John Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire.

1648-1721

428   The Reconcilement

COME, let us now resolve at last
   To live and love in quiet;
We’ll tie the knot so very fast
   That Time shall ne’er untie it.

The truest joys they seldom prove
   Who free from quarrels live:
’Tis the most tender part of love
   Each other to forgive.

When least I seem’d concern’d, I took
   No pleasure nor no rest;
And when I feign’d an angry look,
   Alas! I loved you best.

Own but the same to me—you’ll find
   How blest will be our fate.
O to be happy—to be kind—
   Sure never is too late!

429   On One who died discovering her
                                                          Kindness

SOME vex their souls with jealous pain,
While others sigh for cold disdain:
Love’s various slaves we daily see—
Yet happy all compared with me!

Of all mankind I loved the best
A nymph so far above the rest
That we outshined the Blest above;
In beauty she, as I in love.

And therefore They, who could not bear
To be outdone by mortals here,
Among themselves have placed her now,
And left me wretched here below.

All other fate I could have borne,
And even endured her very scorn;
But oh! thus all at once to find
That dread account—both dead and kind!
What heart can hold? If yet I live,
’Tis but to show how much I grieve.