NAKED Love did to thine eye, Chloris, once to warm him, fly; But its subtle flame, and light, Scorch'd his wings, and spoil'd his sight. Forc'd from thence he went to rest In the soft couch of thy breast: But there met a frost so great, As his torch extinguish'd straight. When poor Cupid, thus (constrain'd His cold bed to leave) complain'd; "Las! what lodging's here for me, If all ice and fire she be."
NOVO INAMORAMENTO.
AND yet anew entangled, see
Him, who escap'd the snare so late! A truce, no league thou mad'st with me, False love! which now is out of date: Fool, to believe the fire quite out, alas! Which only laid asleep in embers was. The sickness, not at first past cure,
By this relapse despiseth art: Now, treacherous boy, thou hast me sure, Playing the wanton with my heart, As foolish children, that a bird have got, Slacken the thread, but not untie the knot.
I a constant love may so, But, alas! a fruitless show. Shall I by the erring light
Of two crosser stars still sail? That do shine, but shine in spite,
Not to guide, but make me fail? 1 a wand'ring course may steer, But the harbour ne'er come near. Whilst these thoughts my soul possess, Reason, passion would o'ersway; Bidding me my flames suppress,
Or divert some other way: But what reason would pursue, That my heart runs counter to. So a pilot, bent to make
Search for some unfound out land, Does with him the magnet take,
Sailing to the unknown strand; But that (steer which way he will) To the loved north points still.
THE PENDANTS. THOSE asps of gold with gems that shine, And in enamel'd curls do twine, Why Chloris in each ear Dost thou for pendants wear? I now the hidden meaning guess : Those mystic signs express The stings thine eyes do dart, Killing as snakes, into my heart: And show that to my prayers Thine ears are deaf as theirs.
LOVE! tell me; may we Celia's eyes esteem Or eyes, or stars? for stars they seem.
Fond, stupid man! know stars they are, Nor can Heaven boast more bright or fair.
Are they or erring lights, or fixed? say.
Fix'd; yet lead many a heart astray.
MARBLE (Coy Celia !) 'gainst my pray'rs thou art, And at thy frown to marble I convert.
Love thought it fit, and Nature, thus To manifest their several powers in us.
Love made me marble, Nature thee, To express constancy and cruelty. Now both of us shall mouuments remain ; I of firm faith, thon of disdain.
LOVE ONCE, LOVE EVER.
SHALL I hopeless then pursue
A fair shadow that still flies me?
Shall I still adore, and woo
A proud heart, that does despise me?
She my address disdainful flies, And thou like her art fleet; The real beauty she denies,
And thou the counterfeit,
To cross my innocent desires,
And make my griefs extreme, A cruel mistress thus conspires With a delusive dream.
AN OLD SHEPHERD TO A YOUNG NYMPH. SCORN me not, fair, because you see My hairs are white; what if they be? Think not 'cause in your cheeks appear Fresh springs of roses all the year, And mine, like winter, wan and old, My love like winter should be cold: See in the garland which you wear How the sweet blushing roses there With pale-hu'd lilies do combine ? Be taught by them; so let us join.
BEAUTY ENCREASED BY PITY, 'Tis true; thy beauty (which before
Did dazzle each bold gazer's eye, And forc'd even rebel-hearts t'adore,
Or from its conquering splendour fly) Now shines with new increase of light, Like Cynthia at her full, more bright, Yet though thou glory in th' increase Of so much beauty, dearest fair! They err who think this great access, (Of which all eyes th' admirers are) Or art, or Nature's gift should be: Learn then the hidden cause from me, Pity in thee, in me desire
First bred; (before, I durst but aim At fair respect) now that close fire
Thy love hath fann'd into a flame: Which mounting to its proper place, Shines like a glory 'bout thy face,
"From those tempting lips if I
May not steal a kiss (my dear!) I shall longing pine and die: And a kiss if I obtain,
My heart fears (thine eyes so near) By their light'ning 'twill be slain. Thus I know not what to try; This I know yet, that I die.
CHANGE DEFENDED. LEAVE, Chloris, leave, prithee no more With want of love, or lightness charge me : 'Cause thy looks captiv'd me before, May not another's now enlarge me? He, whose misguided zeal hath long Paid homage to some star's pale light, Better inform'd, may without wrong,
Leave that, t'adore the queen of night. Then if my heart, which long serv'd thee, Will to Carintha now incline; Why term'd inconstant should it be, For bowing 'fore a richer shrine? Censure that lover's such, whose will Inferior objects can intice; Who changes for the better still, Makes that a virtue, you call vice.
MAN of himself's a little world, but join'd With woman, woman for that end design'd, (Hear cruel fair one whilst I this rehearse!) He makes up then a complete universe.
Man, like this sublunary world, is born The sport of two cross planets, love, and scorn: Woman the other world resembles well, In whose looks Heav'n is, in whose breast is Hell.
THE DEFEAT.
'GAINST Celinda's marble breast All bis arrows having spent, And in vain each arrow sent, Impotent, unarmed Love, In a shady myrtle grove,
Laid him down to rest.
Soon as laid, asleep he fell :
And a snake in (as he slept)
To his empty quiver crept.
When fair Chloris, whose soft heart Love had wounded (and its smart Lovers best can tell.)
This advantage having spy'd; Of his quiver, and his bow Thought to rob her sleeping foe Softly going then about
To have seiz'd upon them; out Straight the snake did glide; With whose hisses frighted, she, (Nimbly starting back again) Thus did to her self complain : "Never, cruel archer! never (Full, or empty) does thy quiver Want a sting for me."
AMORE SECRETO.
CONTENT thy self fond heart! nor more Let thy close flames be seen; If thou with covert zeal adore Thy saint enshrin'd within,
Thou hast thy feast, as well as they That unto love keep open holy-day. In his religion, all are free
To serve him as they may. In public some, and some there be Their vows in private pay.
Love, that does to all humours bend, Admits of several ways unto one end.
Yet wilt thou not repining cease!
Still dost thou murmurs vent? Stubborn, rebellious zealot, peace! Nor sign of discontent
So much as in one sigh afford;
For to the wise in love, each sigh's a word.
A MAID IN LOVE WITH A YOUTH BLIND OF ONE EYE.
THOUGH a sable cloud benight One of thy fair twins of light, Yet the other brighter seems,
As 't had robb'd its brother's beams; Or both lights to one were run, Of two stars, now made one sun. Cunning archer! who knows yet But thou wink'st my heart to hit! Close the other too, and all Thee the god of love will call.
THE BROKEN FAITH.
LATELY by clear Thames's side, Fair Lycoris I espi'd
With the pen of her white band These words printing on the sand: "None Lycoris doth approve But Mirtillo for her love."
Ah false nymph! those words were fit
In sand only to be writ:
For the quickly rising streams Of oblivion, and the Thames,
In a little moment's stay
From the shore wash'd clean away What thy hand had there impress'd, And Mirtillo from thy breast.
Who proud of such a victory, At once triumphs o'er love, and me.
But more, alas! I cannot speak; Sighs so my sadder accents break. Farewell, kind flood' now take thy way, And, like my thoughts, still restless, stray: If we retarded have thy course,
Hold! with these tears thy speed inforce.
A SHEPHERD INVITING A NYMPH TO HIS COTTAGE.
DEAR! on yon mountain stands my humble cot, 'Gainst Sun and wind by spreading oaks secur'd; And with a fence of quickset round immur'd, That of a cabin make 't a shady grot.
My garden's there: o'er which, the spring hath spread A flow'ry robe; where thou may'st gather posies Of gilliflowers, pinks, jessamines, and roses, Sweets for thy bosom, garlands for thy head. Down from that rock's side runs a purling brook, In whose unsullied face,
(Though thine needs no new grace.) Thou may'st, as thou think'st best, compose thy And there thine own fair object made, Try which (judg'd by the river) may be said The greater fire,
That which my breast feels, or thy eyes inspire.
VIRTUE IMPROV'D BY SUFFERING.
'Tis but the body that blind fortune's spite Can chain to Earth; the nobler soul doth slight Her servile bonds, and takes to Heaven her flight So through dark clouds Heaven lightens (whilst the Is as a foil to its bright splendour made) And stars with greater lustre night invade. So sparkle flints when struck; so metals find Hardness from hammering, and the closer bind ; So flames increase the more supprest by wind. And as the grindstone to unpolish'd steel Gives edge, and lustre: so my mind I feel Whetted, and glaz'd by Fortune's turning wheel.
ON HIS UNIMITABLE POEMS.
THE Stagirite, who poesy defines
An imitation, had he read thy lines,
And the rich fancy known, he would have then Recall'd the learned errour of his pen, And have confest, in his convicted state, Nought those could equal, this would imitate;
COMPLAINT ON THE DEATH OF SYLVIA, Which from no foreign supplement doth spring,
CLEAR brook! which by thy self art chas'd,
And from thy self dost fly as fast,
Stay here a little; and in brief Hear the sad story of my grief; Then, hasting to the sea, declare Her waves not half so bitter are.
Tell her how Sylvia (she who late Was the sole regent of my fate) Hath yielded up her sweetest breath, In the best time of life, to death;
Nor any stand, but its own height, take wing. And but that we should seem so to misprise The influence of Chariessa's eyes,
We should not think love did these flames inspire, Rather, that thou taught'st love this noble fire: And, by a generous way thy hopes t' improve, Show'dst her before thou didst, how thou could's And the old, common method didst invert, [love; First made her mistress of thy brain, then heart: Some phant'sies growth may from their subjects take,
Thine doth not subjects find, but subjects make;
Whose numerons strains we vainly strive to praise, 'Less we could ours, high as thy phant'sy, raise. Large praise we might give some, with small expense Of wit, ery Excellent! how praise excellence? The painter's fate is ours; his hand may grace, Or take a bad, scarce hit a beauteous face.
Nor can our art a fitting value set Upon thy noble courtesy of wit;
Which to so many tongues doth lend that store Of pleasing sweetness, which they lack'd before. Th' Hiberian, Roman, and the fluent Greek, The nimble French, and the smooth 'Tuscan, seek For several graces from thy pen alone, Which that affords to all these tongues, in one. Whose foreign wealth transferr'd, improv'd by thine, Doth with a fair increase of lustre shine Like gems new set upon some richer foil, Or roses planted in a better soil.
If 'bove all laurels then thy merits rise, What can this sprig (which, while 'tis offer'd, dies) Add to the wreath that does adorn thy brows? No bays will suit with that, but thy own boughs.
ON HIS TRANSLATION OF ORONTA.
FLAMES rescu'd fair Oronta from the pow'r Of an insulting Thracian conqueror. The fame of which brave action, Preti's rhime Freed from the greater tyranny of time: Yet in that freedom she less glories than In being thus made captive by thy pen.
ON HIS WAY OF GRAMMAR EXPLAINED IN ENGLISH
GRAMMAR, which taught the poet first to write, Is by the poet now taught to delight; And poesy, which once unto the school Ow'd its instructions, now to that's a rule. Thy grateful pen to science does impart Civility, and requites art with art.
Yet not like some, who think they hardly shou'd Be thought to understand, if understood, Dost thou the minds of weaker tiros vex, Or, as perplex'd with th' art, the art perplex;
But whate'er seem'd therein obscure, mak'st clear; Brief, what prolix; smooth, what did rough appear; That so the art to learners now is seen As in a flat, which hill and wood did screen. How should they err, their journey's end in view, Their way so pleasing, and their guide so true!
Rest then secure of fame; nor think thy worth Can by a private hand be well set forth. Attempts, which to the public profit raise, Expect, nor merit less than public praise.
SHIRLEIE, Angliacûm cui olim celeberrime vatum ! Drama labor nomenque fuit; tibi nunc novus ecquis
Surgit honos? qualisve alio subit infula nexu Tempora?-Nunc video: Magnos accinctus in usus, Carmine facundo tractas Præcepta severæ Grammatices, Latiæque canis Primordia linguæ ;
Ut meliùs teneros blandâ dulcedine captos Afficeres animos, & dura elementa colenti, Atque rudi nimium, eloquio, placitura Juventa Efficeres: labor, en multum meriturus honesta Laudis! non aliter (tua sed magè mellea lingua) Tentavit Nestor juvenilia fingera corda, Heroum teneras tam grato carmine mentes Thessalici haud rexit moderator semifer antri. Grammatica exultet; vibretque Heliconia serta, Laude novâ florens: dulci nunc munere fandi Provocet & Musas: Decus hoc Shirleie dedisti.
UPON THE DISTRACTION OF THE TIMES.
O THOU Eternal Mind! whose wisdom sees, And rules our changes by unchang'd decrees, As with delight on thy grave works we look, Say, art thou too with our light follies took? For when thy bounteous hand, in liberal showers Each way diffus'd, thy various blessings pours; We catch at them with strife as vain to sight, As children, when for nuts they scrambling fight. This snatching at a sceptre, breaks it, he, That broken does ere he can grasp it, see. The poor world seeming like a ball, that lights Betwixt the hands of powerful opposites: Which, while they cantonise in their bold pride, They but an immaterial point divide.
O whilst for wealthy spoils these fight, let me, Though poor, enjoy a happy peace with thee!
DRAW ME, AND I WILL FOLLOW THEE. THROUGH devious paths without thee, Lord! I run, And soon, without thee, will my race be done. Happy was Magdalen, who, like a bride, Herself to thee by her fair tresses ti'd. So she thy presence never did decline, Thou her dear captive wert, and she was thine. Behold another Magdalen in me!
Then stay with me, or draw me after thee.
IF A MAN SHOULD GIVE ALL THE SUBSTANCE OF HIS HOUSE FOR LOVE, HE WOULD VALUE IT AS NO- THING. CANT. 8.
LOVE I'd of Heaven have bought, when he, (this who Would think?) both purchase was, and seller too. I offer'd gold; but gold he did not prize.
I offer'd gems; but gems he did despise.
I offer'd all; all he refus'd yet: why,
"If all won't take, take what is left," said I.
At this he smil'd, and said: "In vain divine Love's price thou beat'st; give nothing, and she's thine."
AND THEY LAID HIM IN A MANGER. HAPPY crib that wert alone, To my God, bed, cradle, throne, Whilst thy glorious vileness I View with divine phant'sy's eye;
Sordid filth seems all the cost,
State, and splendour, crowns do boast. See! Heaven's sacred Majesty Humbled beneath poverty. Swaddled up in homely rags, On a bed of straw and flags.
He whose hands the Heavens display'd, And the world's foundations laid, From the world's almost exil'd, Of all ornaments despoil'd. Perfumes bathe him not, new born, Persian mantles not adorn: Nor do the rich roofs look bright With the jasper's orient light. Where, O royal infant! be Th' ensigns of thy majesty? Thy Sire's equalizing state, And thy sceptre, that rules fate? Where's thy angel guarded throne,
Whence thy laws thou didst make known? Laws which Heaven, Earth, Hell obey'd; These, ah! these, aside he laid; Would the emblem be, of pride By humility outvy'd!
ON THE INNOCENTS SLAIN BY HEROD.
Go, blessed innocents! and freely pour Your souls forth in a purple shower. And, for that little earth each shall lay down, Purchase a heavenly crown.
Nor of original pollution fear
The stains should to your bloods adhere; For yours now shed, ere long shall in a flood Be wash'd of better blood,
SIGHING, her sad heart fraught with fears, Whilst from her eyes gush streams of tears, Seeking again how to retrieve
Her little wand'ring fugitive,
Each where with weary steps doth rove, The virgin Mother of lost Love. Like a sad turtle, up and down She mourning runs through all the town; With searching eyes she pries about In every creek; within, without. Sticks at each place, looks o'er and o'er ; Searches, where she had search'd before: Old Joseph following with sad face, A heavy heart, and halting pace.
Thrice had the day been born i' th' East, As oft been buried in the West, Since the dear comfort of her eyes She miss'd; yet still her search she plies, Each where she seeks, with anxious care, To find him out, yet knows not where. When the third morn she saw arose, And yet no beam of hope disclose : Looking to Heaven, in these sad words She vent to her full grief affords : "O my dear God! Son of my womb! My joy, my love, my life, for whom These tears I shed, on thee I call, But, oh! thou answer'st not at all. For thee I search, but cannot find thee: Say (dear !) what new embraces bind thee?
What heart, enamour'd on thy eyes, Enjoys what Heaven to me denies ? "Daughters of Sion! you which stray With nimble feet upon the way,
I beg of you, (if you can tell)
To show me where my Love doth dwell: Whose beauty with celestial rays The light of Paradise displays. Perhaps to you he is unknown; Ah! if you wish to hear him shown,
I'll tell y' him: Snow her whiteness seeks, Vermilion blushes from his cheeks: His eye a light more chaste discloses Than amorous doves, his lips than roses. Amber and gold shine in his hair, (If gold or amber may compare With that) a beauty so divine,
No tongue, pen, phaut'sy, can design.
"Why break'st thou not (my soul) this chain Of flesh? why lett'st thou that restrain Thy nimble flight into his arms,
Whose only look with gladness charms? But (alas!) in vain I speak to thee, Poor soul! already fled from me; To seek out him, in whose lov'd breast Thy life, as mine in thee, doth rest."
Blest Virgin! who, in tears half-drown'd, Griev'st that thy son cannot be found, The time will come when men shall hear thee Complain that he is too, too near thee. When in the midst of hostile bands, With pierced feet and nailed hands, Advanc'd upon a cursed tree His naked body thou shalt see, As void of coverture as friends, But what kind Heaven in pity lends, Thy soul will then abhor the light, And think no grief worse than his sight.
But, lo! as thus she search'd and wept, By chance she to the temple stept, Where her dear son, with joyful eyes, Set 'mongst the Rabbins she espies, And as the light of some kind star To a distressed mariner,
So his dear sight to her appears, Toss'd in this tempest of her fears.
But O! what tongue can now impart The joy of her revived heart? The welcome, spoke in mutual blisses Of sweet embraces, sweeter kisses! Muse, since too high for thy weak wing It is, contemplate what thou canst not sing.
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