And still thy shape does me pursue, As if, not you me, but I had murder'd you. From books I strive some remedy to take, But thy name all the letters make; Attempt in vain from thee to fly? My pains resemble Hell in this; But to torment men, not to give them bliss. ALL-OVER LOVE. 'Tis well, 'tis well with them, say I, Whose short-liv'd passions with themselves can die; For none can be unhappy, who, 'Midst all his ills, a time does know (Though ne'er so long) when he shall not be so. Whatever parts of me remain. Those parts will still the love of thee retain ; For 'twas not only in my heart, But, like a god, by powerful art 'Twas all in all, and all in every part. My affection no more perish can Than the first matter that compounds a man. Hereafter, if one dust of me Mix'd with another's substance be, 'Twill leaven that whole lump with love of thee. Let Nature, if she please, disperse My atoms over all the universe; At the last they easily shall Themselves know, and together call; For thy love, like a mark, is stamp'd on all. LOVE AND LIFE. Now, sure, within this twelvemonth past, Not that love's bours or minutes are Shorter than those our being 's measur'd by: But they're more close compacted far, Yet love, alas! and life in me, O yes, there may; for so the self-same Sun At once, with double course in the same sphere, He runs the day, and walks the year. When Sol does to myself refer, 'Tis then my life, and does but slowly move; But when it does relate to her, It swiftly flies, and then is love. Love's my diurnal course, divided right, "Twixt hope and fear-my day and night. THE BARGAIN. TAKE heed, take heed, thou lovely maid, 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 led? The foolish Indian, that sells His precious gold for beads and bells, Does a more wise and gainful traffic hold, Than thou, who sell'st thyself for gold. What gains in such a bargain are ? He'll in thy mines dig better treasures far. Can gold, alas! with thee compare? The Sun, that makes it, 's not so fair; The Sun, which can nor make nor ever see A thing so beautiful as thee, In all the journeys he does pass, Though the sea serv'd him for a looking-glass. Bold was the wretch that cheapen'd thee; Since Magus, none so bold as he : Thou 'rt so divine a thing, that thee to buy Is to be counted simony; Too dear he 'll find his sordid price If it be lawful thee to buy, But what on Earth's most like to thee; So much thyself does in me live, THE LONG LIFE. LOVE from Time's wings hath stol'n the feathers, sure He has, and put them to his own; The various motions of the turning year How long a space since first I lov'd it is! Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happi- | The needle trembles so, and turns about, 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 I too weak for purgings grow. Do but awhile with patience stay (For counsel yet will do no good) But ne'er to me can useful prove; And I'm not sick, but dead in love, Ev'n thy dissuasions me persuade, Against thine eyes t' assist mine heart: For straight the traitor took their part: The act, I must confess, was wise, As a dishonest act could be: RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED. 'Tis true, l'ave lov'd already three or four, And shall three or four hundred more; I'll love each fair-one that I see, Till I find one at last that shall love me. That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil That ends my wanderings and my toil: I'll settle there, and happy grow; The country does with milk and honey flow. Till it the northern point find out; But constant then and fix'd does prove, Fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move. Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, If it put forth again to sea! It never more abroad shall roam, Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies home. But I must sweat in love, and labour yet, They're slothful fools who leave a trade, Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. Variety I ask not; give me one To live perpetually upon. The person, Love does to us fit, THE SAME. FOR Heaven's sake, what d' you mean to do? If always here I must not stay, 'Tis dismal, one so long to love In vain ; till to love more as vain must prove And waste our army thus in vain, At several hopes wisely to fly, Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy; 'Tis more inconstant always to pursue A thing that always flies from you; For that at last may meet a bound, But no end can to this be found, 'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless round. When it does hardness meet, and pride, My love does then rebound t' another side; But, if it aught that's soft and yielding hit, It lodges there, and stays in it. Whatever 'tis shall first love me, That it my Heaven may truly be, I shall be sure to give 't eternity. THE DISCOVERY. B Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she; The gods may give their altars o'er, The humble furzes of the plain. She being so high, and I so low, Her power by this does greater show, Who at such distance, gives so sure a blow. Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove, That nought on Earth can tow'rds her move, Till 't be exalted by her love. Equal to her, alas! there's none; She like a deity is grown, That must create, or else must be alone. If there be man who thinks himself so high, He deserves her less than I; For he would cheat for his relief; And one would give, with lesser grief, T'an undeserving beggar than a thief. AGAINST FRUITION. No; thou'rt a fool, I'll swear, if e'er thou grant; taste. Beauty at first moves wonder and delight; LOVE UNDISCOVERED. The moderate flames which in them dwell; Bo tender is my wound, it inust not bear I would not have her know the pain, Forbid it, Heaven! my life should be Yet when I die, my last breath shall Grow bold, and plainly tell her all: Like covetous men, who ne'er descry Their dear-hid treasures till they die. Ah, fairest maid! how will it cheer My ghost, to get from thee a tear! But take heed; for if me thou pitiest then, Twenty to one but I shall live again. THE GIVEN HEART. I WONDER What those lovers mean, who say What courtesy can Love do more, Than to join hearts that parted were before? Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come Into the self-same room; "Twill tear and blow up all within, Like a granado shot into a magazine. 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. For of her heart he from the flames will find But little left behind: Mine only will remain entire ; No dross was there, to perish in the fire. THE PROPHET. TEACH me to love! go teach thyself more wit; Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews, In tyrants' courts teach supple flattery; Teach fire to burn, and winds to blow, Teach restless fountains how to flow, Teach the dull Earth fixt to abide, Teach women-kind inconstancy and pride: 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; He who does boast that he has been In every heart since Adan.'s sin; I'll lay my life, nay mistress, on't, that's more, I'll teach him things he never knew before; I'll teach him a receipt, to make Words that weep, and tears that speak; I'll teach him sighs, like those in death, At which the souls go out too with the breath: Still the soul stays, yet still does from me run, As light and heat does with the Sun. 'Tis I who Love's columbus am; 'tis I Who must new worlds in it descry; Rich worlds, that yield a treasure more Than all that has been known before. And yet like his, I fear, my fate must be, To find them out for others, not for me, Me times to come, I know it, shall Love's last and greatest prophet call; But, ah! what's that, if she refuse To hear the wholesome doctrines of my Muse; If to my share the prophet's fate must come— Hereafter fame, here martyrdom? THE RESOLUTION. THE Devil take those foolish men Who gave you first such powers; If any odds, creation made it ours. For shame, let these weak chains be broke; Let's our slight bonds, like Samson, tear; And nobly cast away that yoke, Which we nor our forefathers e'er could bear. French laws forbid the female reign; Yet Love does them to slavery draw: Alas! if we'll our rights maintain, 'Tis all mankind must make a Salique law. CALLED INCONSTANT. HA! ha! you think you've kill'd my fame, But, when you call us so, It can at best but for a metaphor go. Can you the shore inconstant call, Or can you fault with pilots find For changing course, yet never blame the wind? Since, drunk with vanity, you fell, The things turn'd round to you that stedfast dwell; And you yourself, who from us take your flight, Wonder to find us out of sight. So the same errour seizes you, As men in motion think the trees move too, THE WELCOME, Go, let the fatted calf be kill'd; And fill'd with sorrow for the past: Dear wanderer! since from me you fled, How often have I heard that thou wert dead! Hast thou not found each woman's breast (The lands where thou hast travelled) Either by savages possest, Or wild, and uninhabited? What joy could'st take, or what repose, In countries so unciviliz d as those? Lust, the scorching dog-star, here And where these are temperate known, Like China, it admitted you But to the frontier-part. From Paradise shut for evermore, What good is 't that an angel kept the door? Well fare the pride, and the disdain, And vanities, with beauty join'd; I ne'er had seen this heart again, My dove, but once let loose, I doubt THE HEART FLED AGAIN. FALSE, foolish Heart! didst thou not say That thou would'st never leave me more? Behold! again 'tis fled away, Fled as far from me as before. I strove to bring it back again; I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain. When neither grief nor love prevail, Th' ingrateful Trojan, hoist his sail : On the wide shore forsaken stood : And to be scorch'd in every eye! 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; My head shall take the greater pain, And all thy duties shall supply: I can more easily live, I know, Without thee, than without a mistress thou. WOMEN'S SUPERSTITION, I can no sense nor no contexture find, By customs and traditions they live, Preach we, Love's prophets, what we will Before their mothers' gods they fondly fall, Vain idol-gods, that have no sense nor mind: THE RICH RIVAL. Honour 's their Ashtaroth, and Pride their Baal, THEY say you're angry, and rant mightily, The thundering Baal of woman-kind; But then, like men both covetous and devout, At their own charge to furnish it To these expensive deities The hearts of men they sacrifice. THE SOUL. SOME dull philosopher--when he hears me say Nor has of late inform'd my body here, As a form servient and assisting there- A curse on all your vain philosophies, Which on weak Nature's law depend, 'Tis that preserves my being and my breath; In griefs whose cause thou dost not know; Hadst thou but eyes, as well as tongue and ear, How much compassion would'st thou show! Paint thee to her, as describe her to thee, Shapes by reflection shapes beget; The voice itself, when stopt, does back retire, Because I love the same as you : And know you'ave more by that than you deserve. Whilst thy sole rhetoric shall be "Jointure" and "jewels," and " agree." our friends Pox o' your friends, that doat and domineer; Vain names of blood! in love let none Ah, simple soul! what would become of thee? it quite ! Thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor, By clogging it with legacies before! The joys which we entire should wed, Good fortunes without gain imported be, Come deflower'd virgins to our bed; Such mighty custom's paid to thee. For joy, like wine, kept close does better taste; If it take air before, its spirits waste. Hope! Fortune's cheating lottery! Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be; Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far, That still or short or wide thine arrows are! Thin, empty cloud, which th' eye deceives With shapes that our own fancy gives! A cloud, which gilt and painted now appears, But must drop presently in tears! When thy false beams o'er Reason's light prevail, By ignes fatui for north-stars we sail. Brother of Fear, more gayly clad! The merrier fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad |