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But as, when the Pellæan conqueror dy'd, The Thunderer, who, without the female bed, Many small princes did his crown divide; Could goddesses bring-forth from out his head, So, since my love his vanquish'd 'world forsook, Chose rather mortals this way to create; Murder'd by poisons from her falsehood took, So much h' esteem'd his pleasure 'bove his state. An hundred petty kings claim each their part, Ye talk of fires which shine, but never burn; And rend that glorious empire of her heart. In this cold world they 'll hardly serve our turn;
As useless to despairing lovers grown,
As lambent flames to men i'th' frigid zone. MY HEART DISCOVERED.
The Sun does his pure fires on Earth bestow
With nuptial warmth, to bring-forth things beHer body is so gently bright,
low; Clear and transparent to the sight,
Such is Love's noblest and divinest heat, (Clear as fair crystal to the view,
That warms like his, and does, like his, beget. Yet soft as that, ere stone it grew)
Lust you call this ; a name to yours more just, That through her flesh, methinks, is seen If an inordinate desire be lust : The brighter soul that dwells within :
Pygmalion, loving wþat none can enjoy, Our eyes the subtile covering pass,
More lustful was, than the hot youth of Troy.
THE VAIN LOVE.
LOVING ONE FIRST BECAUSE SHE COULD LOVE NO-
BODY, AFTERWARDS LOVING HER WITH DESIRE. Fair and chaste as mother-mind.
What new-found witchcraft was in thee, But oh! what other heart is there,
With thine own cold to kindle me? Which sighs and crouds to her's so near? Strange art! like him that should devise Tis all on flame, and does, like fire,
To make a burning-glass of ice :' To that, as to its Heaven, aspire !
When Winter so, the plants would harm, The wounds are many in 't and deep;
Her snow itself does keep them warm. Still does it bleed, and still does weep!
Fool that I was ! who, having found Whose-ever wretched heart it be,
A rich and sunny diamond, I cannot choose but grieve to see:
Admir'd the hardness of the stone, What pity in my breast does reign!
But not the light with which it shone. Methinks I feel too all its pain.
Your brave and haughty scorn of all So torn, and so defac'd, it lies,
Was stately and monarchical ;
A dull and slavish virtue seem'd;
Thou 'dst lost what I most lov'd in thee;
For who would serve one, whom he sees Beat by the waves, let fall a tear,
That he can conquer if he please?
It far'd with me, as if a slave
With what a gay majestic pride
His conqueror through the streets does ride, Grief chang'd her straight; away she flew, Should be contented with his woe, Turn'd to a bird : and so at last shall I
Which makes up such a comely show. Both from my murder'd heart and murderer fly. I sought not from thee a return,
But without hopes or fears did burn;
My covetous passion did approve
My love a kind of dream was grown,
But lovers and the damn'd, endure.
Are proud as that I luv'd blue.
Whatlover can like me complain, Who first lov'd vainly, next in rain!
If my Understanding do' Seek any knowledge but of you ; If she do near thy body prize Her bodies of philosophies; If she to the will do shew Aught desirable but you; Or, if that would not rebel, Should she another doctrine tell; If my Will do not resign All her liberty to thine; If she would not follow thee, Though Fate and thou should'st disagree ; And if (for Ja curse will give, Such as shall force thee to believe) My Soul be not entirely thine; May thy dear body ne'er be mine
THE SOUL. If mine eyes do e'er declare They've seen a second thing that's fair; Or ears, that they have music found, Besides thy voice, in any sound; If my taste do ever meet, After thy kiss, with aught that 's sweet; If my abused touch allow Aught to be smooth, or soft, but you; If what seasonable springs, Or the eastern summer brings, Do my smell persuade at all Aught perfume, but thy breath, to call; If all my senses' objects be Not contracted into thee, And so through thee more powerful pass, As beams do through a burning-glass; If all things that in Nature are Either soft, or sweet, or fair, Be not in thee so' epitomis'd, That nought material's not compris'd; May I as worthless seem to thee, As all, but thou, appears to me! If I ever anger know, Till some wrong be done to you; If gods or kings my envy move, Without their crowns crown'd by thy love; If ever I a hope admit, Without thy image stamp'd on it; Or any fear, till I begin To find that you 're concern'd therein ; If a joy e'er come to me, That tastes of any thing but thee; If any sorrow touch my mind, Whilst you are well, and not unkind; If I a minute's space debate, Whether I shall curse and hate The things beneath thy hatred fall, Though all the world, myself and all; And for love, if ever I Approach to it again so nigh, As to allow a toleration To the least glimmering inclination ; If thou alone dost not control All those tyrants of my soul, And to thy beauties ty'st them so, That constant they as habits grow; If any passion of my heart, By any force, or any art, Be brought to move one step from thee, May'st thou no passion have for me! If my busy Imagination, Do not thee in all things fashion ; So that all fair species be Hieroglyphic marks of thee; If when she her sports does keep (The lower soul being all asleep) She play one dream, with all her art, Where thou hast not the longest part; * If aught get place in my remembrance, Without some badge of thy resemblance, So that thy parts become to me A kind of art of memory;
From Hate, Fear, Hope, Anger, and Envy, free,
And all the passions else that be,
Since I have Love, and Love is all:
Sometimes upon their idols fell,
And Acharon and Moloch too :
With painful art, and that the wine
Is of a taste rich and divine;
Has made it worse than vinegar.
Drive this one tyrant out of me,
Th’ oppressed wretched Indians so, Being slaves by the great Spanish monarck
made, Call in the States of Holland to their aid.
'Tis mighty wise that you would now be thought,
And, if by event the counsels may be seen,
And, since love ne'er will from me flee, This Wisdom 'twas that brought the southern A mistress moderately fair, queen:
| And good as guardian-angels are, She came not, like a good old wife, to know
Only belov'd, and loving me!
Oh, fountains ! when in you shall I
Myself, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, espy?
Oh fields ! oh woods! when, when shall I be made She came for that, which more befits all wives, The art of giving, not of saving, lives.
The happy tenant of your shade ?
Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood; Where all the riches lie, that she
: Has coin'd and stamp'd for good. THE DESPAIR.
Pride and ambition here
Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; BENEATH this gloomy shade,
Here nonght but winds can hurtful murmurs By Nature only for my sorrows made,
And nought but Echo flatter.
The gods, when they descended, hither
From Heaven did always chuse their way; So Lust, of old, the Deluge punished.
And therefore we may boldly say, “Ah, wretched youth !” said I ;
That 'tis the way too thither. “ Ah, wretched youth !” twice did I sadly cry; * Ah, wretched youth !" the fields and floods
How happy here should I,
And one dear she, live, and embracing die! reply.
She, who is all the world, and can exclude
In deserts solitude.
I should have then this only fear“ Never,” alas ! that dreadful name Lest men, when they my pleasures see, Which fuels the eternal flame:
Should hither throng to live like me, “Never” my time to come must waste ;
And so make a city here. “ In vain” torments the present and the past. • “ In vain, in vain," said I;
MY DIET. “ In vain, in vain !” twice did I sadly cry; “ In vain, in vain !" the fields and floods reply.
| Now, by my Love, the greatest oath that is,
None loves you half so well as I: No more shall fields and floods do so ;
I do not ask your love for this; For I to shades more dark and silent go :
But for Heaven's sake believe me, or I die. All this world's noise appears to me
No servant e'er but did deserve
His master should believe that he does serre; No comfort to my wounded sight,
And I'll ask no more wages, though I starve. In the Sun's busy and impertinent light, Then down I laid my head,
'Tis no luxurious diet this, and sure Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
I shall not by 't too lusty prove;
Yet shall it willingly endure, And my freed soul to a strange somewhere fed.
If’t can but keep together life and love. « Ah, sottish soul !” said I,
Being your prisoner and your slave, When back to its cage again I saw it fly;
I do not feasts and banquets look to haveg « Fool, to resume her broken chain,
A little bread and water 's all I crave.
On a sigh of pity I a vear can live;
One tear will keep me twenty, at least;
Fifty, a gentle look will give; Death should a thing so pleasant seem to thee,
An hundred years on one kind word I'll feast That thou should'st come to live it o'er again
A thousand more will added be,
If you an inclination have for me; in me?”
And all beyond is vast eternity!
Does of all meats the soonest cloy;
And they, methinks, desci ve my pity,
Of this great hive, the city.
Ah, yet, ere I descend to th' grave,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
Of sleep thou robb’st my nights;
And I, with wild idolatry,
Like an ill conscience, torture us?
And still thy shape does me pursue, | At once, with double course in the same sphere, As if, not you me, but I had murder'd you.
He runs the day, and walks the year.
When Sol does to myself refer,
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly flies, and then is lore.
'Twixt hope and foar-my day and night.
Take heed, take heed, thou lovely maid,
Nor be by glittering ills betray'd ;
Thyself for money ! oh, let no man know
The price of beauty fall 'n so low !
What dangers ought'st thou not to dread,
When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune led? ALL-OVER LOVE.
The foolish Indian, that sells 'Tis well, 'tis well with them, say I,
His precious gold for beads and bells, Whose short-liv'd passions with themselves can Does a more wise and gainful traffic hold, die;
Than thou, who sell's thyself for gold. For none can be unhappy, who,
What gains in such a bargain are? Midst all his ills, a time does know
He 'll in thy mines Jig better treasures far. (Though ne'er so long) when he shall not be so.
Can gold, alas! with thee compare? Whatever parts of me remain.
The Sun, that makes it, 's not so fair; Those parts will still the love of thee retain ; The Sun, which can nor make nor ever see For 'twas not only in my heart,
A thing so beautiful as thee, But, like a god, by powerful art
In all the journeys he does pass, 'Twas all in all, and all in every part.
Though the sea serv'd him for a looking-glass. My affection no more perish can
Bold was the wretch that cheapen'd thee; Than the first matter that compounds a man.
- Since Magus, none so bold as he : Hereafter, if one dust of me
| Thou 'rt so divine a thing, that thee to buy Mix'd with another's substance be,
Is to be counted simony; 'Twill leaven that whole lump with love of thee. Too dear he 'll find his sordid price Let Nature, if she please, disperse
Has forfeited that and the benefice. My atoms over all the universe ;
If it be lawful thee to buy, At the last they easily shall
There's none can pay that rate but I; Themselves know, and together call ;
Nothing on Earth a fitting price can be, For thy love, like a mark, is stamp'd on all.
But what'on Earth's most like to thee;
And that my heart does only bear;
For there thyself, thy very self is there. ‘LOVE AND LIFE.'
So much thyself does in me live, Now, sure, within this twelvemonth past,
That, when it for thyself I give, l'ave lov'd at least some twenty years or more:
| 'Tis but to change that piece of gold for this, Th' account of love runs much more fast
Whose stamp and value equal is; Than that with which our life does score:
And, that full weight too may be had, So, though my life be sbort, yet I may prove
My soul and body, two grains more, I'll add. The great Methusalem of love.
Not that love's bours or minutes are
THE LONG LIFE.
Love from Time's wings hath stol'n the feathers, Thin airy things extend themselves in space,
Sure Things solid take up little place..
He has, and put them to his own;
For hours, of late, as long as days endure,
And very minutes hours are grown.
The various motions of the turning year A double, different motion ? ..
Belong not now at all to me: O yes, there may; for so the self-same Sun Each summer's night does Lucy's now appear, At once does slow and swiftly run :
Each winter's day St. Barnaby. Swiftly his daily journey he goes,
How long a space since first I lov'd it is ! But treads his annual with a statelier pace;
To look into a glass I fear; And does three hundred rounds enclose
And am surpriz'd with wonder when I miss Within one yearly circle's space;
Gray hairs and wrinkles there.
Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happi- | The needle trembles so, and turns about, ness too,
Till it the northern point find out; Why does hard Fate to us restore ?
But constant then and fix'd does prove, Why does Love's fire thus to mankind renew, Fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move.
What the flood wash'd away before? Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, Sure those are happy people that complain
If it put forth again to sea ! " O' th shortness of the days of man:
It never more abroad shall roam, Contract mine, Heaven! and bring them back Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies again
home. To th' ordinary span.
But I must sweat in love, and labour yet, If when your gift, long life, I disapprove,
Till I a competency get; . I too ingrateful seem to be;
They're slothful fools who leave a trade, Punish me justly, Heaven ; make her to love, Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. And then 'twill be too short for me.
Variety I ask not; give me one
To live perpetually upon.
The person, Love does to us fit,
Like manna, has the taste of all in it. GENTLY, ah, gently, madam, touch
The wound which you yourself have made ;
For Heaven's sake, what d' you mean to do? For I too weak for purgings grow.
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two ;
| Youth and warm hours let me not idly lose, Do but awhile with patience stay
The little time that Love does chuse, (For counsel yet will do no good)
If always here I must not stay, Till time, and rest, and Heaven, allay
Let me be gone whilst yet 'tis day;
Lest 1, faint and benighted, lose my way.
* 'Tis dismal, one so long to love Perhaps the physic's good you give,
In vain ; till to love more as vain must prové
To hunt so long on nimble prey, till we But ne'er to me can useful prove;
Too weary to take others be ; Med'cincs may cure, but not revive ;
Alas ! 'tis folly to remain, And I'm not sick, but dead in love,
And waste our army thus in vain,
Before a city which will ne'er be ta’en.
At several hopes wisely to fly,
Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy ; Ev'n thy dissuasions me persuade,
'Tis more inconstant always to pursue And thy great power does clearest shine,
A thing that always flies from you ; When thy commands are disobey'd.
For that at last may meet a bound, In vain thou hid'st me to forbear;
But no end can to this be found, Obedience were rebellion here.
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless round. Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant
When it dues hardness meet, and pride, Against thine eyes t'assist mine heart:
| My love does then rebound t' another side; But different far was his intent,
But, if it aught that's soft and yielding hit, For straight the traitor took their part:
It lodges there, and stays in it. And by this new foe I'm bereft
Whatever 'tis shall first love me, Of all that little wbich was left.
That it my Heaven may truly be,
I shall be sure to give 't eternity.
Would be too strong for that and me;
THE DISCOVERY. Rather than be a part of it.
| Bo Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she; Why should she asham'd or angry be,
To be belor'd by ine? RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED,
The gods may give thcir altars o'er, 'Tis true, l'aye lov d already three or four, They'll smoak but seldom any more,
And shall three or four hundred more; If none but happy men must them adore,
The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in rain, Till I find one at last that shall love me.
To strike sometimes does not disdain That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil
The humble furzes of the plain. That ends my wanderings and my toil :
She being so high, and I so low, I'll settle there, and happy grow;
Her power by this does greater show, The country does with milk and honey flow. Who at such distance, gives so sure a blov.