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Oft in a smile: oft in a silent tear:
Himself's a dart, when nothing else can move:
Who then the captive soul can well reprove, When love and virtue's self become the darts of love. SIR JOHN BEAUMONT,
Brother of Francis Beaumont, and author of “ Bosworth
“ Field," and other poems, 1629. According to Wood, he was entered at Oxford, in 1596, at the age of 14, consequently born in 1582.
DESCRIPTION OF LOVE.
Love is a region full of fires,
An object seeks, of which possess'd
The flames in ashes lie oppress’d.
Why then should lovers (most will say)
Love is like youth: he thirsts for age,
But when proceeding times assuage
We know that Hope and Love are twins;
But what is this ? unconstant, frail,
Which, if we lose it, we bewail ;
When Love thus in his centre ends,
Are shaken off; while Doubt and Grief,
Stand in his council as the chief.
These lines I write not to remove
The best attempts by mortals made
Yet never will I men persuade
[In the Nice Valour.]
Hence all you vain delights,
Wherein you spend your folly;
But only melancholy,
Welcome folded arms, and fixed eyes, .
Fountain-heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves; Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly hous'd save bats and owls;
A midnight bell, a parting groan,
These are the sounds we feed upon. Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley, Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
[In a Masque.]
Ye should stay longer if we durst
And not a creature nigh 'em,
And keep him ever by 'em.
(In the Queen of Corinth.]
Weep no more, nor sigh, nor gruan,
Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see.