5 Her dugs were mark'd by every collier's hand, Her mouth was black as bull-dog's at the stall: She scratchèd, bit, and spared ne lace ne band, And 'bitch' and 'rogue' her answer was to all; Nay, even the parts of shame by name would call: Yea, when she passèd by or lane or nook, Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall, And by his hand obscene the porter took, Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look. 6 Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town, Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch; Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown, And Twick'nam such, which fairer scenes enrich, Grots, stutues, urns, and Jo--n's dog and bitch, Ne village is without, on either side, All up the silver Thames, or all adown; Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are eyed Vales, spires, meandering streams, and Windsor's towery pride. III. WALLER. OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE. Fair charmer, cease! nor make your voice's prize, A heart resign'd, the conquest of your eyes: Well might, alas! that threaten'd vessel fail, Which winds and lightning both at once assail. We were too blest with these enchanting lays, Which must be heavenly when an angel plays: But killing charms your lover's death contrive, Lest heavenly music should be heard alive. Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he: A poet made the silent wood pursue, This vocal wood had drawn the poet too. ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN, IN WHICH WAS PAINTED THE STORY OF CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS, WITH THE MOTTO, 'AURA VENI.' 'Come, gentle Air!' the Aeolian shepherd said, While Procris panted in the secret shade; 'Come, gentle Air!' the fairer Delia cries, While at her feet her swain expiring lies. Lo! the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray, Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play! In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found, Nor could that fabled dart more surely wound: Both gifts destructive to the givers prove; Alike both lovers fall by those they love. Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives, At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives: She views the story with attentive eyes, And pities Procris, while her lover dies. IV. COWLEY. THE GARDEN.