Abraham Cowley

“ Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs scatter,
⁠And nought but Echo flatter.
⁠The gods, when they descended, hither
From Heaven did always choose their way;
And therefore we may boldly say,
⁠That 'tis the way too thither.
⁠How happy here should I,
And one dear she, live, and embracing die!
She, who is all the world, and can exclude
⁠In deserts solitude.
⁠I should have then this only fear—
Lest men, when they my pleasures see,
Should hither throng to live like me,
⁠And so make a city here. ”

“ May I a small house and large garden have!
And a few friends, and many books, both true,
⁠Both wise, and both delightful too!
⁠And, since love ne'er will from me flee,
A mistress moderately fair,
And good as guardian-angels are,
⁠Only belov'd, and loving me! ”