Short Poems

With tranquil step, and timid, downcast glance,
Behold the well-pair'd couple now advance.
In such sweet posture our first Parents mov'd,
While, hand in hand, through Eden's bowers they rov'd;
Ere yet the Devil, with promise foul and false,
Turn'd their poor heads and taught them how to Walse .
One hand grasps hers, the other holds her hip —
For so the Law's laid down by Baron Trip.

GOD of my sinking soul!
Across the waters stretch Thy helping hand;
Between me and the far-off shining land,
The wide seas roll.

LET all the world take note. The jealous gods
Forget not, nor forgive; let him beware
Who fears not to offend — for slighted once,
Or soon, or late, the gods will be avenged.

Your " Oh! how we miss'd you " 's a pearl of a phrase,
That many, how many, have fish'd for!
In hundreds , tho' present, what envy may raise
The one who is absent — and wish'd for!

Ah me! Take out of life the light of love —
And who would live that not deserved to die?
But while that boon is left us from above,
The soul finds heaven in one fair woman's eye.

Who can doubt Rice to which Eternall place
Thy soule is fledd, that did but know thy face?
Whose body was soe light, it might have gone
To Heav'ne without a Resurrection.
Indeed thou wert all Type ; thy Limmes were signes,
Thy Arteryes but Mathematicke lines ;
As if two soules had made thy compound good,
Which both should live by faith , and none by bloud .

FRAGMENT FROM THE " GIULICHE " ( " JEWELS "

" Why , " you ask, " has not the Servian perished,
Such calamities about him throng? "
With the sword alike the lyre he cherished:
He is saved by Song!

A Starre did late appeare in Virgo's trayne,
The which from South to North did post amayne.
If England then be North, and South be Spayne,
Brave Charles sitt fast, and look unto thy Wayne!

ADDRESSED TO MR. BIGGS, ON HIS HAVING SET THE MAD-SONG ,
AND MY LOVE TO WAR IS GOING .

While from your taste my humble lays acquire
Attractive charms to them till now unknown,
My muse deceived exulting strikes her lyre,
And loves her strains for graces not their own.

Whilst others toil to gain themselves a Name,
Wilmot from Nothing gains a greater Fame,
Strange! can such Structures out of Nothing rise,
And with such wonderful Delight surprize!
Thus out of Nothing sprung this beauteous World ,
By one commanding Word in Order hurl'd.