DISDAIN RETURNED.

Mark how she courts the banks, whilst they
As amorously their arms display,
T'embrace and clip her silver waves :
See how she strokes their sides, and craves
An entrance there, which they deny ;
Whereat she frowns, threatening to fly
Home to her stream, and 'gins to swim
Backward, but from the channel's brim
Smiling returns into the creek,
With thousand dimples on her cheek.

Be thou this eddy, and I'll make
My breast thy shore, where thou shalt take
Secure repose, and never dream
Of the quite forsaken stream:
Let him to the wide ocean haste,
There lose his colour, name, and taste;
Thou shalt save all, and, safe from him,
Within these arms for ever swim.

He that loves a rosy cheek,

Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek

Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and stedfast mind,

Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,

Kindle never-dying fires. Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips or eyes. No tears, Celia, now shall win

My resolved heart to return; I have search'd thy soul within,

And find nought but pride and scorn; I have learn'd thy arts, and now Can disdain as much as thou. Some power, in my revenge, convey That love to her I cast away.

SONG.

PERSUASIONS TO ENJOY.

GOOD COUNSEL TO A YOUNG MAID.

If the quick spirits in your eye
Now languish, and anon must die ;
If ev'ry sweet, and ev'ry grace
Must fly from that forsaken face :

Then, Celia, let us reap our joys,

Ere time such goodly fruit destroys.
Or, if that golden fleece must grow
For ever, free from aged snow ;
If those bright suns must know no shade,
Nor your fresh beauties ever fade;
Then fear not, Celia, to bestow
What still being gather'd still must grow.

Thus, either Time his sickle brings
In vain, or else in vain his wings.

When you the sun-burnt pilgrim see,

Fainting with thirst, haste to the springs ;
Mark how at first with bended knee

He courts the crystal nymphs, and flings
His body to the earth, where he
Prostrate adores the flowing deity.
But when his sweaty face is drench'd

In her cool waves, when from her sweet
Bosom his burning thirst is quench'd ;

Then mark how with disdainful feet He kicks her banks, and from the place That thus refresh'd him, moves with sullen pace. So shalt thou be despised, fair maid,

When by the sated lover tasted ; What first he did with tears invade,

Shall afterwards with scorn be wasted ; When all the virgin springs grow dry, When no streams shall be left but in thine eye.

INGRATEFUL BEAUTY THREATENED.

EPITAPIL ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS,

Know, Celia, since thou art so proud,

'Twas I that gave thee thy renown: Thou hadst, in the forgotten crowd

Of common beauties, lived unknown, Had not my verse exhaled thy name, And with it impt the wings of Fame. That killing power is none of thine,

I gave it to thy voice and eyes : Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine :

Thou art my star, shinest in my skies ; Then dart not from thy borrow'd sphere Lightning on him that fix'd thee there. Tempt me with such affrights no more,

Lest what I made I uncreate : Let fools thy mystic forms adore,

I'll know thee in thy mortal state. Wise poets, that wrap truth in tales, knew her themselves through all her veils.

The Lady Mary Villiers lies
Under this stone: With weeping eyes
The parents that first gave her breath,
And their sad friends, laid her in earth.
If any of them, reader, were
K nown unto thee, shed a tear :
Or if thyself possess a gem,
As dear to thee as this to them ;
Though a stranger to this place,
Bewail in their's thine own hard case ;
For thou perhaps at thy return
May’st find thy darling in an urn.

SONG,

THE WILLING PRISONER TO HIS MISTRESS.

Shep. Hark! Nym. Ah me, stay! Shep. For ever.

Nym. No, arise ; We must be gone. Shep. My nest of spice.

Nym. My soul. Shep. My paradise. [eyes Cho. Neither could say farewell, but through their Grief interrupted speech with tears supplies.

Let fools great Cupid's yoke disdain,

Loving their own wild freedom better ; Whilst, proud of my triumphant chain,

I sit and court my beauteous fetter.

FEMININE HONOUR,

Her murdering glances, snaring hairs,

And her bewitching smiles, so please me, As he brings ruin, that repairs

The sweet afflictions that disease me.

Hide not those panting balls of snow

With envious veils from my beholding; Unlock those lips, their pearly row

In a sweet smile of love unfolding.

And let those eyes, whose motion wheels

The restless fate of every lover, Survey the pains my sick heart feels,

And wounds, themselves have made, discover.

In what esteem did the gods hold

Fair innocence and the chaste bed, When scandal'd virtue might be bold,

Bare-foot upon sharp culters, spread O’er burning coals, to march; yet feel Nor scorching fire nor piercing steel! Why, when the hard-edged iron did turn

Soft as a bed of roses blown, When cruel flames forgot to burn

Their chaste, pure limbs, should man alone 'Gainst female innocence conspire, Harder than steel, fiercer than fire ? Oh hapless sex! unequal sway

Of partial honour! who may know Rebels from subjects that obey,

When malice can on vestals throw Disgrace, and fame fix high repute On the loose shameless prostitute ? Vain Honour ! thou art but disguise,

A cheating voice, a juggling art ; No judge of Virtue, whose pure eyes

Court her own image in the heart, More pleased with her true figure there, Than her false echo in the ear.

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.

SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS. Shep. This mossy bank they prest. Nym. That Did canopy the happy pair

[aged oak All night from the damp air. Cho. Here let us sit, and sing the words they spoke,

Till the day-breaking their embraces broke.

Shep. See, love, the blushes of the morn appear:

And now she hangs her pearly store

(Robb'd from the eastern shore) I'th' cowslip's bell and rose's ear : Sweet, I must stay no longer here.

SONG.

Nym. Those streaks of doubtful light usher not

But show my sun must set; no morn [day,

Shall shine till thou return :
The yellow planets, and the grey
Dawn, shall attend thee on thy way.

Shep. If thineeyes gild my paths, they may forbear

Their useless shine. Nym. My tears will quite

Extinguish their faint light. Shep. Those drops will make their beams more Love's flames will shine in every tear. [clear, Cho. They kiss'd, and wept ; and from their lips In a mix'd dew of briny sweet,

[and eyes, Their joys and sorrows meet ; But she cries out. Nym. Shepherd, arise, The sun betrays us else to spies.

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose ;
For in your beauties orient deep
These flow’rs, as in their causes, sleep.
Ask me no more, whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day;
For, in pure love, heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your

hair.
Ask me no more, whither doth haste
The nightingale, when May is past ;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more, where those stars light,
That downwards fall in dead of night ;
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become, as in their sphere.
Ask me no more, if east or west,
The phoenix builds her spicy nest ;
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

Shep. The winged hours flyfast whilst we embrace;

But when we want their help to meet,

They move with leaden feet.
Nym. Then let us pinion time, and chace
The day for ever from this place.

158

ON THE SUDDEN RESTRAINT OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET (THE FAVOURITE OF JAMES I.) THEN FALLING FROM FAVOUR.

I would be wise, but that I often see
The fox suspected while the ass goes free ;
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud
Like the bright sun oft setting in a cloud ;
I would be poor, but know the humble grass
Still trampled on by each unworthy ass ;
Rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorn’d if poor;
Great, feard ; fair, tempted ; high, still envied

more.

I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair-poor I'll be

rather.

Would the world now adopt me for her heir, Would beauty's queen entitle me “the fair," Fame speak me fortune's minion, could I vie Angels* with India ; with a speaking eye Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike justice

dumb As well as blind and lame, or give a tongue To stones by epitaphs ; be call’d great master In the loose rhymes of every poetaster ; Could I be more than any man that lives, Great, fair, rich, wise, all in superlatives : Yet I more freely would these gifts resign, Than ever fortune would have made them

mine; And hold one minute of this holy leisure Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure.

Dazzled thus with height of place,

Whilst our hopes our wits beguile, No man marks the narrow space

'Twixt a prison and a smile. Yet since Fortune's favours fade,

You that in her arms do sleep Learn to swim and not to wade,

For the hearts of kings are deep. But if greatness be so blind

As to trust in towers of air,
Let it be with goodness lined,

That at least the fall be fair.
Then though dark and you shall say,

When friends fail and princes frown, Virtue is the roughest way,

But proves at night a bed of down.

Welcome, pure thoughts ! welcome, ye silent

groves ! These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly

loves. Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring ; A prayer-book now shall be my looking-glass, In which I will adore sweet virtue's face ; Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace cares, No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced

fears : Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly, And learn to affect a holy melancholy ; And if Contentment be a stranger then, I'll ne'er look for it but in heav'n again.

A MEDITATION.

FROM SANSCROFT'S COLLECTION. (Mr. Malone, from whose handwriting I copy this, says,

“not, I think, printed."] 0, Thou great Power ! in whom we move,

By whom we live, to whom we die,
Behold me through thy beams of love,

Whilst on this couch of tears I lie,
And cleanse my sordid soul within
By thy Christ's blood, the bath of sin.
No hallow'd oils, no gums I need,

No new-born drams of purging fire ;
One rosy drop from David's seed

Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire :
0, precious ransom ! which once paid,
That Consummatum est was said.
And said by him, that said no more,

But seal'd it with his sacred breath :
Thou then, that has dispurged our score,

And dying wert the death of death, Be now, whilst on thy name we call, Our life, our strength, our joy, our all !

* Angels-pieces of money.