LOVE'S FAREWELL...FROM A CHILD...ON A GIRDLE. LOVE'S FAREWELL. TREADING the path to nobler ends, All that remain'd of me should have. None but those eyes, could have o'erthrown: Thus the tall oak, which now aspires Not to make warm, but build the house, FROM A CHILD. MADAM, as, in some climes, the warmer sun So, measure not, by any common use, ON A GIRDLE. THAT, which her slender waist confin'd, TO THE MUTABLE FAIR. HERE, Calia! for thy sake I part With all that grew so near my heart; The passion that I had for thee, The faith, the love, the constancy! And, that I may successful prove, Transform myself to what you love. Fool that I was! so much to prize Those simple virtues you despise : Fool! that with such dull arrows strove, Or hop'd to reach a flying dove. For you, that are in motion still, Now will I wander through the air, As we their names and courses know; She with her own resemblance grac'd Such was that image, so it smil'd A fate for which he grieves the less, To these old tales, such nymphs as you But, Cælia, if you apprehend The Muse of your incensed friend, Is all the pleasure lovers know; TO FLAVIA. SONG. 'Tis not your beauty can engage 51 SEE! how the willing earth gave way, Here Venus smil'd, to see blind Chance Then blush not, fair! or on him frown, Or wonder how you both came down; › But touch him, and he'll tremble strait: How could he then support your weight? How could the youth, alas! but bend, When his whole Heaven upon him lean'd' If aught by him amiss were done, 'Twas, that he let you rise so soon. OF SYLVIA. OUR sighs are heard, just Heaven declares So when the sky makes us endure THE BUD. LATELY on yonder swelling bush, Big with many a coming rose, This early bud began to blush, And did but half itself disclose: I pluck'd it, though no better grown; With such a purple light they shone, And, spreading so, would flame anon: All that was meant by air or sun, To the young flower, my breath has done. If our loose breath so much can do, What may the same in forms of love, Of purest love, and music too, When Flavia it aspires to move? When that, which lifeless buds persuades To wax more soft, her youth invades ? SONG. BEHOLD the brand of beauty tost! See how the motion does dilate the flame! Delighted Love his spoils does boast, And triumph in this game. Fire, to no place confin'd, Is both our wonder, and our fear; Moving the mind, As lightning hurled through the air. High Heaven the glory does increase Of all her shining lamps this artful way: To the sweet strains they advance, Moves with the numbers which she hears. ON THE DISCOVERY OF A LADY'S PAINTING. PYGMALEON's fate revers'd is mine; His marble love took flesh and blood; That beauty! now 'tis understood, As women yet, who apprehend Some sudden cause of causeless fear, Although that seeming cause take end, And they behold no danger near, A shaking through their limbs they find, Like leaves saluted by the wind: So, though the beauty do appear No beauty, which amaz'd me so; Yet from my breast I cannot tear The passion, which from thence did grow; A real beauty, though too near, TO A LADY, FROM WHOM HE RECEIVED A SILVER PEN. MADAM! intending to have try'd The silver favour which you gave, And drench'd it in the sable wave; So ill a change, who ever won "I, that expressed her commands To mighty lords and princely dames, Always most welcome to their hands, Proud that I would record their names, Must now be taught an humble style, Some meaner beauty to beguile." So I, the wronged pen to please, And now 'tis forced to confess, TO CHLORIS. CHLORIS! Since first our calm of peace Was frighted hence, this good we find, Your favours with your fears increase, And growing mischiefs make you kind. So the fair tree, which still preserves Her fruit and state, while no wind blows; In storms from that uprightness swerves, And the glad earth about her strows With treasure, from her yielding boughs. May not a thousand dangers sleep In the smooth bosom of the deep? No: 'tis so rockless and so clear, That the rich bottom does appear Pav'd all with precious things; not torn From shipwreck'd vessels, but there born. Sweetness, truth, and every grace, Which time, and use, are wont to teach, The eye may in a moment reach, And read distinctly in her face. Some other nymphs, with colours faint, And pencil slow, may Cupid paint, And a weak heart in time destroy; She has a stamp, and prints the boy: Can, with a single look, inflame The coldest breast, the rudest tame. THE SELF-BANISHED. Ir is not that I love you less, In vain, alas! for every thing, And makes my old wounds bleed anew. Who in the spring, from the new sun Too late begins those shafts to shun, And to thick shadows does retire; And in his tainted blood the fire, But vow'd I have, and never must Your banish'd servant trouble you; 54 THYRSIS, GALATEA. THYRSIS. As lately I on silver Thames did ride, GAL. You, that can tune your sounding strings so [share, THYR. Fair nymph! I have in your delights no Nor ought to be concerned in your care; Yet would I sing, if I your sorrows knew; And to my aid invoke no muse but you. GAL. Hear then, and let your song augment our Which is so great, as not to wish relief. [grief, She that had all which Nature gives, or Chance, Whom Fortune join'd with Virtue to advance To all the joys this island could afford, The greatest mistress, and the kindest lord; Who with the royal mixt her noble blood, And in high grace with Gloriana stood; Her bounty, sweetness, beauty, goodness, such, That none e'er thought her happiness too much; So well inclin'd her favours to confer, And kind to all, as Heaven had been to her! The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife, So well she acted in the span of life, That, though few years (too few, alas!) she told, She seem'd in all things, but in beauty, old. As unripe fruit, whose verdant stalks do cleave Close to the tree, which grieves no less to leave The smiling pendant, which adorns her so, And until autumn on the bough should grow: So seem'd her youthful soul not easily forc'd, Or from so fair, so sweet, a seat divorc'd. Her fate at once did hasty seem, and slow; At once too cruel, and unwilling too. THYR. Under how hard a law are mortals born! Whom now we envy, we anon must mourn: What Heaven sets highest, and seems most to prize, Is soon removed from our wondering eyes! But since the sisters 3 did so soon untwine So fair a thread, I'll strive to piece the line. Vouchsafe, sad nymph! to let me know the dame, And to the muses I'll commend her name: Make the wide country echo to your moan, The listening trees, and savage mountains, groan. What rock's not moved when the death is sung Of one so good, so lovely, and so young! GAL. 'Twas Hamilton!-whom I had nam'd before, But naming her, grief lets me say no more. ON THE HEAD OF A STAG. So we some antique hero's strength Learn by his lance's weight, and length; As these vast beams express the beast, Whose shady brows alive they drest. Such game, while yet the world was new, The mighty Nimrod did pursue. What huntsman of our feeble race, Or dogs, dare such a monster chase? Resembling, with each blow he strikes, The charge of a whole troop of pikes. 3 Parcæ. O fertile head! which every year TO A LADY IN RETIREMENT. SEES not my love, how Time resumes The glory which he lent these flowers? Been near so thrifty of their graces; A barren drought, or ceaseless shower, And spare us neither fruit nor flower; Preserve you from the violation THE MISER'S SPEECH: BALLS of this metal slack'd Atlanta's pace, For, when he turn'd himself into a bribe, ON MR. FLETCHER'S Thou hast alone those various inclinations, Who would express, a thousand tongues must use; So none could render thine; which still escapes, Who was, nor this, nor that; but all we find, ON MR. JOHN FLETCHER'S PLAYS. FLETCHER! to thee we do not only owe PLAYS...TO MR. SANDYS. I never yet the tragic strain assay'd, Deterr'd by that inimitable Maid 6. And, when I venture at the comic style, Thy Scornful Lady seems to mock my toil. Thus has thy Muse at once improv'd and marr'd Our sport in plays, by rendering it too hard! So, when a sort of lusty shepherds throw The bar by turns, and none the rest out-go So far, but that the best are measuring casts, Their emulation and their pastime lasts: But, if some brawny yeoman of the guard Step in, and toss the axletree a yard, Or more, beyond the furthest mark, the rest, Despairing stand; their sport is at the best. TO MR. GEORGE SANDYS, ON HIS TRANSLATION OF SOME PARTS OF THE BIBLE. How bold a work attempts that pen, 6 The Maid's Tragedy. Wherewith they now assist the choir Were urged to express, did shake Their numerous thunder could awake Dull Earth, which does with Heaven consent To all they wrote, and all they meant. Say, sacred bard! what could bestow Courage on thee, to soar so high? Tell me, brave friend! what help'd thee so To shake off all mortality? To light this torch thou hast climb'd higher, Than he 7 who stole celestial fire. TO MR. HENRY LAWES, WHO HAD THEN NEWLY SET A SONG OF MINE, IN THE VERSE makes heroic virtue live; The breath (though strain'd) sounds flat and low, It lifts it high and makes it last: 8 As a church-window, thick with paint, Lets in a light but dim and faint; So others, with division, hide The light of sense, the poet's pride: But you alone may truly boast That not a syllable is lost: The writer's and the setter's skill At once the ravish'd ears do fill. Let those, which only warble long, And gargle in their throats a song, Content themselves with ut, re, mi : Let words and sense be set by thee. TO SIR WILLIAM D'AVENANT, UPON HIS TWO FIRST BOOKS OF GONDIBERT: WRITTEN IN THUS the wise nightingale, that leaves her home, The drooping Hebrews banish'd, harps, unstrung, |