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How would those learned trees have follow'd | Oh, no; there's sense in this, and mystery you !

Thou now may'st change thy author's name, You would have drawn them and their poet too. And to her hand lay noble claim;

For, as she reads, she makes, the words in thee. But who can blame them now? for, since you're

Yet, if thine own unworthiness gone,

Will still that thou art mine, not her's, confess, They're here the only fair, and shine alone;

Consume thyself with fire before her eyes,
You did their natural rights invade;

And so her grace or pity move:
Wherever you did walk or sit,

The gods, though beasts they do not love,
The thickest boughs could make no shade,

Yet like them when they 're burnt in sacrifice. Although the Sun had granted it: The fairest flowers could please no more, near

you, Than painted flowers, set next to them, could do.


Five years ago (says story) I lov'd you, hene'er then you come hither, that shall be he time, which this to others is, to me.

For which you call me most inconstant now. The little joys which here are now,

Pardon me, madam, you mistake the man, The name of punishments do bear ;

For I am not the same that I was then ;

No flesh is now the same 'twas then in me,
When by their sight they let us know
How we depriv'd of greater are:

And that my mind is chang'd, yourself may see. "Tis you the best of seasons with you bring;

The same thoughts to retain still, and intents, This is for beasts, and that for men, the Spring.

Were more inconstant far; for accidents
Must of all things most strangely inconstant


If from one subject they t' another move;

My members then the father members were,

From whence these take their birth which now JUICE OF LEMON.

are here. WHILST what I write I do not see,

If then this body love what th’ other did, I dare thus, ev'n to you, write poetry.

'Twere incest; which by Nature is forbid. Ah, foolish Muse! which dost so high aspire,

You might as well this day inconstant name, And know'st her judgment well,

Because the weather is not still the same How much it does thy power excel,

That it was yesterday-or blame the year, Yet dar'st be read by, thy just doom, the fire.

Cause the spring flowers, and autumn fruit, does

bear. Alas! thou think'st thyself secure,

The world's a scene of changes; and to be Because thy form is innocent and pure:

Constant, in Nature were inconstancy; Like hypocrites, which seem unspotted here;

For 'twere to break the laws herself has made: But, when they sadly come to die,

Our substances themselves do feet and fade; And the last fire their truth must try,

The most fix'd being still does move and fly, Scrawl'd o'er like thee, and blotted, they appear. Swift as the wings of Time 'tis measur'd by. Go then, but reverently go,

T” imagine then that love should never cease And, since thou needs must sin, confess it too: 1 (Love, which is but the ornament of these) Confess 't, and with humility clothe thy shame;

Were quite as senseless, as to wonder why
For thou, who else must burned be

Beauty and colour stays not when we die.
An heretic, if she pardon thee,
May'st, like a martyr, then enjoy the flame.
But, if her wisdom grow severe,

And suffer not her goodness to be there;

'Tis very true, I thought you once as fair If her large mercies cruelly it restrain ;

As women in th’ idea are; Be not discourag'd, but require

Whatever here seems beauteous, seem'd to be A more gentle ordeal fire,

• But a faint metaphor of thee : And bid her by Love's flames read it again.

But then, methoughts, there something shin'd, Strange power of heat! thou yet dost show

within, Like winter-earth, naked, or cloath'd with snow: / Which cast this lustre o'er thy skin; But as, the quickening Sun approaching near, Nor could I chuse but count it the Sun's light, The plants arise up by degrees;

Which made this cloud appear so bright A sudden paint adorns the trees,

But, since I knew thy falsehood and thy pride, And all kind Nature's characters appear:

And all thy thousand faults beside, So, nothing yet in thee is seen;

A very Moor, methinks, plac'd near to thee, But, when a genial heat warms thee within,

White as his teeth would seem to be. A new-born wood of various lines there grows;

So men (they say) by Hell's delusions led, Here buds an A, and there a B,

Have ta'en a succubus to their bed;

Believe it fair, and themselves happy call,
Here sprouts a V, and there a T,
And all the flourishing letters stand in rows.

Till the cleft foot discovers all :

Then they start from 't, half ghosts themselves Still, silly Paper! thou wilt think,

with fear; That all this might as well be writ with ink:

And devil, as 'tis, it does appear.

So, since against my will I found thee foul, But, like the Persian tyrant, Love within
Deforın'd and crooked in thy soul,

Keeps his proud court, and ne'er is seen, My reason straight did to my senses show,

Oh ! take my heart, and by that means you'll That they might be mistaken too:

prove Nay, when the world but knows how false you

Within too stor'd enough of love : are,

| Give me but your's, I 'll by that change se There's not a man will think you fair ;

thrive, Thy shape will monstrous in their fancies be,

That love in all my parts shall live. 'They'll call their eyes as false as thee.

| So powerful is this change, it render can Be what thou wilt, Hate will present thee so

| My outside woman, and your inside man. As Puritans do the pope, and Papists Luther do. |

Indeed I must confess,

When souls mix 'tis an happiness;
But not complete till bodies too combine,
And closely as our minds together join :
But half of Heaven the souls in glory taste,
Till by love in Heaven, at last,

Their bodies too are plac'd.
In thy immortal part,
Man, as well as I, thou art;
But something 'tis that differs thee and me;
And we must one even in that difference be.
I thee, both as a man and woman, prize;
For a perfect love implies

Love in all capacities.

Can that for true love pass,
When a fair woman courts her glass?
Something unlike must in Love's likeness be;
His wonder is, one, and variety :
For he, whose soul nought but a soul can move,
Does a new Narcissus prove,
And his own image love.

That souls do beauty know,
'Tis to the bodies' help they owe;
If, when they know 't, they straight abuse that

And shut the body from 't, 'tis as unjust
As if I brought my dearest friend to see
My mistress, and at th' instant he

Should steal her quite from me.

FAIREST thing that shines below,
Why in this robe dost thou appear?
Would'st thou a white most perfect show,
Thou must at all no garment wear:
Thou wilt seem much whiter so,
Than Winter when 'tis clad with snow.
'Tis not the linen shows so fair ;
Her skin shines through, and makes it bright:
So clouds themselves like suns appear,
When the Sun pierces them with light:
So, lilies in a glass enclose,
The glass will seem as white as those.
Thou now one heap of beauty art;
Nought outwards, or within, is foul:
Condensed beams make every part;
Thy body's cloathed like thy soul;
Thy soul, which does itself display,
Like a star plac'd i th’ milky-way.
Such robes the saints departed wear,
Woven all with light divine ;
Such their exalted bodies are,
And with such full glory shine :
But they regard not mortals' pain;
Men pray, I fear, to both in vain.
Yet, seeing thee so gently pure,
My hopes will needs continue still ;
Thou would'st not take this garment, sure,
When thou hadst an intent to kill !
Of peace and yielding who would doubt,
When the white flag he sees hung out ?



MANY. Love in her sunny eyes does basking play; Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair; So men, who once hare cast the truth away, Love does on both her lips for ever stray, Forsook by God, do strange wild lusts obey; And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there:

So the vain Gentiles, when they left t'adore In all her outward parts Love's always seen ;

One deity, could not stop at thousands more: But oli! he never went within.

Their zeal was senseless straight, and boundless,

grown; Within, Love's foes, his greatest foes, abide,

They worship'd many a beast and many a stone. Malice, Inconstancy, and Pride :

Ah, fair apostate! couldst thou think to flee So, the Earth's face trees, herbs, and flowers, do

From truth and goodness, yet keep unity? dress,

I reign'd alone; and my blest self could call With other beauties numberless;

The universal monarch of her all. But at the centre darkness is, and Hell;

Mine, mine, her fair East-Indies were above, There wicked spirits, and there the damned,

Where those suns rise that cheer the world of dwell.

Love; With me, alas ! quite contrary it fares; Where beauties shine like gems of richest price ; Darkness and death lie in my weeping eyes, Where coral grows, and every breath is spice : Despair and paleness in my face appears,

Mine too her rich West-Indies were below, And grief, and fear, Love's greatest eremies; Where mines of gold and endless treasures grow,

But as, when the Pellæan conqueror dy'd, The Thunderer, who, without the female bed,
Many small princes did his crown divide; Could goddesses bring-forth from out his head,
So, since my love his vanquish'd world forsook, Chose rather mortals this way to create;
Murder'd by poisons from her falsehood took, So much h’esteem'd his pleasure 'bove his state.
An hundred petty kings claim each their part, Ye talk of fires which shine, but never burn;
And rend that glorious empire of her heart. In this cold world they 'll hardly serve our turn;

As useless to despairing lovers grown,

As lambent fames to men i' th’ frigid zone. MY HEART DISCOVERED. The Sun does his pure fires on Earth bestow

With nuptial warmth, to bring-forth things beHer body is so gently bright, .

low; Clear and transparent to the sight,

Such is Love's noblest and divinest heat, (Clear as fair crystal to the view,

That warms like his, and does, like his, beget. Yet soft as that, ere stone it grew)

Lust you call this ; a name to yours more just, That through her flesh, methinks, is seen If an inordinate desire be lust: The brighter soul that dwells within :

| Pygmalion, loving what none can enjoy, . Our eyes the subtile covering pass,

More lustful was, than the hot youth of Troy.
And see that lily through its glass.
I through her breast her heart espy,
As souls in hearts do souls descry:
I see 't with gentle motions beat;

I see light in 't, but find no heat.
Within, like angels in the sky,
A thousand gilded thoughts do fly ;


BODY, AFTERWARDS LOVING HER WITH DESIRE. Thoughts of bright and noblest kind, Fair and chaste as mother-mind.

What new-found witchcraft was in thee, But oh! what other heart is there,

With thine own cold to kindle me? Which sighs and crouds to her's so near? Strange art! like him that should devise 'Tis all on fame, and does, like fire,

To make a burning-glass of ice : To that, as to its Heaven, aspire !

When Winter so, the plants would harm, The wounds are many in 't and deep;

Her snow itself does keep them warm. Still does it bleed, and still does weep!

Fool that I was! who, having found Whose-ever wretched heart it be,

A rich and sunny diamond, I cannot choose but grieve to see:

Admir'd the hardness of the stone, What pity in my breast does reign!

But not the light with which it shone. Methinks I feel too all its pain.

Your brave and haughty scorn of all So torn, and so defac'd, it lies,

Was stately and monarchical ; That it could ne'er be known by th' eyes;

All gentleness, with that esteem'd,
Butoh! at last I heard it groan,

A dull and slavish virtue seem'd;
And knew by th voice that 'twas mine own, Should'st thou have yielded then to me,
So poor Alcione, when she saw

Thou 'dst lost what I most lov'd in thee;
A shipwreck'd body tow'rds her draw,

For who would serve one, whom he sees Beat by the waves, let fall a tear,

That he can conquer if he please?
Which only then did pity wear :

It far'd with me, as if a slave
But, when the corpse on shore were cast, In triumph led, that does perceive
Which she her husband found at last,

With what a gay majestic pride
What should the wretched widow do?

His conqueror through the streets does ride, Grief chang'd her straight; away she flew, Should be contented with his woe, Turn'd to a bird : and so at last shall I

Which makes up such a comely show. Both froin my murder'd heart and murderer fly. I sought not from thee a return,

But without hopes or fears did burn;

My covetous passion did approve ANSIV ER TO THE PLATONICS.

The hoarding-up, not use, of love.

My love a kind of dream was grown,
So angels love; so let them love for me;

A foolish, but a pleasant one:
When I'm all soul, such shall my love too be: From which I'm waken'd now; but, oh!
Who nothing here but like a spirit would do, Prisoners to die are waken'd so;
In a short time, believe 't, will be one too. For now th' effects of loving are
But, shall our love do what in beasts we see? Nothing but longings, with despair:
Ev'n beasts eat too, but not so well as we: Despair, whose torments no men, sure,
And you as justly might in thirst refuse

But lovers and the damn'd, endure.
The use of wine, because beasts water use: Her scorn I doated once upon,
They taste those pleasures as they do their food; 1 Ill object for affection;
Undress'd they take 't, devour it raw and crude: | But since, alas ! too much 'tis prov'd,
But to us men, Love cooks it at his fire, | That yet 'twas something that I lov'd;
And adds the poignant sauce of sharp desire. Now my desires are worse, and fly
Beasts do the same: 'tis true; but ancient Fame At an impossibility:
Says, gods themselves turn'd beasts to do the Desires which, whilst so high they soat,

Are proud as that I lov'd before,

What lover can like me complain, Who first lov'd vainly, next in rain!

If my Understanding do
Seek any knowledge but of you ;
If she do near thy body prize
Her bodies of philosophies;
If she to the will do shew
Aught desirable but you ;
Or, if that would not rebel,
Should she another doctrine tell;
If my Will do not resign
All her liberty to thine;
If she would not follow thee,
Though Fate and thou should'st disagree ;
And if (for J a curse will give,
Such as shall force thee to believe)
My Soul be not entirely thine;
May thy dear body ne'er be mine!


TAE SOUL. If mine eyes do e'er declare They've seen a second thing that's fair; Or ears, that they have music found, Besides thy voice, in any sound; If my taste do ever meet, After thy kiss, with aught that 's sweet; If my abused touch allow Aught to be smooth, or soft, but you; If what seasonable springs, Or the eastern summer brings, Do my smell persuade at all Aught perfume, but thy breath, to call; If all my senses' objects be Not contracted into thee, And so through thee more powerful pass, As beams do through a burning-glass; If all things that in Nature are Either soft, or sweet, or fair, Be not in thee so' epitomis'd, That nought material's not compris'd; May I as worthless seem to thee, As all, but thou, appears to me! . If I ever anger know, Till some wrong be done to you ; If gods or kings my envy move, Withoat their crowns crown'd by thy love; If ever I a hope admit, Without thy image stamp'd on it; Or any fear, till I begin To find that you 're concern'd therein ; If a jov e'er come to me. That tastes of any thing but thee; If any sorrow touch my mind, Whilst you are well, and not unkind; If I a minute's space debate, Whether I shall curse and hate The things beneath thy hatred fall, Though all the world, myself and all; And for love, if ever I Approach to it again so nigh, As to allow a toleration To the least glimmering inclination ; If thou alone dost not control All those tyrants of my soul, And to thy beauties ty'st them so, That constant they as habits grow; If any passion of my heart, By any force, or any art, Be brought to move one step from thee, May'st thou no passion have for me! : If my busy Imagination, Do not thee in all things fashion; So that all fair species be Hieroglyphic marks of thee; If when she her sports does keep (The lower soul being all asleep) She play one dream, with all her art, Where thou hast not the longest part; If aught get place in my remembrance, Without some badge of thy resemblance, So that thy parts become to me A kind of art of memory;

From Ilate, Fear, Hope, Anger, and Envy, free,

And all the passions else that be,
In vain I boast of liberty,
In vain this state a freedom call;

Since I have Love, and Love is all:
Sot that I am, who think it fit to brag
That I have no disease besides the plague !
So in a zeal the sons of Israel

Sometimes upon their idols fell,
And they depos'd the powers of Hell;
Baal and Astarte down they threw,

And Acharon and Moloch too :
All this imperfect piety did no good,
Whilst yet, alas ! the calf of Bethel stood,
Fondly I boast, that I have drest my vine

With painful art, and that the wine
Is of a taste rich and divine;
Since Love, by inixing poison there,

Has made it worse than vinegar.
Love ev'n the taste of nectar changes so,
That gods chuse rather water here below.
Fear, Anger, Hope, all passions else that be,

Drive this one tyrant out of me,
And practise all your tyranny !
The change of ills some good will do:

Th’ oppressed wretched Indians so, Being slaves by the great Spanish inonarck

made, Call in the States of Holland to their aid.


'Trs mighty wise that you would now be thought,
With your grave rules from musty morals brought;
Through which some streaks too of divin’ty ran,
Partly of monk and partly puritan;
With tedions repetitions too you ’ave ta'en
Often the name of Vanity in vain.
Things which, I take it, friend, you'd ne'er recite,
Should she I love but say t'yon, « Come at

night." 'The wisest king refus'd all pleasures quite, Till Wisdom from above did bim enlight; But, when that gift his ignorance did remove, | Pleasures he chose, and plac'd them all in love.

And, if by event the commsels may be seen,

And, since love ne'er will from me flee, This Wisdom 'twas that brought the southern A mistress moderately fair, queen:

| And good as guardian-angels arc, She came not, like a good old wife, to know

Only belov'd, and loving me! The wholesome nature of all plants that grow;

Oh, fountains! when in you shall I Nor did so far from her own country roam,

Myself, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, esny? To cure scald-heads and broken-shins at home;

Oh fields ! oh woods! when, when shall I be made She came for that, which more befits all wives, The art of giving, not of saving, lives.

The happy tenant of your shade ?

Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood;
Where all the riches lie, that she

Has coin'd and stamp'd for good.

Pride and ambition here

Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; BENFATH this gloomy shade,

Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs By Nature only for my sorrows made,

I'll spend this voice in cries;

And nought but Echo flatter.
In tears I'll waste these eyes,

The gods, when they descended, hither
By love so vainly fed ;

From Heaven did always chuse their way;
So Lust, of old, the Deluge punished.

And therefore we may boldly say, " Ah, wretched youth !” said I ;

That 'tis the way too thither. " Ah, wretched youth !” twice did i sadly cry;

How happy here should I, “ Ah, wretched youth !" the fields and foods

And one dear she, live, and embracing die ! reply.

She, who is all the world, and can exclude
When thoughts of love I entertain,

In deserts solitude.
I meet no words but “ Never,” and “ In vain.”

I should have then this only fear“ Never,” alas! that dreadful name Lest men, when they my pleasures see, Which fuels the eternal flame:

Should hither throng to live like me, “ Never" my time to come must waste;

And so make a city here. “ In vain” torments the present and the past. " In vain, in vain," said I;

MY DIET. “ In vain, in vain !" twice did I sadly cry; “ In vain, in vain !” the fields and floods reply.

| Now, by my Love, the greatest oath that is,

None loves you half so well as I: No more shall fields and floods do so;

I do not ask your love for this; For I to shades more dark and silent go :

But for Heaven's sake believe me, or I die.
All this world's noise appears to me

No servant e'er but did deserve
A dull, ill acted comedy :

His master should believe that he does serve;
No comfort to my wounded sight,

And I'll ask no more wages, though I starve. In the Sun's busy and impertinent light, Then down I laid my head,

'Tis no luxurious diet this, and sure Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,

I shall not by 't too lusty prove;

Yet shall it willingly endure, And my freed soul to a strange somewhere fled.

If’t can but keep together life and love. « Ah, sottish soul !” said I,

Being your prisoner and your slave, When back to its cage again I saw it fy;

I do not feasts and banquets look to have; “ Fool, to resume her broken chain,

A little bread and water 's all I crave.
And row her galley here again!
Fool, to that body to return

On a sigh of pity I a year can live;
Where it condemn’d and destin'd is to burn!

One tear will keep me twenty, at least; Once dead, how can it be,

Fifty, a gentle look will give;
Death should a thing so pleasant seem to thee. | An hundred years on one kind word l’ll feast :
That thou should'st come to live it o'er again

A thousand more will added be,
If you an inclination have for me;
And all beyond is vast eternity!

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Well then; I now do plainly see
This busy world and I shall ne'er agree;
The very honey of all earthly joy

Does of all meats the soonest cloy;

And they, methinks, deserve my pity,
Who for it can endure the stings,
The crowd, and buz, and murinurings,

Of this great hive, the city.,

Ah, yet, ere I descend to th' grave,
May I a small house and large garden have!
And a few friends, and many books, both true,

Both wise, and both delightful too!

Thou robb'st my days of business and delights,

Of sleep thou robb'st my nights;
Ah, lovely thief ! what wilt thou do?
What ? rob me of Heaven too?
Thou ev'n my prayers dost steal from


And I, with wild idolatry,
Begin to God, and end them all to thee.
Is it a sin to love, that it should thus,

Like an ill conscience, torture us?
Whate'er I do, where'er I go,
(None guiltless e'er was haunted so !)
Still, still, methinks, thy face I view,

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