Imágenes de páginas

Through spite of our worst enernies, the friends; In things where fancy more does reign,

Throngh local banishment from thee; sends, 'Tis dangerous to curioso feign;
Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning The plavat last a t'thithes row,
As easy shall my passage be,

And custom i: to Na 07. go:
As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's sea : By this corsi art of beren l'ame
In vain the winds, in vain the billows, roar;

Lane, with counterte ing'ame.
In rain the stars their aid deny'd ;

My lines of amorous decise
He saw the Sestian tower on th' other shore : I wrote to kinelle and blow others' fire;
Shall th' Hellespont our loves divide ?

And 'twas a barbarors relight
No, not the Atlantic ocean's boundless tide, My fancy promis' I from he sight;
Such seas betwixt us easily conqner'd are;

But now, by love, the mighty Phalaris, 1
But, gentle maid! do not deny

My burning Bull the first do try.
To let thy beams shine on me from afar;

And still the taper let me espy:
For, when thy light goes out, I sink and die.


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

And bis great secret open laid'.
For, of all persons, chiefly she
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 'tis a thing might dangerous grow,

Only in her to pity me:
Since 'tis for me to lose my life more fit,
Than 'tis for her to save and ransom it.
Ah! never more shall thy unwilling ear

My helpless story hear; .
Discourse and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain
That in my breast does reign;

Silence perhaps may make it sleep:
I'll bind that sore up I did ill reveal;
"The wound, if once it close, may chance to heal.
No, 'twill ne'er heal; my love will never die,

Though it should speechless lie.
A river, ere it meet the sea,
As well might stay its source,
As my love can bis course,

Unless it join and mix with thee:
If any end or stop of it be found,
We know the food runs still, though under


I NEVER yet could see that face

Which had no dart for ine;
From Gifteen years, to fif y's space,

Thevall victorious be.
Love, thou 'rt a devil, if I may call thee ones
for sure in me thy name is Legion.
Colour, or shape, gooil limbs, or face,

Goodness, or wit, in all I find;
In motion or in speech a grace ;

If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind;
And I'm so weak, the pistol need not be
Double or treble charg'd tu murder me,
If tall, the name of Proper slays;

If fair, she's pleasant as the light;
Il low, her prettiness does please;

if black, what lover loves pot night?
If yellow-hair’d, I love, lest it should be
Th'excuse to others for not loving me.
The fat, like plenty, fills my heart;

The lean, with love makes me too so :
If straight, her body's Cupid's cart

To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow:
Nay, age itself does me to rage incline,
And strength to women gives, as well as wine.
Just half as large as Charity

My richly-landed Love's become;
And, judg'd aright, is Constancy,

Though it take ip a larger room:
Him, who loves always one, why should they call
More constant than the man lives always all ?
Thus with inwearied wings I fee

Through all Love's gardens and his fields;
Ani, like the wise, industrious bee,

No weed but boney to me vields!
Honey still spent this diligence still supplies,
Though I return not hem with laden thighs.
My soul at first indeed did prove

Of pretty strength aya rsi a dart,
Tll I this habit got of love;

But my consum' and wasted neart, .
Once burut to tiuder with a strong desire,
Since that, by every spark is set on fire.

Usaukt, untouch'd, did I complain,

And terrify'd all others with the pain :
But now I feel the mighty evil;

Ah! there 's no fooling with the Devil!
So, wanton men, whilst others they would fright,

Themselves have met a real sprite.
I thought, I'll swear, an handsome lye
Had been no sin at all in poetry ;
But now I suffer an arrest,

For words were spoke by me in jest.
Dull, sottish god of love! and can it be

Thou understand'st not raillery?

Darts, and wounds, and Same, and heat,
I nam'd but for the rhyme, or the conceit;
Nor meant my verse should raised be

To th's sad fame of prophesy :
Truth gives a dull propriety to my style,

And all the metaphors does spoil.


GREAT and wise conqueror, who, wherr'er
Thou com'si, dost fortify, and scttle iberet

Who canst defend as well as get,

| Ah, charming maid! let not Ill-fortune see And never hadst one quarter beat-up yet; I Th' attire thy sorrow wears, Now thou art in, thou ne'er wilt part

Nor know the beauty of thy tears; With one inch of my vanquish'd heart; For she'll still come to dress herself in thee. For, since thou took'st it by assault from me,

As stars reflect on waters, so I spy "Tis garrison'd so strong with thoughts of thee

In every drop, methinks, her eye. It fears no beauteous enemy.

The baby, which lives there, and always plays Had thy charming strength been less,

In that illustrious sphere, I'ad serv'd ere this an hundred mistresses:

Like a Narcissus does appear, I'm better thus, nor would compound

Whilst in his flood the luvely boy did gaze. To leave my prison to be a vagabond;

Ne'er yet did I behold such glorious weather, A prison in which I still would be,

As this sun-shine and rain together. Though every door stood ope to me,

Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of snow, . In spite both of thy coldness and thy pride,

(For some such fountain we must find, All love is marriage on thy lover's side,

To waters of so fair a kind) For only death can them divide.

Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind

Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat As that which spirits above to good does bind,

Which made this precious limbeck sweat! Gentle and sweet Necessity, Which does not force, but guide, our liberty!

But what, alas ! ah, what does it avail,

That she weeps tears so wondrons cold,
Your love on me were spent in vain;

As scarce the ass's hoof can bold,
Since my love still could but remain
Just as it is ; for what, alas! can be

So cold, that I admire they fall not hail ?
Added to that which hath infinity
Both in extent and quality?

Discreer! what means this word discreet ?

** A curse on all discretion !

This barbarous term you will not meet

In all Love's lexicon. With more than Jewish reverence as yet

Jointure, portion, gold, estate, Do I the sacred name conceal;

Houses, household-stuff, or land, When, ye kind stars, ah when will it be fit

(The low conveniences of Fate) This gentle mystery to reveal ?

Are Greek po lovers understand.
When will our love be nam'd, and we possess
That christening as a badge of happiness?

Believe me, beauteous one! when love

Enters intu a breast. So bold as yet no verse of mine has been,

The two first things it does remove
To wear that gem on any line;

Are friends and interests.
Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse be seen,
Shall any stanza with it shine.

Passion 's half blind, nor can endure
Rest, mighty naine! till then; for thou must be a

The careful, scrupulous eyes; Laid down by her, ere taken up by me.

Or else I could not love, I'm sure,

One who in love were wise.
Then all the fields and woods shall with it ring;
Then Echo's burthen it shall be ;

| Men, in such tempests tost about, Then all the birds in several notes shall sing,

Will, without grief or pain, And all the rivers murmur, thee;

| Cast all their goods and riches out, Then every wind the sound shall upwards bear,

Themselves their port to gain. And softly whisper 't to some angel's ear. As well might martyrs, who do choose Then shall thy name through all my verse be

That sacred death to take, spread,

| Mourn for the cloaths which they must lose, Thick as the flowers in meadows lie,

When they 're bound naked to the stake. And, when in future times they shall be read,

(As sure, I think, they will not die) If any critic doubt that they be mine,

THE WAITING-MAID. Nien by that stamp shall quickly know the coin.

Tuy Maid! ah! find some nobler theme Meanwhile I will not dare to make a name

Whereon thy doubts to place; To represent thee by;

Nor by a luw suspect b'aspheme
Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame

The glories of thy face.
One that enough should signify:
Astrea or Celia as unfit would prove

Alas! she makes thee shine so fair,
For thee, as 'tis to call the Deity Jove.

So exquisitely bright,
That her din lamp must disappear

Before thy potent light.

Three hours each morn in dressing thee

Malic ously are spent;
See where she sits, and in what comely wise And make that beauty tyranny,
Drops tears inore fair than others' eyes!

That 's else a civil governmenta

Th' adorning thee with so much art

I cut my love into his gentle bark, Is but a barbarous skill;

And in three days, behold ! 'tis dead: 'Tis like the poisoning of a dart

| My very written flames so violent be, Too apt before to kill.

They 've burnt and wither'd-up the tree. The ministering angels none can see;

How should I live myself, whose heart is found 'Tis not their beauty or their face,

Deeply graven every where For which by men they worship'd be;

With the large history of many a wound, But their high office and their place.

Larger than thy trunk can bear Thou art my goddess, my saint she;

With art as strange as Homer in the nut,
I pray to her, only to pray to thee.

Love in my heart has volumes put.
What a few words from thy rich stock did take

The leaves and beauties all,

As a strong poison with one drop does make

The nails and hairs to fall :

Love (I see now) a kind of witchcraft is,
Ah! what advice can I receive!

Or characters could ne'er do this.
No, satisfy me first;
For who would physic-potions give

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

shade ; To one that dies with thirst?

And pardon me, thou gentle tree; A little puff of breath, we find,

I thought her name would thee have happy made, Small fires can quench and kill;

And blessed omens hop'd from thee: But, when they 're great, the adverse wind

| “Notes of my love, thrive here,” said I, “ and Does make them greater still.

grow ; Now whilst you speak, it moves me much,

And with ye let my love do so.” But straight I 'm just the same;

Alas, poor youth! thy love will never thrive! Alas! tha' effect must needs be such

This blasted tree predestines it; Of cutting through a farne.

Go, tie the dismal knot (why should'st thou live)

And, by the lines thou there hast writ,
Deform’dly hanging, the sad picture be

To that unlucky history.

Come, doctor! use thy roughest art,
- - Thou canst not cruel prove;

Cut, burn, and torture, every part,
To heal me of my love.

'Tis a strange kind of ignorance this in you, There is no danger, if the pain

That you your victories should not spy, Should me to a fever bring;

Victories gotten by your eye! Compar'd with heats I now sustain,

That your bright beams, as those of comets do, A fever is so cool a thing,

Should kill, but not know how, nor who ! (Like drink which feverish men desire)

That truly you my idol might appear, That I should hope 'twould almost quench my

Whilst all the people smell and see

The odorous flames I offer thee,
Thou sitt'st, and dost not see, nor smell, nor hear,

Thy constant, zealous worshipper.

| They see 't too well who at my fires repine ;

Nay, th’ unconcern'd themselves do prove

Quick-ey'd enough to spy my love; Ask me not what my love shall do or be

| Nor does the cause in thy face clearlier shine, (Love, which is soul to body, and soul of me !)

Than the effect appears in mine.
When I am separated from thee;
Alas! I might as easily show,

Fair infidel! by what unjust decree
What after death the soul will do;

Must I, who with such restless care 'Twill last, I'm sure, and that is all we know, Would make this truth to thee appear,

| Must I, who preach it, and pray for it, be The thing call'd soul will never stir nor move,

Damn'd by thy incredulity?
But all that while a lifeless carcase prove;
For 'tis the body of my love :

I, by thy unbelief, am guiltless slain:
Not that my love will fly away,

Oh, have but faith, and then, that you But still continue; as, they say,

May know that faith for to be true, Sad troubled ghosts about their graves do stray. It shall itself by a miracle maintain,

And raise me from the dead again!

Meanwhile my hopes may seem to be o'erthrown; THE TREE.

But lovers' hopes are full of art,

And thus dispute-That, since my heart, I chose the flourishing'st tree in all the park, | Though in thy breast, yet is not by thee known, With freshest boughs and fairest head;

Perhaps thou may'st not know thine owl.


HONOUR. Come, let's go on, where love and youth does She loves, and she confesses too; I've seen too much, if this be all. [call;

There's then, at last, no more tu do: Alas! how far more wealthy might I be

The happy work's entirely done;
With a contented ignorant poverty!

Enter the town which thou hast won ;
To show such stores, and nothing grant,

The fruits of conquest now begin;
Is to enrage and vex my want.

lö, triumph! enter in.
For Love to die an infant is lesser ill,
Than to live long, yet live in childhood still.

What's this, ye gods! what can it be?

Remains there still an enemy?
We’ave both sat gazing only, hitherto,

Bold Honour stands up in the gate,
As man and wife in picture do:

| And would yet capitulate; The richest crop of joy is still behind,

Have I o'ercome all real foes,
And he who ouly sees, in love, is blind.

And shall this phantom me oppose ?
So, at first, Pygmalion lov'd,
But th' amour at last improv'd;

Noisy nothing! stalking shade!
The Statue itself at last a woman grew,

By what witchcraft wert thou nade? And so at last, my dear, should you do too. Empty cause of solid harms !

But I shall find out counter-charms,
Beauty to man the greatest torture is,

Thy airy devilship to remove
Unless it lead to farther bliss,

Froin this circle here of love.
Beyond the tyrannous pleasures of the eye ;
I grows too serious a rruelty,

Sure / shall rid myself of thee
Unless it heal, as well as strike:

By the night's obscurity,
I would not, salamander-like,

And obscurer secrecy!
In scorching heats always to live desire,

Unlike to every other sprite, But, like a martyr, pass to Heaven through fire.

to Heaven through fire. | Thou attempt'st not men to fright, Mark how the lusty Sun salutes the Spring,

Nor appear'st but in the light.
And gently kisses every thing!
His loving beams unlock each maiden flower, I ao THE INVOCENT ILL.
Search all the treasures, all the sweets devour:

Then on the earth, with bridegroom-heat, | Though all thy gestuies and disconrses be
He does still new flowers beget.

Coin'd and stamp'd by modesty;
The Sun himself, although all eye be be,

Though from thy tongue ne'er slipp'd away Can find in love more pleasure than to see. One word which nuns at th' altar inight not say;

Yet such a swectness, such a grace,
In all thy speech appear,

That what to th' eye a beauteous face, • THE INCURABLE.

That thy tongue is to th'ear:

So cunningly it wounds the heart, I TRY'p if books would cure my love, but found

It strikes such heat through every part, Love made them nonsense all;

That thou a tempter worse than Satan art.
I apply'd receipts of business to my wound,
But stirring did the paiu recall.

Though in thy thoughts scarce any tracks have
So much as of original sin,

[been As well might men who in a fever fry,

Such charms thy beauty wears, as might Mathematic doubts debate;

Desires in dying confess'd saints excite: As well might men who mad in darkness lie,

Thou, with strange adultery, Write the dispatches of a state.

Dost in each breast a brothel keep; I try'd devotion, sermons, frequent prayer,

Awake, all men do lust for thee, But those did worse than useless prove;

And some enjoy thee when they sleep. For prayers are turn'd to sin, in those who are Ne'er before did woman live, Out of charity, or in love.

Who to such multitudes did give I try'd in wine to drown the mighty care;

The root and cause of sin, but only Eve. But wine, alas ! was oil to th'tire;

Though in thy breast so quick a pity be, Like drunkards' eyes, my troublod fancy there That a fly's deaih 's a wound to thee; Did double the desire.

Though savage and rock-hearted those I try'd what mirth and gajety would do,

Appear, that weep not ev'n romance's woes And mix'd with pleasant companies;

Yet ne'er before was tyrant known, My mirth did graceless and insipid grow,

Whose rage was of so large extent;

The ills thou dust are whole thine own; And 'bove a clinch it could not rise.

Thou'rt principal and instrument: Nay, God forgive me for 't! at last I try'd,

In all the deaths that come from you, 'Gainst this, some new desire to stir,

You do the treble office do
And luv'd again, but 'twas where I espy'd Of judge, of turturer, and of weapon too.
Some faint resemblances of her.

Thou lovely instrument of angry Fate,
The physic made ine worse, with which I strove Which God did for our faults create!
This mortal ill t'expel;

Thou pleasant, universal ill, As wholesome med'cines the disease improve Which, sweet as health, yet like a plague di ; There where they work not well.


Thon kind, well-naturid tyranny!

And thou in pity didst apply Thon chaste committer of a rape!

The kind and only remedy: Thou voluntary destiny,

The cause absolves the crime ; since me Which no man can, or would escape!

So mighty forcedid move, so mighty goudness So gentle, and so glad to spare,

thee. So wondrous good, and wondrous fair,

1 She. Curse on thine arts! methinks I hate th 20 (We know) evin the destroying-angels are.

now ;
And yet I'm sure I love thee too!

I'm angry; but my wrath will prove * DIALOGUE.

More innocent than did thy love. She. What have we done? what crvel passion

Thou hast this day unlope me quite;

Yet wilt undome more should'st thou not cone
mov'd thee,
Thus to ruin her that lov'd thee?

at night.
Me thou 'ast robb’d; but what art thou.
Thyself the richer now?
Shame succeeds the short-liv'd pleasure;

VERSES LOST UPO.V A I AGER, So soon is spent, and gove, this thy ill-gotten As soon hereafter will I wagers lay treasure!

'Gainst what an oracle shall say ;

Fool that I was, to venture to deny
He. We have done :o harm ; nor was it theft in

A tongue so us'd to victory!
But noblest charity in thee.

A tongue so blest by Nature and by Art,

That never yet it spoke but gain'd an heart: I'll the well-gotten pleasure

Though what you said had not been true,
Safe in my memory treasure:

If spoke by any else but you;
What thongh the flower itself do waste, I

Your speech will govern Destiny,
The essence from it drawn does long and

ong ana | And Fate will change rather than you should lye.

And Fate sweeter last.

'Tis true, if human Reason were the guide,
She. No: I'm undone; my honour thou hast slain, Reason, methinks, was on my side;
And nothing can restore 't again.

But that 's a guide, alas ! we must resign,
Art and labour to bestow,

When the authority's divine.
Upon the carcase of it now,

She said, she said herself it would be so ;
Is but t' embalm a body dead;

And I, bold unbeliever! answer'd no:
The figure may remain, the life and beauty's

Never so justly, sure, before,

Errour the name of blindness bore;
He. Never, my dear, was Honour yet undone

For whatso'er the question be,
By Love, hut Indiscretion.

There's no man that has eyes would bet for me.
To th' wise it all things dors allow;

If Truth itself (as other angels do
And cares not what we do, but how.

When they descend to human view)
Like tapers shut in ancient urns,

In a material form would deign to shinc,
Unless it let in air, for ever shines and burns.

'Twould imitate or borrow thine: She. Thou first, perhaps, who didst the fault So dazzling bright, yet so transparent clear, commit,

So well-proportion'd would the parts appear ! Wilt make thy wicked boast of it;

Happy the cye which Truth could see .
For men, with Roman pride, above

Cloath'd in a shape like thee;
The conquest do the triumph love;

But happier far the eve
Nor think a perfect victory gaind, Which could thy shape naked like Truth espy.
Unless they through the streets their captive | Yet this lost wager costs me nothing more
lead enchain'd.

Than what I ow'd to thee before:
He. Whoe'er his secret joys has open laid, | Who would not venture for that debt to play, .
The bawd to his own wife is made;

Which he were bound howe'er to pay?
Beside, what boast is left for me,

If Nature gave me power to write in verse,
Whose whole wealth 's a gift from thee? | She gave it me thy praises to rehearse :
'Tis you the conqueror are, 'tis you

Thy wondrous beauty and thy wit
Who have not only ta'en, but bound and

Has such a sovereign right to it, gagg'd me too.

That no man's Muse for public vent is free,

thel Till she has paid her customs first to thee. She. Though public punishment we escape, the

Will rack and torture us within: (sin |
Guilt and sin our bosom bears;
And, though fair yet the fruit appears,

I BATHING IN THE RIVER. That worm which now the core does The fish around her crowded, as they do waste,

. To the false light that treacherous fishers shew, When long 't has gnaw'd within,will break the |And all with as much ease might taken be, . skin at last.

As she at first took me; He. That thirsty drink, that hungry food, 1

For ne'er did light so clear

Among the waves appear,
That wounded balm is all my fault; | Though every night the Sun himself set there.

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinuar »