My death, my death alone can fhow

The pure and lafting love I bore: Accept, O heaven, of woes like ours, And let us, let us weep no more.

The difmal scene was o'er and paft,

The lover's mournful hearse retir'd; The maid drew back her languid head, And fighing forth his name, expir'd.

Tho' juftice ever must prevail,

The tear my Kitty fheds is due; For feldom fhall fhe hear a tale, So fad, fo tender, and so true.

YOU MEANER BEUTYE S.

You

OU meaner beutyes of the night,
Which poorely fatisfy our eyes,

More by your number then your light,
Like common people of the fkyes;

What are yee, when the moon doth rise?

Yee violets, that first appeare,

By your purple mantles known, Like proud virgins of the yeare, As if the fpring were all your owne; What are yee when the rofe is blown ?

Yee wandring chaunters of the wood,
That fill the ayre with natures layes,
Thinking your paffions underflood

By weak accents: What is your praise
When Philomel her voyce fhall raife?

So when my miftris fhall be feen

In fweetneffe of her looks, and minde; By vertue first, then choyce a queen; Tell mee if shee was not defignde The ecclipfe and glory of her kinde?

MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS.

Y minde to me a kingdome is,

MY

Such perfe&t joye therein I find,

As farre exceeds all earthly bliffe

That world affords, or growes by kind: Though much I want that moft men have, Yet doth my mind forbid me crave.

Content I live, this is my flay,

I feek no more than may fuffice,
I prefs to bear no haughty fway,
Looke what I lacke my mind fupplies:
Loc, thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.

I fee how plenty furfeits oft,
And hafty climbers oft do fall;
I fee how thofe that fit aloft,

Mishap doth threaten most of all;

They get, they toyle, they fpend with care,
Such cares my mind could never beare.

I laugh not at anothers loffe,

I grudge not at anothers gaine;
No worldly wave my mind can tosse,
I brooke that is anothers paine:
I feare no foe, I fcorne no friend,
I dread no death, I feare no end.

Some have too much, yet ftill they crave,
I little have, yet feek no more;
They are but poor, though much they have,
And I am rich with little flore:

They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lacke, I lend; they pine, I live.

My wealth is health and perfect ease,
My confcience clear my chiefe defence,
I never feek by bribes to please,
Nor by defert to give offence:
Loe thus I live, thus will I die,
Would all did fo as well as I.

No princely pompe, no wealthy store,
No force to get the victory,

No wily wit to falve a fore,

No fhape to win a lovers eye: To none of these I yeeld as thrall, For why my mind despiseth all.

I joy not at an earthy blifse,

I weigh not Crefus' wealth a ftraw; For care, I care not what it is,

I fear not fortunes fatall law; My mind is fuch as may not move For beauty bright or force of love.

I wish not what I have at will,
I wander not to feek for more,
I like the plaine, I clime no hill,
In greatest ftorme I fit on fhore,
And laugh at thofe that toile in vaine
To get that must be loft again.

I kifs not where I wish to kill,
I faine no love whe:e moft I hate,
I breake no fleep to winne my will,
I waite not at the mighties gate,
I fcorne no poor, I fear no rich,
I feele no want, nor have too much.

The court, ne cart, I like, ne loath; Extreames are counted worst of all, The golden meane betwixt them both, Doth fureft fit, and fears no fall: This is my choyce, for why I finde, No wealth is like a quiet minde.