^ POETRT. 



Address to the Rose. 

 For the Bee 

 Go lovely rose, to Mary's bosom go, 



That bosom fair as is the opening morn. 

 When it doth nature with her sweets adorn, 

 And spreads her beauties upon all below. 



Still art you sprinkled with the morning dew, 

 Seeniing in tears to mourn the absent son, 

 %Mio yesterday his course so glorious run. 



And gave your opening beauties to our view. 



But The will kifs those pearly drops away. 



And with her breath thy sweets fliall sweeter seem 

 Than flie.pherd lads and fliepherd's lafses deem 



The frefh sprung vjolets of the month of May. 



Those sweets will pleasing be, tho' youdec«y. 

 So time to Mary's mind perfection brings. 

 That fliould frail beauty roam on airy wings, 



She still may charm us as at break of day. 



B.B. 



To Love. 



Ot hou, or fiend, or angel, by what name 

 Shall I addrefs thee ? how exprefs thy powers ? 

 Strange compound of extremes, of heat and cold, 

 Of hope and rear, of pleasure and of pain 1 

 Most creduliius infidel '. now trusting nought, 

 Now atichoring on a feather ; craving all ; 

 With nothing satisfied ; perplex'd with doubts. 

 Yet dreading to be sure ; surcharg'd with thought, 

 Of speech incapable; in absence curst, 

 Yet eager still to rufli on certain pain '. 

 Th*' blind they call thee, yet I've known thee, Love, 

 More keen and wat.-hful than the sleeplefs eye 

 Of tiiat dread serpent whose terrific glare 

 Hung like a comet o'er th' Hesperian boughs. 

 Nor keri of griping miser, nor of lynx; 

 Nor his whom poets feign'd with hundered eye?, 

 Argus, nor that majestic bird's which looks 

 Undazzied on the sun, looks half so Iharp, 

 So vigilant as thine. All seeing Love, 

 No look, no motion, g'jsture, deed, or word, 

 V0|,. XVI, z t 



