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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.
When Sol does to myself refer,
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly fies, and then is love.
"Twixt hope and fear-my day and night.
Take heed, take heed, thou lovely maid,
Nor be by glittering ills betray'd ;
Thyself for money ! oh, let no man know
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,
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
THE LONG LIFE.
| 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,
And very minutes hours are grown.
The various motions of the turning year
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 !
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,
Till I a competency get ;
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.
The wound which you yourself have made;
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, .
Let me be gone whilst yet 'tis day;
Lest 1, faint and benighted, lose my way.
'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
Too weary to take others be;
Alas ! 'tis folly to remain,
And waste our army thus in vain,
Before a city which will ne'er be ta'en. At once I live, am dead, and die.
At several hopes wisely to fly,
Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy ;
'Tis more inconstant always to pursue
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,
I shall be sure to give 't eternity.
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.
The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in vain, Till I find one at last that shall love me.
To strike sometimes does not disdain
The humble furzes of the plain.
She being so high, and I so low,
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
Like covetous men, who ne'er descry
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.
If so it be one place both hearts contain,
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?
"Twill tear and blow up all within,
Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts
Of both our broken hearts;
Shall out of both one new one make,
From her's th’allay, from mine the metal, take,
But little left behind :
Mine only will remain entire;
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
Rages with immoderate heat;
Whilst Pride, the rugged northern bear,
The soil 's all barren sand or rocky stones
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
Yet Love does them to slavery draw:
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,
L I struve to bring it back again;
I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain.
Ev'n so the gentle Tyrian dame,
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!
Wandering about like wretched Cain,
Well, since thou wilt not here remain,
I'll e'en to live without thee try;
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,
THE RICH RIVAL.
Because I love the same as you :
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
How worthless thou art of her bed ;
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;
here. Nor has of late inform'd my body here,
Vain names of blood ! in love let none
Advise with any blood, but with their own.
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,
Ah, simple soul ! what would become of thee?
Hope! whose weak being ruin'd is, Nay all my thoughts and speeches too;
Alike, if it succeed, and if it miss;
Whom good or ill does equally confound,
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.