A Lottery , a Lottery,
In Cupid's court there used to be;
Two roguish eyes
The highest prize
In Cupid's scheming Lottery;
And kisses, too,
As good as new,
Which were n't very hard to win,
For he who won
The eyes of fun
Was sure to have the kisses in
A Lottery, a Lottery, etc.

This Lottery, this Lottery,
In Cupid's court went merrily,

To sigh, yet feel no pain,
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by;
To kneel at many a shrine,
Yet lay the heart on none;
To think all other charms divine,
But those we just have won;
This is love, careless love,
Such as kindleth hearts that rove.

To keep one sacred flame,
Thro' life unchilled, unmoved,
To love in wintry age the same

When Lelia touched the lute,
Not then alone 't was felt,
But when the sounds were mute,
In memory still they dwelt.
Sweet lute! in nightly slumbers
Still we heard thy morning numbers.

Ah, how could she who stole
Such breath from simple wire,
Be led, in pride of soul,
To string with gold her lyre?
Sweet lute! thy chords she breaketh;
Golden now the strings she waketh!

But where are all the tales

BOAT GLEE .

The song that lightens the languid way,
When brows are glowing,
And faint with rowing,
Is like the spell of Hope's airy lay,
To whose sound thro' life we stray;
The beams that flash on the oar awhile,
As we row along thro' the waves so clear,
Illume its spray, like the fleeting smile
That shines o'er sorrow's tear.

Nothing is lost on him who sees

A wit most worthy in tryed Gold to shine,
Immortal Gold! had he sung the divine
Praise of his Maker: to whom he preferr'd
Obscene, vile fancies, and prophanely marr'd
A rich, rare stile with sinful, lewd contents;
No otherwise, then if with Instruments
Of polish'd Ivory, some drudge should stir
A dirty sink, & c . —

So steel'd a forehead vice hath, that dares win,
And bribe the Father to the Childrens sin;
But whom have gifts defiled not? what good face
Did ever want these tempters? pleasing grace
Betraies it selfe; what time did Nero mind
A course, maim'd shape? what blemish'd youth confin'd
His goatish Pathick? whence then flow these joies
Of a faire issue? whom these sad annoies
Waite, and grow up with; whom perhaps thou'lt see
Publick Adulterers, and must be
Subject to all the Curses, Plagues, and awe

But grant age lack'd these plagues; yet must they see
As great, as many: Fraile Mortalitie
In such a length of yeares, hath many falls,
And deads a life with frequent funerals.
The nimblest houre in all the span, can steale
A friend, or brother from's; there's no Repeale
In death, or time; this day a wife we mourne,
To morrowes teares a sonne, and the next Urne
A Sister fills; Long-livers have assign'd
These curses still: That with a restles mind,
An age of fresh renewing cares they buye,

And thus that soule, which through all nations hurl'd
Conquest, and warre, and did amaze the world;
Of all those glories rob'd at his last breath,
Fortune would not vouchsafe a souldiers death,
For all that bloud the field of Cannae boasts,
And sad Apulia fill'd with Roman ghoasts:
No other end (freed from the pile, and sword)
Then a poore Ring would Fortune him afford.
Goe now ambitious man! new plots designe,
March o're the snowie Alps, and Apennine;
That after all, at best thou mayst but be

Tell mighty Pompey, Crassus , and O thou
That mad'st Rome kneele to thy victorious brow,
What but the weight of honours, and large fame
After your worthy Acts, and height of name,
Destroy'd you in the end? the envious Fates
Easie to further your aspiring States,
Us'd them to quell you too; pride, and excesse
In ev'ry Act did make you thrive the lesse:
Few Kings are guiltie of gray haires, or dye
Without a stab, a draught, or trecherie:
And yet to see him, that but yesterday

But envy ruines all: What mighty names
Of fortune, spirit, action, bloud, and fame,
Hath this destroy'd? yea, for no other cause
Then being such; their honour, worth, and place,
Was crime enough; their statues, arms & crowns;
Their ornaments of Triumph, Chariots, Gowns,
And what the Herauld with a learned care,
Had long preserv'd, this madnes will not spare.
So once Sejanus Statue Rome allow'd
Her Demi-god, and ev'ry Roman bow'd
To pay his safeties vowes; but when that face