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COWLEY'S POEMS.
Swiftly his daily journey he goes,
But treads his annual with a statelier pace;
And does three hundred rounds enclose
Within one yearly circle's space;
At once, with double course in the same sphere,
He runs the day, and walks the year.
But treads his annual with a statelier pace;
And does three hundred rounds enclose
Within one yearly circle's space;
At once, with double course in the same sphere,
He runs the day, and walks the year.
When Soul does to myself refer,
'Tis then my life, and does but slowly move;
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly flies, and then is Love.
Love 's my diurnal course, divided right
'Twixt hope and fear—my day and night.
'Tis then my life, and does but slowly move;
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly flies, and then is Love.
Love 's my diurnal course, divided right
'Twixt hope and fear—my day and night.
THE BARGAIN.
Take heed, take heed, thou lovely maid,
Nor be by glittering ills betray'd;
Thyself for money! oh, let no man know
The price of beauty fall'n so low!
What dangers ought'st thou not to dread,
When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune led?
Nor be by glittering ills betray'd;
Thyself for money! oh, let no man know
The price of beauty fall'n so low!
What dangers ought'st thou not to dread,
When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune led?
The foolish Indian, that sells
His precious gold for beads and bells,
Does a more wise and gainful traffick hold
Than thou, who sell'st thyself for gold.
His precious gold for beads and bells,
Does a more wise and gainful traffick hold
Than thou, who sell'st thyself for gold.
