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Death's Final Conquest.
The glories of our birth and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill; But their strong nerves at last must yieldThey tame but one another still;
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
The garlands wither on your brow
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
All heads must come
To the cold tomb-
FROM A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING.
The maid, and thereby hangs a tale,
Could ever yet produce:
No grape that 's kindly ripe could be
Nor half so full of juice.
Her finger was so small, the ring
It was too wide a peck;
About our young colt's neck.
As if they feared the light; But 0, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.
Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
Who sees them is undone;
The side that 's next the sun.
Her lips were red; and one was thin,
Some bee had stung it newly;
Than on the sun in July.
Her mouth so small, when she does speak,
That they might passage get;
SIR JOHN SUCKLING.
Ve Gentlemen of England.
YE gentlemen of England
That live at home at ease,
ers of the seas. Give ear unto the mariners,
And they will plainly show All the cares and the fears
When the stormy winds do blow.
If enemies oppose us
When England is at war With any foreign nation,
We fear not wound or scar; Our roaring guns shall teach 'em
Our valor for to know, Whilst they reel on the keel,
And the stormy winds do blow.
Then courage, all brave mariners,
And never be dismay'd;
We ne'er shall want a trade :
To fetch them wealth, we know;
Love still has something of the sea,
From whence his mother rose;
Nor give their thoughts repose.
MY DEAR AND ONLY LOVE.
They are becalmed in clearest days,
And in rough weather tossed; They wither under cold delays,
Or are in tempests lost.
One while they seem to touch the port,
Then straight into the main Some angry wind, in cruel sport,
The vessel drives again.
At first disdain and pride they fear,
Which if they chance to 'scape, Rivals and falsehood soon appear,
In a more cruel shape.
By such degrees to joy they come,
And are so long withstood; So slowly they receive the sun,
It hardly does them good.
'T is cruel to prolong a pain;
And to defer a joy,
Offends the winged boy.
An hundred thousand oaths your fears,
Perhaps, would not remove; And if I gazed a thousand years, I could not deeper love.
SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.
My Dear and Only Love.
My dear and only love, I pray,
This noble world of thee
But purest monarchie.
For if confusion have a part,
Which virtuous souls abhore, And hold a synod in thy heart,
I'll never love thee more.
Like Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone, My thoughts shall evermore disdain
A rival on my throne.
Or his deserts are small,
To win or lose it all.
But I must rule and govern still
And always give the law,
And all to stand in awe.
Thou shun'st the prize so sore As that thou set'st me up a blind,
I'll never love thee more.
If in the empire of thy heart,
Where I should solely be, Another do pretend a part,
And dares to vie with me; Or if committees thou erect,
And go on such a score, I 'll sing and laugh at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.
But if thou wilt be constant then,
And faithful of thy word, I'll make thee glorious by my pen,
And famous by my sword. I 'll serve thee in such noble ways
Was never heard before;