John Henry Dryden

Must noble Hastings immaturely die,
The honour of his ancient family,
Beauty and learning thus together meet,
To bring a winding for a wedding sheet

Dedicated to the Memory of the Late Countess of Abingdon
As when some great and gracious monarch dies,
Soft whispers first and mournful
Among the sad attendants; then the

You charm'd me not with that fair face Though it was all divine: To be another's is the grace, That makes me wish you mine
The Gods and Fortune take their part Who like young monarchs fight; And boldly dare invade that heart Which is another'...

The longest tyranny that ever swayed,
Was that wherein our ancestors betrayed Their free-born reason to the Stagyrite,
And made his torch their universal light
So truth, while only one supplied the state,

Below this marble monument is laid All that heaven wants of this celestial maid
Preserve,
O sacred tomb, thy trust consigned;
The mould was made on purpose for the mind:

Enter
US     Chronos,
Chronos, mend thy pace,     An hundred times the rolling sun     Around the radiant belt has run     In his revolving race
Behold, behold, the goal in sight,     Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight

(Comus
) Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd; Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap'd: Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come; And merrily roar out Harvest Home
(Chorus
) Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come;...

And now 'tis time; for their officious haste,
Who would before have borne him to the sky,
Like eager Romans ere all rites were past Did let too soon the sacred eagle fly
Though our best notes are treason to his fame Join'd with the ...

A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged,
Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged;
Without unspotted, innocent within,
She feared no danger, for she knew no sin

Creator Spirit, by whose aid The world's foundations first were laid, Come, visit ev'ry pious mind; Come, pour thy joys on human kind; From sin, and sorrow set us free; And make thy temples worthy Thee
O,
Source of uncreated Light, The F...

Gallants, a bashful poet bids me say,
He's come to lose his maidenhead to-day
Be not too fierce; for he's but green of age,
And ne'er, till now, debauched upon the stage

Fair Iris I love, and hourly I die,
But not for a lip, nor a languishing eye:
She's fickle and false, and there we agree,
For I am as false and as fickle as she

So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet,
So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit,
Require at least an age in one to meet
In her they met; but long they could not stay, 'Twas gold too fine to fix without allay

Of all the cities in Romanian lands,
The chief and most renowned Ravenna stands;
Adorned in ancient times with arms and arts,
And rich inhabitants with generous hearts

Farewell, too little and too lately known,
Whom I began to think and call my own;
For sure our souls were near allied, and
Cast in the same poetic mould with mine

He who, in impious times, undaunted stood,
And 'midst rebellion durst be just and good;
Whose arms asserted, and whose sufferings more Confirmed the cause for which he fought before,
Rests here, rewarded by an heavenly prince,