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Mark how she courts the banks, whilst they
Be thou this eddy, and I'll make
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Fuel to maintain his fires;
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
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.
PERSUASIONS TO ENJOY.
GOOD COUNSEL TO A YOUNG MAID.
If the quick spirits in your eye
Then, Celia, let us reap our joys,
Ere time such goodly fruit destroys.
Thus, either Time his sickle brings
When you the sun-burnt pilgrim see,
Fainting with thirst, haste to the springs ;
He courts the crystal nymphs, and flings
In her cool waves, when from her sweet
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
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.
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.
Nym. Those streaks of doubtful light usher not
But show my sun must set; no morn [day,
Shall shine till thou return :
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,
Shep. The winged hours flyfast whilst we embrace;
But when we want their help to meet,
They move with leaden feet.
If his rude breath threaten us;
When on fair Celia I did spy
A wounded heart of stone,
Sure this heart was my own :
But when I saw it was enthroned
In her celestial breast,
For mine was ne'er so blest.
UPON MR. W. MONTAGUE'S RETURN FROM
Sweetly-breathing vernal air,
Yet if in highest heavens do shine
Each constant martyr's heart ;
That for her sake doth smart:
Though wounded it shall live :
The place free life doth give.
Did but her saving eye
Then should I never die.
Slight balms may heal a slighter sore ;
No med'cine less divine
A wounded heart like mine.
SIR HENRY WOTTON.
(Born, 1568. Died, 1639.] Sir Henry WOTTON was born at Bocton-Mal James, and was appointed ambassador to the herbe in Kent. Foreseeing the fall of the Earl court of Venice. Towards the close of his life of Essex, to whom he was secretary, he left the he took deacon's orders, and was nominated kingdom, but returned upon the accession of provost of Eton.
FAREWELL TO THE VANITIES OF THE WORLD.
FAREWELL, ye gilded follies ! pleasing troubles ; Fame, honour, beauty, state, train, blood, and
Are but the fading blossoms of the earth.
Level his rays against the rising hill ; And torture free-born minds ; embroider'd trains I would be high, but see the proudest oak Merely but pageants for proud swelling.veins ; Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke ; And blood, allied to greatness, is alone
I would be rich, but see men too unkind Inherited, not purchased, nor our own.
Dig in the bowels of the richest mind;
WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STERLINE.
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
I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair-poor I'll be
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,
That at least the fall be fair.
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.
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,
Whilst on this couch of tears I lie,
No new-born drams of purging fire ;
Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire :
But seal'd it with his sacred breath :
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.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STERLINE.
[Born, 1580. Died, 1640.)
William ALEXANDER, of Menstrie, travelled | Having repaired to the court of James the First, on the Continent as tutor to the Earl of Argyll; he obtained the notice of the monarch, was apand after his return to his native country (Scot- pointed gentleman usher to Prince Charles, and land), having in vain solicited a mistress, whom was knighted by James. Both of those sovereigns he celebrates in his poetry by the name of Aurora, patronized his scheme for colonizing Nova Scotia, he married the daughter of Sir William Erskine. , of which the latter made him lord lieutenant.
Charles the First created him Earl of Sterline in liarly trying by the struggles of Laud against the 1633, and for ten years he held the office of secre Scottish presbyterians.—He wrote some very tary of state for Scotland, with the praise of heavy tragedies ; but there is elegance of ex. moderation, in times that were rendered pecu pression in a few of his shorter pieces *.
SOME men delight huge buildings to behold, Yet, more discreet than th' angry goddess proved, Some theatres, mountains, floods, and famous Thou knew'st I came through error, not of pride, springs,
And thought the wounds I got by thy sweet sight Some monuments of monarchs, and such things Were too great scourges for a fault so light. As in the books of fame have been enroll’d, Those stately towns that to the stars were raised ; Some would their ruins see (their beauty's gone),
AWAKE, my muse, and leave to dream of loves,
Shake off soft fancy's chains - I must be free ; Of which the world's three parts each boasts of one:
I'll perch no more upon the myrtle tree,
Nor glide through th' air with beauty's sacred
doves; Juno in majesty, Pallas in wit,
But with Jove's stately bird I'll leave my nest, As Phæbe chaste, than Venus far more fair ;
And try my sight against Apollo's rays. And though her looks even threaten death to me,
Then, if that ought my vent'rous course dismays, Their threat’nings are so sweet I cannot flee.
Upon th' olive's boughs I'll light and rest ;
I'll tune my accents to a trumpet now, I CHANCED, my dear, to come upon a day
And seek the laurel in another field. Whilst thou wast but arising from thy bed, Thus I that once (as Beauty's means did yield) And the warm snows, with comely garments cled, Did divers garments on my thoughts bestow, More rich than glorious, and more fine than gay. Like Icarus, I fear, unwisely bold, Then, blushing to be seen in such a case,
Am purposed other's passions now t' unfold. O how thy curled locks mine eyes did please ; And well become those waves thy beauty's seas,
(* “ Lord Sterline is rather monotonous, as sonneteers Which by thy hairs were framed upon thy face ;
usually are, and he addresses his mistress by the appel
lation, · Fair tygress.' Campbell observes that there is Such was Diana once, when being spied
elegance of expression in a few of his shorter pieces."By rash Action, she was much commoved : HALLAM, Lit. Hist., vol. iii. p. 505.)
[Died about 1638] NATHANIEL Field had the honour of being , Chapel, Field played a part in Jonson's Poetaster, connected with Massinger in the Fatal Dowry, 1601; and Mr. Collier has conjectured that he the play from which Rowe stole the plot of his could have hardly begun to write before 1609 Fair Penitent. [As one of the Children of the or 1610. In 1612 he was an author in print.]
FROM " AMENDS FOR LADIES," 1618.
Rise, lady! mistress, rise !
The night hath tedious been,
Nor slumbers made me sin :
Rise, madam ! rise, and give me light,
Whom darkness still will cover,
Till thou smile on thy lover :