FROM THE ITALIAN OF GUARINI. Tho' chang'd to pens were all the trees; Or tho' as many tongues had I, TO A PHYSICIAN. From the French of Montreuil. Raymond, thou hast beneath thy care Who treats with cruel scorn each lover; Her rigour, daily, to the grave Dooms thousands whom her eyes enslave, LEARNED LADIES. The erudite Nicholas Udal, in a Dedication to Queen Catharine Parr, says, "It was a common thyng to see young virgins so nouzled and trained to the studie of letters, that thei willyngly sett all other vain pastymes at nought for learnynge's sake. It was now no news at all, to see queens, and ladies of most high estate and progenie, instede of courtly dalliance, to embrace vertuous exercises, readyng and writyng, and with most earneste studie, both erlye and late, to apply themselves to the acquiryng of knowledge, as well as in all other liberal arts and disciplines, as also, most specially, of God and his most holy word. And in this behalf, like unto your Highnesse, as well for composyng and settyng forth many godly psalms and diverse other contemplative meditations, as also for causyng these paraphrases to be translated into our vulgare language, England can never be able to render thankes sufficient. TO CELIA. BY WALSH. Though Celia's born to be ador'd, And Strephon to adore her born, In vain her pity is implor'd She kills him twice, with charms and scorn. Fair Saint, to yon blest orb repair, And be less beauteous, or more kind. TO LUCASTA. BY COLONEL LOVELACE. Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind; Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind, True a new mistress now I chase, And, with a stronger faith, embrace Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more. "ON BEDS OF ROSES." BY RICHARD RYAN. On beds of roses let me lie, Where fairies near May o'er me breathe some spell or sigh, To make me, as in sleep I lie, Dream of my dear. For wheresoe'er my dear may rest, One thought dwells ever in her breast, And, e'er she sinks, by sleep opprest, Then since thy waking thoughts are mine, My only dear! Dreams, in exchange, thou'lt not decline, For mine are worth each thought of thine,- TO A LADY WHO LAMENTED BEING OF THE FEMALE SEX. BY R. A. DAVENPORT. Nature, Chloris, when she made you, But doating Nature should have known, For children spoil'd are ingrates ever. U WOMAN. Go,-search through ocean, earth, and sky, Fair is the rose that spreads its hue Bright is the star that serves to guide Sweet is the woodland's even song, Dear to the blossom is the dew, Go, dig the earth, go,-plough the seas, |