, Learned Bard! who dost thy power dispence,
And show'st us the first State of Innocence
In that blest golden Age, when Man was young,
When the whole Race was Vigorous and strong;
When Nature did her wond'rous dictates give,
And taught the Noble Savage how to live;
When Christal Streams, and every plenteous Wood
Afforded harmless drink, and wholsom food;
E'er that ingratitude in Man was found,
His Mother Earth with Iron Ploughs to wound;
When unconfin'd, the spacious Plains produc'd
What Nature crav'd, and more than Nature us'd;
When every Sense to innocent delight
Th' agreeing Elements unforc'd invite;
When Earth was gay, and Heaven was kind and bright,
And nothing horrid did perplex the sight;
Unprun'd the Roses and the Jes'min grew, }
Nature each day drest all the World anew, }
And Sweets without Mans aid each Moment grew; }
Till wild Debauchery did Mens minds invade,
And Vice, and Luxury became a Trade;
Surer than War it laid whole Countrys wast,
Not Plague nor Famine ruins half so fast;
By swift degrees we took that Poison in,
Regarding not the danger, nor the sin;
Delightful, Gay, and Charming was the Bait,
While Death did on th' inviting Pleasure wait,
And ev'ry Age produc'd a feebler Race, }
Sickly their days, and those declin'd apace, }
Scarce Blossoms Blow, and Wither in less space. }
Till Nature thus declining by degrees,
We have recourse to rich restoratives,
By dull advice from some of Learned Note,
We take the Poison for the Antidote;
Till sinking Nature cloy'd with full supplys,
O'er-charg'd grows fainter, Languishes and dies.
These are the Plagues that o'er this Island reign,
And have so many threescore thousands slain;
Till you the saving Angel, whose blest hand
Have sheath'd that Sword, that threatned half the Land;
More than a Parent, Sir, we you must own,
They give but life, but you prolong it on;
You even an equal power with Heav'n do shew,
Give us long life, and lasting Vertue too:
Such were the mighty Patriarchs, of old,
Who God in all his Glory did behold,
Inspir'd like you, they Heavens Instructions show'd,
And were as Gods amidst the wandring Croud;
Not he that bore th' Almighty Wand cou'd give
Diviner Dictates, how to eat, and live.
And so essential was this cleanly Food,
For Mans eternal health, eternal good,
That God did for his first-lov'd Race provide,
What thou by Gods example hast prescrib'd:
O mai'st thou live to justifie thy fame,
To Ages lasting as thy glorious Name!
May thy own life make thy vast Reasons good,
(Philosophy admir'd and understood,)
To every sense 'tis plain, 'tis great, and clear,
And Divine Wisdom does o'er all appear;
Learning and Knowledge do support the whole,
And nothing can the mighty truth controul;
Let Fools and Mad-men thy great work condemn,
I've tri'd thy Method, and adore thy Theme;
Adore the Soul that you'd such truths discern,
And scorn the fools that want the sense to learn.
Epitaph on the Tombstone of a Child, the last of Seven that died before. By Mrs. A. B.
This Little, Silent, Gloomy Monument,
Contains all that was sweet and innocent;
The softest pratler that e'er found a Tongue,
His Voice was Musick and his Words a Song;
Which now each List'ning Angel smiling hears,
Such pretty Harmonies compose the Spheres;
Wanton as unfledg'd Cupids, ere their Charms
Had learn'd the little arts of doing harms;
Fair as young Cherubins, as soft and kind,
And tho translated could not be refin'd;
The Seventh dear pledge the Nuptial Joys had given,
Toil'd here on Earth, retir'd to rest in Heaven;
Where they the shining Host of Angels fill,
Spread their gay wings before the Throne, and smile.
Epilogue to the Jealous Lovers.
By Mrs. Behn, in 1682.