The very eye betrays our inward fmart;

Love of himfelf left there a part, When thorough it he paft into the heart. Or if by chance the face betray not it,

But keep the fecret wifely, yet, Like drunkenness, into the tongue 'twill get.

Study or action others may embrace;
My love's my bufinefs, and my books her face.
These are but trifles, I confefs,

Which me, weak mortal! move;

Nor is your bafy-feriousness

Lefs trifling than my love:

The wifeft king, who from his facred breaft
Pronounc'd all vanity, chofe it for the best.

LOOKING ON, AND DISCOURSING WITH, HIS MISTRESS.

HESE full two hours now have I gazing been,
what comfort by it can I gain?

To look on heaven with mighty gulfs between
Was the great mifer's greatest pain;
So near was he to heaven's delight,
As with the bleft converfe he might,
Yet could not get one drop of water by 't.

Ah wretch! I feem to touch her now; but oh,

What boundless fpaces do us part!

G%

MY FATE.

O bid the needle his dear North forfake,
To which with trembling reverence it does
bend;

Go bid the ftones a journey upwards make;
'Go bid th' ambiticus flame no more afcend:
And, when thefe falfe to their o'd motion; prove,
Then fhall I ceafe thee, thee alone, to love.

The faft-link'd chain of everlafting Fate

Does nothing tie more strong than me to you;

My lowness, and her high defert: But thefe might conquerable prove; Nothing does me fo far remove,

As her hard foul's averfion from my love.

So travellers, that lofe their way by night,

If from afar they chance t'efpy Th' uncertain glimmerings of a taper's light, Take flattering hopes, and think it nigh; Till, wearied with the fruitless pain, They fit them down, and weep in vain, And there in darkness and defpair remain.

RESOLVED TO LOVE.

I WONDER what the grave and wife

Think of all us that love;

Whether our pretty fooleries

Their mirth or anger move;

They understand not breath that words does want; Our fighs to them are infignificant.

One of them faw me, th' other day,

Touch the dear hand which I admire;

My foul was melting ftrait away,
And dropt before the fire:

This filly wife-man, who pretends to know,
Afk'd why I look'd fo pale, and trembled fo?
Another, from my mistrefs' door

Saw me with eyes all watery come;
Nor could the hidden caufe explore,

But thought fome smoke was in the room:
Such ignorance from unwounded learning came;
He knew tears made by smoke, but not by flame.
If learn'd in other things you be,
And have in love no kill,

For God's fake keep your arts from me,
For I'll be ignorant till:

VOL. II.

But will be fill the fame, whate'er you do : You cannot kill my love with your disdain; Wound it you may, and make it live in pain. Me, mine example, let the Stoics ufe,

Their fad and cruel doctrine to maintain; Let all predeftinators me produce,

Who ftruggle with eternal bonds in vain : This fire I'm born to--but 'tis fhe met tell, Whether 't be beams of heaven or flames of hell.

You, who men's fortunes in their faces read,

To find out mine, look not, alas! on me;
But mark her face, and all the features heed;
For only there is writ my deftiny:
Or, if stars fhew it, gaze not on the skies;
But ftudy the aftrology of her eyes.

If thou find there kind and propitious rays,
What Mars or Saturn threaten I'll not fear;
I well believe the fate of mortal days

Is writ in heaven; but oh, my heaven is there. What can men learn from ftars they scarce can fee? Two great lights rule the world, and her two me.

IT

THE HEART-BREAKING.

T gave a pitcous groan, and so it broke;
In vain it fomething would have spoke:
The love within too strong for 't was,
Like poifon put into a Venice-glass.

I thought that this fome remedy might prove;
But oh, the mighty ferpent Love,
Cut by this chance in pieces fmall,
In all still liv'd, and still it stung in all.

And now, alas! each little broken part
Feels the whole pain of all my heart;
And every finalleft corner ftill

Lives with that torment which the whole did kill.

L

Even fo rude armics, when the field they quit,

And into feveral quarters get;
Each troop docs fpoil and ruin more
Than all join'd in one body did before.

How many Loves reign in my bofom now!
How many loves, yet all of you!
Thus have I chang'd with evil fate
My Monarch-Love into a Tyrant-State.

TH

HOU 'adft to my foul no title or pretence;
I was mine own, an
and free,

Till I had given myself to thee;

But thou haft kept me flave and prisoner since. Well, fince fo infolent thou 'rt grown,

Fond tyrant! I'll depofe thee from thy throne; Such outrages must not admitted be

In an elective monarchy.

Part of my heart hy gift did to thee fall;
My country, kindred, and my best
Acquaintance, were to fhare the reft;
But thou, their covetous neighbour, drav'ft out all:
Nay more; thou mak'ft me worship thee,
And would't the rule of my religion be
Did ever tyrant claim fuch power as you,
To be both emperor and pope too?

The public miferies, and my private fate,
Deferve fome tears; but greedy thou
(Infatiate maid!) wilt not allow
That I one drop from thee fhould alienate:
Nor wilt thou grant my fins a part,
Though the fole caufe of most of them thou art;
Counting my tears thy tribute and tly due,

Since first mine eyes I gave to you.

Thou all my joys and all my hopes doft claim;

Thou rageft like a fire in me,
Converting all things into thee;
Nought can refift, or not encrease the flame:
Nay, every grief and every fear
Thou doft devour, unlefs thy ftamp it hear:
Thy prefence, like the crowned bafilifk's breath,
All other ferpents puts to death.

As men in hell are from difeafes free,
So from all other ills am 1;
Free from their known formality:
But all pains eminently lie in thee!

Alas, alas! I hope in vain

My conquer'd foul from out thine hands to gain; Since all the natives there thou 'aft overthrown,

And planted garrifons of thine own.

MAIDENHEAD.

T'attend the weakness of our birth? Slight outward curtain to the nuptial bed! Thou cafe to buildings not yet finished!

Who, like the centre of the earth,
Doft heaviest things attract to thee,
Though thou a point imaginary be.

A thing God thought for mankind fo unfit,
That his first bleffing ruin'd it.
Cold, frozen nurfe of fierceft fires!
Who, like the parched plains of Afric's fand
(A fterile, and a wild unlovely land!)

Art always fcorch'd with hot defires,
Yet barren quite, didft thou not bring
Monsters and ferpents forth thyfelf to fting!
Thou that bewitcheft men, whilft thou doft
dwell

Like a clofe conjurer in his cell,

And fear'st the day's difcovering eye! No wonder 'tis at all that thou fhould'ft be Such tedious and unpleafant company,

Who liv ft fo melancholily!

Thou thing of fubtile, flippery kind,
Which women lofe, and yet no man can find!

Although I think thou never found wilt be,
Yet I'm refolv'd to fearch for thee;
The fearch itself rewards the pains:
So, though the chemic his great fecret mifs
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)

Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unfought experiments by the way.
Say what thou wilt, chaftity is no more
Thee, than a perter is his door.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themfelves with ramparts and with
walls;

Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick lofs can be no doubt,
Within fo hated, and fo lov'd without.

IMPOSSIBILITIES.

THOR worst;

Therefore by Nature made at first

Shall our own fortunes regulate;

And to our ftars themselves prefcribe a fate.

'Twould grieve me much to find fome bold ro

mance,

That should two kind examples fhew, Which before us in wonders did advance;

Not that I thought that story true,

But none fhould Fancy more, than I would Do.

Through fpite of our worst enemies, thy friends;
Through local banishment from thee;
Through the loud thoughts of lefs-concerning
cnds,

As cafy fhall my paffage be,

As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's fea :
In vain the winds, in vain the billows, roar;
In vain the stars their aid deny'd ;
He faw the Seftian tower on th' other shore:
Shall th' Hellefpont our loves divide?
No, not the Atlantic ocean's boundless tide.

Such feas betwixt us cafily conquer'd are;
But, gentle maid! do not deny
To let thy beams fhine on me from afar;
And still the taper let me efpy:
For, when thy light goes out, I fink and die,

CUE

SILENCE.

URSE on this tongue, that has my heart betray'd,

And his great fecret open laid!

For, of all perfons, chiefly fhe
Should not the ills I fuffer know;

Since 'tis a thing might dangerous grow,
Only in her to pity me:

Since 'tis for me to lefe my life more fit,
Than 'tis for her to fave and ranfom it.

Ah! never more fhall thy unwilling ear
My helpless ftory hear;

Difcourfe and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain

That in my breast does reign;
Silence perhaps may make it fleep:
I'll bind that fore up I did ill reveal;
The wound, if once it clofe, may chance to heal

No 'twill ne'er heal; my love will never die,

Though it should speechlefs lie.
A river, ere it meet the fea,
As well might ftay its fource,

As my love can his courfe,

Unless it join and mix with thee:

If any end or fop of it be found,

We know the flood runs ftill, though under ground.

I thought, I'll fwear, an handíome lye
Had been no fin at all in poetry;

But now I fuffer an arreft,
For words were spoke by me in jest.
Dull, fottifh God of love! and can it be
Thou understand'ft not raillery?

Darts, and wounds, and flaine, and heat,
I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit;
Nor meant my verfe fhould raised be
To this fad fame of prophely:
Truth gives a dull propriety to my style,
And all the metaphors does spoil.

In things where fancy much does reign, 'Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign; The play at laft a truth does grow, And Cuftom into Nature go: By this curft art of begging I became Lame, with counterfeiting lame.

My lines of amorous defire

I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire;
And 'twas a barbarous delight

My fancy promis'd from the fight: But now, by Love, the mighty Phalaris, I, My burning Bull the firft do try.

Love, thou'rt a devil, if I may call thee one; For fure in me thy name is Legion.

Colour, or fhape, good limbs, or face,

Goodnefs, or wit, in all I find; In motion or in fpeech a grace;

If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind; And I'm fo weak, the piftol need not be Double or treble charg d to murder me, If tall, the name of proper flays;

If fair, fhe's pleafant as the light;
If low, her prettiness does pleafe;

If black, what lover loves not night?
If yellow-hair'd, I love, left it fhould be
Th' excufe to others for not loving me.
The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;
The lean, with love makes me too fo:
If ftraight, her body 's Cupid's dart

To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow:
Nay, age itfelf does me to rige incline,
And ftrength to women gives, as well as wine.

Juft half as large as Charity

My richly-landed Love's become;
And, judg'd aright, is Conftancy,
Though it take up a larger room:

Him, who loves always one, why should they

call,

More conftant than the man loves always all?

Thus with unwearied wings I flee

Through all Love's gardens and his fields; And, like the wife, induftrious bee,

No weed but honey to me yields! Honey still spent this diligence ftill fupplies, Though I return not home with laden thighs.

My foul at first indeed did prove

Of pretty ftrength against a dart, Till I this habit got of love;

But my confun'd and wafted heart, Once burnt to tinder with a strong defire. Since that, by every fpark is fet on fire.

THE CONSTANT.

REAT and wife conqueror, who, where'er

Who canft defend as well as get, And never hadft one quarter beat-up yet; Now thou art in, thou ne'er wilt part With one inch of my vanquifh'd heart; For, fince thou took't it by affault from me, 'Tis garrifon'd fo ftrong with thoughts of thee, It fears no beauteous enemy.

Had thy charming ftrength been lefs,

I 'ad ferv'd ere this an hundred niftreffes:
I'm better thus, nor would compound
To leave my prifon to be a vagabond:
A prifon in which I ftill would be,
Though every door ftood ope to me.
In fpite both of thy coldnefs and thy pride,
All love is marriage on thy lover's fide,
For only death can them divide.

Clofe, narrow chain, yet foft and kind
As that which fpirits above to good does bind,
Gentle and fweet Neceffity,

Which does not force, but guide our liberty!
Your love on me were spent in vain,
Since my love ftill could but remain
Juft as it is; for what, alas! can be
Added to that which hath infinity
Both in extent and quality?

WIT

7ITH more than Jewish reverence as yet Do I the facred name conceal; When, ye kind ftars, ah when will it be fit

This gentle mystery to reveal?
When will our love be nam'd, and we poffefs
That chriftening as a badge of happiness?

So bold as yet no verfe of mine has been,
To wear that gem on any line;

Nor, till the happy nuptial Mufe be feen,
Shall any ftanza with it shine.

Reft, mighty name! till then; for thou must be
Laid down by her, ere taken up by me.

Then all the fields and woods fhall with it ring;
Then Echo's burden it fhall be ;

Then all the birds in feveral notes shall fing,
And all the rivers murmur, thee;

Then every wind the found fhall upwards bear,
And foftly whifper 't to fome argel's ear.

Then fhall thy name through all my verfe be fpread,

Thick as the flowers in meadows lie, And, when in future times they fhall be read (As fure, I think, they will not die)

If any critic doubt that they be mine,
Men by that flamp fhall quickly know the coin.
Meanwhile I will not dare to make a name

To represent thee by;

Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame
One that enough fhould fignify:
Aftrea or Celia as unfit would prove
For thee, as 'tis to call the Deity Jove.

WEEPING.

EE where he fits, and in what comely wile SEE Drops tears more fair than others' eyes! Ah, charming maid! let not ill-fortune fee Th' attire thy forrow wears,

Nor know the beauty of thy tears; For fhe'll ftill come to drefs herfelf in thee. As ftars reflect on waters, fo I fpy

In every drop, methinks, her eye.

The baby, which lives there, and always plays
In that illuftrious fphere,

Like a Narciffus does appear,
Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze.

Ne'er yet did I behold fo glorious weather,
As this fun-fhine and rain together.
Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure lill of fnow
(For fome fuch fountain we must find,
To waters of fo fair a kind)

Melt not, to feed that beautcous ftream below!
Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat
Which made this precious limbeck fweat!
But what, alas! ah, what does it avail,

That the weeps tears fo wondrous cold,
As fearce the afs's hoof can hold,

So cold, that I admire they fall not hail.

DISCRETION.

DISCREET! what means this word difcreet?

A curfe on all difcretion!

This barbarous term you will not meet
In all Love's lexicon.

Jointure, portion, gold, eftate,

Houfes, houfehold-ftuff, or land, (The low conveniencies of Fate)

Are Greek no lovers underftand.

Believe me,

beautecus one! when love Enters into a breast, The two first things it does remove

Are friends and intereft. Paflion's half blind, nor can endure

The careful, fcrupulous eyes; Or else I could not love, I'm fure,

One who in love were wife. Men, in fuch tempefts toft about,

Will, without grief or pain, Caft all their goods and riches out, Themfelves their port to gain.

As well might martyrs, who do chocfe

That facred death to take,

Mourn for the cloaths which they must lose, When they're bound naked to the ftake.

THE WAITING-MAID.

"HY Maid! ah! find fome nobler theme

Whercon thy doubts to place;

Nor by a low fufpect blafpheme
The glories of thy face.

Alas! fhe makes thee fhine fo fair,

So exquifitely bright,

That her dim lamp muft disappear
Before thy potent light.

Three hours each morn in dreffing thee
Maliciously are spent ;

And make that beauty tyranny,

That's elfe a civil government.
Th' adorning thee with so much art
Is but a barbarous skill;

'Tis like the poisoning of a dart
Too apt before to kill.
The ministering angels none can fee;

'Tis not their beauty' or face,
For which by men they worship'd be;

But their high office and their place.
Thou art my Goddess, my Saint she ;
I pray to her, only to pray to thee.

COUNSEL.

H! what advice can I receive!

A Ne, fatisfy me firft;

For who would phyfic-potions give
To one that dies with thirst ?

A little puff of breath, we find,

Small fires can quench and kill; But, when they're great, the adverfe wind Does make them greater still.

Now whilft you fpeak, it moves me much,
But ftrait I'm just the fame;

Alas! th' effect muft necds be fuch
Of cutting through a flame.

THE SEPARATION.

ASK me not what my love fhall do or be

(Love, which is foul to body, and foul of
me!)

When I am feparated from thee;
Alas! I might as easily fhow

What after death the foul will do;

"Twill laft, I'm fure, and that is all we know.'

The thing call'd foul will never stir nor move,
But all that while a lifelefs carcafe prove;
For 'tis the body of my love:
Not that my love will fly away,
But ftill continue; as, they fay,

Sad troubled ghofts about their graves do ftray.

I

THE TREE.

CHOSE the flourishing'ft tree in all the park,
With fresheft boughs and faireft head;

I cut my love into his gentle bark,

And in three days, behold! 'tis dead": My very written flames fo violent be,

They've burnt and wither'd up the tree. How fhould I live myself, whofe heart is found Deeply graven every where

With the large history of many a wound,

Larger than thy trunk can bear? With art as ftrange as Homer in the nut, Love in my heart has volumes put.

What a few words from thy rich stock did take
The leaves and beauties all,

As a ftrong poifon with one drop does make
The nails and hairs to fall:

Love (I fee now) a kind of witchcraft is,

Or characters could ne'er do this.

Pardon, ye birds and nymphs, who lov'd this fhade;

And pardon me, thou gentle tree;

I thought her name would thee have happy made, And bleffed omens hop'd from thee;

"Notes of my love, thrive here," faid I," and