Charms, that call down the moon from out her sphere, On this sick youth work your enchantments here: Bind up his senses with your numbers so As to entrance his pain, or cure his woe. Fall gently, gently, and a while him keep Lost in the civil wilderness of sleep: That done, then let him, dispossessed of pain, Like to a slumb'ring bride, awake again. 245. TO THE HIGH AND NOBLE PRINCE GEORGE, DUKE, MARQUIS, AND EARL OF BUCKINGHAM. Never my book's perfection did appear Till I had got the name of Villars here: Now 'tis so full that when therein I look I see a cloud of glory fills my book. Here stand it still to dignify our Muse, Your sober handmaid, who doth wisely choose Your name to be a laureate wreath to her Who doth both love and fear you, honoured sir. 246. HIS RECANTATION. Love, I recant, And pardon crave That lately I offended; But 'twas, Alas! To make a brave, But no disdain intended. No more I'll vaunt, For now I see Thou only hast the power To find And bind A heart that's free, And slave it in an hour. 247. THE COMING OF GOOD LUCK. So good luck came, and on my roof did light, Like noiseless snow, or as the dew of night: Not all at once, but gently, as the trees Are by the sunbeams tickled by degrees. 248. THE PRESENT; OR, THE BAG OF THE BEE. Fly to my mistress, pretty pilfering bee, And say thou bring'st this honey bag from me: When on her lip thou hast thy sweet dew placed, Mark if her tongue but slyly steal a taste. If so, we live; if not, with mournful hum Toll forth my death; next, to my burial come. 249. ON LOVE. Love bade me ask a gift, And I no more did move But this, that I might shift Still with my clothes my love: That favour granted was; Since which, though I love many, Yet so it comes to pass That long I love not any. 250. THE HOCK-CART OR HARVEST HOME. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MILDMAY, EARL OF WESTMORELAND.