Pauca, meo Gallo, sed quæ legat ipsa Lycoris, Carmina sunt dicenda.

Poems

OF

SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

THE SIEGE OF A FEMALE HEART.

"Tis now, since I sat down before

That foolish fort, a heart,

(Time strangely spent!) a year and more,

And still I did my part:

Made my approaches, from her hand
Unto her lip did rise;

And did already understand
The language of her eyes:

Proceeded on with no less art,
(My tongue was engineer ;)
I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.

When this did nothing, I brought down

Great cannon oaths, and shot

A thousand thousand to the town,

And still it yielded not.

F

I then resolv'd to starve the place,
By cutting off all kisses,
Praising and gazing on her face,
And all such little blisses.

To draw her out and from her strength,

I drew all batteries in ;

And brought myself to lie, at length,
As if no siege had been.

When I had done what man could do,
And thought the place mine own,

The enemy lay quiet too,

And smil'd at all was done.

I sent to know, from whence, and where,
These hopes and this relief?

A spy inform'd, Honour was there,

And did command in chief.

"March, march," quoth I, "the word straight give,

SONG.

WHEN, dearest, I but think of thee,

Methinks all things that lovely be

Are present, and my soul delighted;
For beauties that from worth arise,
Are like the grace of Deities,

Still present with us, though unsighted.

Thus whilst I sit, and sigh the day
With all his borrow'd lights away,

Till night's black wings do overtake me,
Thinking on thee; thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleepy men,

So they by their bright rays awake me.

Thus absence dies, and dying proves
No absence can subsist with loves

That do partake of fair perfection;
Since in the darkest night they may
By love's quick motion, find a way,

To see each other by reflection.

The waving sea can with each flood
Bathe some high promont, that has stood

Far from the main up in the river:

Oh! think not then, but love can do

As much, for that's an ocean too,

Which flows not every day, but ever.

THE CONSTANT LOVER.

OUT upon it! I have lov'd

Three whole days together;

And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.

Time shall moult away his wings,

E'er he shall discover

In the whole wide world again,

Such a constant lover!

But the spite on't is, no praise
Is due at all to me:

Love with me had made no stays,
Had it any been but she.

Had it any been but she,

And that very face,

There had been at least e'er this,
A dozen dozen in her place.

THE REPLY.

SAY-but did you love so long?
In truth I needs must blame you :
Passion did your judgment wrong;
Or want of reason shame you.

But, Time's fair and witty daughter Shortly shall discover,

Y'are a subject fit for laughter,

And more fool than lover.

But I grant you merit praise
For your constant folly :
Since you doated three whole days,
Were you not melancholy?

She to whom you prov'd so true,
And that very very face,
Puts each minute such as you

A dozen dozen to disgrace.