84
COWLEY'S POEMS.
Although I think thou never found wilt be,
Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee;
The search itself rewards the pains:
So, though the chemick his great secret miss
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)
Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.
Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee;
The search itself rewards the pains:
So, though the chemick his great secret miss
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)
Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.
Say what thou wilt, chastity is no more
Thee, than a porter is his door.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themselves with ramparts and with walls;
Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt,
Within so hated, and so lov'd without.
Thee, than a porter is his door.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themselves with ramparts and with walls;
Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt,
Within so hated, and so lov'd without.
IMPOSSIBILITIES.
Impossibilities! oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy heart captive home;
As easily other dangers were o'erthrown,
As Cæsar, after vanquish'd Rome,
His little Asian foes did overcome.
Could mine bring thy heart captive home;
As easily other dangers were o'erthrown,
As Cæsar, after vanquish'd Rome,
His little Asian foes did overcome.
