Mark how she courts the banks, whilst they Be thou this eddy, and I'll make SONG. PERSUASIONS TO ENJOY. If the quick spirits in your eye Or, if that golden fleece must grow INGRATEFUL BEAUTY THREATENED. 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. DISDAIN RETURNED. HE that loves a rosy cheek, 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. GOOD COUNSEL TO A YOUNG MAID. 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. EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS. THE Lady Mary Villiers lies Under this stone: With weeping eyes SONG. THE WILLING PRISONER TO HIS MISTRESS. 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 In a sweet smile of love unfolding. And let those eyes, whose motion wheels Survey the pains my sick heart feels, And wounds, themselves have made, discover. A PASTORAL DIALOGUE. SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS. Shep. THIS mossy bank they prest. Nym. That Till the day-breaking their embraces broke. Nym. Those streaks of doubtful light usher not But show my sun must set; no morn Shall shine till thou return: [day, Shep. If thine eyes 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 Cho. They kiss'd, and wept ; and from their lips Shep. The winged hours fly fast whilst we embrace; 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. FEMININE HONOUR. 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 Why, when the hard-edged iron did turn Their chaste, pure limbs, should man alone 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. SONG. Ask me no more where Jove bestows, Ask me no more, whither do stray Ask me no more, whither doth haste Ask me no more, if east or west, UPON MR. W. MONTAGUE'S RETURN FROM TRAVEL. LEAD the black bull to slaughter, with the boar To those mild spirits that cast a curbing yoke In honour of their darling's safe return, Sweetly-breathing vernal air, That with kind warmth dost repair On whose brow, with calm smiles dress'd, If his rude breath threaten us; Thou canst stroke great Eolus, And from him the grace obtain To bind him in an iron chain. THE MISTAKE. WHEN on fair Celia I did spy But when I saw it was enthroned For mine was ne'er so blest. Yet if in highest heavens do shine Each constant martyr's heart; Then she may well give rest to mine, That for her sake doth smart: Where, seated in so high a bliss, Though wounded it shall live: Death enters not in Paradise ; The place free life doth give. Or, if the place less sacred were, Bathe my kind heart in one kind tear, Slight balms may heal a slighter sore; Can ever hope for to restore 158 WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STERLINE. I would be wise, but that I often see The fox suspected while the ass goes free; 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, As well as blind and lame, or give a tongue mine; And hold one minute of this holy leisure Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure. 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 Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly, ON THE SUDDEN RESTRAINT OF THE EARL OF DAZZLED thus with height of place, Yet since Fortune's favours fade, For the hearts of kings are deep. That at least the fall be fair. Then though dark and you shall say, But proves at night a bed of down. A MEDITATION. FROM SANSCROFT'S COLLECTION. [Mr. Malone, from whose handwriting I copy this, says, "not, I think, printed."] O, THOU great Power! in whom we move, No new-born drams of purging fire; Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire: And said by him, that said no more, 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; and after his return to his native country (Scotland), having in vain solicited a mistress, whom he celebrates in his poetry by the name of Aurora, he married the daughter of Sir William Erskine. he obtained the notice of the monarch, was appointed gentleman usher to Prince Charles, and was knighted by James. Both of those sovereigns patronized his scheme for colonizing Nova Scotia, of which the latter made him lord lieutenant Charles the First created him Earl of Sterline in 1633, and for ten years he held the office of secretary of state for Scotland, with the praise of moderation, in times that were rendered pecu liarly trying by the struggles of Laud against the Scottish presbyterians.-He wrote some very heavy tragedies; but there is elegance of expression in a few of his shorter pieces*. SONNETS. FROM HIS SOME men delight huge buildings to behold, Some monuments of monarchs, and such things As Phoebe chaste, than Venus far more fair; I CHANCED, my dear, to come upon a day "AURORA." Yet, more discreet than th' angry goddess proved, Thou knew'st I came through error, not of pride, And thought the wounds I got by thy sweet sight Were too great scourges for a fault so light. AWAKE, my muse, and leave to dream of loves, But with Jove's stately bird I'll leave my nest, Then, if that ought my vent'rous course dismays, Am purposed other's passions now t' unfold. [* "Lord Sterline is rather monotonous, as sonneteers usually are, and he addresses his mistress by the appellation, Fair tygress.' Campbell observes that there is elegance of expression in a few of his shorter pieces."HALLAM, Lit. Hist., vol. iii. p. 505.] |