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Ours is the sky,
Nor will we spare
But let our hounds run loose
The buck shall fall,
The stag and all : Our pleasures must from their own warrants be.
For to my Muse, if not to me,
I'm sure all game is free; Heav'n, earth, are all but parts of her great royalty.
And when we mean
To taste of Bacchus' blessings now and then,
I'll take my pipe and try
Which he that hears
Lets through his ears
Then I another pipe will take,
And Doric music make,
MUSE! be a bridemaid : dost not hear How honour'd Hunt, and his fair Deer, This day prepare their wedding cheer?
The swiftest of thy pinions take,
Haste 'em to church: tell 'em, love says,
Chide the slow priest, that so goes on
Bid him post o'er his words as fast
Now lead the blessed couple home,
Maids ! dance as nimbly as your blood,
The bride possesseth : for I deem
But envy not their blest content,
The sun is now ready to ride ;
See how the lusty bridegroom's veins
And the fair bride, ready to cry
Put out the torch. Love loves no lights:
Nor can that sacrifice be done
Now, you that taste of Hymen's cheer,
And let the whisperings of your love
And in such strict embraces twine,
read unto the vine, The ivy, and the columbine.
Thence may there spring many a pair
Methinks already I espy
SIR ASTON COKAIN
Published “ Choice Poems of several sorts, with three new
“ Plays,” 1667, duodecimo; (Vide Gentleman's Magazine for 1797) a volume of more than 600 pages, which may perhaps be consulted with advantage by those who search after anecdotes of contemporary characters, or pictures of their manners. The following appeared the most advanta
geous specimen of his poetry. He was born at Ashbourn in the Peak of Derbyshire, 1608;
educated at both the Universities, especially Cambridge; and having continued for some time at the Inns of Court for fashion's sake, (says Wood) travelled with Sir. K. Digby; and married on his return. He lived a studious life in the country, and, having suffered in the king's cause, died at Derby, 1683.
Away, fond thing ! tempt me no more!