$4 Toems on feveral Occajïons.
He's our Original, by whom we fee
How much we fail, and what we ought to be.
But why do I to Copy him pretend? My Rymes but libel whom they would commend. Tis true j but none can reach what's fet fo high: And though I mifs, I've noble Company : For the moft happy Language muft confefs, It doth obfeure TaUtnon, not exprefs.
To Afrs. M. A. at Tarting.
I
ÏHave examin'd, and do find. Of all that favour me, There s none I grieve to leave behind
But only only thee. To part with thee I needs muft die, Could Parting fep'rate thee anM.
h.
But neither Chance nor Compliment
Did element our Love j Twas facred Sympathy was lent
Us from the Quire above. That FriendQiip Fortune did create, Still fears a Wound from Time or Fate.
m. ou*
