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And still thy shape does me pursue, | At once, with double course in the same sphere, As if, not you me, but I had murder'd you.

He runs the day, and walks the year.
From books I strive some remedy to take,

When Sol does to myself refer,
But thy name all the letters make; 'Tis then my life, and does but slowly move;
Wnate'er 'tis writ, I find that there,

But when it does relate to her,
Like points and commas every where:

It swiftly fies, and then is love.
Me blest for this let no man hold; Love's my diurnal course, divided right,
For I, as Midas did of old,

"Twixt hope and fear-my day and night.
Perish by turuing every thing to gold.
What do I seek, alas! or why do I
Attempt in vain from thee to fly?

For making thee my deity,
I gave the then ubiquity.

Take heed, take heed, thou lovely maid,
My pains resemble Hell in this ;

Nor be by glittering ills betray'd ;
The Divine Presence there too is,

Thyself for money ! oh, let no man know
But to torment men, not to give them bliss.

The price of beauty fall'n so low !

What dangers ought'st thou not to dread,

When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune lede ALL-OVER LOVE.

The foolish Indian, that sells 'Tis well, 'tis well with them, say I,

His precious gold for beads and bells, Whose short-liv'd passions with themselves can | Does a more wise and gainful traffic hold, die;

Than thou, who sell'st thyself for gold. For none can be unhappy, who,

What gains in such a bargain are? 'Midst all his ills, a time does know

He'll in thy mines dig better treasures far. (Though ne'er so long) when he shall not be so.

Can gold, alas ! with thee compare? Whatever parts of me remain.

The Sun, that makes it, 's not so fair ; Those parts will still the love of thee retain ; The Sun, which can nor make nor ever see For 'twas not only in my heart,

A thing so beautiful as thee, But, like a god, by powerful art

In all the journeys he does pass, 'Twas all in all, and all in every part.

Though the sea serv'd him for a looking-glass. My affection no more perish can

Bold was the wretch that cheapen'd thee; Than the first matter that compounds a man.

Since Magus, none so bold as he : Hereafter, if one dust of me

Thou ’rt so divine a thing, that thee to buy Mix'd with another's substance be,

Is to be counted simony; 'Twill leaven that whole lump with love of thee.

Too dear he'll find his sordid price Let Nature, if she please, disperse

Has forfeited that and the benefice. My atoms over all the universe ;

If it be lawful thee to buy, At the last they easily shall

There's none can pay that rate but I; Themselves know, and together call; Nothing on Earth a fitting price can be, For thy love, like a mark, is stamp'd on all.

But what on Earth's most like to thee;

And that my heart does only bear;

For there thyself, thy very self is there.

So much thyself does in me live,
Now, sure, within this twelvemonth past,

That, when it for thyself I give, l'ave Tov d at least some twenty years or more:

'Tis but to change that piece of gold for this, Th' account of love runs much more fast

Whose stamp and value equal is; Than that with which our life does score:

And, that full weight too may be had, So, though my life be short, yet I may prove

My soul and body, two grains more, I'll add, The great Methusalem of love.

Not that love's bours or minutes are
Shorter than those our being's measur'd by :

But they're more close compacted far,
And so in lesser room do lie :

| Love from Time's wings hath stol'n the feathers, Thin airy things extend themselves in space,

Sure Things solid take up little place.

He has, and put them to his own;

For hours, of late, as long as days endure,
Yet love, alas ! and life in me,

And very minutes hours are grown.
Are not two several things, but purely one ;
At once how can there in it be

The various motions of the turning year
A double, different motion ?

Belong not now at all to me: O yes, there may; for so the self-same Sun Each summer's night does Lucy's now appear, At once does slow and swiftly run :

Each winter's day St. Barnaby. Swiftly bis daily journey he goes,

How long a space since first I lov'd it is! But treads bis annual with a statelier pace;

To look into a glass I fear; And does three hundred rounds enclose And am surpriz'd with wonder when I miss . Within one yearly circle's space;

Gray hairs and wrinkles there.

Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happi- | The needle trembles so, and turns about, ness too,

Till it the northern point find out; Why does hard Fate to us restore ?

But constant then and fix'd does prove, Why does Love's fire thus to mankind renew, Fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move. What the flood wash'd away before?

| Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, Sure those are happy people that complain

If it put forth again to sea !
O'th' shortness of the days of man:

It never more abroad shall roam, Contract mine, Heaven ! and bring them back Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies again

home. To th' ordinary span.

But I must sweat in love, and labour yet,
If when your gift, long life, I disapprove,

Till I a competency get ;
I too ingrateful seem to be ;

They're slothful fools who leave a trade, Punish me justly, Heaven ; make her to love, Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. And then 'twill be too short for me.

Variety I ask not; give me one

To live perpetually upon.

The person, Love does to us fit,

Like manna, has the taste of all in it.
Gently, ah, gently, madam, touch

The wound which you yourself have made;
That pain must needs be very much,

Which makes me of your hand afraid.
Cordials of pity give me now,

For Heaven's sake, what d' you mean to do? For I too weak for purgings grow.

Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;

Youth and warm hours let me not idly lose, Do but awhile with patience stay

The little time that Love does chuse, (For counsel yet will do no good)

If always here I must not stay, .
Till time, and rest, and Heaven, allay

Let me be gone whilst yet 'tis day;
The violent burnings of my blood;

Lest 1, faint and benighted, lose my way.
For what effect from this can flow,
To chide men drunk, for being so ?

'Tis dismal, one so long to love

In vain ; till to love more as vain must prove Perhaps the physic's good you give,

To hunt so long on nimble prey, till we
But ne'er to me can useful prove;
Medicines may cure, but not revive ;

Too weary to take others be;

Alas ! 'tis folly to remain,
And I'm not sick, but dead in love,

And waste our army thus in vain,
In Love's Hell, not his world, am I;

Before a city which will ne'er be ta'en. At once I live, am dead, and die.

At several hopes wisely to fly,
What new-found rhetoric is thine !

Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy ;
Ev'n thy dissuasions me persuade,

'Tis more inconstant always to pursue
And thy great power does clearest shine,
When thy commands are disobey'd.

A thing that always dies from you ;

For that at last may meet a bound, In vain thou bid'st me to forbear;

But no end can to this be found, Obedience were rebellion here.

'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless round. Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant

When it does hardness meet, and pride, Against thine eyes t' assist mine hearts

My love does then rebound t' another side; But different far was his intent,

But, if it aught that's soft and yielding hit, For straight the traitor took their part:

It lodges there, and stays in it. And by this new foe I'm bereft

Whatever 'tis shall first love me, Of all that little which was left.

That it my Heaven may truly be,
The act, I must confess, was wise,

I shall be sure to give 't eternity.
As a dishonest act could be:
Well knew the tongue, alas! your eyes
Would be too strong for that and me;

And part o'th' triumph chose to get,
Rather than be a part of it.

Be Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she; "Why should she asham'd or angry be,

To be belov'd by me? RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED.

The gods may give their altars o'er, 'Tis true, l’ave lov'd already three or four, They'll smoak but seldom any inore,

And shall three or four hundred more; If none but happy men must them adore.
I'll love each fair-one that I sec,

The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in vain, Till I find one at last that shall love me.

To strike sometimes does not disdain
That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil

The humble furzes of the plain.
That ends my wanderings and my toil :

She being so high, and I so low,
I'll settle there, and happy grow;

Her power by this does greater show, . The country does with milk and honey flow. Who at such distance, gives 80 sure a blow.

Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove, i Yet when I die, my last breath shall
That nought on Earth can tow'rds her move, Grow boid, and plainly tell her ail:
Till’t be exalted by her love.

Like covetous men, who ne'er descry
Equal to her, alas! there's none;

Their dear-hid treasures till they die. She like a deity is grown,

Ah, fairest maid! huw will it cheer That must create, or else must be alone.

My ghost, to get froin thee a tear! If there be man who thinks himself so high,

But take heed ; for if me thou pitiest then, As to pretend equality,

Twenty to one but I shall live again. He deserves her less than I;

For he would cheat for his relief; And one would give, with lesser grief,

THE GIVEN HEART. T'an undeserving beggar than a thief.

I WONDER what those lovers mean, who say

They ’ave given their hearts away:

Some good kind lover, tell me how :

For mine is but a torment to me now.
No; thou'rt a fool, I'll swear, if e'er thou grant;
Much of my veneration thou must want,

If so it be one place both hearts contain,
When once thy kindness puts my ignorance out;

For what do they complain? For a learn'd age is always least devout.

What courtesy can Love du more, Keep still thy distance; for at once to me

Than to join hearts that parted were before?
Goddess and woman too thou canst not be: Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine como
Thou'rt queen of all that sees thee, and as such | Into the self-same room;
Must neither tyrannize nor yield too much;

"Twill tear and blow up all within,
Such freedoms give as may admit command, Like a granado shot into a magazine.
But keep the forts and magazines in hand.
Thou 'rt yet a whole world to me, and dost fill

Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts

Of both our broken hearts;
My large ambition ; but 'tis dangerous still,

Shall out of both one new one make,
Lest I like the Pellæan prince should be,
And weep for other worlds, having conquer'd thee:

From her's th’allay, from mine the metal, take,
When Love has taken all thou hast away, For of her heart he from the flames will find
His strength by too much riches will decay,

But little left behind :
Thou in my fancy dost much higher stand,

Mine only will remain entire;
Than women can be plac'd by Nature's hand; No dross was there, to perish in the fire
And I must needs, I'm sure, a loser be,
To change thee, as thou’rt there, for very thee.
Thy sweetness is so much within me plac'd,
That, should'st thou nectar give, 'twould spoil the


Teach me to love! go teach thyself more wit; Beauty at first moves wonder and delight; "Tis Nature's juggling trick to cheat the sight.

I chief professor am of it. W'admire it whilst unknown; but after, more

'Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews,

Teach boldness to the stews; Admire ourselves for liking it before.

In tyrants' courts teach supple flattery; Love, like a greedy hawk, if we give way,

Teach Jesuits, that have travellid far, to lie; Does over-gorge himself with his own prey;

Teach fire to burn, and winds tu blow, Of very hopes a surfeit he'll sustain,

Teach restless fountains how to flow, Unless by fears he cast them up again:

Teach the dull Earth fixt to abide, His spirit and sweetness dangers keep alones

Teach women-kind inconstancy and pride: If once he lose his sting, he grows a drone.

See if your diligence here will useful prove;

But, pr’ythee, teach not me to love.

The god of love, if such a thing there be,

May learn to love from me; Some others may with safety tell

He who does boast that he has been The moderate fames which in them dwell; In every heart since Adani's siu; And either find some med'cine there,

I'll lay my life, nav mistress, on't, that's more, Or cure themselves ev'n by despair;

I'll teach him things he never knew before; My love's so great, that it might prove

I'll teach him a receipt, to male Dangerous to tell her that I love.

Words that weep, and tears that speak; Bo tender is my wound, it inust not bear

I'll teach him sighs, like those in death, Any salate, though of the kindest air.

At which the souls go out too with the breath: I would not have her know the pain,

Still the soul stays, yet still does from me run, The torments, for her I sustain ;

As light and heat docs with the Sun. Lest too much goolness make her throw 'Tis I who Love'st, olumbus am ; 'lis I Her love upon a fate too low.

Who must new worlds in it descry ; Forbid it, Heaven! my life should be

Rich worlds, that yield a treasure more Weigh'd with her least conveniency:

Than all that has been known before. No, lei ine perish rather with my grief,

And yet like luis, 1 tear, my fate must be, Than, to her disadvantage, find relief! | To And them out for uthers, uut fur me,

Me times to come, I know it, shall | Lust, the scorching dog-star, here
Love's last and greatest prophet call;

Rages with immoderate heat;
But, ah! what's that, if she refuse

Whilst Pride, the rugged northern bear,
To hear the wholesome doctrines of my Muse; In others makes the cold too great :
If to my share the prophet's fate must come And where these are temperate known,
Hereafter fame, here martyrdom ?

The soil 's all barren sand or rocky stones
When once or twice you chanc'd to view

A rich, well-govern'd heart,

Like China, it admitted you

But to the frontier-part. The Devil take those foolish men

From Paradise shut for evermore, Who gave you first such powers;

What good is 't that an angel kept the door? We stvod on even grounds till then; If any odds, creation made it ours.

Well fare the pride, and the disdain,

And vanities, with beauty join'd; For shame, let these weak chains be broke; I ne'er had seen this heart again, Let 's our slight bonds, like Samson, tear;

If any fair-one had been kind : And nobly cast away that yoke,

My dove, but once let loose, I doubt
Which we nor our forefathers e'er could bear. Would ne'er return, had not the flood been out.
French laws forbid the female reign;

Yet Love does them to slavery draw:
Alas! if we'll our rights maintain,

THE HEART FLED AGAIN. 'Tis all mankind must make a Salique law.

| False, foolish Heart! didst thou not say

That thou would'st never leave me more?

Behold! again 'tis fled away,
CALLED INCONSTANT. Fled as far from me as before.

L I struve to bring it back again;
HA! ha! you think you've kill'd my fame,

I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain.
By this not understood, yet common, name:
A name that's full and proper, when assign'd

Ev'n so the gentle Tyrian dame,
To woman-kind;

When neither grief nor love prevail, But, when you call us so, ..

Saw the dear object of her flame, It can at best but for a inetaphor go.

Th'ingrateful Trojan, hoist his sail :

Aloud she call’d to him to stay ; Can you the shore inconstant call,

The wind bore him and her lost words away. Which still, as waves pass by, embraces all; That had as lief the same waves always love,

The doleful Ariadne so, Did they not from him move?

On the wide shore forsaken stood : Or can you fault with pilots find

“ False Theseus whither dost thou go?”

Afar false Theseus cut the flood. For changing course, yet never blame the wind ?

But Bacchus came to her relief; Since, drunk with vanity, you fell,

Bacchus himself 's too weak to ease my grief. The things turn'd round to you that stedfast dwell;

Ab! senseless Heart, to take no rest, And you yourself, who from us take your flight,

But travel thus eternally! Wonder to find us out of sight.

Thus to be froz'n in every breast ! So the same errour seizes you,

And to be scorch'd in every eye!
As men in motion think the trees move too,

Wandering about like wretched Cain,
Thrust-out, ill-us'd, by all, but by none slain !

Well, since thou wilt not here remain,

I'll e'en to live without thee try;
Go, let the fatted calf be kill'd;

My head shall take the greater pain, My prodigal 's come home at last,

And all thy duties shall supply: With noble resolutions fillid,

I can more easily live, I know, And fill'd with sorrow for the past :

Without thee, than without a mistress thou. No more will burn with love or wine; But quite has left his women and his swine.

WOMEN'S SUPERSTITION. Welcome, ah! welcome, my poor Heart ! OR I'm a very dunce, or woman-kind

Welcome! I little thought, I'll swear | Is a most unintelligible thing : ('Tis now so long since we did part)

I can no sense nor no contexture find, Ever again to see thee here:

Nor their loose parts to method bring: Dear wanderer! since from me you fled,

I know not what the learn'd may see, How often have I heard that thou wert dead ! But they 're strange Hebrew things to me. Hast thou not found each woman's breast By customs and traditions they live, (The lands where thou hast travelled)

And foolish ceremonies of antique date; Either by savages possest,

We lovers, new and better doctrines give, Or wild, and uninhabited ?

Yet they continue obstinate: What joy could'st take, or what repose,

Preach we, Love's prophets, what we will, In countries so Cuciviliz d as ihose?

Like Jews, they keep their old law still,

Before their mothers' gods they fondly fall,

Vain idol-gods, that have no sense nor mind:
Honour 's their Ashtaroth, and Pride their Baal. | They say you're angry, and rant mightily,

Because I love the same as you :
The thundering Baal of woman-kind;

Alas! you're very rich, 'tis true; With twenty other devils more,

But, prythee, fool! what's that to love and me? Which they, as we do them, adore.

You ’ave land and money, let that serve; But then, like men both covetous and devout,

And know you’ave more by that than you deserve. 'Their costly superstition loth t' omit

When next I see my fair-one, she shall know
And yet more loth to issue monies out,
At their own charge to furnish it-

How worthless thou art of her bed ;
To these expensive deities .

And, wretch! I'll strike thee dumb and dead, · The hearts of men they sacrifice.

| With noble verse not understood by you;

Whilst thy sole rhetoric shall be “Jointure” and “jewels,” and “ our friends


| Poxo' your friends, that doat and domineer; THE SOUL.

Lovers are better friends than they ;

Let's those in other things obey;
Some dull philosopher--when he hears me say The fates, and stars, and gods, must govern
My soul is from me fled away,

here. Nor has of late inform'd my body here,

Vain names of blood ! in love let none
But in another's breast does lie,

Advise with any blood, but with their own.
That neither is, nor will be, I,
As a form servient and assisting there

Tis that which bids me this bright maid adore ;

No other thought has had access! Will cry, “ Absurd !” and ask me how I live ; . Did she now beg, I'd love no less, And syllogisms against it give.

And, were she an empress, I should love no more ; A curse on all your vain philosophies,

Were she as just and true to me,
Which on weak Nature's law depend,

Ah, simple soul ! what would become of thee?
And know not how to comprehend
Love and religion, those great mysteries !
Her body is my soul; laugh not at this,
For by my life I swear it is.

'Tis that preserves my being and my breath;
From that proceeds all that I do,

Hope! whose weak being ruin'd is, Nay all my thoughts and speeches too;

Alike, if it succeed, and if it miss;
And separation from it is my death,

Whom good or ill does equally confound,
| And both the horns of Fate's dilemma wound;

Vain shadow! which does vanish quite,

Both at full noon and perfect night!

The stars have not a possibility

Of blessing thee; Tir'd with the rough denials of my prayer,

If things then from their end we happy call, Prom that hard she whom I obey;

'Tis Hope is the most hopeless thing of all, I come, and find a nymph much gentler here, Hope ! thou bold taster of delight, That gives consent to all I say.

Who, whilst thou should'st but taste, devour'st Ah, gentle nymph! who lik'st so well

it quite ! In hollow, solitary caves to dwell;

Thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor, Her heart being such, into it go,

By clogging it with legacies before ! And do but once from thence answer me so !

The joys which we entire should wed, Complaisant nymph! who dost thus kindly

Come deflower'd virgins to our bed; share

Good fortunes without gain imported be, In griefs whose cause thou dost not know;

Such mighty custom's paid to thee. Hadst thou but eyes, as well as tongue and ear,

For joy, like wine, kept close does better taste; How much compassion would'st thou show!

If it take air before, its spirits waste. Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,

Hope ! Fortune's cheating lottery ! Was of less beauty, and less ravishing power, Where for one prize an hundred banks there be; Alas ! I might as easily

Fond archer, Hope ! who tak'st thy aim so far, Paint thee to her, as describe her to thee, That still or short or wide thine arrows are ! By repercussion beams engender fire ;

Thin, empty cloud, which th'eye deceives Shapes by reflection shapes begct;

With shapes that our own fancy gives ! The voice itself, when stopt, does back retire,

| A cloud, which gilt and painted now appears, And a new voice is made by it,

But must drop presently in tears! Thus things by opposition

When thy false beams o'er Reason's light prevail, The gainers grow; my barren love alone

By ignes fatui for north-stars we sail. Does from her stony breast rebound,

Brother of Fear, more gayly clad ! Producing neither image, fire, nor sound,

The merrier foul o'th' two, yet quite as made YOL. VI.

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