Full text of "Poems"
witten ly
Mr WILLIAM ^HAKESPEARE.
Reprinted for
THOMAS EVAN-S, A',. 50, Strand, near York
To
SAMUEL F O O T E, Efq.
this Edition
is infcribed
by bis obliged bumble Servant,
The Editor,.
2218-356
Advertifement.
Several editions of the Poems of Shakefpear have
been printed, but the eager defire to be pofleiled of
the complete works of the nobleft of poets, have
rendered them fcarce ; it was therefore imagined,
an elegant and correct edition would be very accep-
table to every admirer of the author. The poems
of Venus and Adonis, Tarquln and Lucrece, were
publifhed by Shakefpear, and dedicated by him to
his great patron, the Earl of Southampton ; the
remainder, Mr. Gildon remarks, are evidently
genuine; there is not one that does not carry its
author's mark and ftamp upon it ; not only the
fame manner of thinking, the fame turn of thought,
but even the fame mode of drefs and expreffion ;
the decompounds, his peculiar fort of epithets,
which diftinguifh, his from the verfes of all his
cotemporaries or fucceflbrs.
Contents.
Venus and Adonis - Page i
Tarquin and Lucrece - 43
The Glory of Beauty - 109
Injurious Time - - - no
True Admiration - - 112
The Force of Love - - - 113
The Beauty of Nature •- - 114
Love's Cruelty - - 115
Youthful Glory - - - 116
Good Admonition - - - 117
Quick Prevention - - 118
Magazine of Beauty 119
An Invitation to Marriage - 120
Falfe Belief - 122
A Temptation - - 123
Faft and Loofe - - ibid.
True Content - 124
A bafhful Lover - ibid.
Strong Conceit - 125
A fweet Provocation - - - ibid.
A conftant vow - - - - 126
The Exchange - - - - ibid.
A Difconfolation - - - 127
Cruel Deceit - - 128
The unconftant Lover - - 129
The Benefit of Friendfhip - 130
Friendly Concord - 131
Inhumanity - ibid.
A Congratulation - - - 132
vi Contents.
Lofs and Gain - - 133
Foolifh Difdain - -134
Antient Antipathy - 135
Beauty's Valuation - ibid.
Melancholy Thoughts - - 136
Love's Lofs - - - - 137
Love's Relief - - ibid.
Unanimity - - - 138
Loth to depart - - - - 139
A Mafter-piece - - - - 140
Happinefs in Content - 141
A Dutiful Meflage - - ibid.
Go and come quickly - 142
Two Faithful Friends - 143
Carelefs Negle& - - 144
Stout Refolution - ibid.
A Duel - 145
Love-fick - 146
Love's Labour loft - ibid.
Wholefome Counfel 148
Sat fuifTe - - - - 149
A living Monument - - 150
Familiarity breeds Contempt - - ibid.
Patiens armatus - 151
AValediaion - - ibid.
Nil magnis Invidia - 153
Love-fick - ibid.
The Picture of true Love - 154
In praife of his Love - 155
A Refignation - •>• - 157
Sympathizing Love - - ibid.
A Requcft to his fcornful Love - - 159
A Lover's Affedlion, though his Love
prove unconftant - 161
Contents. vii
Complaint for his Lover's Ab fence - 163
An Invocation to his Mufe - 164
Conftant Affection 165
Amazement - - 167
A Lover's Excufe for his long Abfence 168
A Complaint - - 169
Self- flattery of her Beauty - 170
A Trial of Love's Conftancy 171
A good Conftruction of his Love's Un-
kindnefs - 172
Error in Opinion - 173
On the Receipt of a Table-Book from
his Miftrefs - - ibid.
A Vow - 174
Love's Safety - - ibid.
An Intreaty for her Acceptance 175
Upon her playing on the Virginals - ibid.
Immoderate Luft 176
In Praife of her Beauty, though black ibid.
Unkind Abufe - 178
Love-Suit - 179
His Heart wounded by her Eye 180
A Protection - - 181
An Allufion - 182
Life and Death - 183
A Confideration of Death - ibid.
Immoderate Paffion 184
Love's powerful Subtilty • ibid.
Retaliation 186
Sun-fet 187
A Monument to Fame - - 188
Perjury - - ibid.
The Tale of Cephalus and Procris - 189
Cupid's Treachery - - 192
vi Contents.
Lofs and Gain - 133
Foolifh Difdain - - 134
Anticnt Antipathy - 135
Beauty's Valuation - ibid.
Melancholy Thoughts - - 136
Love's Lofs - - - 137
Love's Relief - - ibid.
Unanimity - - - 138
Loth to depart - - - - 139
A Mafter-piece * - - - 140
Happinefs in Content - 141
A Dutiful Mcflage - ibid.
Go and come quickly - 142
Two Faithful Friends - 143
Carelefs Negle& - - 144
Stout Refolution - ibid.
A Duel - 145
Love-lick - 146
Love's Labour loft - - ibid.
Wholefome Counfel 148
Sat fuifTe - - - 149
A living Monument - - 150
Familiarity breeds Contempt - - ibid.
Patiens armatus - 151
AValediaion - ibid.
Nil magnis Invidia - 153
Love-fick - ibid.
The Picture of true Love - 154
In praife of his Love - 155
A Rcfignation * 157
Sympathizing Love - ibid.
A Requcft to his fcornful Love - - 159
A Lover's Affection, though his Love
prove unconflant - 161
Contents. vii
Complaint for his Lover's Ab fence - 163
An Invocation to his Mufe - 164.
Conftant Affe&ion 165
Amazement - - 167
A Lover's Excufe for his long Abfence 168
A Complaint - 169
Self- flattery of her Beauty - 170
A Trial of Love's Conftancy 171
A good Conftruclion of his Love's Un-
kindnefs - 172
Error in Opinion - 173
On the Receipt of a Table-Book from
his Miftrefs - - - ibid.
A Vow - 174
Love's Safety - - ibid.
An Intreaty for her Acceptance 175
Upon her playing on the Virginals - ibid.
Immoderate Luft 176
In Praife of her Beauty, though black ibid.
Unkind Abufe - 178
Love-Suit - 179
His Heart wounded by her Eye 180
A Protection - 181
An Allufion - 182
Life and Death - 183
A Confideration of Death - ibid.
Immoderate Paffion 184
Love's powerful Subtilty • ibid.
Retaliation 186
Sun-fet 187
A Monument to Fame - - 188
Perjury - - ibid.
The Tale of Cephalus and Procris - 189
Cupid's Treachery - 192
viii Contents.
That Menelaus was the Caufe of his
own Wrongs - -
Mars and Venus - -
The Hiftory how the Minotaur v/as begot 196
The Talc of Dedalus - 197
Achiilcs's Concealment - - 200
A Lover's Complaint - - 201
The Epiftle of Paris to Helen - - 210
Helen to Paris - 230
The paflionate Shepherd to his Love - 244
The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd - 245
Another of the fame Nature - - 246
Threnes - - 249
VENUS
and
ADONIS.
Villa miretur vulgus, mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Caftalia plena minifl:ret aqua.
Ovid, Amor. 1. i. El. 15.
To the Right Honourable
HENRT WRIOTHESLT,
Earl of Southampton, and Barcn c/"Tichficld.
Right Honourable,
I know not how I fhall offend, in dedicating my
unpolifhed lines to your lordfhip ; nor how the
world will cenfure me, for chufing fo ftrong a prop
to fupport fo weak a burden : only if your honour
feem but pleafed, I account myfelf highly praifed,
and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I
have honoured you with fome graver labour. But
if the firft heir of my invention prove deformed, I
fhall be forry it had fo nobje a godfather, and never
after ear fo barren a land, for fear it yield me ftill
fo bad a harveft. I leave it to your honourable fur-
vey, and your honour to your heart's content ;
which I wifh may always anfwer your own wifti,
and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your Honour's in all duty,
Will. Shakefpear.
VENUS and ADONIS.
Even as the fun, with purple-coloured face,
Had ta'en his laft leave of the weeping morn,
Rofe-cheek'd ddonis hied him to the chafe:
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to fcorn.
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd fuitor 'gins to woo him.
Thrice fairer than myfelf ! (thus fhe began)
The fields fweet flower ! fweet above compare !
Stain to all nymphs ! more lovely than a man !
More white and red, than doves or rofes are !
Nature, that made thee with herfelf at ftrife,
Saith, that the world hath ending with thy life.
Vouchfafe, thou wonder ! to alight thy fteed,
And rein his proud head to the faddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed,
A thoufand honey fecrets (halt thou know.
Here come and fit, where ferpent never hifles,
And being fet, I'll fmother thee with kiflfes.
And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed fatiety,
But rather famifh them amid their plenty ;
Making them red and pale with frefli variety :
Ten kifles fhort as one, one long as twenty.
A fummer's day will feem an hour but fhort,
Being wafted in fuch time-beguiling fport.
A 2
4 Venus and Adonis.
With this fhe feizeth on his fweating palm,
The prefident of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her paffion calls it balm ;
Earth's fovereign falve to do a goddefs good.
Being fo enrag'd, defire doth lend her force,
Courageoufly to pluck him from his horfe.
Over one arm the lufty courfer's rein,
Under the other was the tender boy,
Who blufh'd and pouted in a dull difdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy.
She red and hot, as coals of glowing fire,
He red for fhame, but frofty in defire.
The ftudded bridle, on a ragged bough,
Nimbly fhe fattens (O how quick is love !)
The deed is flailed up, and even now
To tie the rider fhe begins to prove.
Backward fhe pufh'd him, as fhe would be thruft,
And govern'd him in ftrength, tho' not in luft.
So foon was fhe along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips :
Now doth fhe ftroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but foon fhe flops his lips :
And kifling fpeaks, with luftful language broken,
If thou wilt chide, thy lips fhall never open.
He burns with bafhful fhame ; fhe, with her tears,
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks :
Then with her windy fighs anJ golden hairs,
To fan and blow them dry again ihe feeks.
He fays fhe is immodcft, bkimes her mils ;
What follows more, fhe fmothcrs with a kifs.
• Venus and Adonis. 5
Even as an empty eagle, fharp by faft,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flefh and bone,
Shaking her wings, devouring all in hafte,
Till either gorge be ftufFt, or prey be gone :
Even fofhekifs'd his brow, his cheek, his chin,
And where flie ends, fhe doth anew begin.
Forc'd to confent, but never to obey,
Panting he lies, and breathing in her face :
She feedeth on the fleam as on a prey,
And calls it, heavenly moifture ! air of grace !
Wifhing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,
So they were dew'd with fuch diftilling fhowers.
Look how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So faften'd in her arms Adonis lies :
Pure fhame and aw'd refiftance made him fret ;
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes.
Rain added to a river, that is rank,
Perforce will force it overflow the bank.
Still fhe entreats, and prettily entreats ;
For to a pretty ear fhe tunes her tale :
Still he is fullen, (till he lowers and frets,
'Twixt crimfon fhame, and anger afhy pale.
Being red, fhe loves him beft ; and being white,
Her breaft is better'd with a more delight.
Look how he can, fhe cannot chufe but love ;
And by her fair immortal hand fhe fwears,
From his foft bofom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears ;
Which long have rain'd , making her cheeks all wet,
And one fweet kifs fhall pay this countlefs debt.
A 3
6 Venus and Adonis.
Upon this promife did he raife his chin,
Like a dive-dapper peering thro' a wave,
Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in :
So offers he to give what fhe did crave :
But when his lips were ready for his pay,
He winks, and turns his lips another way.
Never did pafienger, in Cummer's heat,
More thirft for drink, than fhe for this good turn ;
Her help fhe fees, but help fhe cannot get,
She bathes in water, yet in fire muft burn.
Oh pity, 'gan fhe cry, flint-hearted boy !
'Tis but a kifs I beg, why art thou coy ?
I have been woo'd, as I intreat thce now,
Even by the ftern and direful god of war,
Whofe finewy neck in battle ne'er did bow,
Who conquers where he comes in every jar :
Yet hath he been my captive and my flave,
And beg'd for that which thou unafk'd (halt have.
Over my altars hath he hung his lance,
Hrs batter'd fhield, his uncontrolled creft ;
And for my fake hath learn'd to fport and dance,
To coy, to wanton, dally, fmile and jeft;
Scorning his churlifh drum, and enfign red,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.
Thus he, that over-rul'd, I over-fway'd",
Leading him prifoner in a red rofe chain :
Strong temper'd fteel, his ftronger ftrength obey'd,
Yet was he fervile to my coy difdain.
Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
For maftring her, that foil'd the god of fight !
Venus and Adonis. 7
Touch but my lips with thofe fair lips of thine,
(Tho' mine be not fo fair, yet they are red)
The kifs {hall be thine own as well as mine ;
What feeft thou on the ground ? hold up thy head :
Look in mine eye-balls where thy beauty lies,
Then why not lips on lips, fince eyes on eyes?
Art thou afham'd to kifs ? then wink again,
And I will wink, fo fhall the day feem night,
Love keeps his revels, where there be but twain ;
Be bold to play, our fport is not in fight.
Thefe blue-vein'd violets, whereon we lean,
Never can blab, nor know they what we mean.
The tender fpring, upon thy tempting lip,
Shews thee unripe ; yet may'ft thou well be tafted :
Make ufe of time, let not advantage flip,
Beauty within itfelf would not be wafted.
Fair flowers, that are not gather'd in their prime,
Rot and confume themfelves in little time.
Were I hard favour'd, foul, or wrinkled old,
Ill-natur'd, crooked, churlifh, harfli in voice,
O'er-worn, defpifed, rheumatic and cold,
Thick-fighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice,
Therumightft thou paufe, for then I were not for
But, having no defects, why doit abhor me ? [thee,
Thou can'ft not fee one wrinkle in my brow,
Mine eyes are grey, and bright, and quick in turning;
My beauty, as the fpring, doth yearly grow ;
My flefh as foft and plump, my marrow burning ;
My fmooth moift hand, were it with thy hand felt,
Would in thy palm diflolve, or feem to melt.
8 Venus and Adonis.
Kid me difcourfe, I will inchant thine car,
Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green ;
Or, like a nymph, with long difhevel'd hair,
Dance on the funds, and yet no footing feen.
Love is a fpirit all compact of fire,
Not grofs to fink, but light, and will afpirc.
Witnefs this primrofe-bank, whereon I lie,
The forcelefs flowers, like fturdy trees, fupport me :
Two ftrengthlefs doves will draw me thro' the fky
From morn till night, even where I lift to fport me..
Is love fo light, fweet boy, and may it be,
That thou fhouldft think it heavy unto thee ?
Is thine own heart to thine own face affe&ed ?
Can thy right hand feize love upon thy left ?
Then wooe thyfelf, be of thyfelf reje&ed,
Steal thine own freedom, and complain of theft.
NarciJ/us fo himfelf, himfelf forfook,
And dy'd to kifs his fhadow in the brook.
Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,
Dainties to tafte, frefh beauty for the ufe,
Herbs for their fmell, and fappy plants to bear ;
Things growing to themfelves are growth's abufe :
Seeds fpring from feeds, and beauty breedeth
Thou wert begot, to get it is thy duty, [beauty ;
Upon the earth's increafe why fhouldft thou feed,
Unlefs the earth with thy increafe be fed ?
By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
That thine may live, when thou thyfelf art dead :
And fo, in fpight of death, thou doft furvive,
In that thy likenefs ftill is left alive.
Venus and Adonis. 9
By this the love-fick queen began to fweat,
For, where they lay, the fhadow had forfook them ;
And Titan, tir'd in the mid-day heat,
With burning eye did hotly overlook them :
Wifhing Adonis had his team to guide,
So he were like him, and by Venus fide.
And now Adonis with a lazy fpright,
And with a heavy, dark, difliking eye,
His low'ring brows, o'erwhelming his- fair fight,
Like mifty vapours, when they blot the fky ;
Souring his cheeks, cries, fie, no more of love,
The fun doth burn my face, I muft remove.
Ah me ! (quoth Venus) young, and fo unkind :
What bare excufes mak'ft thou to be gone ?
I'll figh celeftial breath, whofe gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this defcending fun.
I'll make a fhadow for thee of my hairs,
If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.
The fun that fliines from heaven fhines but warm,
And, lo, I lie between the fun and thee !
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me,
And, were I not immortal, life were done,
Between this heav'nly and this earthly fun.
Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as fteel ?
Nay more than flint, for ftone at rain relenteth :
Art thou a woman's fon, and canft not feel
What 'tis to love, how want of love tormenteth ?
Oh ! had thy mother born fo bad a mind,
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.
TO Venus and Adonis.
AVh.it am I, that thou fhouldft contemn me tlm r
Or what great danger dwells upon my fuit ?
What were thy lips the worfe for one poor kifs ?
Speak fair: but fpeak fair words, or elfe be mute.
Give me one k'fc, I'll give it thee again,
And one for int'reft, if thou wilt have twain.
Fie, lifclcfs picture, cold and fenfclefs (lone,
Well- painted idol, image dull and dead }
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
1 hing like a man, but of no woman bred.
Thou art no man, tho' of a man's complection,
.For men will kifs even by their own direction.
This faid, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And fwelling paflion doth provoke a paufe ;
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong,
Being judge in love, flie cannot right her cauie.
And now {he weeps, and now (he fain would fpeak,
And now her fobs do her intendmtntt break.
Sometimes flie {hakes her head, and then his hand ;
Now gazeth fhe on him, now on the ground ;
Sometimes her arms infold him like a band ;
She would, he will not in. her arms be bound :
And when from thcmce he ftruggles to be gone,
She locks her lily fingers one in one.
Fondling, faith {he, fmce I have hem'd thee here,
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I'll be tho park, and thou {halt be my deer,
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale.
Graze on my lips ; and if thofe hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleafant fountains lie.
Venus and Adonis. II
Within this limit is relief enough,
Sweet bottom grafs, and high delightful plain,
Round rifing hillocks, brakes obfcure and rough,
To fhelter thee from tempeft and from rain.
Then be my deer, fmce I am fuch a park,
No dog fhall rouze thee, tho' a thoufand bark.
At this Adonis fmiles, as in difdain,
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple ;
Love made thofe hollows, if himfelf were flain,
He might be buried in a tomb fo iimple :
Foreknowing well if there he came to lie,
Why there love liv'd, and there he cou'd not die.
Thefe loving caves, thefe round enchanted pits,
Open'd their mouths to fwallow Venus liking :
Being mad before, how doth fhe now for wits ?
Struck dead at firft, what needs a fecond ftriking ?
Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,
To love a cheek that fmiles at thee with fcorn.
Now which way fhall fhe turn ? What fhall fhe fay ?
Her words are done, her woes the more increafmg :
The time is fpent, her object will away,
And from her twining arms doth urge releafing.
Pity, fhe cries, fome favour, fome remorfe !
Away he fprings, and hafteth to his horfe.
But, lo ! from forth a cops that neighbours by,
A breeding jennet, lufty, young and proud,
Adonis' trampling courfer doth efpy,
And forth fhe lufhes, fnorts, and neighs aloud :
The ftrong-neck'd fleed, being ty'd unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein, and to her ftraight goes he.
12 Venus and Adonis.
Imperioufly he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girts he breaks afunder j
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whofe hollow womb refounds like heaven's thunder :
The iron bit he crufhcs 'tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controlled with.
His ears up-prick'd, his braided hanging mane
Upon his compafs'd creft, now ftands an end :
His noftrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he lend :
His eye, which glifters fcornfully like fire,
Shews his hot courage, and his high defire.
Sometimes he trots, as if he told the fteps,
With gentle majefty, and modeft pride :
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who fhould fay, !o ! thus my ftrength is try'd :
And thus I do to captivate the eye
Of the fair breeder that is (landing by.
What recketh he his rider's angry ftir,
His flatt'ring holla, cr his fhmd, I fay ?
What cares he now for curb, or pricking fpur :
For rich caparifons, or trappings gay ?
He fees his love, and nothing elfe he fees,
For nothing elfe with his proud fight agrees.
Look when a painter wou'd furpafs the life,
In limning out a well-proportion'd fteed,
His art, with nature's workmanfhip at ftrife,
As if the dead the living fhould exceed :
So did his horfe excel a common one,
In fhape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.
Venus and Adonis. 13
Round-hooft, fhort-jointed, fetlocks fhag and long,
Broad breaft, full eyes, fmall head, and noftril wide,
High creft, fhort ears, ftrait legs, and pafling flrong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.
Look, what a horfe fhould have, he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on fo proud a back.
Sometimes he fcuds far off, and there he flares ;
Anon he ftarts at ftirring of a feather :
To bid the wind a bafe he now prepares.
And where he run, or fly, they know not whither.
For thro' his mane and tail the high wind fings,
Fanning the hairs, which heave like feather'd wings,
He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;
She anfwers him, as if fhe knew his mind :
Being proud, as females are, to fee him woo her,
She puts on outward ftrangenefs, feems unkind,
Spurns at his love, and fcorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels.
Then, like a melancholy malecontent,
He veils his tail ; that like a falling plume,
Cool fhadow to his melting buttocks lent ;
He ftamps and bites the poor flies in his fume:
His love perceiving how he is enrag'd,
Grew kinder, and his fury was afluag'd.
His teafty mailer goes about to take him,
When lo ! the unback'd breeder, full of fear,
Jealous of catching, fwiftly doth forfake him,
With her the horfe, and left Adonis there.
As they were mad, unto trie wood they hie them,
Out-ftripping crows, that flrive to over-fly them.
14 Venus and Adonis.
All fwoln with chafing, down ddonis fits,
Banning his boift'rous and unruly beaft.
And now the happy feafon once more fits,
That love-fick Love, by pleading may be bleft.
For lovers fay, the heart hath treble wrong,
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.
An oven that is ftopp'd, or river {raid,
Burneth more hotly, fwelleth with more rage :
So of concealed forrow may be faid ;
Free vent of words love's fire doth afluagc :
But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as defperate in his fuit.
He fees her coming, and begins to glow,
Even as a dying coal revives with wind ;
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow,
Looks on the dull earth with difturbed mind ;
Taking no notice, that fhe is fo nigh,
For all afkance he holds her in his eye.
O ! what a fight it was wiflly to view
How fhe came ftealing to the wayward boy ;
To note the fighting conflict of her hue,
How white and red each other did deftroy !
But now her cheek was pale, and by and by
It flafh'd forth fire, as lightning from the fky.
Now was fhe juft before him, as he fat,
And like a lowly lover down fhe kneels;
With one fair hand fhe heaveth up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheeks feels :
His tender cheeks receive her foft hand's print,
As apt, as new-fallen fnow takes any dint.
Yrenus and Adonis. 15
O ! what a war of looks was then between them !
Her eyes petitioners to his eyes fuing ;
His eyes law her eyes, as they had not feen them ;
Her eyes woo'd flill, his eyes difdain'd the wooing :
And all this dumb play had his ac~h made plain,
With tears, which chorus-like, her eyes did rain.
Full gently now fhe takes him by the hand,
A lily prifon'd in a jail of fnow,
Or ivory in an alabafter band,
So white a friend ingirts fo white a foe !
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Shew'd like to filver doves, that fit a billing.
Once more the engine of her thoughts began :
O faireft mover on this mortal round !
Would thou wert, as I am, and I a man,
A/ly heart all whole, as thine, thy heart my wound.
For one fweet look my help I would aflure thee,
Tho' nothing but my body's.bane would cure thee.
Give me my hand (faith he) why doft thou feel it r
Give me thy heart (faith flie) and thou (halt have it.
0 ! give it me, left thy hard heart do fteel it;
And being fteel'd, foft fighs can never grave it t
Then love's deep groans I never fhall regard,
Becaufe Adonis heart hath made mine hard.
For fhame, he cries, let go, and let me go,
My day's delight is paft, my horfe is gone,
And 'tis your fault, 1 am bereft him fo :
1 pray you hence, and leave me here alone.
For all my mind, my thought, my bufy care,
Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.
16 Venus and Adonis.
Thus me replies : Thy palfrey, as he fhould,
Welcomes the warm approach of fwcet defire :
Affection is a coal, that muft be cool'd ;
El H-, fufrer'd, it will fet the heart on fire.
The fea hath bounds, but deep defire hath none ;
Therefore no marvel tho' thy horfe be gone.
How like a jade he flood, ty'd to a tree,
Servilely maftred with a leathern rein !
But when he faw his love, his youth's fair fee,
He held fuch petty bondage in difdain ;
Throwing the bafe thong from his bending ere ft,
Enfranchifmg his mouth, his back, his breaft.
Who fees his true love in her naked bed,
Teaching the fheets a whiter hue than white,
But when his glutton eye fo full hath fed,
His other agents aim at like delight ?
Who is fo faint, that dare not be fo bold
To touch the fire, the weather being cold ?
Let me excufe thy courfer, gentle boy,
And learn of him, I heartily bcfecch thee,
To take advantage on prefented joy j
Tho' I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee.
O ! learn to love, the leflbn is but plain,
And once made pcrfecl, never loft again.
I know not love (quoth he) nor will I know it,
Unlefs it be a boar, and then I chafe it ;
'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it,
My love to love, is love but to difgrace it ;
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs, and weeps, and all but in a breath.
Venus and Adonis. 17
Who wears a garment ftiapelefs and unfinifh'd ?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth ?
If fpringing things be any jot diminifh'd,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth.
The colt that's back'd, and burden'd being young,
Lofeth his pride, and never waxeth ftrong.
You hurt my hand with wringing: let us part,
And leave this idle theme, this bootlefs chat ;
Remove your fiege from my unyielding heart,
To love's alarm it will not ope the gate.
Difmifs your vows, your feigned tears, your flatt'ry;
For where a heart is hard, they make no batt'ry.
What! can'ftthoutalk? (quoth fhe) haft thouatongue?
0 ! would thou had'ft not, or I had no hearing !
Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong !
1 had my load before, now prefs'd with bearing.
Melodious difcord ! heavenly tune harfti-founding!
Earth's deep fweet mullck ! and heart's deep fore-
[ wounding !
Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love
That inward beauty, and invifible :
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
Each part of me, that were but fenfible.
Tho' neither eyes, nor ears to hear nor fee,
Yet fliould I be in love, by touching thee.
Say, that the fenfe of reafon were bereft me,
And that I could not fee, nor hear, nor touch ;
And nothing but the very fmell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be ftill as much:
For from the ftillatory of thy face excelling,
Conies breath perfum'd, that breedeth love by
fmelling. B
1 8 Venus and Adonis.
But oh ! what banquet wert thou to the tafte,
Being nurfe and feeder of the other four !
Would they not wifli the feaft fhould ever laft,
And bid fufpicion double-lock the door;
Left jealoufy, that four unwelcome gueft,
Should by his ftealing in difturb the feaft.
Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,
Which to his fpeech did honey pafiage yield;
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd,
Wreck to the feamen, tempeft to the field,
Sorrow to fhepherds, woe unto the birds,
Guft and foul flaws to herd men and to herds.
This ill prefage advifcdly (he marketh,
Even as the wind is hum'd before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it ftaineth ;
Of like the deadly bullet of a gun,
His meaning ftruck her, ere his words begun.
And at his look fhe flatly falleth down ;
For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth :
A fmile recures the wounding of a frown,
But blefled bankrupt, that by love fo thriveth !
The filly boy believing me is dead,
Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red.
And in amaze brake off his late intent,
For fharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which cunning love did wittily prevent,
Fair fall the wit, that can fo well defend her :
For on the grafs fhe lies, as fhe were flain,
Till his breath breathed life in her again.
Venus and Adonis. 19
He wrings her nofe, he ftrikes her on the cheeks
He bends her fingers, holds her pulies hard,
He chafes her lips, a thouland ways he feeks
To mend the hurt, that his unkindnefs marr'd ;
He kifTes her, and ihe, by her good will,
Would never rife, fo he will kifs her ftill.
The night of forrow now is turn'd to day,
Her two blue windows faintly fhe up-heaveth ;
Like the fair fun, when in his frefh array,
He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth :
And as the bright fun glorifies the fky,
So is her face illumin'd with her eye.
Whofe beams upon his hairlefs face are fix'd,
As if from thence they borrow'd all their Ihine :
Were never four fuch lamps together mix'd,
Had not his clouded, with his brows repine.
But hers, which thro' the cryftal tears gave light,
Shone like the moon, in water feen by night.
O ! where am I ! (quoth fhe) in earth, or heaven !
Or in the ocean drench'd ! or in the fire !
What hour is this ? or morn, or weary even ?
Do I delight to die ? or life defire ?
But now I liv'd, and life was death's annoy :
But now I dy'd, and death was lively joy.
O ! thou didft kill me, kill me once again:
Thy eyes, fhrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine
Has taught them fcornful tricks, and fuch difdain,
That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine :
And thefe mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
But for thy piteous lips no more had feen.
B 2
2O Venus and Adonis.
Long may they kifs each other for this cure !
Oh never let their crimfon liveries wear !
And as they laft, their verdure ftill endure,
To drfve infection from the dangerous year !
That the ftar-gazers having writ on death,
May fay, the plague is banifh'd by thy breath.
Pure lips! fwcet feals ! in my foft lips imprinted,
What bargains may I make ftill to be fealing ?
To fell myielf, I can be well contented,
So thou wilt buy and pay, and ufe good dealing :
Which purchafe if thou make, for fear of flips-,
Set thy feal manual on my wax-red lips.
A thoufand kifles buys my heart from me,
And pay them at thy leifure one by one.
What is ten hundred kifles unto thee ?
Are they not quickly told, and quickly gone ?
Say for non-payment that the debt fhould double,
Is twenty hundred kifles fuch a trouble ?
Fair queen (quoth he) if any love you owe me,
Meafure my ftrangenefs with my unripe years,
Before I know myfelf, feek not to know me.
No fifher but the ungrown fry forbears ;
The mellow plumb doth fall, the green flicks faft,
(Jr being early pluck'd, is four to tafte.
Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait,
His day's hot talk hath ended in the weft !
The owl (night's herald) (hrieks, 'tis very late,
The fheep are gone to fold, birds to their neft :
The cole-black clouds, that fhadow heaven's light,
Do lummon us to part, and bid good-night.
Venus and Adonis. 21
Now let me fay good -night, and fo fay you :
If you will fay fo, you mall have a kifs.
(rood-night (quoth (he) and ere he fays adieu,
The honey fee of parting tendred is.
Her arms do lend his neck a fweet embrace,
Incorporate then they feem, face grows to face.
Till breathlefs he disjoin'd, and backward drew
The heavenly moifture, that fwcet coral mouth,
Whofe precious tafte her thirfty lips well knew,
Whereon they furfeit, yet complain on drowth :
He with her plenty prefs'd, me faint with dearth,
Their lips together glu'd, fall to the earth.
Now quick defire hath caught her yielding prey,
And glutton-like (he feeds, yet never filleth ;
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ranfom the infulter willeth :
Whofe vultur thought doth pitch the prize fo high
That me will draw his lips rich treafure dry.
And having felt the fweetnefs of the fpoil,
With blindfold fury me begins to forage;
Her face doth reek and fmoke, her blood doth boil,
And carelefs luft ftirs up a defperate courage :
Planting oblivion, beating reafon back ;
Forgettingfhame's pure blufh, and honour's wrack.
Hot, faint, and weary with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much handling,
Or as the fleet-foot roe, that's tir'd with chafing,
Or like the froward infant ftill'd with dandling j
He now obeys, and now no more refifteth,
While (he takes all (he can, not all (lie lifteth.
22 Venus and Adonis.
What wax fo frozen, but difTolvcs with temp'ring?
And yields at laft to every light impreflion ?
Things out of hope are compafs'd oft with vent'ring,
Chiefly in love, whofe leave exceeds commiffion.
ArFe<5r.ion faints not, like a pale-fac'd coward,
But then wooes beft, when mofl his choice is frow-
[ard.
When he did frown, O had (he then gave over !
Such ne&ar from his lips (he had not fuck'd :
Foul words and frowns muft not repel a lover ;
What tho' the rofe have pricks ? yet it is pluck'd :
Were beauty under twenty locks kept faft,
Yet love breaks thro', and picks them all at lad.
For pity now fhe can no more detain him ;
The poor fool prays her that he may depart.
She is refolv'd no longer to reftrain him,
Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart ;
The which by Cupid's bow fhe doth protcft,
He carries thence ingaged in his breaft.
Sweet boy, fhe fays, this night I'll wafte in forrow,
For my Tick heart commands mine eyes to watch.
Tell me, love's mafter, fhall we meet to morrow ?
Say, fhall we, fhall we, wilt thou make the match ?
He tells her no : to-morrow he intends
To hunt the boar, with certain of his friends.
The boar ! (quoth fhe) whereat a fudden pale,
Like lawn being fpread upon the blufhing rofe,
Ufurps her cheeks; fhe trembles at his tale,
And on his neck her yoking arms fhe throws :
She fmketh down, frill hanging on his neck,
He on her belly falls, fhe on her back.
Venus and Adonis. 23
Now is fhe in the very lifts of love,
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter :
All is imaginary, fhe doth prove,
He will not manage her, altho' he mount her :
That worfe than Tantalus is her annoy,
To clip Efy/jum, and to lack her joy.
Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes,
Do furfeit by the eye, and pine the maw :
Even fo fhe languifheth in her mifhaps,
As thofe poor birds, that helplefs berries faw.
The warm effects which fhe in him finds miffing,
She feeks to kindle with continual kifiing.
But all in vain, good queen, it will not be.
She hath aflay'd as much, as may be prov'd,
Her pleading hath deferv'd a greater fee :
She's love, fhe loves, and yet fhe is not lov'd !
Fie, fie, he fays, you crufh me, let me go j
You have no reafon to with-hold me fo.
Thou hadft been gone (quoth fhe) fweet boy, ere this,
But that thou told'ft me thou would'ft hunt the boar :
O ! be advis'd ; thou know'ft not what it Is,
With javelin's point a churlifh fwine to gore,
Whofe tufhes never fheath'd, he wetteth ftill,
Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.
On his bow-back he hath a battel fet
Of briftly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
His eyes, like glow-worms, fhine when he doth fret,
His fnout digs fepulchres where'er he goes :
Being mov'd, he ftrikes whate'er is in his way ;
And whom he ftrikes, his crooked tufhes flay.
B 4
24 Venus and Adonis.
His brawny fides, with hairy briftles armed,
Are better proof, than thy fpear's point can enter ;
His fhort thick neck cannot be eafily harmed j
Being ireful on the lion he will venture.
The thorny brambles, and embracing bufhes,
As fearful of him, part, thro' whom he ruftics.
Alas ! he nought eftcems that face of thine,
To which love's eye pays tributary gazes ;
Nor thy foft hand, fweet lips, and cryftal eyne,
Whofe full perfection all the world amazes ;
But having thee at 'vantage (wondrous dread !)
Would root thefe beauties, as he roots the mead.
O ! let him keep his loathfome cabin ftill !
Beauty hath nought to do with fuch foul fiends.
Come not within his danger by thy will ;
They that thrive well, take counlel of their friends.
When thou didft name the boar, not to diflemble,
I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.
Didft thou not mark my face ! Was it not white ?
Saw'ft thou not figns of fear lurk in mine eye ?
Grew I not faint ? And fell I not downright ?
Within my bofom, whereon thou doft lie,
My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no reft,
But like an earthquake fhakes thee on my breaft.
For where love reigns, difturbing jealoufy
Doth call himfelf affe&ion's centinel ;
Gives falfe alarms, fuggefteth mutiny,
And in a peaceful hour doth cry, kill, kill ;
Diftempring gentle love with his defire,
As air and water doth abate the fire.
Venus and Adonis. 25
This four informer, this bate breeding fpy,
This canker, that eats up love's tender fpring,
This carry-tale, diflentious jealoufy,
That fometime true news, fometime falfe doth bring ;
Knocks at my heart, and whifp~rs in mine ear,
That if I love thee, I thy death fliould fear.
And more than fo, prefenteth to mine eye
The picture of an angry charing boar,
Under whofe fharp fangs, on his back doth lie
An image like thyfelf, all ftain'd with gore ;
Whofe blood upon the frefh flowers being (hed,
Doth make 'em drop with grief, and hang the head.
What fliou'd I do? feeing thee fo indeed ?
That trembling at th' imagination,
The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed,
And fear doth teach it divination.
I prophefy thy death, my living forrow,
If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow.
But if thou needs will hunt, be rul'd by me,
Uncouple at the timorous flying hare ;
Or at the fox, which lives by fubtilty ;
Or at the roe, which no encounter dare :
Purfue thefe fearful creatures o'er the downs,
And on thy well-breath'd horfe keep with thy
[hounds.
And when thou haft on foot the purblind hare,
Mark the poor wretch ; to overfhut his troubles,
How he out-runs the wind, and with what care,
He cranks and crofles with a thoufand doubles.
The many umfits thro' the which he goes,
Are like a labyrinth t' amaze his foes.
26 Venus and Adonis.
Sometime he runs among the flock of flicep,
To make the cunning hounds miftake their fmell ;
And fometime where earth-delving conies keep,
To flop the loud purfuers in their yell ;
And fometime lorteth with a herd of deer :
Danger devifeth fhifts, wit waits on fear.
For there his fmell with others being mingled,
The hot-fcent-fnuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
Ceafing their clamorous cry, till they have fmgled,
With much ado, the cold fault cleanly out,
Then do they fpend their mouths ; echo replies,
As if another chace were in the fkies.
By this poor Wat far off, upon a hill,
Stands on his hinder legs with liftning ear,
To hearken if his foes purfue him ftill :
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear,
And now his grief may be compared well
To one fore fick, that hears the paffing bell.
Then flialt thou fee the dew-bedabled wretch
Turn, and return, indenting with the way :
Each envious briar his weary legs doth fcratch,
Each fhadow makes him ftop, each murmur fray.
For mifery is trodden on by many ;
And being low, never reliev'd by any.
Lie quietly and hear a little more,
Nay, do not ftruggle, for thou fhalt not rife :
To make thee hate the hunting of the boar,
Unlike myfelf, thou hear'ft me moralize,
Applying this to that, and fo to fo ;
For love can comment upon every woe.
Venus and Adonis. 27
Where did I leave ? No matter where (quoth he)
Leave me, and then the ftory aptly ends :
The night is fpent. Why, what of that? (quoth (he)
I am (quoth he) expe&ed of my friends :
And now 'tis dark, and going I {hall fall.
In night (quoth (he) defire fees beft of all.
But if thou fall, O ! then imagine this,
The earth in love with thee, thy footing trips,
And all is but to rob thee of a kifs.
Rich preys make rich men thieves, fo do thy lips
Make modeft Dian cloudy and forlorn,
Left fhe {hould fteal a kifs, and die forfworn.
Now of this dark night I perceive the reafon,
Cynthia for {hame obfcures her filver {hrine,
Till forging nature be condemn'd of treafon,
For dealing molds from heaven, that were divine,
Wherein {he fram'd thee in high heaven's defpite,
To fhame the fun by day, and her by night.
And therefore hath {he brib'd the deftinies
To crofs the curious workmanftiip of nature,
To mingle beauty with infirmities,
And pure perfection with impure defeature ;
Making it fubjecl: to the tyranny
Of fad mifchances and much mifery.
As burning fever, agues pale and faint,
Life-poifoning peftilence, and frenzies woad,
The marrow-eating ficknefs, whofe attaint
Diforder breeds by heating of the blood :
Surfeits, impofthumes, grief, and damn'd defpair,
Swear nature's death, for framing thee fo fair.
28 Venus and Adonis.
And not the leaft of all thcfe maladies,
But in one minute's fight brings beauty under :
Both favour, favour, hue and qualities,
Whereat th' imperial g?.z,er late did wonder,
Are on the fuclden walled, thaw'd, and done,
As mountain fnow melts with the mid-day fun.
Therefore, defpite of fruitlefs chaftity,
Love-lacking veftals, and felf-loving nuns,
That on the earth would breed a fcarcity,
And barren dearth of daughters and of fons,
Be prodigal. The lamp that burns by night,
Dries up his oil, to lend the world his light.
What is thy body, but a fwallowing grave,
Seeming to bury that pofterity,
Which by the rights of time thou needs muft have,
If thou deftroy them not in their obfcurity ?
Jf fo, the world will hold thee in difdain,
Sith in thy pride fo fair a hope is (lain.
So in thyfelf thy fel fart made away,
A mifchief worte than civil home-bred ftrife,
Or theirs, whofe defperate hands themfelvesdo flay,
Or butcher's fire, that reaves his fon of life.
Foul cankering ruft the hidden treafure frets ;
But gold, that's put to ufe, more gold begets.
Nay then, quoth Adon, you will fall again .
Into your idle over- handled theam;
The kifs I gave you is beftow'd in vain,
And all in vain you ftrive againft the ftream.
For by this black-fac'd night, defire's foul nurfe,
Your treatife makes me like you worfe and worfe.
Venus and Adonis. 29
If love hath lent you twenty thoufand tongues,
And every tongue more moving than your own,
Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's longs,
Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown.
For know, my heart (lands armed in my ear,
And will not let a falfe found enter there :
Left the deceiving harmony fhould run
Into the quiet clofure of my breaft ;
And then my little heart were quite undone,
In his bedchamber to be barr'd of reft.
No, lady, no, my heart longs not to groan,
But foundly fleeps, while now it fleeps alone.
What have you urg'd, that I cannot reprove ?
The path is fmooth that leadeth unto danger.
I hate not love, but your device in love,
That lends embracements unto every ftranger.
You do it for increafe ; O ftrange excufe !
When reafon is the bawd to luft's abufe.
Call it not love, for love to heaven is fled,
Since fweating luft on earth ufurps his name j
Under whofe iitnple femblance he hath fed
Upon frefh beauty, blotting it with blame :
Which the hot tyrant ftains, and foon bereaves,
. As caterpillars do the tender leaves.
Love comforteth like fun-fhine after rain ;
But luft's effect is tempeft after fun :
Love's gentle fpring doth always frefh remain :
Luft's winter comes, ere fummcr half be done :
Love furfeits not j luft like a glutton dies :
Love is all truth ; luft full of forged lyes.
30 Venus and Adonis.
More I could tell, but more I dare not fay j
The text is old, the orator too green :
Therefore in fadnefs now I will away,
My face is full of fhame, my heart of teen :
Mine ears, that to your wanton calls attended,
Do burn themfelves for having fo offended.
With this, he breaketh from the fweet embrace
Of thofc fair arms, which bound him to her breaft :
And homeward thro' the dark lanes runs apace j
Leaves Love upon her back deeply diftrefs'd.
Look how a bright ftar fhooteth from the fky,
So glides he in the night from Menus' eye.
Which after him (he darts, as one on fhore,
Gazing upon a late embarked friend,
Till the wild waves will have him feen no more,
Whofe ridges with the meeting clouds contend :
So did the mercilefs and pitchy night,
Fold in the Object, that did feed her fight.
Whereat amaz'd, as one that unaware
Hath .dropt a precious jewel in the flood ;
Or ftcnifh'd, as night-wanderers often are,
Their light blown out in fome miftruftful wood:
Even fo confounded in the dark fhe lay,
Having loft the fair difcovery of her way.
And now fhe beats her heart, whereat it groans,
That all the neighbour caves, as feeming troubled,
Make verbal repetition of her moans :
Pailion on paffion deeply is redoubled.
Ay me ! (he cries, and twenty times, woe ! woe !
And twenty echoes twenty times cry fo.
Venus and Adonis. 31
She marking them, begins a wailing note,
And fings extemp'rally a woful ditty :
How love makes young men thrall, and old men dote j
How love is wife in folly, foolifh witty :
Her heavy anthem flill concludes in woe !
And ftill the choir of echoes anfwers fo.
Her fong was tedious, and out-wore the night,
For lovers hours are long, tho' feeming fhort :
If pleas'd themfelves, others they think delight
In iuch-like circumftance, with fuch-like fport.
Their copious ftories, oftentimes begun,
End without audience, and are never done.
For who hath fhe to fpend the night withal,
But idle founds, refembling parafites ?
Like (hrill-tongu'd tapfters anfwering every call,
Soothing the humour of fantaftick wits.
She faid, 'tis fo : they anfwer all, 'tis fo,
And would fay after her, if fhe faid no.
Lo ! here the gentle lark, weary of reft,
From his moift cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whofe filver breaft
The fun arifeth in his majeiry :
Who doth the world fo glorioufly behold,
The cedar-tops and hills feem burnifti'd gold.
Venus falutes him with this fair good-morrow :
O thou clear god, and patron of all light!
From whom each lamp and fhining ftar doth borrow
The beauteous influence, that makes him bright:
There lives a fon, that fuck'd an earthly mother,
May lend thee light, as thou doft lend to other.
32 Venus and Adonis.
This faid, fhe hafteth to a myrtle grove, •
Mufing the morning is fo much o'er- worn :
And yet fhe hears no tidings of her love :
She hearkens for his hounds, and for his horn }
Anon fhe hears them chaunt it luftily,
And all in hafte fhe coafteth to the cry.
And as fhe runs, the bufhes in the way,
Some catch her by the neck, fome kifs her face,
Some twine about her thigh, to make her ftay j
She wildly breaketh from their ftric"l embrace,
Like a milch doe, whofe fwelling dugs do ake,
Rafting to feed her fawn, hid in fome brake.
By this flie hears the hounds are at a bay,
Whereat fhe ftarts, like one that fpies an adder,
Wreath'd up in fatal folds, juft in his way,
The fear whereof doth make him {hake and fhudder
Ev'n fo the timorous yelping of the hounds,
Appals her fenfes, and her fp'rit confounds.
For now fhe knows it is no gentle chafe,
But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud;
Becaufe the cry remaineth in one place,
Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud :
Finding their enemy to be fo curft,
They all ftrain curt'fy who fhall cope him firft.
This difmal cry rings fadly in her ear,
Thro' which it enters, to furpi ize her heart ;
Who overcome by doubt and bloodlefs fear,
With cold pale weaknefs numbs each feeling part:
Like foldiers, when their captain once doth yield -t
They bafely fly, and dare not ftay the field.
Venus and Adonis. 3
Thus ftands fhe in a trembling extafy,
Till cheering up her fenfes fore difmaid,
She tells them 'tis a caufelefs fantafy,
And child ifh error, that they are afraid ;
Bids them leave quaking, wills them fear no more :
And with that word, fhe fpy'd the hunted boar.
Whofe frothy mouth bepainted all with red,
Like milk and blood being mingled both together,
A fecond fear thro' all her fmews fpread,
Which madly hurries her fhe knows not whither.
This way me runs, and now fhe will no further,
But back retires, to rate the boar for murder.
A thoufand fpleens bear her a thoufand ways,
She treads the paths that fhe untreads again j
Her more than hafte is marred with delays :
Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,
Full of refpeft, yet not at all refpedting;
In hand with all things, nought at all effecting,
Here kennel'd in a brake, fhe finds an hound,
And afks the weary caitiff for his mafter j
And there another licking of his wound,
'Gainfl venom'd fores the only fovereign plaifter :
And here fhe meets another fudly fcolding,
To whom fhe fpeaks, and he replies with howling.
When he had ceas'd his ill-refounding noife,
Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim,
Againft the welkin vollies out his voice 3
Another and another anfwer him,
Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,
Shaking their fcratcht ears, bleeding as they go.
C
34 Venus and Adonis.
Look how the world's poor people are amaz'd
At apparitions, figns and prodigies,
Whereon, with fearful eyes, they long havegaz'd,
Infufing them with dreadful prophecies :
So (he, at thefe fad figns, draws up her breath,
And fighing it again, exclaims on death.
Hard-favour'd tyrant,' ugly, meagre, lean,
Hateful divorce of love (thus chides fhe death)
Grim-grinning ghoft, earth's worm, whatdoft thou
To ftifle beauty, and to fteal his breath ? [mean ?
Who when he liv'd, his breath and beauty fet
Glofs on the rofe, fmell to the violet.
If he be dead, O no ! it cannot be !
Seeing his beauty, thou fhouldft ftrike at it.
O ! yes, it may ; thou haft no eyes to fee,
But hatefully at random doft thou hit.
Thy mark is feeble age; but thy falfe dart
Miftakes that aim, and cleaves an infant's heart.
Hadft thou but bid beware, then he had fpoke,
And hearing him, thy power had loft his power.
The deftinies will curfe thee for this ftroke,
They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'ft a flower:
Love's golden arrow at him fhould have fled,
And not death's ebon dart to ftrike him dead.
Doft thou drink tears, that thou provok'ft fuch weep-
What may a heavy groan advantage thee ? [ing ?
Why haft thou caft into eternal fleeping
Thofe eyes, that taught all other eyes to fee ?
Now nature cares not for thy mortal vigour,
Since her beft work is ruin'd with thy rigour.
Venus and Adonis. 35
Here overcome, as one full of defpair^
She veil'd her eye-lids, which like fluices ftopp'd
The cryftal tide, that from her two cheeks fair,
In the fweet channel of her bofom dropp'd.
But thro' the flood-gates breaks the filver rain,
And with his ftrong courfe opens them again.
O ! how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow !
Her eyes feen in her tears, tears in her eye ;
Both crystals, where they view'd each other's forrow:
Sorrow, that friendly fighs fought ftill to dry.
But like a ftormy day, now wind, now rain ;
Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.
Variable paflions throng her conftant woe,
As ftriving which fhould beft become her grief:
All entertain'd, each paffion labours fo,
That every prefent forrow feemeth chief.
But none is beft, then join they all together,
Like many clouds confulting for foul weather.
By this, far off, fhe hears fome huntfman hollow:
A nurfe's fong ne'er pleas'd her babe fo well.
The dire imagination fhe did follow,
This found of hope doth labour to expel :
For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,
And flatters her, it is Adonis' voice.
Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,
Being prifon'd in her eye, like pearls in glafs :
Yet fometime falls an orient drop befide,
Which her cheek melts, as fcorning it fhould pafs
To wafh the foul face of the fluttifh ground,
Who is but drunken when fhe feemeth drown'd.
C 2
Venus and Adonis.
0 hard believing love ! how ftrange it feems
Not to believe ] and yet too credulous !
Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes,
IX-lpair and hope make thee ridiculous !
The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
With likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly
Now (he unweaves the web that {he had wrought,
Adonis lives, and death is not to blame :
It was not (he that call'd him all to nought,
Now fhc adds honour to his hateful name :
She 'deeps him king of graves, and grave for kings,
Imperial fupreme of mortal things.
No, no, (quoth fhe) fweet death, I did but jeft;
Yet pardon me, I felt, a kind of fear,
When as I met the boar, that bloody beaft,
Which knows no pity, but is dill fevere.
Then gentle fhadow (truth I muft confcftO
I rail'd on thee fearing my love's deceafe.
'Tis not my fault : the boar provok'd my tongue f
Be wreak'd on him (invifible commander!)
'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong,
1 did but acl:, he's author of thy flander.
Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet
Cou'd rule them both without ten womens wit.
Thus hoping that Adcnh is alive,
Her ra(h fufpe£t (he doth extenuate ;
And that his beauty may the better thrive,
With death (he humbly doth infmuate :
Tells him of trophies, ftatues, tombs, and (lories,
His victories, his triumphs, and his glories.
Venus and Adonis. 37
O Jove! quoth fhe, how much a fool was I,
To be of fuch a weak and filly mind,
To wail his death, who lives, and muft not die,
Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind !
For he being dead, with him is beauty (lain,
And beauty dead, black chaos comes again.
Fye ! fye ! fond love, thou art fo full of fear,
As one with treafure laden, hem'd with thieves :
Trifles (unwitneffed with eye or ear)
Thy coward heart, with falfe bethinking grieves.
Even at this word fhe hears a merry horn,
Whereat fhe leaps, that was but late forlorn.
As faulcon to the lure, .away fhe flies :
The grafs floops not, fhe treads on it fo light,
And in her hafte unfortunately fpies
The foul boar's conqueft on her fair delight.
Which fee'n, her eyes, as murder'd with the view,
Like ftars afham'd of day, themfelves withdrew.
Or as the fnail, whofe tender horns being hit,
Shrinks backward in his fhelly cave with pain,
And there, all fmother'd up, in fhade doth fit,
Long after fearing to creep forth again :
So, at his bloody view her eyes are fled
Into the deep dark cabins of her head.
Where they refign'd their office and their light
To the difpofing of her troubled brain :
Who bids them rr.il! confort with ugly night,
And never wound the heart with looks a"-ahj :
Who like a king perplexed in his throne,
By their fuggeftions gives a deadly groan.
C 3
38 Venus and Adonis.
Whereat each tributary fubje& quakes,
As when the wind, imprifon'd in the ground,
Struggling for pafiage, earth's foundation fhakes,
Which with cold terrors doth mens minds confound.
This mutiny each part doth fo furprize,
That from theirdark beds, once more, leap hereyes.
And, being open'd, threw unwilling fight
Upon the wide wound, that the boar had trench'd
In his foft flank : whofe wonted lily white
With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd.
No flower was nigh, no grafs, herb, leaf, or weed,
But ftole his blood, and feem'd with him to bleed.
This folemn fympathy poor Venus noteth,
Over one fhoulder doth fhe hang her head ;
Dumbly fhe paffions, frantickly (he doteth ;
She thinks he could not die, he is not dead.
Her voice is flopp'd, her joints forget to bow,
Her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now.
Upon his hurt (lie looks fo fledfaftly,
That her fight dazling, makes the wound feem three;
And then fhe reprehends her mangling eye,
That makes more gafhes where no breach mould be :
His face feems twain^each feveral limb is doubled,
For oft the eye miftakes, the brain being troubled.
My tongue cannot exprefs my grief for one ;
And yet (quoth fhej behold two Adorn dead !
My fighs are blown away, my fait tears gone,
Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead :
Heavy hearts lead melt at mine eyes as fire,
So fhall I die by drops of hot defire.
Venus and Adonis. 39
Alas, poor world ! what treafure haft thou loft !
What face remains alive that's worth the viewing ?
Whofe tongue is mufick now ? what canft thou boaft
Of things long fmce, or any thing enfuing ?
The flowers are fweet, their colours frefh and trim,
But true fweet beauty liv'd and dy'd in him.
Bonnet, or veil, henceforth no creature wear;
Nor fun, nor wind will ever ftrive to kifs you :
Having no fair to lofe, you need not fear ;
The fun doth fcorn you, and the wind doth hifs you.
But when Adonis liv'd, fun and fharp air
Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair.
And therefore wou'd he put his bonnet on,
Under whofe brim the gaudy fun wou'd peep ;
The wind wou'd blow it off, and being gone,
Play with his locks, then wou'd Adonis weep :
.And ftraight, in pity of his tender years,
They both wou'd flrive who firft fhou'd dry his tears.
To fee his face, the lion walks along
Behind fome hedge, becaufe he wou'd not fear him j
To recreate himfelf when he hath fung,
The tyger wou'd be tame, and gently hear him :
If he had fpoke, the wolf wou'd leave his preyj
And never fright the filly lamb that day.
When he beheld his fhadow in a brook,
There fifties fpread on it their golden gills :
When he was by, the birds fuch pleafure took,
That fome would fing, fome other in their bills
Would bring him mulberries, and ripe red cherries;
He fed them with his fight, they him with berries.
C4
4* Venus and Adonis.
But this foul, grim, and urchin fnoutcd boar,
Whofe downward eye ftill Jooketh for a grave,
Ne'er faw the beauteous livery that he wore;
Witncfs the entertainment that he gave.
If he did fee his face, why then I know,
He thought to kifs him, and hath kill'd him fo,
Tis true, true, true, thus was Adonis (lain,
He ran upon the boar with his fharp fpear,
Who wou'd not whet his teeth at him again,
But by a kifs thought to perfuade him there :
And noufling in his flank, the loving fwinc
Sheath'd unaware his tufk in his foft groin.
Had I been tooth'd like him, I muft confefs,
With kifling him, I fhou'd have kill'd him full.
But he is dead, and never did he blefs
My mouth with'his ; the more am I accurs'd.
With this fhe falleth in the place (he flood,
And ftains her face with his congealed blood.
She looks upon his lips, and they are pale ;
She takes him hy the hand, and that is cold j
She whifpers in his ear a heavy tale,
As if he heard the woful words fhe told :
She lifts the coffer-lids that clofe his eyes,
Where, lo ! two lamps burnt out in darknefs lies.
Two glafles, where herfelf herfelf beheld
A thoufand times, and now no more reflect ;
Their virtue loft, wherein they late excel'd,
And every beauty robb'd of his effect.
Wonder of time! (quoth fhe) this is my fpight,
That, you being dead, the day fhould yet be light.
Venus and Adonis. 41
Since thou art dead, lo ! here I prophefy
Sorrow on love hereafter fhall attend ;
It fhall be waited on with jealoufy,
Find fweet beginning, but unfavoury end,
Ne'er fettled equally to high or low ;
That all love's pleafures fhall not match his woe.
It fhall be fickle, falfe, and full of fraud,
And fhall be blafted in a breathing while,
The bottom poifon, and the top o'er-ftraw'd
With fweets, that fhall the fharpeft fight beguile.
The fhongeft body fhall it make moft weak,
Strike the wife dumb, and teach the fooltofpeak.
It fhall be fparing, and too full of riot,
Teaching decrepit age to tread the meafures ;
The flaring ruffian fhall it keep in quiet,
Pluck down the rich, inrich the poor with treafures ;
It fhall be raging mad, and filly mild,
Make the young old, the old become a child.
It fhall fufpecl:, where is no caufe of fear ;
It fhall not fear, where it fhould moft miftruft j
It fhall be merciful and too fevere,
And moft deceiving when it feems moft juft ;
Perverfe it fhall be, when it feems moft toward,
Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.
It fhall be caufe of war and dire events,
And fet difienfion 'twixt the fon and fire ;
Subject and fervile to all difcontents,
As dry combuftious matter is to fire.
Sithj in his prime, death doth my love deftroy,
They that love beft their love fhall not enjoy,
42 Venus and Adonis.
By this the boy that by her fide lay kill'd,
Was melted like a vapour from her fight,
And in his blood, that on the ground lay fpill'd,
A purple flower fprung up chequer'd with white,
Refembling well his pale cheeks and the blood,
Which in round drops upon their whitenefs flood;
She bows her head the new-fprung flower to frnell,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath :
And fays, within her bofom it fhall dwell,
Since he himfelf is reft from her by death :
She crops the ftalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping fap, which fhe compares to tears,
Poor flower ! (quoth fhe) this was thy father's guife,
(Sweet iflue of a more fweet-fmelling fire)
For every little grief to wet his eyes,
To grow unto himfelf was his dffire,
And fo 'tis thine; but know it is as good
To wither in my bread, as in his blood.
Here was thy father's bed, here is my breafl,
Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right ;
Lo ! in this hollow cradle take thy reft,
My throbbing heart fhall rock thee day and night :
There fhall not be one minute of an hour,
Wherein I will not kifs my fweet love's flower.
Thus weary of the world, away fhe hies.
And yokes her filver doves, by whofe fwift aid,
Their miftrefs mounted, thro' the empty fkies
In her light chariot quickly is convcy'd ;
Holding their courfe to Papbos^ where their queen
Means to immure herfelf, and not be feen.
T A R Q^U I N
find
L U C R E C E.
70 the R;gbt Honourable
HENRT W RIO THE S L r,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron c/'Tichfield.
Right Honourable^
The love I dedicate to your lordfhip is without
end : whereof this pamphlet, without beginning,
is but a fuperfluous moiety. The warrant I have
of your honourable difpofition, not the worth of my
untutor'd lines, makes it aflured of acceptance.
What I have done is yours, what I have to do is
yours, being part in all I have devoted yours. Were
my worth greater, my duty fhould Ihew greater:
mean time, as it is, it is bound to your lordfliip :
to whom I wifh long life, ftill lengthened with all
happinefs.
Your Lordfhip's in all duty,
Will. Shakefpear.
The ARGUMENT.
Lucius Tarquinius (for his exceflive pride fur-
named Superbus) after he had caufed his father-in-
law, Servius Tullius^ to be cruelly murdered, and
contrary to the Roman laws and cuftoms, not re-
quiring or flaying for the people's fuffrages, had
pofTefled himfelf of the kingdom ; went, accompa-
nied with his fons, and other noblemen of Rome,
to befiege Ardea. During which fiege, the princi-
pal men of the army meeting one evening at the
tent of Sextus Tarquinius, the king's fon, in their
difcourfes after fupper, every one commended the
virtues of his own wife ; among whom Colatinus
extolled the incomparable chaftity of his wife
Lucrece. In that pleafant humour they all pofted
to Rome'y and intending, by their fecret and fudden
arrival, to make trial of that which every one had
before avouched : only Colatinus finds his wife
(though it were late in the night) fpinningamongft
her maids, the other ladies were found all dancincr
' - O
and revelling, or in feveral difports. Whereupon
the noblemen yielded Colatinus the victory, and his
wife the fame. At that time, Sextus Tarquinius
being inflamed with Lucrece $ beauty, yet fmother-
ing his paffion for the prefent, departed with the
reft back to the camp ; from whence he fhordy after
privily withdrew himfelf, and was (according to
his ftate) royally entertained, and lodged by Lucrece
at Colatium. The fame night, he treacheroufly
ftealing into her chamber, violently ravifhed her;
and early in the morning fpeeded away. Lucrece^ in
46 The ARGUMENT.
this lamentable plight, haftily difpatchcth mcflen-
gers, one to Rome for her father, another to the
camp for Colatine. They came, the one accompa-
nied with Junius Brutus, the other with Publius
Valerius : and finding Lucrece attired in a mourning
habit, demanded the caufe of her forrow. She fiiit
taking an oath of them for her revenge, revealed the
aclor, and whole matter of his dealing, and withal
fuddenly ftabbed herfelf. Which done, with one
confent, they all vowed to root out the whole hated
family of the Tarquins : and bearing the dead body
to Rome, Brutus acquainted the people with the
doer, and manner of the vile deed ; with a bitter
inventive againft the tyranny of the king : where-
with the people were fo moved, that with one con-
fent, and a general acclamation, the Tarquins were
all exiled, and the ftate-government changed, from
kings to confuls.
TARQJJiN and LUCRECE,
From the befieg'd Ardea all in poft,
Borne by the truftlefs wings of falfe defire,
Luft-breathing Tarquin leaves the Roman horr,
And to Colatium bears the lightlefs fire,
Which in pale embers hid, lurks to afpire$
And girdle, with imbracing flames, the wafte
Of Colatine's fair love, Lucrece the chafte.
Haply that name of chafte, unhaply fet
This baitlefs edge on his keen appetite :
When Colatine unwifely did not let,
To praife the clear unmatched red and white,
Which triumph'd in that fky of his delight;
Where mortal frar, as bright as heaven's beauties,
With pure afpecls did him peculiar duties*
For he the night before, in Tarquin 's tent,
Unlock'd the treafure of his happy ftate :
What prizelefs wealth the heavens had him lent,
In the pofleffion of his beauteous mate;
Reckoning his fortune at fo high a rate,
That kings might be efpoufed to more fame,
But king nor prince to fuch a peerlefs dame.
O happinefs enjoy'd but of a few !
And if poflefs'd, as foon decay 'd and done !
As is the morning's filver melting dew,
Againft the golden fplendor of the fun ;
A date expir'd and cancel'd ere begun.
48 Tarquin and Lucrece.
Honour and beauty in the owner's arms,
Are weakly fortrelt from a world of harms.
Beauty itfelf doth of itfelf perfuade
The eyes of men without an orator ;
What needed then apologies be made,
To fet forth that which is fo fingular ?
Or why is Colatine the publifher
Of that rich Jewel he (hould keep unknown
From thievim cares, becaufe it is his own ?
Perchance his boaft of Lucrece fov'reignty
Suggefted this proud iflue of a king;
For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be.
Perchance, that envy of fo rich a thing
Braving compare, difdainfully did fting [vant
His high-pitcht thoughts, that meaner men (hould
The golden-hap, which their fuperiors want.
But fome untimely thought did inftigate
His all too timelels fpeed, if none of thofe.
His honour, his affairs, his friends, his ftate,
Negle&ed all, with fwift intent he goes
To quench the coal, which in his liver glows.
O rafh falfe heat wrapt in repentant cold !
Thy hafty fpring ftill blafts, and ne'er grows old.
When at Colatlum this falfe lord arriv'd,
Well was he welcom'd by the Roman dame,
Within whofe face beauty and virtue ftriv'd,
WThich of them both fhould underprop her fame.
When virtue brag'd, beauty would blufh for fliamej
When beauty boafted blufhes, in defpight,
Virtue would (lain that o'er with filver white.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 49
But beauty, in that white intituled,
From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field ;
Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red,
Which virtue gave the golden age to gild
Her filver cheeks and call'd it then her fhield ;
Teaching them thus to ufe it in the fight,
When fhame aflail'd, the red fhould fence the
[white.
This heraldry in Lucreci face was feen,
Argu'd by beauty's red and virtue's white ;
Of cither's colour was the other queen,
Proving from world's minority their right ;
Yet their ambition makes them (till to fight :
The fov'reignty of either being fo great,
That oft they interchange each other's feat.
This filent war of lilies and of rofes,
Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field,
In their pure ranks his traitor eye inclofes,
Where, left between them both it fhould be kill'd,
The coward captive vanquifhed doth yield
To thofe two armies, that would let him go,
Rather than triumph o'er fo falfe a foe.
Now thinks he, that her hufband's (hallow tongue,
The niggard prodigal, that prais'd her fo,
In that high tafk hath done her beauty wrong,
Which far exceeds his barren fkill to fhow.
Therefore that praife, which Colatlne doth owe,
Inchantcd Tarquin anfwers with furmife,
In filent wonder of ftill gazing eyes.
This earthly faint, adored by this devil,
Little fufpe&ed the falfe worfhipper.
D
SO Tarquin and Lucrece.
' For thoughts unftain'd do fcldom dream of evil,
' Birds never lim'd, no fecret bufhes fear:'
So guiltlefs fhe fecurely gives good chear
And reverend welcome to her princely gueft,
Whofe inward ill no outward harm expreft.
For that he colour'd with his high eftate,
Hiding bafe fin in pleats of majefty,
That nothing in him feem'd inordinate,
Save fometimes too much wonder of his eye :
Which having all, all could not fatisfy ;
But poorly rich fo wanteth in his More,
That cloy'd with much, he pineth ftill for more.
But fhe that never cop'd with flranger-eyes,
Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,
Nor read the fubtle fliining fecrefies
Writ in the glafiy margents of fuch books,
She touch'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no hooks ;
Nor could fhe moralize his wanton fight
More, than his eyes were open'd to the light.
He ftories to her ears her hufband's fame,
Won in the fields of fruitful Italy ;
And decks with praifes Colattne's high name,
Made glorious by his manly chivalry,
With bruifed arms and wreaths of victory.
Her joy with heav'd-up hand fhe doth exprefs,
And wordlefs, fo greets heav'n for his fuccefs.
Far from the purpofe of his coming thither,
He makes excufes for his being there ;
No cloudy fhow of flormy blufrring weather,
Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear,
Till fable night, fad fource of dread and fear,
Tarquln and Lucrece. 51
Upon the world dim darknefs doth difplay,
And in her vaulty prifon fliuts the day.
For then is Tarquln brought unto his bed,
Intending wearinefs with heavy fpritej
For after fupper long he queftioned
With modeft Lucrece^ and wore out the night.
Now leaden flumber with life's ftrength doth fight,
And every one to reft themfelves betake,
Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that
[wake.
As one of which, doth Tarquln lie revolving
The fundry dangers of his will's obtaining,
Yet ever to obtain his will refolving,
Tho' weak-built hopes perfuade him to abftaining ;
Defpair to gain doth traffick oft for gaining :
And when great treafure is the meed propos'd,
Tho' death be adjunct, there's no death fuppos'd.
Thofe that much covet are of gain fo fond,
That oft they have not that which they poflefs ;
They fcatter and unloofe it from their bond,
And fo by hoping more, they have but lefs j
Or gaining more, the profit of excefs
Is but to furfeit, and fuch griefs fuftain,
That they prove bankrupt in this poor, rich, gain.
The aim of all, is but to nurfe the life
With honour, wealth and eafe in waining age :
And in this aim there is fuch thwarting ftrife,
That one for all, or all for one we gage :
As life for honour, in fell battles rage,
Honour for wealth, and oft that wealth doth coft
The death of all, and altogether loft.
D 2
52 Tarquin and Lucrcce.
So that in venturing all, we leave to be
The things we are, for that which we expect:
And this ambitious foul infirmity,
In having much, torments us with defect-
Of that we have : fo then we do neglect
The thing we have, and, all for want of wit,
Make fomething nothing, by augmenting it.
Such hazard now muft doating Tarquin make,
Pawning his honour to obtain his luft :
And for himfelf, himfclf he muft forfake ;
Then where is truth, if there be no felf-truft ?
When (hall he think to find a ftranger juft,
When he himfelf, himfelf confounds, betrays,
To fland'rous tongues the wretched hateful lays ?
Now ftole upon the time the dead of night,
When heavy deep had clos'd up mortal eyes ;
No comfortable ftar did lend his light,
No noife but owls, and wolves death-boding cries :
Now ferves the feafon, that they may furprize
The filly lambs ; pure thoughts are dead and ftill,
Whilft luft and murder wakes to ftain and kill.
And now this luftful lord leapt from his bed,
Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm,
Is madly toft between deftre and dread ;
Th' one fweetly flatters, the other feareth harm :
But honeft fear, bewitch'd with luft's foul charm,
Doth too too oft betake him to retire,
Beaten aw/ny by brainfick rude defire.
His fauchioh on a flint he foftly fmiteth,
'1 hat from the cold ftone fparks of fire do fly,
Tarquin and Lucrece. 53
Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth,
Which muft be load-ftar to his luftful eye :
And to the flame thus fpeaks advifedly ;
* As from this cold flint I enforc'd this fire,
* So Lucrece muft I force to my defire.'
Here pale with fear, he doth premeditate
The dangers of his loathfome enterprise ;
And in his inward mind he doth debate
What following forrow may on this arife :
Then looking fcornfully he doth defpife
His naked armour of ftill flaughter'd luft,
And juftly thus controuls his thoughts unjuft.
Fair torch burn out thy light, and lend it not
To darken her, whofe light excelleth thine :
And die unhallow'd thoughts, before you blot
With your uncleannefs, that which is divine.
Offer pure incenfe to fo pure a fhrine :
Let fair humanity abhor the deed,
That fpots and ftains love's modeft fnow-white
[weed .
O fliame to knighthood, and to fhining arms !
O foul dishonour to my houfliold's grave !
O impious act, including all foul harms !
A martial man to be foft fancy's flave !
True valour ftill a true refpect fhould have.
Then my digreflion is fo vile, fo bafe,
That it will live engraven in my face.
Yes, tho' I die, the fcandal will furvive,
And be an eye-lore in my golden coat :
Some loathfome dafh the herald will contrive
To cypher me how fondly I did dote :
That my pofterity fhamed with the note^
54 Tarquin and Lucrecc.
Shall curfe my bones, and hold it for no fin,
To wifti that I their father had not been.
What win I, if I gain the thing I feek ?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy,
Who buys a minute's mirth, to wail a week ?
Or fells eternity, to get a toy ?
For one fweet grape, who will the vine deftroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
Would with the fcepter ftrait be ftrucken down ?
If Colatinus dream of my intent,
Will he not wake, and in a defperate rage
Poft hither, this vile purpofe to prevent ?
This fiege, that hath ingirt his marriage,
This blur to youth, this forrow to the fage,
This dying virtue, this furviving fhame,
Whofe crime will bear an ever-during blame.
O what excufe can my invention make,
When thou (halt charge me with fo black a deed !
Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints make ?
Mine eyes forego their light, my falfe heart bleed ?
The guilt being great, the fear doth ftill exceed,
And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly,
But coward-like with trembling terror die.
Had Colatinus kill'd my fon or fire,
Or lain in ambufh to betray my life ;
Or were he not my dear friend, this defirc
Might have excufe to work upon his wife,
As in revenge or quital of fuch flrife :
But as he is my kinfman, my dear friend,
The lhame and fault finds no excufe nor end.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 55
Shameful it is, if once the fa£r, be known ;
Hateful it is ; there is no hate in loving.
I'll beg her love ; but fhe is not her own :
The worft is but denial, and reproving ;
My will is ftrong, paft reafon's weak removing.
Who fears a fentence, or an old man's faw,
Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.
Thus (gracelefs) holds he difputation,
'Tween frozen confcience and hot-burning will ;
And with good thoughts makes difpenfation,
Urging the worfer fenfe for 'vantage ftill ;
Which in a moment doth confound and kill
All pure effects, and doth fo far proceed,
That what is vile fhews like a virtuous deed.
Quoth he, fhe took me kindly by the hand,
And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes,
Fearing fome bad news from the warlike band,
Where her beloved Colatinus lies.
O how her fear did make her colour rife ?
Firft, red as rofes, that on lawn we lay,
Then white as lawn, the rofes took away.
And now her hand in my hand being lock'd,
Forc'd it to tremble with her loyal fear :
Which ftrook her fad, and then it fafter rock'd,
Until her hufband's welfare fhe did hear;
Whereat flie fmiled with fo fweet a chear,
That had NarciJJus feen her as fhe flood,
Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood.
Why hunt I then for colour or excufes ?
All orators are dumb, when beauty pleads.
D 4
56 Tarquin and Lucrece.
Poor wretches have remorfe in poor abufes ;
Love thrives not in the heart, that fhadows dreads.
Affection is my captain, and he leads ;
And when his gaudy banner is difplay'd,
The coward fights, and will not be difmay'd.
Then child ifh fear avant ! debating dft !
Refpedt and reafon wait on wrinkled age !
My heart fhall never countermand mine eye,
Sad paufe and deep regard befeems the fage ;
My part is youth, and beats thefe from the ftage.
Defire my pilot is, beauty my prize ;
Then who fears finking, where fuch treafure lies ?
As corn o'ergrown by weeds, fo heedful fear
Is almoft cloak'd by unrefifted luft.
Away he fteals with open lift'ning ear,
Full of foul hope, and full of fond miftruft :
Both which, as fervitprs to the unjuft,
So crofs him with their oppofite perfuafion,
That now he vows a league, and now invafion.
Within his thought her heavenly image fits,
And in the felf-fame feat fits Cotatine,
That eye which looks on her, confounds his wits •>
That eye which him beholds, as more divine,
Unto a view fo falfe will not incline :
But with a pure appeal feeks to the heart,
Which once corrupted takes the worfer part.
And therein heartens up his fervile powers,
Who flatter 'd by their leaders jocund fhow,
Stuff up his luft, as minutes fill up hours ;
And as their captain fo their pride doth grow,
Paying more flavifh tribute than they owe.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 57
By reprobate defire thus madly led,
The Roman lord doth march to Lucrece' bed.
The locks between her chamber and his will,
Each one by him enforc'd, recites his ward ;
.But as they open, they all rate his ill,
Which drives the creeping thief to fome regard :
The threfhold grates the door to have him heard ;
Night-wand'ring weezels fhriek to fee him there,
They fright him, yet he {till purfues his fear.
As each unwilling portal yields him way,
Thro' little vents and crannies of the place,
The wind wars with his torch to make him ftay,
And blows the fmoke of it into his face,
Extinguifhing his conduct in this cafe.
But his hot heart, which fond defire doth fcorch,
Puff's forth another wind that fires the torch.
And being lighted by the light he fpies
Lucretias glove, wherein the needle fticks ;
He takes it from the rufhes where it lies,
And griping it, the needle his finger pricks :
As who fhould fay, this glove to wanton tricks
Is not inur'd ; return again in hafte,
Thou feeft our miftrefs' ornaments are chafte.
But all thefe poor forbiddings could not ftay him,
He in the worft fenfe conftrues their denial :
The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him,
He takes for accidental things of trial,
Or as thofe bars which ftop the hourly dial ;
Which with a lingring ftay his courfe doth let,
Till every minute pays the hour his debt.
58 Tarquin and Lucrcce.
So, fo, quoth he, thcfe lets attend the time,
Like little frofls, that fometime threat the fpring,
Xo add a more rejoicing to the prime,
And give the fneaped birds more caufe to ftng.
Pain pays the income of each precious thing ; [ fands,
Huge rocks, high winds, ftrong pirates, melves and
The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.
Now is he come unto the chamber-door,
That fhuts him from the heaven of his thought,
Which with a yielding latch, and with no more,
Hath barr'd him from the blefied thing he fought.
So from himfelf impiety hath wrought ;
That for his prey to pray he doth begin,
As if the heavens fhould countenance his fin.
But in the midft of his unfruitful prayer,
Having folicited th' eternal power,
That his foul thoughts might compafs his fair fair,
And they would ftand aufpicious to the hour ;
Even there he ftarts, quoth he, I muft deflour !
The powers to whom I pray, abhor this fa<5r,
How can they then afliir, me in the act ?
Then love and fortune be my gods, my guide,
My will is back'd with refolution :
Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be try'd,
Black fin is clear'd with abfolution ;
Againft love's fire, fear's froft hath diflblution.
The eye of heaven is out, and mifty night
Covers the ihame, that follows fweet delight.
This faid, the guilty hand pluck'd up the latch,
And with his knee the door he opens wide;
Tarquin and Lucrece. 59
The dove fieeps faft, that this night owl will catch :
Thus treafon works ere traitors be efpy'd.
Who fees the lurking ferpent, fteps afide ;
But (he found fleeping, fearing no fuch thing,
Lies at the mercy of his mortal fting.
Into the chamber wickedly he ftalks,
And gazeth on her yet unftained bed :
The curtains being clofe, about he walks,
Rolling his greedy eye-balls in his head,
By their high treafon in his heart mifled ;
Which gives the watch-word to his hand too foon,
To draw the cloud that hides the filver moon.
Look as the fair and fiery pointed fun,
Rufhing from forth a cloud, bereaves our fight ;
Even fo the curtain drawn, his eyes begun
To wink, being blinded with a greater light :
Whether it is, that me reflects fo bright,
That dazleth them, or elfe fome fliame fuppos'd ;
But blind they are, and keep themfelvcs inclos'd.
O had they in that darkfome prifon died !
Then had they feen the period of their ill ;
Then Colatine again by Lucrece fide,
In his clear bed might. have repofed ftill.
But they muft ope, this bleffed league to kill ;
And holy-thoughted Lucrece^ to their fight
Muft fell her joy, her life, her world's delight.
Her lily hand her rofy cheeks lies under,
Cozening the pillow of a lawful kifs ;
Which therefore angry, feems to part in funder,
Swelling on either fide to want his blifs :
Between whofe hills, her head intombed is ;
60 Tarquin and Lucrecc.
Where like a virtuous monument {he lies,
To be admir'd of lewd unhallow'd eyes.
Without the bed her other fair hand was,
On the green coverlet, whofe perfect white
Shcw'd like an jfpril dazy on the grafs,
With pearly fweat, refembling dew of night.
Her eyes like marigolds had meath'd their light,
And canopy'd in darkncfs fweetly lay,
Till they might open to adorn the day.
Her hair like golden threads play'd with her breath
O modeft wantons, wanton modefty !
Showing life's triumph in the map of death,
And death's dim look in life's mortality.
Each in her fleep thcmfelves fo beautify,
As if between them twain there were no ftrife,
But that life liv'd in death, and death in life.
Her breads like ivory globes circled with blue,
A pair of maiden worlds unconquered :
Save of their lord, no bearing yoke they knew,
And him by oath they truly honoured.
Thefe worlds in Tarquin^ new ambition bred,
Who like a foul ulurper went about,
From this fair throne to have the owner out.
What could he fee, but mightily he noted ?
What did he note, but ftrongly he defir'd ?
What he beheld, on that he firmly doated,
And in his will his wilful eye he tir'd.
With more than admiration he admir'd
Her azure veins, her alabafter (kin,
Her coral lips, her f now- white dimpled chin.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 61
As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,
Sharp hunger by the conqueft fatisfy'd :
So o'er this fleeping foul doth Tarquin flay,
His rage of luft by gazing qualify'd,
Slack'd, not fuppreft ; for ftanding by her fide,
His eye which late this mutiny reftrains,
Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins.
And they, like ftraggling flaves for pillage fighting,
Obdurate vaflals, fell exploits effecting,
In bloody death and raviihment delighting,
Nor childrens tears, nor mothers groans refpe&ing,
Swell in their pride, the onfet (till expecting.
Anon his beating heart alarum ftriking,
Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking.
His drumming heart chears up his burning eye :
His eye commends the leading to his hand ;
His hand, as proud of fueh a dignity,
Smoaking with pride, march'd on to make his fland
On her bare breafls, the heart of all her land ;
Whofe ranks of blue veins, as his hand did fcale,
Left their round turrets deftitute and pale.
They muft'ring to the quiet cabinet,
Where their dear governefs and lady lies,
Do tell her (he is dreadfully befet,
And fright her with confufion of their cries.
She much amaz'd breaks ope her lock'd-up eyes }
Who peeping forth, this tumult to behold,
Are by his flaming torch dim'd and controul'd.
Imagine her as one in dead of night,
Forth from dull fleep by dreadful fancy waking,
62 Tarquin and Lucrecc.
That thinks fhe has beheld fome ghaftly fprite,
Whofe grim afpecl fets every joint a (baking,
What terror 'tis: but (be in worfer taking,
From deep difturbed, heedfully doth view
The fight, which makes fuppofed terror rue.
Wrapt and confounded in a thoufand fears,
Like to a new-kill'd bird (be trembling lies :
She dares not look, yet winking there appear
Quick (bifting anticks ugly in her eyes,
Such (hadows are the weak brain's forgeries ;
Who angry that the eyes fly from their lights,
In darknefs daunts them with more dreadful fights.
His hand, that yet remains upon her breaft,
(Rude ram ! to batter fuch an ivory wall)
May feel her heart (poor citizen !) diftreft,
Wounding itfelf to death, rife up and fall,
Beating her bulk, that his hand (hakes withal.
This moves in him more rage, and lefler pity,
To make the breach, and enter this fweet city.
Firft like a trumpet doth his tongue begin
To found a parley to his heartlefs foe,
Who o'er the white (beet peers her whiter chin,
The reafon of this alarum to know,
Which he by dumb demeanor feeks to (bow;
But (he with vehement prayers urgeth (rill,
Under what colour he commits this ill.
Thus he replies : The colour in thy face,
That even for anger makes the lily pale,
And the red rofe blu(h at her own difgrace,
Shall plead for me, and tell my loving tale.
Under that colour am I come to fcale
Tarquin and Lucrece. 63
Thy never-conquer'd fort, the fault is thine,
For thofe thine eyes betray thee unto mine.
Thus I foreftal thee, if thou mean to chide :
Thy beauty hath infnar'd thee to this night,
Where thou with patience muft my will abide ;
My will, that marks thee for my earth's delight,
Which I to conquer fought with all my might.
But as reproof and reafon beat it dead,
By thy bright beauty it was newly bred.'
I fee what crofles my attempts will bring ;
I know what thorns the growing rofe defends ;
I think the honey guarded with a fting.
All this before-hand counfel comprehends ;
But will is deaf, and hears no heedful friends.
Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty,
And doats on what he looks, 'gainft law or duty.
I have debated, even in my foul,
What wrong, what fhame, what forrowl mall breed ;
But nothing can affection's courfe controul,
Or flop the headlong fury of his fpeed.
I know repentant tears infue the deed,
Reproach, difdain, and deadly enmity ;
Yet ftrive I to embrace mine infamy.
This faid, he makes aloft his Roman blade,
Which like a faulcon tow'ring in the fkies,
Coucheth the fowl below with his wings made,
Whofe crooked beak threats, if he mount he dies :
So under his infulting fauchion lies
Harmlefs Lucretia^ marking what he tells
With trembling fear, as fowls hear faulcon's bells.
64 Tarquin and Lucrece.
Lucrece^ quoth he, this night I mufl enjoy thee,
If thou deny, then force muft work my way;
For in thy bed I purpofe to deftroy thee :
That done, fome worthlefs (lave of thine I'll flay,
To kill thine honour with thy life's decay;
And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him,
Swearing I flew him, feeing thee embrace him.
So thy furviving hufbnnd fhall remain
The fcornful mark of every open eye;
Thy kinfmen hang their heads at this difdain,
Thy ifTue blurr'd with namelefs baftardy;
And thou the author of their obloquy,
Shalt have thy trefpafs cited up in rhymes,
And fung by children in fucceeding times.
But if thou yield, I reft thy fecret friend,
The fault unknown is as a thought unadted ;
A little harm done to a great good end,
For lawful policy remains enacted.
The poifonous fimple fometimes is compacted
In pureft compounds ; being fo apply'd,
His venom in effect is purify'd.
Then for thy hufband, and thy childrens' fake,
Tender my fuit, bequeath not to their lot
The {hame, that from them no device can take,
The blemifh that will never be forgot,
Worfc than a flavifh wipe, or birth-hour's blot:
For marks defcrib'd in mens nativity,
Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.
Here with a cockatrice dead-killing eye,
He roufeth up himfelf, and makes a paufe;
Tarquin and Lucrece. 65
While (he, the pi&ure of true piety,
Like a white hind beneatli the gripe's (harp claws,
Pleads in a wildernefs., where are no laws,
To the rough beaft, that knows no gentle right,
Nor ought obeys but his foul appetite.
As when a black-fac'd cloud the world does threat,
In his dim mift th' afpiring mountain hiding,
From earth's dark womb fome gentle guft does get,
Which blow thefe pitchy vapours from their biding,
Hindring their prefent fall by this dividing :
So his unhallow'd hafte her words delays,
And moody Pluto winks, while Orpheus plays.
Like foul night-waking cat he doth but dally,
While in his hold-faft foot the weak moufe panteth j
Her fad behaviour feeds his vulture folly,
A fwallowing gulf, that e'en in plenty wanteth ;
His ear her prayer admits, but his heart granteth
No penetrable entrance to her plaining;
Tears harden luft, tho' marble wears with raining.
Her pity-pleading eyes are fadly fix'd
In the remorfelefs wrinkles of his face :
Her modeft eloquence with fighs is mix'd,
Which to her oratory adds more grace.
She puts the period often from his place,
And midft the fentence fo her accent breaks,
That twice fhe doth begin, ere once fhe fpeaks.
She conjures him by high Almighty Jove,
By knighthood, gentry, and fweet friendfhip's oath ;
By her untimely tears, her hufband's love ;
By holy human law, and common troth j
By heaven and earth, and all the power of both :
E
66 Tarquin and Lucrcce.
That to his borrow'd bed he make retire,
And (loop to honour, not to foul defire.
Quoth fhe, reward not hofpitality
With fuch black payment as thou haft pretended ;
Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee,
Mar not the thing that cannot be amended :
End thy ill aim before thy (hoot be ended.
He is no wood-man, that doth bend his bow,
Xo ftrike a poor unfeafonable doe.
My hufband is thy friend, for his fake fpare me ;
Thyfelf art mighty, for thy own fake leave me j
Myfelf a weakling, do not then infnare me ;
Thou lookft not like deceit, do not deceive me;
My fighs like whirlwinds labour hence to heave thee.
If ever man was mov'd with woman's moans,
Be moved with my tears, my fighs, my groans.
All which together, like a troubled ocean,
Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threatening heart,
To foften it with their continual motion ;
For ftones diflblv'd to water do convert.
O ! if no harder than a ftone thou art,
Melt at my tears, and be compaflionate !
Soft pity enters at an iron gate.
In Tarquins likenefs I did entertain thee,
Haft thou put on his (hape to d > him fhame ?
To all the hoft of heaven I complain me ; [name :
Thou wrong'ft his honour, wound'ft his princely
Thou art not what thou fcem'ft ; and if the fame,
Thou feem'ft not what thou art, a god, a king;
For kings, like gods, fhould govern every thing.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 67
How will thy fhame be feeded. in thine age,
When thus thy vices bud before thy fpring ?
If in thy hope thou dar'ft do fuch outrage,
What dar'fl thou not when once thou art a king ?
O ! be remembered, no outrageous thing
From vaffal actors can be wip'd away,
Then kings mifdeeds cannot be hid in clay.
This deed fhall make thee only lov'd for fear,
But happy monarchs ftill are fear'd for love :
With foul offenders thou perforce muft bear,
When they in thee the like offences prove :
If but for fear of this, thy will remove.
For princes are the glafs, the fchool, the book,
Where fubjects eyes do learn, do read, do look.
And wilt thou be the fchool where luft {hall learn ?
Muft he in thee read lectures of fuch fhame ?
Wilt thou be glafs, wherein it fhall difcern
Authority for fin, warrant for blame ?
To privilege difhonour in thy name,
Thou back'ft reproach againft long-living laud,
And mak'ft fair reputation but a bawd.
Haft thou commanded ? By him that gave it thee,
From a pure heart command thy rebel will :
Draw not thy fword to guard iniquity,
For it was lent thee all that brood to kill.
Thy princely office how canft thou fulfil,
When pattern'd by thy fault, foul fin may fay,
He learn'd to fin, and thou didft teach the way ?
Think but how vile a fpeclacle it were,
To view thy prefent trefpafs in another :
E 2
68 Tarquin and Lucrece.
Mens faults do fcldom to themfelves appear,
Their own tranfgreflions partially they fmother:
This guilt would feem death worthy in thy brother.
O ! how are they wrapt in with infamies,
That from their ownmifdeeds afkaunce their eyes !
To thee, to thee, my heav'd up hands appeal,
Not to feducing luft's outrageous fire j
I fue for exil'd majefty's repeal,
Let him return and flattering thoughts retire.
His true refpeft will prifon falfe defire,
And wipe the dim mift from thy doating eyne,
That thou (halt fee thy ftate and pity mine.
Have done, quoth he, my uncontrouled tide
Turns not, but fwells the higher by this let;
Small lights are foon blown out, huge fires abide,
And with the wind in greater fury fret :
The petty ftreams that pay a daily debt
To their fait fovereign with their frefh falfe hafte,
Add to his flow, but alter not the tafte.
Thou art (quoth me) a fea, a fovereign king,
And lo ! there falls into thy boundlefs flood
Black luft, difhonour, mame, mifgoverning,
Who feek to ftain the ocean of thy blood.
If all thefe petty ills mould change thy good,
Thy fea within a puddle womb is burfr,
And not the puddle in thy fea difpers'd.
So mail thefe flaves be king, and thou their flave ;
Thou nobly bafe, they bafely dignified ;
Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave ;
Thou loathed in thy mame, they in thy pride :
The lefler thing fhould not the greater hide.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 69
The cedar ftoops not to the bafe fhrub's foot,
But low fhrubs wither at the cedar's root.
So let thy thoughts low vaflals to thy ftate. —
No more, quoth he, by heav'n I will not hear thee:
Yield to my love ; if not, enforced hate,
Inftead of love's coy touch, (hall rudely tear thee:
That done, defpitefully I mean to bear thee
Unto the bafe bed of fome rafcal groom,
To be thy partner in this fhameful doom.
This faid, he fets his foot upon the light,
For light and luft are deadly enemies :
Shame folded up in blind concealing night,
When moft unfeen, then moft doth tyrannize.
The wolf has feiz'd his prey, the poor lamb cries,
Till with her own white fleece her voice controul'd,
Intombs her outcry in her lips fweet fold.
For with the nightly linen, that fhe wears,
He pens her piteous clamours in her head,
Cooling his hot face in the chafteft tears,
That ever modeft eyes with forrow fhed.
O that foul luft fhould ftain fo pure a bed !
The fpots whereof, could weeping purify,
Her tears fhould drop on them perpetually.
But {he hath loft a dearer thing than life,
And he hath won what he would lofe again ;
This forced league doth force a further ftrife,
This momentary joy breeds months of pain,
This hot defire converts to cold difdain.
Pure chaftity is rifled of her ftore,
An luft, the thief, far poorer than before.
E 3
70 Tarquin and Lucrece.
Look as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk,
Unapt for tender fmell, or fpeedy flight,
Make flow purfuit, or altogether balk
The prey wherein by nature they delight :
So furfeit-taking Tarquin fears this night j
His tafte delicious, in digeftion fouring,
Devours his will, that liv'd by foul devouring.
O ! deeper fin, than bottomlefs conceit
Can comprehend in ftill imagination !
Drunken defire, muft vomit his receit,
Ere he can fee his own abomination.
While luft is in his pride, no exclamation
Can curb his heat, or rein his rafh defire,
Till, like a jade, felf-will himfclf doth tire.
And then with lank and lean difcolour'd cheek,
With heavy eye, knit brow, and ftrengthlefs pace,
Feeble defire all recreant, poor and meek,
Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his cafe :
The flefh being proud, defire does fight with grace.
For there it revels, and when that decays,
The guilty rebel for remiflion prays.
So fares it with this fault-full lord of Rome,
Who this accomplifliment fo hotly chas'd :
For now againft himfelf he founds this doom,
That thro' the length of time he ftand's difgrac'd :
Befides, his foul's fair temple is defac'd ;
To whofe weak ruins mufter troops of cares,
To afk the fpotted princefs how fhe fares.
She fays, her fubjefts with foul infurre&ion
Have batter'd down her confecrated wall,
Tarquin and Lucrece. 71
And by their mortal fault brought in fubje&ion
Her immortality, and made her thrall
To living death, and pain perpetual :
Which in her prefcience fhe controuled ftill,
But her forefight could not fore-ftall their will.
E'en in this thought thro' the dark night he ftealeth,
A captive victor, that hath loft in gain :
Bearing away the wound, that nothing healeth,
The fear that will, defpite of cure, remain:
Leaving his fpoil perplex'd in greater pain.
She bears the load of luft he left behind,
And he the burden of a guilty mind.
He like a thievifh dog creeps fadly thence,
She Ijke a weary'd lamb lies panting there :
He fcowls and hates himfelf for his offence,
She defperate, with her nails her flefti doth tear :
He faintly flies, fweating with guilty fear :
She ftays exclaiming on the direful night,
He runs and chides his vanifh'd loath'd delight.
He thence departs a heavy convertite ;
She there remains a hopelefs caft-away :
He in his fpeed looks for the morning-light j
She prays {he never may behold the day :
For day (quoth fhe) night-fcapes doth open lay;
And my true eyes have never pra&is'd how
To cloke offences with a cunning brow.
They think not but that every eye can fee
The fame difgrace, which they themfelves behold ;
And therefore would they ftill in darknefs lie,
To have their unfeen fin remain un:old.
For they their guilt with weeping will unfold,
72 Tarquin and Lucrece.
And grave, like water that doth eat in fteel,
Upon their cheeks what helplefs fhame they feel.
Here (he exclaims againft repofe and reft,
And bids her eyes hereafter ftill be blind :
She wakes her heart, by beating on her breaft,
And bids it leap from thence, \vhere it may find
Some purer cheft to clofe fo pure a mind.
Frantic with grief, thus breathes (he forth her fpight
Againft the unfeen fecrecy of night.
O comfort-killing night ! image of hell !
Dim regifter ! and notary of fhame !
Black ftage for tragedies ! and murders fell !
Vaft fin-concealing chaos ! nurfe of blame !
Blind muffled bawd ! dark harbour of defame !
Grim cave of death ! whifpering confpirator
With clofe-tongued treafon and the raviflier !
O hateful, vaporous, and foggy night !
Since thou art guilty of my curelefs crime,
Mufter thy mifts to meet the eaftcrn light,
Make war againft proportion'd courfe of time :
Or if thou wilt permit the fun to climb
His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed,
Knit poifonous clouds about his golden head.
With rotten damps ravifh the morning air,
Let their exhal'd unwholefome breaths make fick
The life of purity, the fupreme fair,
Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide prick :
And let thy mifty vapours march fo thick,
That in their fmoaky ranks his fmother'd light
May fet at noon, and make perpetual night.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 73
Were Tarquin night, as he is but night's child,
The filver-mining queen him would difdain ;
Her twinkling handmaids too (by him defil'd)
Thro' night's black bofom fhould not peep again.
So fhould I have copartners in my pain :
And fellowship in woe doth woe afiuage,
As palmers, that make fhort their pilgrimage.
Where now ? have I no one to blufh with me ?
To crefs their arms, and hang their heads with mine ;
To mafk their brows, and hide their infamy.
But I alone, alone muft fit and pine ;
Seafoning the earth with fhowers of filvej brine;
Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans,
Poor wafting monuments of lafting moans.
O night ! thou furnace of foul-recking fmoke !
Let not the jealous day behold that face,
Which underneath thy black all-hiding cloke
Immodeftly lies martyr'd with difgrace.
Keep ftill poflefiion of thy gloomy place,
That all the faults, which in thy reign are made,
May likewife-be fepulchred in thy {hade.
Make me not object to the tell-tale day ;
The light fhall mew, chara&er'd in my brow,
The ftory of fweet chaftity's decay,
The impious breach of holy wedlock's vow.
Yea, the illiterate, that know not how
To cypher what is writ in learned books,
Will quote my loathfome trefpafs in my looks.
The nurfe^to ftill her child, will tell my ftory,
And fright her crying babe with Targuin's name :
74 Tarquin and Lucrece.
The orator, to deck his oratory,
Will couple my reproach to Tarquin s ftiame.
Feaft-finding minftrels, tuning my defame,
Will rye the hearers to attend each line,
How Tarquin wronged me, 1 Colatine.
Let my good name, that fenfelefs reputation,
For Colattne's dear love be kept unfpottedj
If that be made a theme for difputation,
The branches of another root are rotted,
And undeferv'd reproach to him allotted,
That is as clear from this attaint of mine,
As I, eie this, was pure to Colatine.
O unfeen fhame ! invifible difgrace !
O unfelt fore! creft-wounding private fear !
Reproach is ftampt in Colatinus' face,
And Tarquin 's eye may read the mote afar,
How he in peace is wounded, not in war.
Alas ! how many bear fuch fhameful blows,
Which not themfelves, but he that gives them,
[knows ?
If, Colatine^ thine honour lay in me,
From me, by ftrong afiault, it is bereft :
My honey loft, and I a d,rone-like bee,
Have no perfection of my fummer left,
But robb'd and ranfack'd by injurious theft :
In thy weak hive a wand'ring wafp hath crept,
And fuck'd the honey which thy chafte bee kept.
Yet am I guilty of thy honour's wreck ?
Yet for thy honour did I entertain him ;
Coming from thee, I could not put him back,
For it had been dishonour to difdain him.
Befides, of wearinefs he did complain him,
Tarquin and Lucrece. 75
And talk'd of virtue : O unlook'd for evil !
When virtue is profan'd in fuch a devil !
Why fhould the worm intrude the maiden bud ?
Or hateful cuckows hatch in fparrows neils?
Or toads infe<5l fair founts with venom mud ?
Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breafts !
Or kings be breakers of their own behefts ?
But no perfection is fo abfolute,
That fome impurity doth not pollute.
The aged man, that coffers up his gold,
Is plagu'd with cramps, and gouts, and painful fits ;
And fcarce hath eyes his treafure to behold :
But frill like pining Tantalus he fits,
And ufelefs bans the harveft of his wits.
Having no other pleafure of his gain,
But torment, that it cannot cure his pain.
So then he hath it, when he cannot ufe it,
And leaves it to be mafter'd by his young,
Who in their pride do prefently abufe it :
Their father was too weak, and they too ftrong,
To hold their curfed blefled fortune long.
The fweets we wifh for, turn to loathed fours,
E'en in the moment that we call them ours.
Unruly blafts wait on the tender fpring;
Unwholefom weeds take root with precious flowers ;
The adder hifleth where the fweet birds fmg ;
What virtue breeds, iniquity devours :
We have no good, that we can fay is ours.
But ill annexed opportunity,
Or kills his life, or elfe his quality.
76 Tarquin and Lucrecc.
O ! opportunity ! thy guilt is great :
'Tis thou that exccut'ft the traitor's treafon :
Thou fet'ft the wolf where he the lamb may get,
Whoever plots the fin, thou point'ft the feafon ;
JTis thou that fpurn'ft at right, at law, at reafon :
And in thy (hady cell, where none may fpy her,
Sits fin, to feize the fouls that wander by her.
Thou malc'ft the veftal violate her oath ;
Thou blow'ft the fire, when temperance is thaw'd ;
Thou fmother'ft honefty, thou murder'ft troth :
Thou foul abettor, thou notorious bawd !
Thou planted fcandal, and difplaceft laud.
Thou ravifher, thou traitor, thou falfe thief!
Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief.
Thy fecret pleafure turns to open fliame j
Thy private feafting to a public faft ;
Thy (mothering titles to a ragged name ;
Thy fugar'd tongue to bitter wormwood tafte :
Thy violent vanities can never laft.
How comes it then, vile opportunity,
Being fo bad, fuch numbers feek for thee ?
When wilt thou be the humble fuppliant's friend ?
And bring him where his fuit may be obtain'd ?
When wilt thou fort an hour, great ftrifes to end ?
Or free that foul, which wretchednefs hath chain'd ?
Give phyfic to the fick, eafe to the pain'd ?
The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for
But they ne'er met with opportunity. [thee,
The patient dies, while the phyfician fleeps ;
The orphan pines, while the opprefior feeds ;
Tarquin and Lucrecc. 77
Juftice is feafting, while the widow weeps ;
Advice is fporting, while infection breeds ;
Thou grant'ft no time for charitable deeds.
Wrath, envy, treafon, rape and murder rages,
Thy heinous hours wait on them as their pages.
When truth and virtue have to do with thee,
A thoufand croffes keep them from thy aid ;
They buy thy help : but fin ne'er gives a fee,
He gratis comes, and thou art well apaid,
As well to hear, as grant what he hath faid.
My Colatine -would elfe have come to me,
When Tarquin did, but he was ftaid by thee.'
Guilty thou art of murder and of theft j
Guilty of perjury and fubornation ;
Guilty of treafon, forgery and fhift ;
Guilty of inceft, that abomination :
An accefiary by thine inclination
To all fins pad, and all that are to come,
From the creation to the general doom.
Mifhapen time, copefmate of ugly night ;
Swift fubtlepoft, carrier of grifly care ;
Eater of youth, falfe flave to falfe delight,
Bafe watch of woes, fin's paclc-horfe, virtue's fnare;
Thou nurfeft all, and murdereft all that are.
O hear me then, injurious fhifting time !
Be guilty of my death, fmce of my crime.
Why hath thy fervant opportunity,
Betrayed the hours thou gav'ft me to repofe ?
CancePd my fortunes, and inchained me
To endlefs date of never-ending woes ?
Time's office is to find the hate of foes,
78 Tarquin and Lucrece.
To eat up error by opinion bred,
Not fpend the dow'ry of a lawful bed.
Time's glory is to calm contending kings ;
To unmafk falfhood, and bring truth to light ;
To ftamp the feal of time on aged things ;
To wake the morn, and centinel the night;
To wrong the wronger, till he render right;
To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours,
And fmear with duft theirglittering golden towers:
To fill with worm-holes {lately monuments ;
To feed oblivion with decay of things ; .
To blot old books, and alter their contents ;
To pluck the quills from antient ravens wings ;
To dry the old oak's fap, and cherifh fprings;
To fpoil antiquities of hammer'd fteel,
And turn the giddy round of fortune's wheel :
To {hew the beldame daughters of her daughter;
To make the child a man, the man a child ;
To flay the tyger, that doth live by (laughter ;
To tame the unicorn and lion wild ;
To mock the fubtle in themfelves beguil'd ;
To chear the plowman with increafeful crops,
And wafte huge {tones with little water-drops.
Why work'ft thou mifchief in thy pilgrimage,
Unlefs thou could 'ft return to make amends ?
One poor retiring minute, in an age,
Would purchafe thee a thoufand thoufand friends,
Lending him wit, that to bad debtors lends, [back,
0 ! this dread night ! would'ft thou one hour come
1 could prevent this ftorm, and fhun this wrack.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 79
Thou ceafelefs lackey to eternity,
With fome mifchance crofs Tarquin in his flight;
Devife extremes beyond extremity,
To make him curfe this curfed crimeful night :
Let ghaftly fhadows his lewd eyes affright,
And the dire thought of his committed evil
Shape every bufh a hideous fhapelefs devil.
Difturb his hours of reft with reftlefs trances ;
AfflicT: him in his bed with bed-rid groans:
Let there bechance him pitiful mifchances,
To make him moan, but pity not his moans :
Stone him with harden'd hearts, harder than ftones,
And let mild women to him lofe their mildnefs,
Wilder to him than tygers in their wildnefs.
Let him have time to tear his curled hair;
Let him have time againft himfelf to rave ;
Let him have time of time's help to defpair ;
Let him have time to live a loathed flave;
Let him have time a beggar's orts to crave,
And time to fee one, that by alms does live,
Difdain to him difdained fcraps to give.
Let him have time to fee his friends his foes,
And merry fools to mock at him refort :
Let him have time to mark how flow times goes
In time of forrow, and how fwift and fhort
His time of folly, and his time of fport :
And ever let his unrecalling time
Have time to wail th' abufing of his time.
O time ! thou tutor both to good and bad !
Teach me to curie him, that thou taught'ft this ill ,
8o Tarquin and Lucrece.
At his own fhadow let the thief run mad,
Himfelf, himfelf feek every hour to kill;
Such wretched hands fuch wretched blood fhould fpill !
For who fo bafe would fuch an office have,
As flanderous death's-man to fo bafe a flave ?
The bafer is he, coming from a king,
To fhame his hope with deeds degenerate ;
The mightier man, the mightier is the thing,
That makes him honoured, or begets him hate :
For greateft fcandal waits on greateft ftate.
The moon being clouded, prefently is mift,
But little flars may hide them when they lift.
The crow may bathe his cole-black wings in mire,
And unperceived fly with the filth away;
But if the like the fnow-vvhite fwan defire,
The ftain upon his filvcr down will ftay.
Poor grooms are ftghtlefs night, kings glorious day.
Gnats are unnoted wherefoe'er they fly,
But eagles gaz'd upon with every eye.
O idle words ! fervants to (hallow fools ;
Unprofitable founds, weak arbitrators ;
Bufy yourfelvcs in (kill-contending fchools:
Debate where leifure ferves, with dull debaters :
To trembling clients be thuir mediators.
For me, 1 force not argument a ftraw,
Since that my cafe is part all help of law.
In vain I rail at opportunity,
At time, at Tarquin, and unfearchful night !
In vain I cavil with mine infamy,
In vain I fpurn at my confirm'd defpight :
This helplefs fmoke of words doth me no right,
Tarquin and Lucrece. 8 1
The remedy indeed to do me good,
Is to let forth my foul defiled blood.
Poor hand, why quiver'ft thou at this decree ?
Honour thyfelf, to rid me of this ftiame j
For if I die, my honour lives in thee :
But if I live, thou liv'ft in my defame;
Since thou could'ft not defend thy loyal dame,
And waft afraid to fcratch her wicked foe,
Kill both thyfelf, and her for yielding fo.
This faid, from her betumbled couch fhe ftarts,
To find fome defperate inftrument of death.
But this no flaughter-houfe, no tool imparts,
To make more vent for paffage of her breath,
Which thronging thro' her lips fo vanifheth,
As fmoke from Mina, that in air confumes,
Or that which from difcharged cannon fumes.
In vain (quoth fhe) I live, and feek in vain
Some happy mean, to dnd a haplefs life :
I fear'd by Tarquin 's fauchion to be flain,
Yet for the felf-fame purpofe feek a knife :
But when I fear'd, I was a loyal wife ;
So am I now : O no ! that cannot be ;
Of that true type hath Tarquin rifled me.
O ! that is gone, for which I fought to live,
And therefore now I need not fear to die ;
To clear this fpot by death (at leaft) I give
A badge of fame to flander's livery,
A dying life to living infamy !
Poor helplefs help, the treafure ftol'n away,
To burn the guiltlefs cafket where it lay.
F
82 Tarquln and Lucrecc.
Well, well, dear Colatine, thou fhalt not know
The flained taftc of violated troth ;
I will not wrong thy true aftlction fo,
To flatter thee with an infringed oath :
This baftaid grafs (hall never come to growth ;
He {hall not boaft, who did thy ftock pollute,
That thou art doating father of his fruit.
Nor fhall he fmile at thee in fecret thought,
Nor laugh with his companions at thy ftate ;
But thou fhalt know thy interc-ft was not bought
Bafely with gold, but irol'n from forth thy gate.
For me, I am the miftrefs of my fate,
And with my trefpafs never will difpenfr,
Till life to death acquit my firft oftence.
I will not poifon thee with my attaint,
Nor fold my fault in cleanly coin'd excufcs;
My fable ground of fin I will not paint,
To hide the truth of this fa lie night's abuA/s :
My tongue fhall utter all, mine (.•yes like fluiccs,
As from a mountain f pr ing, that feeds a dale,
Shall gufh pure llreams, to purge my impure tale.
By this, lamenting Philomel had ended
The well-tun'd warble of her nightly forrow ;
And folemn night with flow fad gate defcendcd
To ugly hell ; when lo ! the blufhing morrow
Lends light to all fair eyes, that light \\ou!d borrow.
But cloudy Lucrecc fhames htrielf to fee,
And therefore ir.il! in night would cloifter'd be.
Revealing day thro* every cranny fpies,
And feems to point her out where Ihe fits weeping ;
Tarquln and Lucrece. £3
To whom flie fobbing fpeaks ! O ! eye of eyes !
Why pry 'ft thou thro' my window ? leave thy peeping,
Mock with thy tickling beams, eyes that are fleeping :
Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light,
For day hath nought to do what's done by night.
Thus cavils fhe with every thing flie fees:
True grief is fond, and tefty as a child,
Who way-ward once, his mood with nought agrees j
Old woes, not infant forrows bear them mild;
Continuance tames the one, the other wild,
Like an unpractis'd fwimmer, plunging ftill,
With too much labour, drowns for want of fkill.
i •
So fhe deep drenched in a fea'of care,
Holds difputation with each thing fhe views ;
And to herfelf all forrow doth compare ;
No object but her paffion's ftrength renews,
And as one fhifts, another ftrait enfues :
Sometimes her grief is dumb, and hath no words ;
Sometimes 'tis mad, and too much talk affords.
The little birds, that tune their morning's joy,
Make her moans mad, with their fweet melody.
For mirth doth fearch the bottom of annoy ;
Sad fouls are flain in merry company;
Grief beft is plcas'd with grief's fociety.
True forrow then is feelingly furpriz'd,
When with like femblance it is fympathiz'd.
'Tis double death to drown in ken of fhore ;
He ten times pines, that pines beholding food :
To fee the falve, doth make the wound ake more ;
Great grief grieves moft at that will do it good j
Deep woes roll forward, like a gentle flood,
84 Tarquin and Lucrece.
Which being ftopt, the bounding banks o'erflows ;
Grief dally'd with, nor law, nor limit knows.
You mocking birds, quoth (he, your tunes intomb
Within your hollow-fwelling feather'd breads j
And in my hearing be you ever dumb,
My reftlefs difcord loves no ftops nor refts :
A woeful hoftefs brooks not merry guefts.
Relifh your nimble notes to pleafmg ears,
Diftrefs likes dumps, when time is kept with tears.
Come Philomel, thou fmg'ft of ravifhment,
Make thy fad grove in my diftievel'd hair.
As the dank earth weeps at thy languiftiment,
So I at each fad ftrain will ftrain my tear,
And with deep groans the Diapafon bear :
For burden-wife I'll hum on Tarquin ftill,
While thou on Tereus defcants better (kill.
And while againft a thorn thou bear'fl thy part,
To keep thy (harp woes waking ; wretched I,
To imitate thee well, againft my heart
Will fix a (harp knife, to affright mine eye,
Who if it wink, (hall thereon fall and die.
Thefe means, as frets upon an inftrumenr,
Shall tune our heart-ftrings to true languiftiment.
And for, poor bird, thou fmg'ft not in the day,
As (naming any eye fhould thee behold ;
Some dark deep defart feated from the way,
That knows nor parching heat, nor freezing cold,
We will find out ; and there we will unfoJd
To creatures ftern, fad tunes to change their kinds j
Since men prove beafts, let beafts bear gentle minds.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 85
As the poor frighted deer, that ftands at gaze,
Wildly determining which way to fly;
Or one incompafs'd with a winding maze,
That cannot tread the way out readily :
So with herfelf is fhe in mutiny,
To live or die, which of the twain were better,
When life isfham'd, and death reproaches debtor.
To kill myfelf, quoth fhe, alack ! what were it,
But with my body my poor foul's pollution ?
They that lofe half, with greater patience bear it,
Than they whofe whole is fwallow'd in confufion.
That mother tries a mercilefs conclufion,
Who having two fweet babes, when death takes
Will flay the other, and be nurfe to none, [one,
My body or my foul, which was the dearer ?
When the one pure, the other made divine,
Whofe love of either to myfelf was nearer,
When both were kept from heaven and Colatine ?
Ah. me! the bark peal'd from the lofty pine,
His leaves will wither, and his fap decay ;
So muft my foul, her bark being peal'd away.
Her houfe is fack'd, her quiet interrupted ;
Her manfion batter'd by the enemy ;
Her facred temple fpotted, fpoil'd, corrupted,
Grofly ingirt with daring infamy.
Then let it not be call'd impiety,
If in this blemifh'd fort I make fome hole,
Thro' which I may convey this troubled foul.
Yet die I will not, till my Colatine
Have heard the caufe of my untimely death :
86 Tarquin and Lucrece.
That he may vow, in that fad hour of mine,
Revenge on him, that made me flop my breath :
My ftained blood to Tarquin I bequeath,
Which by him tainted, fhall for him be fpent,
And as his due, writ in my teftament.
My honour I'll bequeath unto the knife,
That wounds my body fo difhonoured :
'Tis honour to deprive difhonoured life:
The one will live, the 'other being dead.
So of fhame's afhes fhall my fame be bred ;
For in my death I murder fhamcful fcorn,
My fhame fo dead, my honour is new born.
Dear lord of that dear jewel I have loft,
What legacy fhall I bequeath to thee ?
My refolution, love, fhall be thy boaft,
By whofe example thou reveng'd may'ft be.
How 'Tarquin muft be us'd, read it in me :
Myfelf thy friend, will kill myfelf thy foe;
And for my fake, ferve thou falfe Tarquin fo.
This brief abridgment of my will I make :
My foul and body to the fkies and ground ;
My refolution (hufband) do you take;
My honour be the knife's, that makes my wound ;
My fhame be his, that did my fame confound ;
And all my fame that lives, difburfed be
To thofe that live, and think no fhame of me.
When Colatine fhall overfee this will,
How was I overfeen, that thou fhalt fee it ?
My blood fhall wafh the flander of mine ill ;
My life's foul deed, my life's fair end fhall free it.
Faint not, faint heart, but ftoutly fay, So be it ;
Tarquin and Lucrece. 87
Yield to my hand, and that (hall conquer thee ;
Thou dead, that dies, and both fhall victors be.
This plot of death, when fadly fhe had laid,
And wip'd the brinim pearl from her bright eyes,
With untun'd toqgue {he hoarfly calPd her maid,
Whofe fwift obedience to her miftrefs hies,
For fleet-wing' d duty with thought's feathers flies.
Poor Lucrece cheeks unto her maid feem fo,
As winter meads, when fun does melt their fnow.
Her miflrefs fhe doth ofive demure good-morrow,
With foft flow tongue, true mark of modefty j
And forts a fad look to her lady's forrow,
(For why, her face wore forrow's livery)
But durft not afk of her audacioufly,
Why her two funs were cloud-eclipfed fo ;
Nor why her fair cheeks over-wafh'd with woe.
But as the earth doth weep, the fun being fet,
Each flower moiften'd like a melting eye;
E'en fo the maid with fwellihg drops 'gan wet
Her circled eyne, enforc'd by lympathy
Of thofe fair funs fet in her miftrefs' fky ;
"Who in a falt-wav'd ocean quench their light,
Which makes the maid weep like the dewy night.
A pretty while thefe pretty creatures ftand,
Like ivory conduits coral cilterns filling ;
One juflly weeps, the other takes in hand
No caufe, but company of her drops fpilling :
Their gentle fex to weep are often willing ;
Grieving themfelves to guefs at other fmarts ;
And then they drown their eyes, .or break their
hearts, F 4
88 Tarquin and Lucrece.
For men have marble, women waxen minJs,
And therefore they are form'd as marble will :
The weak opprels'd, th' impreilion of ftrangc kinds
Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or fkill.
Then call them not the authors of their ill,
No more than wax (hall be accounted evil,
Wherein is ftamp'd the femblance of a devil.
Their fmoothnefs, like an even champain plain,
Lays open all the little worms that creep.
In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain
Cave-keeping evils, that obfcurely fleep :
Thro' cryftal walls each little mote will peep.
Tho' men can cover crimes with bold ftern looks,
Poor womens faces are their own faults books.
No man inveighs againft the wither'd flower,
But chides rough winter, that the flower has kill'd :
Not that's devour'd, but that which doth devour,
Is worthy blame : O let it not be held
Poor womens faults that they are fo fulfill'd
With mens abufes ; thofe proud lords, to blame,
Make weak mad women tenants to their (hame.
The precedent whereof in Lucrece view,
AfTail'd by night with circumftances ftrong
Of prefent death, and fhame that might enfue,
By that her death to do her hufband wrong;
Such danger to refiftance did belong.
The dying fear thro' all her body fpread,
And who cannot abufe a body dead ?
By. this mild patience did fair Lucrece fpeak
To the poor counterfeit of her complaining :
Tarquin and Lucrece. 89
My girl, quoth (he, on what occafion break [ing?
Thofe tears from thee, that down thy cheeks are rain-
If thou doft weep for grief of my fuftaining,
Know, gentle wench, it fmall avails my mood ;
If tears could help, mine own would do me good.
But tell me, girl, when went (and there fhe ftaid,
Till after a deep groan) Tarquin from hence ?
Madam, ere I was up (reply'd the maid)
The more to blame, my fluggard negligence :
Yet with the fault I thus far can difpenfe ;
Myfelf was ftirring ere the break of day,
And ere I rofe, was Tarquin gone away.
But lady,, if your maid may be fo bold,
She would requeft to know your heavinefs.
O peace (quoth Lucrece} if it fhould be told,
The repetition cannot make it lefs ;
For more it is, than I can well exprefs :
And that deep torture may be call'd a hell,
When more is felt than one hath power to tell.
Go, get me hither paper, ink, and pen ;
Yet fave that labour, for I have them here.
(What fhould I fay?) One of my hufband's men
Bid thou be ready, by and by to bear
A letter to my lord, my love, my dear;
Bid him with fpeed prepare to carry it,
The caufe craves hafte, and it will loon be writ.
Her maid is gone, and fhe prepares to write,
Firft hovering o'er the paper with her quill ;
Conceit and grief an eager combat fight,
What wit fets down, is blotted frill with will ;
This is too curious good, this blunt and ill :
90 Tarquin and Lucrcce.
Much like a prcfs of people at a door,
Throng her inventions, which fli.ill go before.
At laft flic thus begins : Thou worthy lord
Of that unworthy wife, that greeteth thee,
Health to thy perfon •, next vouchfafe t' afford
(If ever, love, thy Lucrcce tluni wilt fee)
Some preient fpced to come and vifit me :
So 1 commend me from our houfc in grief,
My woes are tedious, tho' my words arc brief.
Here folds fhe up the tenor of her woe,
Her certain forrow writ uncertainly :
By this fhort fchedule Colaiine may know
Her grief, but not her grief's true quality :
She dares not therefore make difcovery,
Left he fhould hold it her own grofs abufe,
Kre fhe with blood had ilain'd her ftrain'd excufe.
Kefides the life and feeling of her pafiion,
She hoards to fpend, when he is by to hear her ;
When figbs, and groan5, and tears may grace the
Of her difgrace, the better lo to clear her [fafhion
From that fufpicion which the world might bear her:
To-fhun this blot, fhe wou'd not blot the letter
With words, till action might become them better.
To fee fad fights, moves more than hear them told j
For then the eye interprets to the ear
The heavy motion that it doth behold :
When every part a part of woe doth bear,
'Tis but a part of forrow that we hear.
Deep founds make lefTer noife than fhallow fords,
And forrow ebbs, being blown with wind of words,
Tarquin and Lucrece. 91
Her letter now is feal'd, and on it writ,
At Ardea to my lord with more than hafle ;
The poft attends, and fhe delivers it,
Charging the four-fac'd groom to hie as fafl,
-As lagging fouls before the northern blaft.
Speed, more than fpecd, but dull and How file deems,
Extremity ftill urgeth fuch extremes.
The homely villain curtfies to her low,
And blulhing on her with a ftedfaft eye,
Receives the fcroll without or yea or no ;
For outward bafhful innocence doth fly.
But they whofe guilt within their bofoms lie,
Imagine every eye beholds their blame,
For Lucrece thought he blufh'd to fee her fhame.
When filly groom (God wot) it was defect
Of fpirit, life, and bold audacity ;
Such harmlefs creatures have a true refpe<51:
To talk in deeds, while others faucily
Promife more fpeed, but do it leifurely.
Even fo this pattern of the worn-out age
Pawn'd honed looks, but laid no words to gage.
His kindled duty kindled her miftruft,
That two red fires in both their faces blaz/d.
She thought he blufh'd as knowing Tarquin's J.uft,
And bluming with him, wiftly on him gaz'd,
Her earneft eye did make him more amaz'd :
The more fhe faw the blood his checks replenifh,
The more fhe thought he fpy'd in her fome blemifh.
But long (he thinks till he return again,
And yet the duteous vaflal fcarce is gone :
92 Tarquin and Lucrece.
The weary time (he cannot entertain,
For now 'tis ftale to figh, to weep, and groan.
So woe hath wt&rkd woe, moan tired moan,
That file her plaints a little while d®th ftay,
Paufing for means to mourn fome newer way.
At laft fhe calls to mind where hangs a piece
Of fkilful painting made for Priam's Troy ;
Before the which is drawn the power of Greece,
For Helens rape the city to deftroy.
Threatening cloud-kifling I/ion with annoy ;
Which the conceited painter drew fo proud,
As heaven (it feem'd) to kifs the turrets bow'd.
A thoufand lamentable objects there,
In fcorn of nature, art gave lifelefs life;
Many a dire drop leem'd a weeping tear,
Shed for the (laughter' d hufbaml by the wife.
The red blood reek'd to ftiew the painter's ftrife.
And dying eyes gleem'd forth their alhy lights,
Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.
There might you fee the labouring pioneer
Begrim'd with fweat, and fmeared all with duft;
And from the towers of Troyt there wou'd appear
The very eyes of men thro' loop-holes thruft,
Gazing upon the Greeks with little luft.
Such fwcet obfervance in the work was had,
That one might fee thofe far-off eyes look fad.
In great commanders, grace and majefty
You might behold triumphing in their faces :
In youth quick-bearing and dexterity :
And here and there the painter interlaces
Pale cowards marching on with trembling paces :
Tarquin and Lucrece. 93
Which heartlefs peafants did fo well refemble,
That one wou'd fwear he faw them quake and
[tremble.
In jfjax and UlyJJes, O ! what art
Of Phyfiognomy might one behold !
The face of either cypher'd cither's heart;
Their face, their manners moft exprefsly told.
In Ajax1 eyes blunt rage and rigour roll'd ;
But the mild glance that fhe UlyJ/es lent,
Shew'd deep regard and fmiling government.
There pleading might you fee grave Neftor ftand,
As 'twere encouraging the Greeks to fight,
Making fuch fober aclions with his hand,
That it beguil'd attention, charm'd the fight :
In fpeech it feem'd his beard, all filver white,
Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips did fly-
Thin winding breath, which purl'd up to the fky.
About him were a prefs of gaping faces,
Which feem'd to fwallow up hjs found advice;
All jointly lift'ning, but with feveral graces,
As if fome mermaid did their ears entice;
Some high, fome low, the painter was fo nice.
The fcalps of many almofl hid behind,
To jump up higher feem'd to mock the mind.
Here one man's hand lean'd on another's head,
His nofe being fhadow'd by his neighbour's ear ;
Here one being throng'd, bears back all fwolnandred;
Another fmother'd, feems to pelt and fwear,
And in their rage, (fuch figns of rage they bear,)
As but for lofs of Neftor's golden words,
' It feems they would debate with angry fwords.
94 Tarquin and Lucrece.
For much imaginary work was there ;
Conceit deceitful, fo compact, fo kind,
That for Achilles' image flood his fpear,
Grip'd in an armed hand; himfelf behind
Was left unfccn, fave to the eye of mind :
A hand, a foot, a face, a leg, a head,
Stood lor the whole to be imagined.
And from the walls of ftrong bcftegcd
When their brave hope, bold HcSlor^ march'd to field,
Stood many Trojan -mothers, fharing joy
To fee their youthful fons bright weapons wield j
And to their hope they fuch odd action yield,
That thro' their light joy fei-mcd to appear,
(Like bright things ftam'd) a kind of heavy fear.
And from the flrand of Dardan where they fought
To Simois' reedy banks the red blood ran j
Whofe waves to imitate the battle fought
With fwelling ridges ; and their ranks began
To break upon the galled fhore, and then
Retire again, till meeting greater ranks
They join, and (hoot their foam at Simois' banks.
To this well-painted piece is Lucrece come
To find a face where all diftrefs is ftell'd ;
Many fhe fees, where cares have carved fome,
But none where all diftrefs and dolour dwell'd,
Till fiie despairing Hecuba beheld,
Staring on Priam's wounds with her old eyes,
Who bleeding under Pyrrbus* proud foot lies.
In her the painter had anatomiz'd
Time's ruin, beauty's wreck, and grim care's reign j
Tarquin and Lucrece. 95
Her cheeks with chops and wrinkles were difguis'd j
Of what fhe was, no femblance did remain ;
Her blue blood chang'd to black in every vein:
Wanting the fpring, that thofefhrunk pipes had
Shew'd life imprifon'd in a body dead. [fed,
On this fad fhadow Lucrece fpends her eyes,
And fhape's her forrow to the beldame's woes j
Who nothing wants to anfwer her but cries,
And bitter words to ban her cruel foes.
The painter was no god to lend her thofe ;
And therefore Lucrece fwears he did her wrong;,
To give her fo much grief, and not a tongue.
Poor inurnment (quoth fhe) without a found !
I'll tune thy woes with my lamenting tongue ;
And drop fweet balm in Priam's painted wound,
And rail on Pyrrbus, that hath done him wrong,
And with my tears quench Troy, that burns fo long;
And with my knife fcratch out the angry eyes
Of all the Greeks, that are thine enemies.
Shew me this ftrumpet, that began this ftir,
That with my nails her beauty I may tear :
Thy heat of luft, fond Paris, did incur
This load of wrath, that burning Troy did bear j
Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here :
And here in Troy, for trefpafs of thine eye,
The fire, the fon, the dame and daughter die.
Why (hould the private pleafure of fome one,
Become the publick plague of many more ?
Let fin alone committed, light alone
Upon his head, that hath tranfgrefled fo.
Let guiltlefs fouls be freed from guilty woe.
g6 Tarquin and Lucrece.
For one's offence why fhould fo many fall,
To plague a private I'm in general ?
Lo ! here weeps Hecuba^ here Priam dies !
Here manly Hcftor faints, here Trcilus founds !
Here friend by friend in bloody channel lies !
And friend to friend gives unadvifed wounds!
.And one man's luft thefe many lives confounds !
Had doating Priam checlc'd his fon's defire,
Troy had been bright with fame, and not with fire.
Here feelingly fhc weeps Troy's painted woes :
For forrow, like a heavy hanging bell,
Once fet a ringing, with his own weight goes ;
Then little ftrcngth rings out the doleful knell.
So Lucrece fet a-work, fad tales doth tell
To penciled penfivenefs, and colour'd forrow ;
She lends them words, and fhe their looks doth
[borrow.
She throws her eyes about the painted round.
And whom fhe finds forlorn fhe doth lament:
At laft fhe fees a wretched image bound,
That piteous looks to Phrygian fhepherds lent ;
His face, tho' full of cares, yet fhew'd content.
Onward to Troy with thefe blunt fwains he goes,
So mild, that patience feem'd to fcorn his woes.
In him the painter labour'd with his (kill,
To hide deceit, and give the harmlefs fhow,
An humble gait, calm looks, eyes wailing ftill,
A brow unbent, that feem'd to welcome woe ;
Cheeks, neither red, nor pale, but mingled fo,
That blufhing red, no guilty inftance gave,
Nor afhy pale, the fear that farfe hearts have.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 97
But, like a conftant and confirmed devil,
He entertain'd a fhow fo feeming juft;
And therein fo infconc'd this fecret evil,
That jealoufy itfelf could not miftruft,
Falfe creeping craft and perjury fhould thrufl:,
Into fo bright a day fuch black-fac'd ftorms,
Or blot with hell-born fin fuch faint-like forms.
The well-fkill'd woman this wild image drew
For perjur'd Sinon, whofe inchanting ftory
The credulous old Priam after flew;
Whofe words like wild-fire burnt the fhining glory
Of rich-built Illon\ that the fkies were forry,
And little ftars mot from their fixed places,
When their glafs fell wherein they view'd their
[faces.
This picture fhe advifedly perus'd,
And chid the painter for his wond'rous fkill :
Saying, fome fhape in Sinon's was abus'd,
So fair a form lodg'd not a mind fo ill :
And ftill on him fhe gaz'd, and gazing ftill,
Such figns of truth in his plain face fhe fpy'd,
That fhe concludes, the piifture was bely'd.
It cannot be (quoth fhe) that fo much guile,
She would have faid, can lurk in fuch a look;
But Tarquin 's fhape came in her mind the while,
And from her tongue, can lurk, from cannot took :
It cannot be, fhe in that fenfe forfook,
And turn'd it thus ; it cannot be, I find,
But fuch a face fhould bear a wicked mind.
For ev'n as fubtle Sinon here is painted,
So fober fad, fo weary and fo mild,
G
98 Tarquin and Lucrece.
(As if with grief or travel he had fainted)
To me came Tarquin armed, fo beguil'd
With outward honefty, but yet defil'd
With inward vice: as Priam him did cherifh,
So did I Tarqultiy fo my Troy did perifh.
Look, look how lift'ning Priam wets his eyes,
To fee thofe borrow'd tears that Sinon (beds !
Priam, why art thou old, and yet not wilt ?
For every tear he falls, a Trojan bleeds :
His eyes drop fire, no water thence proceeds.
Thofe round clear pearls of his, that move thy pity,
Are balls of quenchlefs fire to burn thy city.
Such devils fteal effects from lightlefs hell,
For Sinon in his fire doth quake with cold,
And in that cold hot-burning fire doth dwell j
Thcfe contraries fuch unity do hold,
Only to flatter fools, and make them bold :
So Priam's truft falfe Sinon's tears doth flatter,
That he finds means to burn his Troy with water.
Here all inrag'd fuch paflion her afiails,
That patience is quite beaten from her breaft;-
She tears the fenfclefs Sinon with her nails,
Comparing him to that unhappy gueft,
Whofe deed hath made herfelf htrfclf deleft.
At laft fhe fmilingly with this gives o'er,
Fool ! fool ! quoth fhe, his wounds will not be fore.
Thus ebbs and flows the current of her forrow,
And time doth weary time with her complaining:
She looks for night, and then fhe longs for morrow,
And botb'fhe thinks too long with her remaining:
bhcrt time fccms long, in forrow's fharp fuftaining.
Tarquin and Lucrecc. 99
Tho' woe be heavy, yet it feldom fleeps,
And they that watch, lee time how flow it creeps.
Which all this time hath over-flipt her thought,
That fhe with painted images hath fpent,
Being from the feeling of her own grief brought,
By deep furmife of others detriment,
Loofing her woes in fhews of difcontent.
It eafeth fome, tho' none it ever cur'd,
To think their dolour others have endur'd.
But now the mindful meflenger comes back,
Brings home his lord, and other company;
Who finds his Lucrece clad in mourning black,
And round about her tear-diftained eye
Blue circles ftream'd, like rainbows in the fky.
Thefe watergalls, in her dim element,
Foretel new ftorms to thofe already fpent.
Which when her fad beholding hufband faw,
Amazed ly in her fad face he flares :
Her eyes, tho' fod in tears, look red and raw,
Her lively colour kill'd with deadly cares.
He has no power to afk her how fhe fares,
But flood like old acquaintance in a trance,
Met far from home, wond'ring each other's chance.
At laft he takes her by the bloodlefs hand,
And thus begins : What uncouth ill event
Hath thee befallen, that thou doft trembling (land ?
Sweet love, what fpite hath thy fair colour fpent ?
Why art thou thus attir'd in difcontent ?
Unmafk, dear dear, this moody heavinefs,
And tell thy grief, that we may give redrefs.
G 2
JOO Tarquin and Lucrece.
Three times with fighs fhe gives her forrow fire,
Ere once fhe can discharge one word of woe :
At length addrefs'd, to anfwer his defire,
She modeftly prepares, to let them know
Her honour is ta'en prifoncr by the foe :
While Cohtine9 and his conforted lords,
With fad attention long to hear her words.
And now this pale fwan in her wat'ry neft,
Begins the fad dirge of her certain ending.
Few words, quoth fhe, fhall fit the trefpafs beft,
Wherein no excufe can give the fault amending;
In me more woes than words are now depending :
And my laments would be drawn out too long,
To tell them all with one poor tired tongue.
Then be this all the tafk it hath to fay,
Dear hufband, in the intereft of thy bed
A ftranger came, and on that pillow lay,
Where thou waft wont to reft thy weary head;
And what wrong elfe may be imagined
By foul inforcement might be done to me,
From that, alas ! thy Lucrece is not free.
For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight,
With fhining fauchion in my chamber, came
A creeping creature with a flaming light,
And foftly cry'd, Awake thou Roman dame !
And entertain my love, elfe lafting fhame
On thee and thine this night I will inflict,
If thou my love's defire do contradift.
For feme hard-favour'd groom of thine, quoth he,
Unlefs thou yoke thy liking to my will,
Tarquin and Lucrece. 101
I'll murder ftrait, and then I'll flaughter thee,
And fwear I found you, where you did fulfil
The loathfome a£t of luft; and fo did kill
The lechers in their deed : this act will be
My fame, and thy perpetual infamy.
With this I did begin to ftart and cry,
And then againft my heart he fets his fword,
Swearing, unlefs I took all patiently,
I fhould not live to fpeak another word :
So fhould my fhame ftill reft upon record,
And never be forgot in mighty Rome,
Th' adult'rate death of Lucrece and her groom.
Mine enemy was ftrong, my poor felf weak,
(And far the weaker with fo ftrong a fear)
My bloody judge forbad my tongue to fpeak,
No rightful plea might plead for juftice there :
His fcarlet luft came evidence to fwear,
That my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes ;
And when the judge is robb d, the prifoner dies,
Oh ! teach me how to make mine own excufe,
Or at the leaft, this refuge let me find ;
Tho' my grofs blood be ftain'd with this abufe,
Immaculate and fpotlefs is my mind ;
That was not forc'd, that never was inclined
To acceflary yieldings ; but ftill pure
Doth in her poifon'd clofet yet endure.
Lo ! here the hopelefs merchant of this lofs,
With head inclin'd, and voice damm'd up with woe;
With fad fet eyes, and wretched arms acrofs,
Tj* •
rrom lips new waxen pale begins to blow
The grief away, that flops his anfwer fo.
1C2 Tarquin and Lucrccc.
But wretched as he is, he ftrives in vain ;
What he breathes out, his breath drinks up again.
As thro' an arch, the violent roaring tide
Out-runs the eye, that doth behold his hade;
Yet in the eddy bounded) in his pride
Back to the (trait, that forc'd him on fo faft ;
In rage fent out, recall'd in rage being paft :
Even fo his fighs, his forrows make a faw,
To pufh grief on, and back the fame grief draw.
Which fpeechlefs woe of his, poor flie attendeth,
And his untimely frenzy thus awakcth :
Dear lord, thy forrow to my forrow lendeth
Another power, no flood my raining flacketh ;
My woe too fenfible thy paflion maketh
More feeling painful ; let it then fufficc
To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes.
And for my fake, when I might charm thee fo,
For (he, that was thy Lucrece — now attend me,
Be fuddenly revenged on my foe ;
Thine, mine, his own ; fuppofe thou doft defend me
From what is paft, the help, that thou (halt lend me
Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die,
For fparing juftice feeds iniquity.
But ere I name him, you fair lords, quoth (he,
(Speaking to thofe that came with Cilatlne}
Shall plight your honourable faiths to me,
With fwift purfuit to Venge this wrong of mine :
For 'tis a meritorious fair defign,
To chafe injuftice with revengeful arms,
Knights by their oaths fhould right poor ladicJ
harms.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 103
At this requeft, with noble difpofition,
Each prefent lord began to promife aid,
As bound in knighthood to her impofition,
Longing to hear the hateful foe bevvray'd :
But fhe that yet her fad tafk hath not laid,
The proteftation flops. O fpeak, quoth fhe,
How may this forced ftain be wip'd from me ?
What is the quality of my offence,
Being conftrain'd with dreadful circumftance ?
May my pure mind with the foul act difpenfe,
My low declined honour to advance ?
May any terms acquit me from this chance ?
The poifon'd fountain clears itfelf again,
And why not I, from this compelled flain ?
With this they all at once began to fay,
Her body's ftain the mind untainted clears,
While with a joylefs fmile fhe turns away
The face, that map, which deep impreflion bears
Of hard misfortune carved in with tears.
No, no, quoth fhe, no dame hereafter living,
By my excufe fhall claim excufes giving.
Here with a figh, as if her heart would break,
She throws forth Tar quins name. He, he, fhe fays :
But more, than he, her poor tongue could not fpeak,
Till after many accents and delays,
Untimely breathings, fick and fhort afiays,
She utters this, He, he, fair lord, 'tis he
That guides this hand to give this wound to me.
Even here fhe fheathed in her harmlefs breaft
A harmful knife, that theace her-foul unfheathed,
rc4 Tarquin and Lucrece.
That blow did bail it from the deep unreft
Of that polluted prifon where it breathed ;
Her contrite fighs unto the clouds bequeathed
Her winged fprite, and thro' her wounds doth fly
Life's lafting date from cancel'd deftiny.
Stonc-ftill, aftonifh'd with this deadly deed,
Stood Colatine and all his lordly crew,
Till Lucreci father, that beholds her bleed,
Himfelf on her felf-flaughter'd body threw :
And from the purple fountain Brutus drew
The murd'rous knife, and as it left the place,
Her blood, in pure revenge, held it in chafe.
And bubbling from her breaft it doth divide
In two flow rivers, that the crimfon blood
Circles her body in on every fide ;
Who like a late fack'd ifland vaftly flood
Bare and unpeopled in this fearful flood.
Some of her blood ftill pure and red rcmain'd,
And fome look'd black, and that falle Tarquin
[ftain'd.
About the mourning and congealed face
Of that black blood, a watry rigol goes,
Which feems to weep upon the tainted place ;
And ever fince, as pitying Lucrece woes,
Corrupted blood fome wat'ry token fhows :
And blood untainted ftill doth red abide,
JBJufhing at that which is fo putrify'd.
Daughter, dear daughter, old Lucretius cries,
That life was mine, which thou haft here depriv'd ;
If in the child the father's image lies,
Where fhall I live, now Lucrece is unliv'd ?
Thou waft not to this end from me deriv'd.
Tarquin and Lucrece. 105
If children predeceafe progenitors,
We are their offspring, and they none of ours.
Poor broken glafs, I often did behold
In thy fweet femblance, my old age new-born ;
But now that fair frefh mirror, dim and cold,
Shews me a bare-bon'd death by time out-worn :
O ! from my cheeks my image thou haft torn !
And fhiver'd all the beauty from my glafs,
That I no more can fee what once I was.
O ! time ! ceafe thou thy courfe, and hafte no longer,
If thou furceafe to be, that fhould furvive:
Shall rotten death make conqueft of the ftronger,
And leave the falt'ring feeble fouls alive ?
The old bees die, the young poflefs their hivej
Then live fweet Lucrece^ live again and fee
Thy father die, and not thy father thee.
By this ft arts Cola tine as from a dream,
And bids Lucretius give his forrow place;
And then in clay-cold Lucrece bleeding ftream
He falls, and bathes the pale fear in his face,
And counterfeits to die with her a fpace :
Till manly fliame bids him pofTefs his breath,
And live to be revenged on her death.
The deep vexation of his inward foul
Hath ferv'd a dumb arreft upon his tongue ;
Who made that forrow fhould his ufe controul,
Or keep him from heart-eafing words fo long,
He 'gins to talk; but thro' his lips do throng
Weak words, fo thick come in his poor heart's aid,
That no man could diftinguifh What he faid.
106 Tarquin and Lucrece.
Yet fometimc Tarquin was pronounced plain,
But thro' his teeth, as if his name he tore :
This windy tempeft, till it blow up rain,
Held back his forrow's tide to make it more.
At laft it rains, and bufy winds give o'er :
Then Ton and father weep with equal ftrife,
Who fhould weep molt for daughter, or for wife.
The one doth call her his, the other his ;
Yet neither may pofiefs the claim they lay.
The father fays, (he's mine ; O mine (he is,
Replies her hufband ; do not take away
My forrow's interert, let no mourner fay,
He weeps for her, for fhe was only mine,
And only muft be wail'd by Colatine.
0 ! quoth Lucretius, I did give that life,
Which fhe too early and too late hath fpill'd.
Wo ! wo ! quoth Gelatine , fhe was my wife,
1 own'd her, and 'tis mine, that fhe hath kill'd.
My daughter and my wife with clamours filPd
The difperft air, who holding Lucrece life,
Anfwer'd their cries, my daughter and my wife.
Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece fide,
Seeing fuch emulation in their woe,
Began to clothe his wit in ftate and pride,
Burying in Lucrece' wound his follies fhow:
He with the Romans was efteemed fo,
As filly jeering ideots are with kings,
For fportive words, and uttering foolifh things.
But now he throws that fhallow habit by,
Wherein true policy did him difguife,
Tarquin and Lucrece. 107
And arm'd his long-hid wits advifedly,
To check the tears in Colatinui eyes.
Thou wronged lord of Rome^ quoth he, arife ;
Let my unfounded felf, fuppos'd a fool,
Now fet thy long experienc'd wit to fchool.
Why, Colatine^ is woe the cure for woe ?
Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous
Is it revenge to give thyfelf a blow [deeds ?
For his foul act, by whom thy fair wife bleeds ?
Such childifh humour from weak minds proceeds :
Thy wretched wife miftook the matter fo,
To flay herfelf, that fhould have flain her foe.
Courageous Roman, do not fteep thy heart
In fuch lamenting dew of lamentations ;
But kneel with me, and help to bear thy part,
To roufe our Roman gods with invocations,
That they will fuffer thefe abominations
(Since Rome herfelf in them doth ftand difgrac'd)
By our ftrong arms from forth her fair ftreets chas'd.
Now by the capitol that we adore !
And by this chafte blood fo unjuftly ftain'd !
By heaven's fair fun, that breeds the fat earth's ftore !
By all our country rites in Rome maintain'd !
And by chafte Lucrece' foul, that late complain'd
Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife !
We will revenge the death of this true wife.
This faid, he ftroke his hand upon his breaft,
And kifs'd the fatal knife to end his vow :
And to his proteftation urg'd the reft,
Who wond'ring at him did his words allow :
Then jointly to the ground their knees they bow,
108 Tarquin and Lucrccc.
And that deep vow which Brutus made before,
He doth again repeat, and that they fwore.
When they had fworn to this advifed doom,
They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence,
To fhew the bleeding body throughout Rome,
And fo to publifh Tarquin's foul offence.
Which being done, with fpeedy diligence,
The Romans plaufibly did give confent
To Tarquirts everlafting banifhment.
Poems on feveral Occalions.
The Glory of Beauty.
Ah wherefore with infe&ion fhould he live ?
And with his prefcnce grace impiety ?
That fin by him advantage fhould atchieve,
And lace itfelf with his fociety ?
Why fhould falfe painting imitate his cheek,
And fteal dead feeing of his living hue ?
Why fhould poor beauty indirectly feek
Rofes of fhadow, fince his rofe is true ?
Why fhould he live, now nature bankrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood, to blufh thro' lively veins ?
For fhe hath no exchequer now but his,
And proud of many, lives upon his gains.
O ! him fhe ftores, to fliow what wealth fhe had,
In days long fmce, before thefe laft fo bad.
Thus is his cheek, the map of days, out-worn,
When beauty liv'd and dy'd as flowers do now j
Before thefe baftard figns of fair were born,
Or durft inhabit on a living brow :
Before the golden trefles of the dead,
The right of fepulchers, were fhorn away,
To live a fecond life on fecond head,
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay.
In him thofe holy antique hours are feen,
Without all ornament itfelf, and true,
Making no fummer of another's green,
Robbing no old, to drefs his beauty new :
1 1 0 Poems on federal Occafions.
And him as for a map doth nature ftore,
To fhow falfe art what beauty was of yore.
Thofe parts of thee, that the world's eye doth view,
Want nothing, that the thought of hearts can mend :
All tongues (the voice of fouls) give thee thy due,
Uttering bare truth, even fo as foes commend.
Their outward thus with outward praife is crown'd,
But thofe fame tongues that give thee fo thine own,
In other accents do this praife confound,
By feeing farther than the eye hath fhown.
They look into the beauty of thy mind,
And that in guefs they meafure by thy deeds ;
Then their churl thoughts(altho'theireyes were kind)
To thy fair flower add the rank fmell of weeds.
But why ? thy odour matcheth not thy fhow,
The toil is this, that thou doft common grow.
Injurious 'Time.
Like as the waves make towards the pibbled fhore,
So do our minutes haften to their end :
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In fequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipfes 'gainft his glory fight,
And time that gave, doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourifh fet on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing frands but for his fcythe to mow.
And yet to times, in hope, my verfe fhall ftand,
Praifing thy worth, dcfpite his cruel hand.
•Poems an federal Qccafions. ill
Againft my love fhall be as I am now,
With time's injurious hand crufh'd and o'er-worn ;
When hours have drain'd his blood, and filPd his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travel 'd on to age's fteepy night,
And all thofe beauties, whereof now he's king,
Are vanifhing, or vanifh'd out of fight,
Stealing away the treafure of his fpring :
For fuch a time, do I now fortify,
Againft confounding age's cruel knife,
That he fhall never cut from memory
My fweet love's beauty, tho' my lover's life.
His beauty fhall in thefe black lines be feen,
And they fhall live, and he in them ftill green.
When I have feen, by time's fell hand defac'd,
The rich proud coft of out-worn bury'd age;
When fometimes lofty towers I fee down raz'd,
And brafs eternal flave to mortal rage j
When I have feen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the fhore,
And the firm foil win of the watry main,
Increafing ftore with lofs, and lofs with ftore ;
When I have feen fuch interchange of ftate,
Or ftate itfelf confounded, to decay :
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,
That time will come, and take my love away.
This thought is as a death, which cannot chufe
But weep to have that which it fears to lofe.
Since brafs, norftone, nor earth, nor boundlefs fea,
But fad mortality o'er-fways their power:
How with this rage fhall beauty hold a plea,
Whofe aclioa is no ftronger than a flower?
1 1 2 Poems on feveral Occafton^
O ! how (hall fummer's hungry breath hold out
Againft the wrackful liege of battering days ;
When rocks impregnable are not fo ftout,
Nor gates of fteel fo ftrong, but time decays ?
O ! fearful meditation ! where, alack !
Shall time's beft jewel from time's cheft lie hid ?
Or what ftrong hand can hold this fwift foot back,
Or who his fpoil on beauty can forbid?
O ! none ! unlefs this miracle have might,
Th.it in black ink my love may ftill (hine bright,
Tir'd with all thcfe, for rcflful death I ciyj
As to behold defert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And pureit faith unhappily forfworn,
And gilded honour fliamefully milplac'd,
And maiden virtue rudely ftrumpetted,
And right perfection wrongfully difgrac'd,
And ftrength by limping fway difabled,
And art made tongue-ty'd by authority,
And folly (do&or-like) controuling (kill,
And fimple truth mifcall'd fimplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill :
Tir'd with all thefe, from thefe would I be gone,
Save that to die, I leave my love alone.
True Admiration.
What is your fubftance, whereof are you made,
That millions of ftrange fliadows on you tend ?
Since every one, hath every one, one (hade,
And you but one, can every fhadow lend ?
Defcribe Adonis^ and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you j
Poems on fever al Ouafions. 113
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty fet,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new.
Speak of the fpring and foyzen of the year,
The one doth fliadow of your beauty mow,
The other as your bounty doth appear,
And you in every blefled mape we know :
In all external grace you have fome part,
But you like none, none you, for conftant heart.
0 ! how much more doth beauty beauteous feem,
By that fweet ornament which truth doth give !
The rofe looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that fweet odour, which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye,
As the perfumed tincture of the rofes,
Hang on fuch thorns, and play as wantonly,
When fummer's breath their mafked buds difclofes:
But for their virtue's only in their mow,
They live unmov'd, and unrefpedted fade,
Die to themfelves : fweet rofes do not fo,
Of their fweet deaths are fweeteft odours made.
And fo of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that mall fade, by verfe diftils your truth.
The Force of Love.
Being your flave, what mould I do, but tend
Upon the hours and times of your defire,
1 have no precious time at all to fpend,
Nor fervices to do, till you require :
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilrr I (my fovereign) watch the clock for youj
Nor think the bitternefs of abfence four,
When you have bid your fervant once adieu:
H
114 Poems on fever al Occaficns.
Nor dare I queftion with my jealous thought,
Where you may be, or your affairs fuppofe ;
But like a fad Jlave flay, and think of nought,
Save where you are : how happy you make thofe !
So true a fool is love, that in your will,
(Tho' you do any thing) he thinks no ill.
That god forhid, that made me firft your flave,
I fhould in thought controul your times of plealurc j
Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave,
Being your vaflal, bound to flay your leifurc.
O let me fuffer (being at your beck)
Th' imprifon'd abfence of your liberty ;
And patience, tame to fufferance, bide each check,
Without accufmg you of injury !
Be where you lift, your charter is fo ftrong,
That you yourfelf may privilege your time
To what you will ; to you it doth belong
Yourfelf to pardon of lelf- doing crime.
I am to wait, tho' waiting fo be hell ;
Not blame your pleafure, be it ill or well.
The Beauty of Nature.
If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd ?
Which labouring for invention, bear amifs
The ftcond burden of a former child ?
O ! that record could with a backward look,
Kv'n of five hundred courfes of the fun ;
Show me your image in fom| antique book,
Since mine at firft in character was done !
That I might fee what the old world could fay
To this compofed wonder of your frame ;
on fevcral Occnjions. 115
Whether we're mended, or where better they,
Or whether revolution be the fame.
O ! fure I am, the wits of former days,
To fubje&s worfe, have given admiring praife.
Louis Cruelty,.
From faireft creatures we defire increafe,
That thereby beauty's rofe may never die ;
But as the riper fhould by time deceafe,
His tender heir might bear his memory.
But thou contracted to thine own bright eves,
Feed'ft thy light's flame with felf-fubftantial fuel ;
Making a famine where abundance lies :
Thyfelf thy foe, to thy fweet felf too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's frefh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy fpring,
Within thine own bud burieft thy content,
And tender churl mak'ft wafte in niggarding :
Pity the world, or elfe this glutton be
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. •
When forty winters fhall befiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, fo gaz'd on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed of fmall worth held :
Then being afk'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treafure of thy lufty days ;
To fay within thine own deep-funken eyes,
Were an all-eating fhame and thriftlefs praife.
How much more praife deferv'd thy beauty's ufe,
If thou couldft anfwer, This fair child of mine
Shall fum my count, and make my old excufe,
Proving his beauty by fucceffion thine ?
II 6 Pcems on feveral Occafton*.
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And fee thy blood warm, when thou feel'ft it cold.
Look in thy glafs, and tell the face thou vieweft,
Now is the time that face fhould form another,
Whofe frcfli repair, if now thou not reneweft,
Thou doft beguile the world, unblefs fome mother.
For where is (he fo fair, whofe un-car'd womb
Difdains the tillage of thy husbandry ?
Or who is he fo fond, will be the tomb
Of his felf-love, to ftop pofterity ?
Thou art thy mother's glafs, and flie in thec
Calls back the lovely April of her prime :
So thou thro' windows of thine age fhalt fee,
Defpite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remember not to be;
Die Cngle, and thine image dies with thcc.
Youthful Glory.
O that you were yourfelf ! but, love, you are
No longer yours, than you yourfelf here live :
Againft this coming end you fliould prepare,
And your fweet femblance to fome other give.
So fhould that beauty, which you hold in leafe,
Find no determination ; then you were
Yourfelf again, after yourfeJf's deccafe,
When your f-vveet iflue your fweet form fliould bear.
Who lets fo fair a houfe fall to decay,
Which hufbandry in honour might uphold,
Againft the {lormy gufts of winter's day,
And barren rage of death's eternal cold ?
O ! none but unthrifts : dear my love, you know
You had a father, let your fon fay fo.
Poems on federal Occafiom. 117
Not from the ftars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have aftronomy ;
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or feafons quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind ;
Or fay, with princes if it (hall go well,
By ought predict that I in heaven find :
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And conftant ftars ; in them I read fuch art,
As truth and beauty fhall together thrive,
If from thyfelf, to ftore thou would 'ft convert :
Or elfe of thee this I prognofticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
When I confider, every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment;
That this huge ftage prefenteth nought but (hows,
Whereon the ftars in fecret influence comment :
When I perceive, that men as plants increafe,
Chear'd and check'd ev'n by the felf-fame fky :
Vaunt in their youthful fap, at height decreafc,
And wear their brave ftate out of memory :
Then the conceit of this inconftant ftay,
Sets you moft rich in youth before my fight,
Where wafteful time debateth with decay,
To change your day of youth to fullied night j
And all in war with time, for love of you,
As he takes from you, I ingraft you new.
Good Admonition,
But wherefore do not you a mightier way,
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, time ?
H ?
1 1 8 Pcenu on fevetal Occafutu.
And fortify yourfelf, in your decay,
With means more blcflcd than my barren rhyme ?
Now ftand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens yet unfct,
With virtuous wifh would bear you living flowci:.
Much Jiker than your painted counterfeit.
So fhould the lines of life that life repair,
Which this (time's pencil) or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth, nor outward fair,
Can make you live yourfelf in eyes of mm.
To give away yourfelf, keeps yourfelf itill,
And you muft live, drawn by your own fweet (kill.
Who will believe my verfe, in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your mod high deierts ?
Tho' yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb,
Which hides your life, and fhows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in frefh numbers number all your graces j
The age to come would fay this poet lyes,
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.
So fhould my papers (yellow'd with their age)
Be fcorn'd, like old men of Icfs truth than tongue;
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage,
And ftretched metre of an antick fong.
But were fome child of yours alive that time,
You fhould live twice in it, and in my rhyme.
Quick Prevention.
Lo ! in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new appearing fight,
Serving with looks his facred majcfty ;
And having climb'd the fteep-up heavenly hill,
Refembling ftrong youth in his middle age,
Poems on feveral Qccafions. 119
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty ftill,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage.
But when from high-moft pitch, with weary care,
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day ;
The eyes ('fore duteous) now converted are
From his low track, and look another way.
So thou, thyfelf out-going in thy noon,
Unlook'd on dieft, unlefs thou get a fon.
Magazine of Beauty.
Unthrifty lovelinefs, why doft thou fpend
Upon thyfelf thy beauty's legacy ?
Nature's bequeft gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank, fhe lends to thofe are free.
Then, beauteous niggard, why doft thou abufe
The bounteous largefs given thee to give ?
Profitlefs ufurer, why doft thou ufe
So great a fum of fums, yet can'ft not live ?
For having traffick with thyfelf alone,
Thou of thyfelf thy fweet felf doft deceive j
Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit can'ft thou leave ?
Thy unus'd beauty muft be tomb'd with thee,
Which ufed lives th' executor to be.
Thofe hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze, where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very fame,
And that unfair, which fairly doth excel,
For never-refting time leads fummer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap check' d with froft, and lufty leaves quite gonej
Beauty o'er-fnow'd, and barrennefs every where.
120 Poems on fever al Occafions.
Then were not fummer's diftillation left
A liquid prifoner, pent in walls of glafs,
Beauty's effe£ with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.
But flowers difHll'd, tho' they with winter meet,
Lofe but their fhow, their fubftanceftill lives fwcet.
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy fummer, ere thou be diftill'd,
Make fweet fome vial, treafure thou forr.e place
With beauty's treafure, e'er it be felf-kiU'd :
That ufe is not forbidden ufury,
Which happies thofe that pay the willing loan ;
That's for thyfclf to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one :
Ten times thyfelf were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee;
Then what could death do, if thou fhould'ft depart,
Leaving thee living in pofterity?
Be not felf-wilPd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conqueft, and make worms thine heir.
An Invitation to Marriage.
Mufick to hear, why hear'ft thou mufick fadly ?
Sweets with fwccts war not, joy delights in joy :
Whylov'ft thod that, which thou receiv'ft not gladly :
Or elfe receiv'ft with pleafure thine ann
If the true concord of well-tuned (bun
By unions married do offend thy c .
They do but fweetly chide thee, "who confounds
In fiaglenefs the parts that thou fhould'ft bear.
Mark how one ftring, fwect hufband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering ;
Paws on feveral Occafcns. 121
Refembling fire and child, and happy mother,
Who all in one, one pleafmg note do iing :
Whofe fpeechlefs fong, being many, feeming one,
Sings this to thee, thou Cngle wilt prove none.
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,
That thou confum'ft thyfelf in Tingle life?
Ah ! if thou iflue-lefs fhalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makelefs wife :
The world will be thy widow ', and ftill weep,
That thou no form of thee haft left behind ;
When every private widow well may keep,
By childrens eyes, her hufband's fhape in mind :
Look what an unthrift in the world doth fpend,
Shifts but his place, for ftill the world enjoys it:
But beauty's wafte hath in the world an end,
And kept unus'd, the us'rer fo deftroys it.
No love towards others in that bofom fits,
That on himfelf fuch murd'rous fhame commits.
For (name ! deny, that thou bear'ft love to any,
Who for thyfelf art fo unprovident ;
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,
But that thou none lov'ft, is moft evident :
For thou art fo poflefs'd with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainft thyfelf thou ftick'ft not to confpire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate,
Which to repair, fhould be thy chief defire.
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind I
Shall hate be fairer lodg'd than gentle love ?
Be, as thy prefence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyfelf, at leaft, kind-hearted prove :
Make thee another felf, for love of me,
That beauty ftill may live in thine or thcc.
1 22 Poems on Jeveral Ouafiom.
As faft as thou (halt wane, To faft thou grow'ft
In one of thine, from that which thou dcpartcft ;
And that frefh blood which youngly thou beftow'ft,
Thou may'ft call thine, when thou from youth con-
Herein lives wifdom, beauty, and increafe ; [vcrteft.
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay j
If all \vere minded fo, the times {hould ceafe,
And threefcore years would make the world away.
Let thofe whom nature hath not made for ftore,
Harfh, featurelefs, and rude, barrenly pcrifh :
Look whom fhe beft endow'd, fhe gave the more ;
Which bounteous gift thou fhould'ft in bounty cherifh:
She carv'd thce for her feal, and meant thereby
Thou fhould'ft print more, nor let that copy die.
When I do count the clock, that tells the time,
And fee the brave day funk in hideous night ;
When I behold the violet paft prime,
And fable curls are filver'd o'er with white j
When lofty trees I fee barren of leaves,
Which erfi from heat did canopy the herd,
And fummer's green all girded up in fheaves,
Borne on the bier, with white and briftly beard ;
Then of thy beauty do I queftion make,
That thou among the waftes of time muft go,
Since fweets and beauties do themfelvcs forfake,
And die as faft as they fee others grow ;
And nothing 'gainft time's fcithe can make defence,
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Falfe Belief.
When my love fwears that fhe is made of truth,
J do believe her (tho' I know /he lyes)
Poems on feveral Qccafions. 1 23
That fhe might think me fome untutor'd youth,
Unfkilful in the world's falfe forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking, that fhe thinks me young,
Altho' I know my years be paft the bell ;
I fmiling, credit her falfe fpeaking tongue,
Out-facing faults in love, with love's ill reft.
But wherefore fays my love, that fhe is young ?
And wherefore fay not I, that I am old ?
0 love's beft habit is a fmoothing tongue,
And age (in love) loves not to have years told.
Therefore I'll lye with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus fmother'd be. •
d Temptation.
Two loves I have, of comfort and defpair,
That like two fpirits do fuggeft me ftill :
My better angel is a man (right fair)
My worfer fpirit a woman (colour'd ill.)
To win me foon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my fide,
And would corrupt my faint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her fair pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
SufpecT: I may, yet not direftly tell j
For being both to me, both to each friend,
1 guefs one angel in another's hell.
The truth I fhall not know, but live in doubt,
'Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
Fa/1 and Loofe.
£)id not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye,
'Gainft whom the world could not hold argument,
124 Poems on feveral Occafions.
Perfuade my heart to this falfe perjury,
Vows for thee broke, defervc not punifhment.
A woman I forfwore : but I will prove,
Thou being a goddefs, I forfwore not thce :
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love,
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all difgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is ;
Then thou, fair fun, that on this earth doth (hine,
Exhale this vapour vow, in thee it is :
If broken then, it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not fo wife
To break an oath, to win a paradife ?
True CoH'ent.
So is it not with me, as with that mufe,
Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verfe,
Who heaven itfelf for ornament doth ufe,
And every fair with his fair doth rehearie :
Making a compliment of proud compare
With fun and moon, with earth and fen's rich gem5 ;
With April's firft-born flowers, and all things rare,
That heaven's air, in this huge rondure hems.
O ! let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, tho' not fo bright
As thofe gold candles fix'd in heaven's air.
Let them fay more, that like of hearfay well ;
I will not praife, that purpoie not to fell.
A Ba/hful Lover.
As an unperfedr. actor on the ftage,
Who with his fear is put befides his part ^
Poems on fever al Occafans. 125
Or fome fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Wliofe ftrength abundant weakens his own heart :
So I, for fear of truft, forgot to fay
The perfect ceremony of love's right,
And in mine own love's ftrength feem to decay,
O'ercharg'd with burden of mine own love's might.
O ! let my looks be then the eloquence,
And dumb prefagers of my fpeaking breaft ;
Who plead for love, and look for recompence,
More than that tongue that more hath more expreft.
O learn to read what filent love hath writ !
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
Strong Conceit.
My glafs mall not perfuade me I am old,
So long as youth and thou art of one date j
But when in thee time's forrows I behold,
Then look I death my days mould expiate.
For all that beauty, that doth cover thee,
Is but the feemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breaft doth live, as thine in me,
How can I then be elder than thou art ?
O therefore, love ! be of thyfelf fo wary,
As I not for myfelf, but for thee, will,
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep fo chary,
As tender nurfe her babe from faring ill.
Prefume not on thy heart, when mine is flain;
Thou gav'fl me thine, not to give back again.
A Sweet Provocation.
Sweet Cythcrea^ fitting by a brook,
With young Adonis, lovely frefh and green,
126 Poems on feveral Occaftons.
Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen.
She told him ftories, to delight his ears ;
She fhow'd him favours, to allure his eye;
To win his heart, fhe touch't him here and there j
Touches fo foft, ftill conquer chaftity.
But whether unripe years did want conceit,
Or he refus'd to take her figur'd proffer,
The tender nibbler wou'd not touch the bait,
But fmile and jeft at every gentle offer.
Then fell fhe on her back, fair queen, and toward,
He rofe and ran away} ah ! fool too froward.
A Conjlant Vow.
If love makemeforfworn, howfhall I fwcar to love?
O ! never faith cou'd hold, if not to beauty vow'd :
Tho' to myfelf forfworn, to thee I'll conftant prove.
Thofe thoughts to me like oaks,totheelike ofiers bow'd
Study his byas leaves, and makes his book thineeyes,
Writ re all thofepleafures li ve,that art can comprehend^
If knowledge be the mark, to know theefhall fuffice:
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee com-
mend !
All ignorant that foul, that fees thee without wonder,
Which is to me fome praife, that I thy parts admire :
Thine eye Jove's lightning feems, thy voice his
dreadful thunder,
Which (not to anger bent) ismufickand fweetfirc.
Celeftial as thou art, O ! do not love that wrong !
To fing heave n's praife with fuch an earthly tongue.
The Exchange.
A woman's face, with nature's own hand painted,
H.'.ft thou the matter, miftrefs of my pafllon j
Poems on fever al Occafions. 127
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With Ihifting change, as is falfe womens fafhion.
An eye more bright than theirs, lefs falfe in rolling:
Gilding the objecl: whereupon it gazeth.
A man in hue all hue in his controuling,
Which fteals mens eyes, and womens fouls amazeth :
And for a woman wer't thou firft created.
Till nature, as fhe wrought thee, fell a doating,
And by addition me of thee defeated ;
By adding one thing, to my purpofe nothing.
But fince (he prick'd thee out for womens pleafure,
Mine be thy love, and thy love's ufe their treafure.
A D if confutation.
Weary with toil, I hafte me to my bed,
The dear repofe for limbs with travel tired,
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired.
For then my thoughts (far from where I abide)
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eye-lids open wide,
Looking on darknefs, which the blind do fee.
Save that my foul's imaginary fight
Prefents their fhadow to my hghtlefs view;
Which, like a jewel (hung in ghaftly night)
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo ! thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,
for thee, and for myfelf no quiet find.
How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debar'd the benefit of reft ?
XVhen day's oppreffion is not eas'd by night,
But day by night, and night by day oppreft?
128 Poems on feveral Occafiom.
And each (tho' enemies to other's reign)
Do in confent fhake hands to torture me;
The one by toil, the other to complain,
How far I toil, ftill farther off from thec.
I tell the day, to pleafc him, thou art bright,
And doft- him grace when clouds do blot the heaven :
So flatter I the fwart-complexion'd night,
Whei> fparkling ftars tweer out, thou gild'ft th' even.
But day doth daily draw my forrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's length feem
[ftronger.
When in difgrace with fortune and mens eyes
I all alone beweep my out-caft ftate,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootlefs cries,
And look upon myfelf and curfe my fate :
Wifhing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends pofleft ;
Defiring this man's art, and that man's fcope,
With what I moft enjoy contented leaft.
Yet in thefe thoughts, myfelf almoft defpifmg,
Haply I think on thee, and then my ftate,
Like to the lark, at break of day arifing
From fullen earth, to fing at heaven's gate.
For thy fwect love rememb'red, fuch wealth brings,
That then I fcorn to change my ftate with kings.
Cruel Deceit.
Scarce had the fun dry'd up the dewy morn,
And fcarce the herd gone to the hedge for fliacle j
When Cytberta (all in love forlorn)
A longing tarriance for Adznh made
Under an ofier growing by a brook ;
A brook, where ddon us'd to cool his fpleen.
Poems on fever al Occafiom.
Hot was the day, fhe hotter, that did look
For his approach, that often here had been.
Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And flood ftark naked on the brook's green brim t
The fun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
Yet not fo whiftly, as this queen on him :
He fpying her, bounc'd in (whereas he flood)
O ! Jove ! (quoth flie) why was not I a flood ?
The Unconjlant Lover.
Fair is my love, but not fo fair as fickle ;
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trufty ;
Brighter than glafs, and yet as glafs is brittle ;
Softer than wax, and yet as iron rufty :
A lily pale, with damafk dye to grace her ;
None fairer, nor none falfer to deface her.
Her lips to mine how often hath fhe joined,
Between each kifs her oaths of true love fwearing ?
How many tales to pleafe me hath fhe coined,
Dreading my love, the lofs thereof ftill fearing ?
Yet in the midft of all her pure proteftings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were
jeftings.
She burnt with love, as ftraw with fire flameth ;
She burnt out love, as foon as ftraw out burning ;
She fram'd the love, and yet fhe foil'd the framing ;
She bad love laft, and yet fhe fell a turning.
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether ?
Bad at the beft, tho' excellent in neither.
I
J 39 Poems on fever al Qccafuni,
The Benefit of Friendship.
When to the fdfions of fwcct filent thought,
I fummon up remembrance of things paft,
I figh the lack of many a thing I fought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's wafte.
Then can I drown an eye (unus'd to flow")
For precious friends hid in death's datelefs night-,
And weep afrefh love's long fmce canccll'd woe,
And moan th' expence of many a vanifh'd fight
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The fad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay, as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend^
All lofles are reftor'd, and forrows end.
Thy bofom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have fuppofed dead ;
And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts,
And all'thofe friends, which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obfequious tear
Hath dear religious love ftol'n from mine eye,
As intereft of the dead, which now appear
But things remov'd, that hidden in thee lie !
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone;
Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
That due of many, now is thine alone.
Their images 1 lov'd, I view in thee,
And thou (all they) haft all the all of me.
If thou furvive my well -contented day,
When that churl death my bones with duft (hall
cover :
Poems on feveral Occafiens. 13 r
Arid fhalt by fortune once more re-furvey
Thefe poor rude lines of thy deqeafed lover ;
Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,
And tho' they be out-ftript by every pen,
Referve them for my love, not for their rhirne,
Exceeded by the height of happier men,
Oh then vouchfafe me but this loving thought !
Had my friend's mufe grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this, his love had brought,
Xo march in ranks of better equipage :
But fince he died, and poets better prove,
Theirs for their ftile I'll read, his for his love.
Friendly Concord.
If mufick and fweet poetry agree,
As they muft needs (the lifter and the brother)
Then muft the love be great 'twixt thee and me,
Becaufe thou lov'ft the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whofe heavenly touch
Upon the lute, doth ravifli human fenfe :
Spencer to me, whofe deep conceit is fuch,
As palling all conceit, needs no defence;
Thou lov'ft to hear the fweet melodious found,
That Pbcebus' lute (the queen of mufick) makes j
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd,
When as himfelf to fmging he betakes.
One GoJ is God of both (as poets fain)
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain,
Inhumanity,
Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love,
Paler for forrow than her milk-white dove,
I 2
132 Poems on fever al Occafioni.
For Melon's fake, a youngfter proud and wild,
Her ftand fhe takes upon a fteep-up hill.
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds,
She, filly queen, with more than love's good-will,
Forbad the boy he fhould not pafs thofe grounds :
Once (quoth fhe) did I fee a fair fweet youth
Here in thefe brakes, deep wounded with a boar,
Deep in the thigh a fpedlacle of ruth ;
See in my thigh (quoth (he) here was the fore :
She fhewed hers, he faw more wounds than one,
And blufhing fled, and left her all alone.
A Congratulation.
How can my mufe want fubjecl: to invent,
While thou doft breathe, that pour'ft into my verfe
Thine own fweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehear fe ?
Oh ! give thyfelf the thanks, if ought in me,
Worthy perufal, ftand againft thy fight ;
For who's fo dull, that cannot write to ther,
When thou thyfelf doft give invention light?
Be thou the tenth mufe, ten times more in worth,
Than thofe old Nine which rhimers invocate;
And he that calls on thce, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to out-live long date.
If my flight mufe do pleafe thefe curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine fhall be the praife.
Oh ! how thy worth with manners may I fing,
When thou art all the better part of me ?
What can mine own praife to mine own felf bring ?
And what is't but mine own when I praife thee?
Even for this, let us divided live,
And our dear love lofe name of fingle one $
Poems on fever al Occafions, 133
That by this feparation I may give
That due to thee, which thou deferv'ft alone.
Oh abfence ! what a torment would'ft thou prove,
Were't not that thy four leifure gave fweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Who time and thoughts fo fweetly doft deceive ;
And that thou teacheft how to make one twain,
By praifing him here, who doth hence remain.
Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all,
What haft thou then more than thou hadft before ?
No love, my love, that thou may'ft true love call,
All mine was thine, before thou hadft this more.
Then if for my love, thou my love receiveft,
I cannot blame thee, for my love thou ufeft j
But yet be blam'd, if thou thyfelf deceiveft
By wilful tafte of what thyfelf refufeft.
I do forgive thy robb'ry, gentle thief,
Altho' thou fteal thee all my poverty :
And yet love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.
Lafcivious grace, in whom all ill well fhows,
Kill me with fpite, yet we muft not be foes.
Lofs and Gain.
Thofe pretty wrongs that liberty commits,
When I am fometimes abfent from thy heart,
Thy beauty and thy years full well befit,
For ftill temptation follows where thou art.
Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won ;
Beauteous thou art, and therefore to be aflailed,
And when a woman woos, what woman's fon
Will fourly leave frer till he have prevailed ?
13
J34 Poems en fever al Ocea/ions.
Ah me ! but yet thou might'ft my feat forbear,
And chide thy beauty and thy ftraying youth,
Who lead thee in their riot even there,
Where thou art forc'd to break a twofold truth :
Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,
Thine by thy beauty being falfe to me.
That thou haft her, it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be faid I lov'd her dearly ;
That fhe hath thee, is of my wailing chief,
A lofs in love that touches me more nearly.
Loving offenders, thus I will excufe ye,
Thou doft love her, becaufe thou know'ft I love herj
And for my fake even fo doth (he abufe me,
Suffering my friend, for my fake, to approve her.
If I lofe thee, my lofs is my love's gain,
And lofing her, my friend hath found that lofs :
Both find each other, and I lofe both twain,
And both for my fake lay on me this crofs.
But here's the joy, my friend and I are one,
Sweet flattery, then fhe loves but me alone.
Foolijh Dlfdain.
Venus, with Adonis fitting by her,
Under a myrtle fhade, began to woo him :
She told the youngling how god Mars did try hcr4
And as he fell to her, fhe fell to him.
Even thus (quoth fhe j the warlike god embrac'd me,
And then fhe clipt Adonis in her aims :
Even thus (quoth fhe) th* warlike god unlac'd me,
As if the boy fhould ufe like loving charms.
Even thus (quoth fhe) he feized on my lips,
And with her lips on his did act the feizure :
Poems on fever al Occafions. 135
And as me fetched breath, away he fkips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleafure.
Ah ! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kifs and clip me till I run away.
Ancient Antipathy.
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together ;
Youth is full of pleafance, age is full of care ;
Youth like fummer morn, age like winter weather j
Youth like fummer brave, age like winter bare.
Youth is full of fport, age's breath is fhort;
Youth is nimble, age is lame ;
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold ;
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age I do abhor thee, youth I do adore thee j
O ! my love, my love is young :
Age I do defy thee, O ! fweet fhepherd hie thee ;
For, methinks, thou ftay'ft too long.
Beauty s Valuation.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,
A fhining glofs, that fadeth fuddenly;
A flower that dies, when firft it 'gins to bud j
A brittle glafs, that's broken prefently.
A doubtful good, a glofs, a glafs, a flower,
Loft, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods loft, are feld' or never found ;
As faded glofs no rubbing will refrefti ;
As flowers dead, lie withered on the ground ;
As broken glafs, no cement can redrefs :
I 4
1 36 Pct'ms on feveral Off a/Jam.
So beauty blemifh'd once, for ever's loft,
In fpite of phyfic, painting, pain and colt.
Melancholy Thoughts.
If the dull fubftance of my flefh were thought,
Injurious diftance fhould not flop my way ;
For then, defpite of fpace, I would be brought
To limits far remote, where thou doft ftay.
No matter then altho' my foot did ftand
Upon the farthefl earth remov'd from thee ;
For nimble thought can jump both fea and land,
As foon as think the place where he would be.
But, ah ! thought kills me, that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone j
But that fo much of earth and water wrought,
I muft attend time's leifure with my moan ;
Receiving nought by elements fo flow,
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.
The other two, flight air, and purging fire,
Are both with thee, where-ever I abide ;
The firft my thought, the other my defire ;
Thefe prefent, abfenr, with fwift motion flide.
For when thefe quicker elements are gone,
In tender embafly of love to thee,
My life being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppreft with melancholy;
Until life's compofition be recured,
By thofe fwift mefiengers return'd from thee,
Who even but now come back again aflured
Of their fair health, recounting it to me.
This told, I joy ; but then no longer glad,
I fend them back again, and ftrait grow fad,
Poems on feveral Occafions, 137
Lovis Lofs.
Sweet rofe, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, foon faded,
Pluck'd in the bud, and faded in the fpring :
Bright orient pearl, alack ! too timely fhaded,
Fair creature kill'd too foon by death's fharp fting:
Like a green plumb, that hangs upon a tree,
And falls (thro' wind) before the fall fhould be.
I weep for thee, and yet no caufe I have,
For why ? Thou lefts me nothing in thy will ;
And yet thou lefts me more than I did crave :
For why ? I craved nothing of thee ftill :
O yes (dear friend) I pardon crave of thee,
Thy difcontent thou didft bequeath to me.
Lovis Relief.
Full many a glorious morning have I feen,
Flatter the mountain tops with fovereign eye,
Kiffing with golden face the meadows green ;
Gilding pale ftreams with heavenly alchymy j
Anon permit the bafeft clouds to ride,
With ugly rack on his celeftial face,
And from the forlorn world his vifage hide,
Stealing unfeen to weft with this difgrace.
Even fo my fun one early morn did fhine,
With all triumphant fplendor on my brow ;
But out, alack ! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath mafk'd him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit difdaineth ;
Suns of the world may ftain, when heaven's fun
[ftaineth.
Why didft thou promife fuch a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloke.
138 Poems en fever al Oaafions.
To Jet bafe clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten fmoke ?
fTis not enough that thro' the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my ftorm-beaten face ;
For no man well of fuch a falve can fpeak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the difgrace :
Nor can thy fhame give phyfick to my grief,
Tho' thou repent, yet I have ftill the crofs;
Th' offender's forrow lends but weak relief
To him, that beareth ftrong offences crofs.
Ah ! but thofe tears are pearl which thy love (beds,
And they are rich, and ranfom all ill deeds.
No more be griev'd at that which thou haft done,
Rofes have thorns, and filver fountains mud ;
Clouds and eclipfes {lain both moon and fun,
And loathfome canker lives in fweeteft bud.
"All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trefpafs with compare,
Myfelf corrupting, falving thy amifs,
Excufing their fins more than their fins are :
For to my fenfual fault I bring incenfc,
Thy adverfe party is thy advocate ;
And 'gainft myfelf a lawful plea commence,
Sucji civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an acceflary needs muft be
To that fweet thief which forcly robs from me.
Unanimity.
£,et me confefs, that we two muft be twain,
Altho' our undivided loves are one :
So fhall thofe blots, that do with me remain
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
Paems on fever al Occajtons. 139
In our two loves there is but one refpeft,
Tho' in our lives a feparable fpitej
Which tho' it alter not love's fole efteft,
Yet doth it fteal fweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Left my bewailed guilt fhould do thee fhame,
Nor thou with publick kindnefs honour me,
Unlefs thou take that honour from thy name.
But do not fo, J love thee in fuch fort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
As a decrepit father takes delight
To fee his aclive child do deeds of youth ;
So I, made lame by fortune's deareft fpite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of thefe all, or all, or more,
Intitled in their parts, do crowned fit,
I make my love ingrafted to this ftore :
So then I am not lame, poor, nor defpis'd,
Whilft that this fhadow doth fuch fubftance give,
That I in thy abundance am fuffic'd,
And by a part of all thy glory live :
Look what is beft, that beft I wifii in thee ;
This wifli I have, then ten times happy me.
Loth to depart.
Good night, good reft; ah ! neither be my fliare:
She bad good night, that kept my reft away j
And daft me to a cabben hang'd with care,
To defcant on the doubts of my decay.
Farewel (quoth fhe) and come again to-morrow ,
Fare well I could not, for I fupt with forrow.
140
Yet at my parting fweetly did (he fmile,
In fcorn, or friendfhip, nill I confter whether:
It may be flie joy'd tojeft at my exile;
It may be again to make me wander thither.
Wander (a word) for fhadows like myfelf,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.
Lord ! how mine eyes throw gazes to the eaft !
My heart doth charge the watch ; the morning rife
Doth cite each moving fenfe from idle reft,
Not daring truft the office of mine eyes.
While Philomela fits and fmgs, I fit and mark,
And wifh her lays were tuned like the lark.
For fhe doth welcome day-light with her ditty,
And drives away dark dreaming night :
The night fo packt, I poft unto my pretty ;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wifhed fight;
Sorrow chang'd to folace, and folace mixt with
forrow ;
For why ? fhe figh'd, and bad me come to-morrow.
Were I with her, the night would poft too foon,
But now are minutes added to the hours:
To fpite me now, each minute feems an hour,
Yet not for me, fhine fun to fuccour flowers.
Pack night, peep day, good day of night now
borrow,
Shortnight, to night, and length thyfelf to-morrow.
A MaJler-Pltce.
Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath fteel'd
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart ;
Poems on fever al Qccafam. 14.1
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perfpe&ive it is beft painter's art.
For thro' the painter muft you fee his fkill,
To find where your true image pi£tur'd lies,
Which in my bofom's mop is hanging ftill,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now fee what good turns eyes for eyes have done ;
Mine eyes have drawn thy fhape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breaft, where thro' the fun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee.
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,
They draw but what they fee, know not the heart.
Happinefs in Content,
Let thofe who are in favour with their ftars,
Of publiclc honour and proud titles boaft :
Whilft I, whom fortune of fuch triumph bars,
Unlook'd-for joy in that I honour moft.
Great princes favourites their fair leaves fpread,
But as the marigold at the fun's eye ;
And in themfelves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoufed for worth,
After a thoufand victories, once foil'd,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the reft forgot, for which he toil'd.
Then happy I, that love and am beloved,
Where I may not remove, nor be removed.
A Dutiful MeJ/age.
Lord of my love, to whom in vafTalage
Thy merit hath my duty ftrongly knit;
142 Poems on feveral Occajtom.
To thee I fend this written embaffage,
To witnefs duty, not to (hew my wit.
Duty fo great, which wit fo poor as mine
May make feem bare, in wanting words to fliew it ;
But that I hope fome good conceit of thine
In my foul's thought (all naked) will beftow it.
Till whatfoever ftar, that guides my moving,
Points on me gracioufly with fair afpect,
And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,
To (how me worthy of their fweet refpect.
Then may I dare to boaft how I do love thee :
Till then, not Ihow my head, where thou may 'ft
[prove me*
Gs and Come quickly.
How heavy do I journey on the way,
When that I feek (my weary travel's end)
Doth teach that eafe and that repofe to fay,
Thus far the miles are meafur'd from thy friend?
The beaft that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me ;
As if by fome inftin<St the wretch did know
His rider lov'd not fpeed being made from thee.
The bloody fpur cannot provoke him on,
That fometimes anger thrufts into his hide;
Which heavily he anfwers with a groan,
More fharp to me, than fpuning to his fide,
For that fame groan doth put this in my mind,
My grief* lies onward, and my joy behind.
Thus can my love excufe the flow offence
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I fpeed.
Form where thou art, why fhould I hafte me thence ?
Till I return, of porting is no need.
Pawns on fever al Occajions. 14.3
O ! what excufe will my poor beaft then find,
When fwift extremity can feem but flow ?
Then fhould I fpur tho' mounted on the wind ;
In winged fpeed no motion fhall I know.
Then can no horfe with my defire keep pace,
Therefore defire (of perfect love being made)
Shall neigh no dull flefh in his fiery race,
But love for love thus fhall excufe my jade.
Since from thee going, he went wilful flow,
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.
Two Faithful Friends.
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
How to divide the conqueft of thy fight :
Mine eye, my heart their pictures fight would barj
My heart, mine eye the freedom of that right :
My heart doth plead, that thou in him doft lie ;
(A clofet never pierc'd with cryftal eyes)
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And fays, in him their fair appearance lies.
To 'cide this title, is impannelled
A queft of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part,
As thus; mine eyes due is their outward part,
And my heart's right, their inward love of heart.
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other :
When that mine eye is famifh'd for a look,
Or heart in love with fighs himfelf doth fmother :
With my love's picture then my eye doth feaft,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart.
144 Poems on fever al Occafions.
Another time mine eye is my heart's gueft,
And in his thoughts of love doth fhare a part.
So either by the piclure of my love,
Thyfelf away, are prefent ftill with me ;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canft move,
And I am ftill with them, and they with thee.
Or if they fleep, thy picture in my fight
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eyes delight.
Carelefs Negleft.
How careful was I, when I took my way
Each trifle under trueft bars to thrull j
That to my ufe it might unufed ftay
From hands of falfhood, in fure wards of truft ?
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Moft worthy comfort, now my greateft grief:
Thou beft of dearefr, and mine only care,
Are left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lock'd up in any chc-ft,
Save where thou art not ; tho' I feel thou art
Within the gentle clofure of my breaft,
From whence at pleafure thou mayft come and part j
And even thence thou wilt be ftoln, I fear;
For truth proves thievifti for a prize fo dear.
Stout Refc/utien.
Againft that time (if ever that time come)
When I fhall fee thee frown on my defects;
Whenas thy love hath caft his utmoft fum,
Call'd to that audit by advis'd refpe&s :
Againft that time, when thou fhalt ftrangely pafs,
And fcarcely greet me with that fun, thine eye ;
Poems on fever al Occajions.
When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shall reafons find of fettled gravity :
Againft that time, do I infconce me here,
Within the knowledge of mine own defert;
And this my hand againft myfelf up-rear,
To guard the lawful reafons on thy part;
To leave poor me, thou haft the ftrength of laws,
Since why to love, I can alledge no caufe.
A Duel.
It was a lord ing's daughter,
The faireft one of three,
That liked of her mafter, as well as well might be:
Till looking on an EngUJhman^
The faireft eye could fee,
Her fancy fell a turning.
Long was the combat doubtful,
That love with love did fight :
To leave the mafter lovelefs, or kill the gallant
To put in practice either, [knight;
Alas ! it was a fpite.
Unto the filly damfel.
But one muft be refufed,
More mickle was the pain ;
That nothing could be ufed, to turn them both to
For of the two the trufty knight [gain '
Was wounded with difdain,
Alas ! fhe could not help it.
Thus art with arms contending,
Was victor of the day ;
K
*40 Poems on feveral Occafions.
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away.
Then, lullaby, the learned man
Hath goth the lady gay :
For now my fong is ended.
Lovt-fick,
On a day (alack the day f )
Love, whofe month was ever Afay,
Spy'd a bloflbm pafling fair,
Playing in the wanton aic.
Thro' the velvet leaves the wind,
All unfeen, 'gan pallage find,
7"hat the lover (fick to death)
Wifh'd himfelf the heaven's breath.
Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow}
Air ! would I might triumph fo J
But (alas !) my hand hath fworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy throne ;
Vow, (alack!) for youth unmeet,
Youth, fo apt to pluck a fwect ;
Thou, for whom ev'n "Jove would fwear
Juno but an /Ethiop were ;
And deny himfelf for Jovei
Turning mortal for thy love.
Love's Labour loft.
My flocks feed not, my ewes breed not,
My rams fpeed not; all is ami is :
Love is dying, faith s defying,
Heart's denying, caufer of this.
All my merry jigs are quite forgot,
All my lady's love is loft (God wot)
Poems on feveral Occajioris. 147
Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love,
There a nay is plac'd, without remove.
One filly crofs wrought all my lofs ;
O ! frowning fortune, curfed fickle dame !
For now I fee inconftancy
More in women than in men remain.
In black moufn I, all fears fcorn Ij
Love hath forlorn me living in thrall j
Heart is bleeding, all help needing ;
O ! cruel fpeeding, fraughted with gall !
My fhepherd's pipe can found no deal
My weather's bell rings doleful knell ;
My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd^
Plays not at all, but feems afraid i
With fighs fo deep, procures to weep
In howling wife, to fee my doleful plight J
How fighs refound thro' heartlefs ground,
Like a thoufand vanquifh'd men in bloody fight.
Clear wells fpring not, fweet birds fing not,
Green plants bring not forth their dye ;
Herds ftand weeping, flocks all fleeping,
Nymphs black peeping fearfully.
All our pleafure known to us poor fwains j
All our merry meetings on the plains j
All our evening fport from us is fled j
All our love is loft, for love is dead.
Farewell, fweet love^ thy like ne'er was,
For a fweet content, the caufe of all my woe ;
Poor Coridon muft live alonej
Other help for him, I fee, that there is none,
K 2
148 Poems on feucral Occafeons,
Wholefome Counfel.
Whenas thine eye hath chofe the dame,
And ftall'd the deer that thou fhould'ft itrikc ;
Let reafon rule things worthy blame,
As well as fancy (partly all might)
Take counfel of fome wifer head,
Neither too young, nor yet unwed.
And when thou com'ft thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk ;
Left fhe fome fubtle practice fmell :
A cripple foon can find a halt.
But plainly fay, thou lov'ft her well,
And fet her perfon forth to fale.
What tho' her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night ;
And then too late fhe will repent,
That thus diflembled her delight ;
And twice defire, ere it be day,
That which with fcorn fhe put away.
What tho' fhe ftrive to try her ftrength,
And ban, and brawl, and fay thee nay ;
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to fay :
Had women been fo ftrong as men,
In faith, you had not had it then.
And to her will frame all thy ways,
Spare not to fpend, and chiefly there,
Where thy defert may merit praife,
By ringing in thy lady's ear :
Poems on fever al Occafions. 749
The ftrongeft caftle, tower, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.
Serve always with affured truft,
And in thy fuit be humble true;
Unlefs thy lady prove unjuft,
Pleafe never thou to chufe a-new.
When time fliall ferve, be thou not flack
To proffer, tho' fhe put it back.
The wiles and guiles that women work,
DifTembled with an outward fhew
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them (hall not know.
Have you not heard it faid full oft,
A woman's nay doth ftand for nought ?
Think women frill to ftrive with men
To fin, and never for to faint :
There is no heaven (by holy then)
When time with age fhall them attaint.
Were kifles all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.
But foft enough, too much I fear,
Left that my miftrefs hear my fong ;
She will not ftick to round me on th' ear,
To teach my tongue to be fo long.
Yet will fhe blufh, here be it faid,
To hear her fee rets fo bewraid.
Sat Fuffi.
Sin of felf-love pofTefleth all mine eye,
And all my foula and all my every part ;
150 Poems on fever a!
And for this fin there is no remedy,
It is fo grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face fo gracious is, as mine;
No fhape fo true, no truth of fuch account ;
And for myfelf mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths furmount.
But when my glafs fhews me myfelf indeed,
Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity;
Mine own felf-love quite contrary I read,
Self, fo felf-loving, were iniquity :
'Tis thee (my felf ) that for myfelf I praife,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
A Living Monument.
Not marble, nor the gilded monument
Of princes, fhall out-live this powerful rhyme;
But you fhall fhine more bright in thefe contents,
Than unfwept ftone befmear'd with flutti(h time.
When wafteful war fhall ftatues overturn,
And broils root out the work of mafonry ;
Nor Man's fword, nor war's quick fire fhall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainft death, and all oblivious enmity,
Shall you pace forth ; your piaife fhall ftill find room,
Even in the eyes of all poflerity,
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
. So till the judgment, that yourfelf arife,
You Jive in this, and dwell in lovers eyes.
Familiarity breeds Ccntempt.
So am I as the rich, whofe blefled key
Can bring him to his fweet up-locked trcafure,
Poems on feveral Occafions. 151
The which he will not every; hour furvey,
For blunting the fine point of feldom pleafure.
Therefore are feafts fo folemn and fo rare ;
Since feldom coming, in the long year fet,
Like {tones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carconet.
So is the time that keeps you, as my cheft,
Or as the wardrobe, which the robe doth hide,
To make fome fpecial inftant fpecial bleft,
By new unfolding his imprifon'd pride.
BlefTed are you, whofe worthinefs gives fcope,
Being had to triumph, being lack'd to hope.
Patiens Armatus,
Is it thy will, thy image fhould keep open
My heavy eye-lids to the weary night ?
Doft thou delire my flumbers fhould be broken,
While (hadows, like to thee, do mock my fight ?
Is it thy fpirit that thou fend'ft from thee,
So far from home, into my deeds to pry ?
To find_out {names, and idle hours in me,
The fcope and tenure of thy jealoufy ?
O ! no, thy love, tho' much is not fo great ;
It is my love, that keeps mine eye awake j
Mine own true love, that doth my reft defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy fake.
For thee watch I, whilft thou doft wake elfewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near,
A Valediction.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead j
When you fhall hear the furly fullen bell
K4
152 Poems on federal Occafiotn.
Give warning to the world, that I am fled
From this vile world, with vileft worms to dwell.
Nay, if you read this line remember not
The hand that writ it ; for I love you fo,
That I in your fweet thoughts wou'd be forgot,
If thinking on me then, fhould make you woe.
O ! if (I lay) you look upon this verfe,
When I (perhaps) compounded am with clayj
Do not fo much as my poor name rchcarfe,
But let your love even with my life decay :
Left the wife world fhould look into your moan,
And mock you with me, after I am gone.
O ! left the world fhould tafk you, to recite
What merit liv'd in me, that you fhould love ;
After my death (dear love !) forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove :
Unlefs you would devife fome virtuous lye,
To do more for me now, than mine own defert,
And hang more praife upon deceafed I,
Than niggard truth would willingly impart.
O ! left your true love may fecm ralfe in this,
That you for love fpeak well of me untrue ;
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to fhame nor me, nor you :
For I am fham'd by that which I bring forth j
And fo fhould you, to love things nothing worth*
But be contented, when that fell arrcft,
Without all bail, fhall carry me away ;
My life hath in this line fome intereft,
Which for memorial ftill with thee fhall ftay.
When thou reviewed this, thou doit review
The very part was con leer ate to thcc ;
Poems on feveral Occasions. 153
The earth can have but earth, which is his due j
My fprite is thine, the better part of me.
So then thou haft but loft the dregs of life,
The prey of worms, my body being dead j
The coward conqueft of a wretch's knife,
Too bafe of thee to be rememb'red.
The worth of that, is that which it contains;
And that is this, and this with thee remains.
Nil Magms Invidia.
That thou art blam'd, mall not be thy defect,
For flander's mark was ever yet the fair :
The ornament of beauty is fufpect ;
A crow that flies in heaven's fweeteft air.
So thou be good, flander doth but approve
Their worth the greater, being woo'd of time j
For canker vice the fweeteft buds doth love,
And thou prefent'ft a pure unftained prime. •
Thou haft paft by the ambulh. of young days,
Either not aflail'd, or vi&or, being charg'd j
Yet this thy praife cannot be fo thy praiie,
To tie up envy, evermore enlarg'd ;
If fome fufpecl of ill, mafk not thy mow,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts fliould'ft owe.
Love- Sick.
O how I faint, when I of you do write !
Knowing a better fpirit doth ufe your name ;
And in the praife thereof fpends ail his might,
To make me tongue-ty'd, fpeaking of your fame.
But fmce your worth' (wide as the ocean is)
The humble as the proudeft fail doth bear j
1 54 Poems on feveral Occafans,'
My faucy bark (inferior far to his)
On your broad main doth wilfully appear.
Your fhalloweft help will hold me up a-float,
Whilft he upon your foundlcfs deep doth ride j
Or (being wreck'd) I am a worthlefs boat,
He of tall building, and of goodly pride.
Then if he thrive, and I be call away,
The worft was this, my love was my decay.
Or fhall I live your epitaph to make ?
Or you furvive, when I in earth am rotten ?
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Altho' in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life fhall have,
Tho' I (once gone) to all the world muft die -t
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you imombed in mcns eyes fhall lie :
Your monument fhall be my gentle vcrfe,
Which eyes not yet created fhall o'er-read ;
And tongues to be, your being fhall rehearfe,
When all the breathers of this world are dead ;
You fr.il! fhall live (fuch virtue hath my pen)
Where breath moft breathes, ev'n in the mouths of
men.
The Piflure of True Lei>e,
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments ; love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds, '
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no ! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempefts, and is" never fhaken :
It is the ftar to every wand'ring bark,
Whofe worth's unknown, altho' his height be taken*
Poems on feveral Occaftons. 155
Love's not time's fool, tho' rofy lips and cheeks
Within his bending fickle's compafs come :
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved,
In Praife of his Love.
I grant thou wert not marry'd to my mufe,
And therefore may'ft without attaint o'er-look
The dedicated words which writers ufe
Of their fair fubjecl:, bleffing every book :
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue ;
Finding thy worth a limit paft my praife j
And therefore art inforc'd to feek a-new
Some frefher ftamp of the time-bettering days ;
And do fo love, yet when they have devis'd
What ftrained touches rhetorick can lend,
Thou truly fair, wert truly fympathiz'd,
Jn true plain words, by thy true-telling friend.
And their grofs painting might be better us'd,
Where cheeks need blood, in thee it is abus'd.
I never faw that you did painting need,
And therefore to you fair no painting fet :
I found (or thought i found) you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt :
And therefore have I flept in your report,
That you yourfelf being extant, well might fiiow,
How far a modern quill doth come too fhort,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This filence of my fin you did impute,
Which fhall be moft my glory, being dumb ;
156 Poems on fever a I Qccafiom*
For I impair not beauty, being mute,
When others wou'd give life, and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes,
Than both your poets can in praife devife.
Who is it, that fays moft, which can fay more
Than this rich praife, that you alone are you ?
In whofe confine immured is the ftore,
Which fhould example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell,
That to his fubject lends not fome fmall glory :
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, fo dignifies his ftory.
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worfe what nature made fo clear j
And fuch a counterpart fhall fame his writ,
Making him ftill admir'd every where.
You to your beauteous blefling add a curfe,
Being fond of praife, which makes your praifcs
worfe.
My tongue ty'd mufe in manners holds her ftill,
While comments of your praife, richly compil'd,
Referve their character with golden quill,
And precious phrafe by all the mufes fill'd.
1 think good thoughts, whilft others write good words,
And, like unletter'd clerk, ftill cry Amen
To every hymn that able fpirit affords,
In polifh'd form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praifed, I fay 'tis fo, 'tis true,
And to the moft of praife add fomething more j
But that is in my thought, whofe love to you
(Tho' words come hinumoft) holds his ranks before :
Then others, for the breath of words, refpecl;
Me for my dumb thoughts, fpeakipg in effect,
Poems on fever al Qccafions. 157
A Rejignation.'
Was it the proud full fail of his great verfe,
Bound for the prize of (all-too-precious) you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain rehearfe,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew ?
Was it his fpirit, by fpirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that ftruck me dead ?
No, neither he nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verfe aftonifhed.
He nor that affable familiar ghoft,
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors, of my filence cannot boaft j
I was not fick of any fear from thence.
But when your countenance fill'd up his line,
Then lack'd I matter, that infeebled mine.
Farewel, thou art too dear for my pofTeffing,
And, like enough, thou know'ft thy eftimate :
The charter of thy worth gives thee releafingj
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee, but by thy granting,
And for that riches, where is my deferving ?
The caufe of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And fo my patent back again is fwerving.
Thyfelf thou gav'ft, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav'ft it, elfe miftaking :
So thy great gift upon mifprifion growing,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have 1 had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In fleep a king, but waking, no fuch matter.
Sympathizing Lsv(.
As it fell upon a day,
In the merry month of May,
158 Poemt sn fever al Occa/iom.
Sitting in a pleafant fliadc,
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beafts did leap, and birds did fing,
Trees did grow, and plants did fpring :
Every thing did banifh moan,
Save the nightingale alone j
She (poor bird \) as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breaft up-till a thorn,
And there fung the dolefull'fl: ditty,
That to hear it was great pity :
Fie, fie, fie, now would fhe cry ;
Tereu, Tereu, by and by ;
That to hear her fo cornplain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain :
For her griefs fo lovely fhown,
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah ! (thought I) thou mourn'ft in vain,
None takes pity on thy pain :
Senfelefs trees, they cannot hear thee ;
Ruthlefs bears, they will not chear thee ;
King Pandion he is dead ;
All thy friends are lap'd in lead ;
All thy fellow-birds do fing,
Carelefs of thy forrowing :
Whilft as fickle fortune fmil'd,
Thou and I were both bcguil'd ;
Every one that flatters thee,
Is no friend in mifery.
Words are eafy, like the wind,
Faithful friends are hard to find :
Every man will be thy friend,
Whilft thou haft wherewith to fpend :
But if ftore of crowns be fcanr,
No man will fupply thy want.
Poems on federal Occafions. 159
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call :
And with fuch like flattering,
Pity but he was a king.
If he be addicT: to vice,
Quickly him they will intice.
If to women he be bent,
They have him at commandment.
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewel his great renov/n :
They that fawn'd on him before,
Ufe his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need :
If thou forrow, he will weep ;
If thou awake, he cannot fleep.
Thus of every grief in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
Thefe are certain figns, to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.
A Reque/l to his Scornful Love.
When thou fhalt be difpos'd to fet me light,
And place my merit in the eye of fcorn,
Upon thy fide, againft thyfelf I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, tho' thou art forfworn.j
With mine own weaknefs being beft acquainted,
Upon thy part I can fet down a ftory
Of faults conteal'd, wherein I am attainted :
That thou in lofing me fhalt win much glory :
And I by this will be a gainer too.
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee ;
The injuries that to myfelf I do,
Doing thee 'vantage, double Vantage me.
i6o Poems on fever al Occajions*
Such is my love, to thee I fo belong,
That for thy right, myfelf will bear all wrong*
Say that thou didft forfake me for fome fault,
And I will comment upon that offence ;
Speak of my lamenefs, and I ftrait will halt j
Againft thy reafons making no defence.
Thou canft not (love) difgrace me half fo ill,
To fet a form upon defired change,
As I'll myfelf difgrace ; knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance ftrangle, and look ftrange j
Be abfent from thy walks, and on my tongue
Thy fweet beloved name no more {hall dwell,
Left I (too much profane) (hould do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.
For thee, againft myfelf, I'll vow debate;
For I muft ne're love him, whom thou doll hate:
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now,
Now while the world is bent my deeds to crofs,
Join with the fpite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after lofs :
Ah ! do not, when my heart hath 'fcap'd this forrow,
Come in the rereward of a conquer'd woe !
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me laft,
When other petty griefs have done their fpite j
But in the onfet ccme, fo (hall I tafte
At firft the very worft of fortune's might.
And other ftrains of woe, which now feem woe,
Compar'd with lofs of thee, will not feem fo.
Some glory in their birth, fome in their (kill,
Some in their wealth, fome in their bodies force,
Poems on fever al Occafions. 161
Some in their garments, tho' new-fangled ill ;
Some in their hawks and hounds, ibme in their horfe :
And every humour hath his adjunct pleafure>
Wherein it finds a joy above the reft.
But thefe particulars are not my meafure.
All thefe I better, in one general beft.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments coft;
Of more delight than hawks or horfes be:
And having thee, of all mens pride I boaft.
Wretched in this alone, that thou may'ft take
All this away, and me moft wretched make.
A Lover's AffeStUn^ though his Love prove UnconJJant.
But do thy worft to fteal thyfelf away,
For term of life thou art allured mine ;
And life no longer than my love will ftay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worft of wrongs,
When in the leaft of them my life hath end ;
I fee a better ftate to me belongs,
Than that which on my humour doth depend.
Thou canft not vex me with inconftant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie;
Oh ! what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die !
But what's fo blefled fair, that fears no blot ?
Thou may'ft be falfe, and yet I know it not,
So (hall I live, fuppofmg thou art true,
Like a deceived hufband ; fo love's face
May ftill feem love to me, tho' alter'd new j
Thy loqks with me, thy heart in other place.
JLi
1 62 Poems on feveral Occafton:.
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
In manies looks the falfe heart's hiftory
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles ftrange :
But heaven in thy creation did decree,
That in thy face fweet love fhould ever dwell ;
Whate'er thy thoughts, or thy heart's v/orkings be,
Thy looks (hall nothing thence but fweetnefs tell.
How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow,
If thy fweet virtue anfwer not thy {how !
They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they muft do, fhow j
Who moving others, are themfelves as ftone
Unmoved, cold and to temptation flow :
They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces,
And huiband nature's riches from expence ;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but ftewards of their excellence.
The fummer's flower is to the fummer fweet,
Tho' to itfelf it only live and die ;
But if that flower with bafe infection meet,
The bafeft weed out-braves his dignity :
For fweeteft things turn foureft by their deeds ;
Lilies, that fefter, fmell far worfe than weeds.
How fweet and lovely doft thou make the fhame,
Which, like a canker in the fragrant rofe,
Doth fpot the beauty of thy budding name ?
Oh ! in what fweets doft thou thy fins inclofe !
That tongue that tells the ftory of thy days,
(Making lafcivious comments on thy fport)
Cannot difpraife, but in a kind of praife j
Naming thy name, blefles an ill report.
* Poems on fcveral Occafions* 163
Oh ! what a manfion have thofe vices got,
Which for their habitation chufe out thee :
Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot,
And all things turn to fair that eyes can fee !
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege,
The hardeft knife, ill us'd, doth lofe his edge.
Complaint for his Lover's Abfence.
How like a winter hath my abfence been
From thee, the pleafure of the fleeting year !
What freezings have I felt, what dark days feen ?
What old December's barrennefs every where ?
And yet this time remov'd was fummer's time j
The teeming autumn big with rich increafe,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lord's deceafe.
Yet this abundant iflue feem'd to me,
But hope of orphans and un-father'd fruit ;
For fummer and his pleafures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute :
Or if they fmg, 'tis with fo dull a chear,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
From you have I been abfent in the fpring,
When proud py'd April (dreft in all his trim)
Hath put a fpirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him.
Yet not the lays of birds, nor the fweet frneli
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Qou'd make me any fummer's ftory tell ;
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lilies white,
Nor praife the deep vermillion in the rofe ;
L 2
164 P^t/tis on je-viral Occafam.
They were but fweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all thofe.
Yet feem'd it winter ftill, and you away,
As with your fhadow I with thcfe did play.
The forward violet thus did I chide ;
Sweet thief ! whence didft thou fteal thy fweet that
fmells,
If not from my love's breath ? the purple pride,
Which on thy foft cheek for complexion dwells,
In my love's veins thou haft too grofly dy'd :
The lily I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had ftol'n thy hair;
The rofes fearfully on thorns did (land,
One blufhing fhamc, another white defpair;
A third nor red, nor white, had ftol'n of both,
And to his robb ry had annex'd thy breath ;
But for his theft, in pride of all his growth,
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could fee,
But fweet or colour it had ftol'n from thee.
An Invocation to his Afufe.
Where art thou mufe, that thou forget'ft fo long
To fpcak of that which gives thee all thy might ?
Spend'ft thou thy fury on fome worthlefs fong,
Dark'ning thy power to lend bafe fubjects light?
Return, forgetful mufe, and ftrait redeem,
In gentle numbers, time fo idly fpent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays efteem,
And give thy pen both fkill and argument.
Rife, refty mufe, my love's fweet face furvey,
If time hath any wrinkle graven there j
Poems on fever al Otcaftons. 165
If any, be zfatire to decay,
And make time's fpoils defpifed eve/y where.
Give my love fame, fafter than time waftes life,
So thou prevent'ft his fcithe, and crooked knife.
Oh ! truant mufe ! whall (hall be thy amends,
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dy'd ?
But truth and beauty on my love depends :
So doft thou too, and therein dignify'd.
Make anfwer, mufe, wilt thou not haply fay,
Truth needs no colour with his colour fix'd ;
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay}
But beft is beft, if never intermix'd.
Becaufe he needs no praife, wilt thou be dumb ?
Excufe no filence fo, for't lies in thee
To make her much out-live a gilded tomb,
And to be prais'd of ages yet to be.
Then do thy office, mufe, I teach thee how
To make her feem long hence, as flic fhows now.
Conjlant AjfeEllor,,
To me, fair love, you never can be old j
For as you were when fjrft your eye I ey'd,
Such feems your beauty ftill. Three winters cold
Have from the foreft (hook three fummers pride ;
Three beauteous fpriugs to yellow Autumn turn'd,
In procefs of the feafons, have I feen ;
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,
Since firft I faw you, frefti, which yet are green.
Ah ! yet doth beauty like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no place perceiv'4 ;
So your fvveet hue, which, methinks, ftill does ftand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd.
1 3
1 66 Poems on feveral Occafions.
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred,
Ere you was born, was beauty's fummer dead.
Let not my love be call'd idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idol ihow 5
Since all alike my fongs and praifes be
To one, of one, ftill fuch, and ever fo:
Kind is my love to day, to-morrow kind,
Still conftant in a wond'rous excellence ;
Therefore my verfe to conftancy confin'd,
One thing exprefling, leaves out difference.
Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument ;
Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words ;
And in this change is my invention fpent ;
Three themes in one, which wond'rous fcope affords.
Fair, kind, and true, have often liv'd alone :
Which three, till now, have never fate in one.
When in the chronicle of wafted time,
I fee defcriptions of the faireft wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhime,
In praife of ladies dead, and lovely knights;
Then in the blazon of fweet beauty's beft,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I fee their antic pen would have cxprefs'd
Even fuch a beauty as you mafter now.
So all their praifes are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,
They had not ftill enough your wo.-th to fing :
For we who now behold thefe prefent days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praife.
Poems on fever al Occafiins. 167
Amazement.
My love is ftrength'ned, tho* more weak in feem-
ing;
I love not lefs, tho' lefs the fhow appear :
That love is merchandiz'd, whofe rich efteeming
The owner's tongue doth publifh every where.
Our love was new, and then but in the fpring,
When I was wont to greet it in my lays ;
As Philomel in fummer's front doth Ting,
And flops his pipe in growth of riper days.
Not that the fummer is lefs pleafant now,
Than when her mournful hymns did hufh the
night ;
But that wild mufick burdens every bough,
And fweets grown common, lofe their dear delight.
Therefore like her I fometime hold my tongue,
Becaufe I would not dull you with my fong.
Alack ! what poverty my mufe brings forth !
That having fuch a fcope to fhow her pride,
The argument all bare, is of more worth,
Than when it hath my added praife befide.
Oh ! blame me not, if I no more can write !
Look in your glafs, and there appears a face,
That overgoes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines, and doing me difgrace.
Were it not flnful then, ftriving to mend,
To marr the fubjecT: that before was well ?
For to no other pafs my verfes tend,
Than of your graces, and your gifts to tell ;
And more, much more, than in my verfe can fir,
Your own glafs (hows you, when you look in it.
L 4
168 Poenn on fever al Occafions.
A Lover's Excvfe for his long Abfence.
Oh ! never fay that I was falfe of heart,
Tho' abfence feem'd my flame to qualify;
As eafy might I from myfelf depart,
As from my foul which in my breaft doth lie,
That is my home of love ; if I have rang'd,
Like him that travels, I return again
Juft to the time, not with the time exchang'd ;
So that myfelf bring water for my ftain.
Never believe, tho' in my nature reign'd
All frailties, that befiege all kind-, of blood,
That it could fo prepofteroufly be ftain'd,
To leave for nothing all thy Aim of good :
For nothing this wide univerfe I call,
Save thou, my rofe, in it thou art my all.
Alas ! 'tis true, I have gone here and there;
And made myfelf a motly to thy view;
Gor'd mine own thoughts, fold cheap what is moft
dear;
Made old offences of affections new.
Moft true it is, that I have look'd on truth
Afkance and ftrangely : but by all above,
Thefe blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worft aflays prov'd thce my beft of love.
Now all is done, have what fhall have no end,
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A god in love, to whom I am confin'd.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the beft,
Even to thy pure and moft moft loving brcaft.
Poems on fever al Occafions. 169
A Complaint.
Oh ! for my fake do you with fortune chide
The guilty goddefs of my harmlefs deeds,
That did not better for my life provide,
Than publick meanswhich publick manners breeds,
Thence comes it, that my name receives a brand,
And almoft thence my nature is fubdu'd
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Pity me then, and wifh I were renew'd ;
Whilft like a willing patient I will drink
Potions of eyfel 'gainft my ftrong infection,
No bitternefs, that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance to correct correction.
Pity me then, dear friend, and I affiire ye,
E'en that your pity is enough to cure me.
Your lovefcnd pity doth th' impreflion fill,
Which vulgar fcandal ftamp'd upon my brow ;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-fkjeen my bad, my good allow ?
You are my all, the world and I muft ftrive,
To know my fhames and praifes from your tongue ;
None elfe to me, nor I to none alive,
That my fteel'd fenfe or changes right or wrong.
In fo profound abyfme I throw all care
Of others voices, that my adder's fenfe
To critick and to flatterer flopped are :
Mark how with my neglect I do difpenfe.
You are fo ftrongly in my purpofe bred,
That all the world be/ides me thinks I'm dead.
J 70 Poems on fweral Occafioni.
Sflf- Flattery of her Beauty.
Since J left you mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about,
Doth part his function, and is partly blind ;
Seems feeing, but effectually is out.
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of birds, or flower, or (hape, which it doth lack;
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vifion holds what it doth catch :
For if it fee the rud'ft or gentleft fight,
The moft fweet favour or deformedft creature,
The mountain or the fea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it fhapes them to your feature :
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My moft true mind thus maketh mine untrue.
Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd*with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery ?
Or whether fhall I fay mine eye faith true,
And that your love taught it this alchymy ?
To make of monfters, and things indigeft,
Such cherubims as your fweet felf refemble;
Creating every bad a perfect beft,
As faft as objects to his beams aflemble?
Oh ! 'tis the firft, ''tis flatt'ry in my feeing,
And my great mind moft kindly drinks it up ;
Mine eye well knows what with his guft is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup.
If it be poifon'd, 'tis the letter fin,
That mine eye loves it, and doth firft begin.
Thofe lines, that I before have writ, do lye,
E'en thofe that faid I could not love you dearer :
Poems on federal Occafions. iji
Yet then my judgment knew no reafon why,
My moft full flame fhould afterwards burn clearer.
But reck'ning time, whofe million accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Can facred beauty, blunt the fharp'ft intents,
Divert ftrong minds to th' courfe of alt'ring things :
Alas ! why rearing of time's tyranny,
Might I not then fay, now I love you beft,
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the prefent, doubting of the reft ?
Love is a babe, then might I not fay fo,
To give full growth to that which ftill doth grow?
A Trial of Love's Conjlancy,
Accufe me thus ; that I have fcanted all,
Wherein I fhould your great defcrts repay,
Forgot upon your deareft love to call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day ;
That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear purchas'd right;
That I have hoifted fails to all the winds,
Which fhould tranfport me fartheft from your fight.
Book both my wilfulnefs and error down,
And on juft proof furmife, accumulate ;
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But fhoot not at me in your wakened hate :
Since my appeal fays, I did ftrive to prove
The conftancy and virtue of your love.
Like as you make your appetites more keen,
With eager compounds we our palate urge ;
As to prevent our maladies unfeen,
ficken, to fhun ftcknefs, when we purge :
172 Poems on feveral Occaftoni.
Even fo being full of your near cloying fwectnefs,
To bitter fauces did I frame my feeding ;
And Tick of welfare, found a kind of meeknefs,
To be difeas'd ere that these was true needing.
Thus poliry in love, t' anticipate
The ills mat were not, grew to faults allured,
And brought to medicine a healthful llate,
Which rank of goodnefs would by ill be cured.
But thence I learn, and find the leflbn true,
Drugs poifon him that fo fell fick or" you.
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Diftill'd from limbecks foul as hell within ?
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still lofing when I faw myfelf to win.
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilft it hath thought itfelf fo blefled never ?
How have mine eyes out of their fpheres been fitted,
In the diftradtion of this madding fever?
Oh ! benefit of ill ! now I find true,
That better is by evil ftiil made better ;
And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at firfl, more flrong, far greater.
So I return rebuke to my content,
And gain by ills thrice more than I have fpent.
A good ConftruElton of his Love's Uttkindnefs.
7'hat you were once unkind befriends me now j
And for that forrow, which I then did feel,
Needs mufr. I under my tranfgreflion bow,
Unlefs my nerves were brafs or hammer'd fteej.
For if you were by my unkindnefs fliaken,
As I by yours, y' have pafs'd a hell of
Poems on fiver al Qccafions. 173
And I a tyrant have no leifure taken,
Yo weigh how once I fuffer'd in your crime.
Oh ! that our night of woe might have remembered
My deepeft fenfe, how hard true forrow hits,
And foon to you, as you to me then tendered
The humble falve, which wounded bofoms fits !
But that your trefpafs now becomes a fee,
Mine ranfoms yours, and yours muft ranfom me.
Error in Opinion.
'Tis better to be vile than vile efteem'dj
When not to be, receives reproach of being ;
And the juft pleafure loft, which is fo deemed,
Not by our feeling, but by others feeing.
For why ihould others falfe adulterate eyes
Give falutation to my fportive blood ?
Or on my frailties, why arc frailer fpies ;
Which in their wills count bad what I think good ?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abufes, reckon up their own ;
I may be ftreight, tho' they themfelves be bevel ;
By their rank thoughts my deeds muft not be fhovvn;
LJnlefs this general evil they maintain,
All men are bad, and in their badnefs reign.
Upon the Receipt of a Table-Book from bis Mijlrefi.
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain,
Full characler'd with a lafting memory,
Which ftiall above that idle rank remain,
Beyond all date, even to eternity;
Or at the lead, fo long as brain and heard
Have faculty by nature to fubfift j
174 Poems on feveral Occafwn.
Till each to raz'd oblivion yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be milt.
That poor retention could not fo much hold,
Nor need I tallies thy dear love to fcore j
Therefore to give them from me, was I bold
To truft thofe tables that receive thee more :
To keep an adjunct to remember thee,
Were to import forgetfulnefs in me.
A Vtw.
No, Time ! thou (halt not boafl that I do change,
Thy pyramids built up with newer might,
To me are nothing novel, nothing ftrange ;
They are but dreflings of a former fight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou doft foift upon us that is old ;
And rather make them born to our defire,
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy regifters and thee I both defy,
Not wond'ring at the prefent nor the parr. ;
For thy records, and what we fee doth lye,
Made more or lefs by thy continual hafte.
This I do vow, and this mail ever be ;
I will be true, defpite thy fcythe and thee.
Love's Safety.
If my dear love were but the child of ftate,,
It might for fortune's baftard be un-father'd ;
As fubjedl to time's love, or to time's hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd,
No, it was builded far from accident,
It luffers not in fmiling pomp, nor falls
Poems on fever a I Occafans^ 175
Under the blow of thralled difcontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fafhion calls :
It fears not policy, that heretick,
Which works on leafes of fhort number'd hours,
But all alone ftands hugely politick,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with {bowers.
To this I witnefs call the fools of time,
Which die for goodnefs, who have liv'd for crime.
. An Intreaty for her Acceptance.
Where it ought to be, I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring j
Or laid great bafes for eternity,
Which prove more fhort than wafte or ruining.
Have I not feen dwellers on form and favour,
Lofe all, and more, by paying too much rent
For compound fweet, foregoing fimple favour ?
Pitiful thrivers in their gazing fpent,
No, let me be obfequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation poor but free,
Which is not mix'd with feconds, knows no art,
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence thou fuborn'd informer ! a true foul,
When moft impeach'd, ftands leaft in thy controul.
Upon her playing on the Virginals.
How oft when thou thy mufick, mufick-play'ft,
Upon that blefled wood, whofe motion foundy
With thy fweet fingers, when thou gently fway'ft
The witty concord that mine ear confounds j
Do I envy thofe jacks that nimble leap,
To kifs the tender inward of thy hand,
1 76 Pcems on federal Qccafions.
Whilft my poor lips, which fhould that harveft reap,
At the wood's boldnefs, by thee blufhing ftand.
To be fo tickled they would change their flate,
And fituation with thofe dancing chips,
O'er whom their fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more bleft than living lips.
Since faucy jacks fo happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kifs.
Immoderate Lujl.
Th' expence of fpirit in a wafte of fhamc,
Is luft in action; and till action, luft
Is pcrjur'd, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to truft \
Enjoy'd no fooner, but defpifed (Ireight,
Pail: reafon hunted, and no fooner had,
Paft reafon hated as a fwallow'd bait,
On purpofe laid to make the taker mad.
Made in purfuit and in pofleflion fo,
Had, having, and in queft, to have extreme,
A blifs in proof, and proud, and very woe j
Before, a joy propos'd ; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows, yet none knows well
To fhun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
In praife of her beauty, though black.
In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name :
But now is black beauty's fucceflive heir,
And beauty flandcr'd with a baftard fhame :
For fince each hand hath put on nature's power,
Fairing the foul with art's falfe borrow'd face,
Poems on feveral Occa/tons. 177
Sweet beauty hath' no name, no holy bower,
But is profan'd ; if not, lives in difgrace.
Therefore my miftrefs' eyes are raven black,
Her eyes fo fuited, and they mourners feem,
At fuch who not born fair, no beauty lack,
Slandering creation with a falfe efteem :
Yet fo they mourn, becoming of their woe,
That every tongue fays beauty fliould look fo.
My. miftrefs' eyes are nothing like the fun,
Coral is far more red than her lips red ;
If fnow be white, why then her breafts are dun ;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have feen rofes, damafk, red, and white ;
But no fuch rofes fee I in her cheeks :
And in fome perfumes there is more delight,
Than in the breath that from my miftrefs reeks.
I love to hear her fpeak, yet well I know,
That mufick hath a far more pleaflng found :
I grant I never faw a goddefs go ;
My miftrefs, when ihe walks, treads on the ground :
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any fhe, bely'd with falfe compare.
Thou, art tyrannous, fo thou art,
As thofe whofe beauties proudly make them cruel :
For well thou know'ft to my dear doating heart, .
Thou art the faireft, and moft precious jewel.
Yet in good faith fome fay that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan j
To fay they err, I dare not be fo bold,
Altho' I fwear it to myfelf alone.
And to be fure that is not falfe I fwear;
A thoufand groans, but thinking on thy face,
M
178 Poems on fever al Occaftons.
One on another's neck do witnefs bear :
Thy black is faireft in my judgment's place.
In nothing art thou black, fave in thy deeds,
And thence this flander, as I think, proceeds.
Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with difdain,
Have put on black, and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning-fun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the eaft ;
Nor that full ftar that ufhers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the fober weft,
As thofe two mourning eyes become thy face :
Oh ! let it then as well befeem thy heart
To mourn for me, fmce mourning doth thee grace,
And fute thy pity like in every part.
Then will I fwear beauty herfelf is black,
And all they foul that thy completion lack.
Unkind Alufe.
Befhrcw that heart that makes my heart to groan,
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me -y
Js't not enough to torture me alone,
But flavc to llavery my fwectcft friend muft be P
Me from myfelf thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next ft-lf thou harder haft engrofs'd;
Of him, myfelf, and thee I am forfaken,
A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crofs'd.
Prifon my heart in thy fteel bofom's ward,
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail j
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard,
Thou caaft not then ufe rigour in my jail.
Poetfis on feveral Occaftom* 179
And yet thou wilt, for I being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.
So now I have confeft that he is thine,
And I myfelf am mortgag'd to thy will ;
Myfelf I'll forfeit, fo that other mine
Thou wilt reftore to me, my comfort ftill.
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous, and he is kind ;
He learn 'd, but furety-like to write for me,
Under that bond that him as faft doth bind,
The ftatute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou ufurer, that put'ft forth all to ufe j
And fue a friend, came debtor for my fake,
So him I lofe thro' my unkind abufe.
Him have I loft, thou haft both him and me ;
He pays the whole, and yet I am not free.
Love- Suit.
Whoever hath her wifh, thou haft thy Will*
And 7^/77 to boot, and Will i,n overplus ;
More than enough am I that vex thee ftil!,
To thy fweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou^ whofe will is large and fpacious,
Not once vouch fafe to hide my will in thine ?
Shall will in others feem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance (hine ?
The fea all water, yet receives rain ftill,
And in abundance addeth to his ftore ;
So thou being rich in Will^ add to thy Will
One will of mine, to make thy large Will more.
Let no unkind, no fair befeechers kill,
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.
M 2
1 80 Poems on federal Occaftons.
If thy foul check thee that I come fo near,
Swear to thy blind foul that I was thy Will;
And will, thy foul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love, my love-fuit fweet fulfil.
JVlll will fulfil the treafure of thy love,
I fill it full with wills, and my will one :
In things of great receipt with eafe we prove,
Among a number one is reckon'd none.
Then in the number let me pafs untold,
Tho' in thy ftore's account I one muft be :
For nothing hold me, fo it pleafe thee hold
That nothing me, a fomething fweet to thee.
Make but my name thy love, and love that frill,
And then thou lov'ft me, for my name is IVilL
His Heart wounded by her Eye,
Thou blind fool, love, what doft thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and fee not what they fee ?
They know what beauty is, fee where it lies ;
Yet what the beft is, take the worft to be.
If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride;
Why of eyes falfhood haft thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgment of my heart is ty'd ?
Why fhould my heart think that a feveral plot,
Which my heart knows the wide world's common
Or mine eyes feeing this, fay this is not [place ?
To put fair truth upon fo foul a face j
In things right true my heart and eyes have err'd,
And to this falfe plague are they now transferr'd.
O ! call not me to juftify the wrong,
That thy unkindnefs lays upon my heart j
Poems on fever al Occafions. 181
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue;
Ufe power with power, and flay me not by art:
Tell me thou lov'ft elfewhere ; but in my light,
Dear heart forbear to glance thine eye afide ;
What need'ft thou wound with cunning, when thy
Is more than my o'er-preft defence can bide ? [might
Let me excufe thee ; ah ! my love well knows,
Her pretty looks have been my enemies,
And therefore from my face (he turns my foes.
That they elfewhere might dart their injuries.
Yet do not fo, but fince I am near flain,
Kill me out-right with looks, and rid my pain.
Be wife as thou art cruel, do not prefs
My tongue-ty'd patience with too much difdain :
Left forrow lend me words, and words exprefs
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Tho' not to love, yet love to tell me fo :
As tefty fick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their phyficians know.
For if I fhould defpair, I fhould grow mad,
And in my madnefs might fpeak ill of thee ;
Now this ill-wrefting world is grown fo bad,
Mad flanderers by mad ears believed be.
That I may not be fo, nor thou bely'd,
Bear thine eyes ftrait, tho' thy proud heart go wide.
A Prctejlation.
,In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thoufand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they defpife,
Who in defpite of view is pleas'd to doat.
M3
Poems on federal Occafions.
Nor arc mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling to bale touches prone,
Nor tafte, nor fmell defire to be invited
To any fenfual feaft with thee alone :
But my five wits, nor my five fenfes can
ifluade one foolifh heart from ferving thee ;
Who leaves unfway'd the likenefs of a man,
Thy proud heart's (lave and vaflal wretch to be :
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
'I hat fhe that makes me fin, rewards my pain.
Love is my fin, and my dear virtue, hate ;
Hate of fin, grounded on a finful loving :
O ! but with mine, compare thou thine own flute,
And thou (halt find it merits not reproving :
Or if it do, not from thofe lips of thine,
That have profan'd their fcarlet ornaments,
And feal'd falfe bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robb'd others beds revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful, I love thee, as thou lov'ft thofc,
Whom thine eyes woo, as mine importune thee ;
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,
Thy pity may deferve to pity'd be.
If thou doft feek to have what thou dofl hide,
By felf-cxample may'ft thou be deny'd !
An Allufion,
Lo ! as a careful houfewife runs to catch
One of her feather'd creatures broke away ;
Sets down her babe, and makes all fwift difpatch,
In purfuit of the thing fhe would have ftay :
Whilft her neglected child holds her in chace,
Cries to catch her, whofe bufy care is bent
Poems on fever al Occafions. 18-3
To follow that which 'flies before her face j
Not prizing her poor infant's difcontent.
So ruri'fr. thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilft I thy babe chafe thee afar behind ;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kifs me, be kind.
So will I pray, that thou may'ft have thy
If thou turn back, and my loud crying ftill.
Life and Death.
Thofe lips that love's own hand did make,
Breath'd forth the found that faid, I hate,
To me that languifh'd for her fake :
But when me faw my woful ftate,
Strait in her heart did mercy come j
Chiding that tongue, that, ever fweet,
Was us'd in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus a-new to greet :
I bate ) me alter'd with an end
That follow'd it, as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend,
From heaven to hell is flown away.
/ hate, from hate away me threw,
And fav'd my life, faying not y sit.
A Confederation of Death,
Poor foul ! the center of my finful earth,
My finful earth thefe rebel powers that thee array,
Why doft thou pine within and fuffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls in coftly clay?
Why fo large coft, having fo fhort a leafe,
Doft thou upon thy faded manfion fpend ?
M 4
184 Poems on fever al Occafions.
Shall worms, inheritors of this excefs,
Eat up thy charge ? Is this thy body's end ?
Then, foul, live thou upon thy fervant's lofs,
And let that pine to aggravate thy ftore ;
Buy terms divine in felling hours of drofs ;
Within be fed, without be rich no more.
Sofhalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,
And death once dead, there's no more dying then.
Immoderate PaJJion.
My love is as a fever, longing flill
For that which longer nurfeth the difeafe ;
Feeding on that which doth preferve the ill,
Th' uncertain fickly appetite to pleafe.
My reafon, the phyfician to my love,
Angry that his prefcriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and i,defperate now approve;
Defire is death, which phyfick did except.
Part cure I am, now reafon is paft cure ;
And frantick mad with evermore unrcft,
My thoughts and my difcourfe as madmens are,
At random from the truth vainly exprefs'd.
Forlhavefworn theefair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Love's Powerful Subtlety.
O me ! what eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correfporidence with true fight !
Or if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That cenfurcs. falfly what they fee aright ?
If that be fair whereon my falfe eyes doat,
What means the world to fay it is not fo f
Poems on fever al Occafions. 185
If it be not, then love doth well denote,
Love's eye is not fo true as all mens. No,
How can it ? O how can love's eye be true,
That is fo vex'd with watching and with tears ?
No marvel then, tho' I miftake my view ;
The fun itfelf fees not, till Heaven clears,
O ! cunning love ! with tears thou keep'ft me
blind,
Left eyes well-feeing thy foul faults fliould find.
Can'ft thou, O cruel ! fay I love thee not ?
When I againft myfelf with thee partake ?
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
All of myfelf, all tyrant for thy fake ?
Who hateft thou, that I do call my friend ?
On whom frown'ft thou that I do fawn upon ?
Nay, if thou low'rft on me, do I not fpend
Revenge upon myfelf with prefent moan?
What merit do I in myfelf refpecl,
That is fo proud thy fervice to defpife ;
When all my beft doth worfhip thy
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes ?
But, love, hate on ; for now I know thy mind,
Thofe that can fee, thou lov'ftj and I am blind.
Oh ! from what power haft thou this powerful might,
With infufficiency my heart to fway ;
To make me give the lye to my true fight,
And fwear that brightnefs doth not grace the day r
Whence haft thou this becoming of things ilJ,
That in the very refufe of thy deeds,
There is fuch ftrength and warrantife of fkill,
That in my mind thy worft all befts exceeds ?
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more,
The more I hear and fee juft caufe of hate ?
iS6 PociH) su jt-i'trai Qccofions.
Oh ! tho' I love what others do abhor,
With others thou (hould'it not abhor my ftate.
If thy unworthincfs rais'd love in me,
More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.
Retaliation.
So oft have I invok'd thee for my mufc,
And found fuch fair aftiftance in my verfc,
As every alien pen hath got my ufe,
And under thee their poefy difperfe.
Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to linij,
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
Have added feathers to the learned 's wing,
And given grace a double majefty :
Yet be moft proud of that, which I compile,
Whofe influence is thine, and born of thee -,
In others works thou doft but mend the ftile,
And arts with thy fweet graces graced be :
But thou art all my art, and doft advance,
As high as learning, my rude ignorance.
Whilft I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verfe alone had all thy gentle grace ;
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd,
And my fick mufe doth give another place.
I grant, fweet love ! thy lovely argument
Deferves the travail of a worthier pen j
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent,
He robs thee of, and pays it thee agen ;
He lends thee virtue, and he ftole that word
from thy behaviour. Beauty doth he give,
And found it in thy cheek. He can afford
No praife to thee, but what in thee doth live.
Poems on fever al Occaf.om. 187
Then thank him not for that which he doth fay,
Since what he owes thee, thou thy felf doft pay.
Sun- Set.
That time of year thou may'ft in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon thofe boughs, which (hake againft the cold,
Bare ruin'd quires, where late the fweet birds fang.
In me thou feeft the twilights of fuch day,
As after fun-fet fadeth in the weft ;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's fecond felf that feals up all in reft.
In me thou fee'ft the glowing of fuch fire,
That on the afhes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it muft expire,
Confum'd with that which it was nourifh'd by.
'Tis thou perceiv'ft, which makes thy love more
ftrong
To love that well, which thou muft leave ere long.
Thy glafs will fliew thee how thy beauties wear:
Thy dial how thy precious minutes wafte;
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning may'ft thou tafte.
The wrinkles", which thy glafs will truly fhow,
Of mouthed graves will give the memory :
Thou by thy dial's fhady ftealth may'ft know
Time's thievifh progrefs to eternityt
Look what thy memory cannot contain,
Commit to thefe wafte blacks, and thou {halt find
Thofe children nurs'd, deliver'd from thy brain,
To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
Thefe offices, fo oft as thou wilt look,
$hall profit thee, and much inrich thy book.
1 88 Poems on fever al Occafiom.
A Monument to Fame.
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetick foul
Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the leafe of my true love controul,
Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom.
The mortal moon hath her cclipfe endur'd,
And the fad augurs mock their own prefage :
Jncertainties now crown themfelves aflur'd,
And peace proclaims olives of endlefs age.
Now with the drops of this moil balmy time,
My love looks frefh, and death to me fubfcribes ;
Since fpite of him I'll live in this poor rhime,
While he infults o'er dull and fpeechlcfs tribes.
And thou in this fhalt find thy monument,
When tyrants crefts and tombs of brafs are fpent.
What's in the brain, that ink may character.
Which hath not figur'd to thee my true fpirit ?
What's new to fpeak, what now to regifter,
That may exprefs my love, or thy dear merit ?
Nothing, fweet love ! but yet like prayers divine^
I muft each day fay o'er the very fame ;
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
E'en as when firft I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love, in love's frefh cafe,
Weighs not the duft and injuries of age,
Nor gives to neceflary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page :
Finding the firft conceit of love there bred,
Where time and outward form would fhew it dead,
Perjury.
Love is too young to know what confidence is,
Yet who knows not confcience, is bom of love ?
Poems on fever al Occafionss 189
Then gentle cheater urge not my amifs,
Left guilty of my faults thy fweet felf prove.
For thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my grofs body's treafon ;
My foul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love, flefh ftays no farther reafon :
But riling at thy name doth point out thee,
As his triumphant prize; proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To ftand in thy affairs, fall by thy fide.
No want of confcience hold it, that I call
Her love, for whofe dear love I rife and fall.
In loving thee, thou know'ft I am forfworn,
But thou art twice forfworn to me love fwearing;
In a£l thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn,
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
But why of two oaths breach do I accufe thee,
When I break twenty ? I am perjur'd moft ;
For all my vows are oaths but to mifufe thee ;
And all my honeft faith in thee is loft.
For I have fworn deep oaths of thy deep kindnefs ;
Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy conftancy ;
And to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindnefs ;
Or made them fvvear againft the thing they fee.
For I have fworn thee fair ; more perjur'd I,
To fwear againft the truth fo foul a lye.
The Tale of Cephalus and Procris.
Beneath Hymettus' hill, well cloth'd with flowers,
A holy well her foft fprings gently pours :
Where ftands a cops, in which the wood-nymphs
fhrove,
(No wood) it rather feems a {lender grove.
Poems on feveral Occaftons.
The humble flirubs and bufhes hide the grafs,
Here laurel, rofcmary, here myrtle was :
Here grew thick box, and tam'rifk, that excels,
And made a mere confufion of fweet fmells :
The triffoly, the pine ; and on this heath
Stands many a plant that feels cold Zephyr's breath.
Here the young Cepbalus, tir'd in the chace,
Us'd his repofe and reft alone t' embrace ;
And where he fat, thefe words he would repeat,
* Come air, fweet air, come cool my mighty heat !
* Come, gentle air, I never will forfake thee,
' I'll hug thee thus, and in my bofom take thee."
Some double duteous tell tale hapt to hear this,
And to his jealous wife doth ftraitway bear this ;
Which Prscris hearing, and withal the name
Of air, fweet air, which he did oft proclaim,
She flands confounded, and amaz.'d with grief,
By giving this fond tale too found belief.
And looks, as do the trees by winter nipt,
Whom froft and cold of fruit and leaves half ftript.
She bends like corveil, when too rank it grows,
Or when the ripe fruits clog the quince-tree boughs.
But when {he comes t' herfelf, fhe tears
Her garments, eyes, her cheeks, and hairs ;
And then {he ftarts, and to her feet applies her,
Then to the wood (ftark wood) in rage {he hies her.
Approaching fomewhat near, her fervants they
By her appointment in a valley flay;
While {he alone, with creeping paces, {teals
To take the ftrumpet, whom her lord conceals.
What mean'ft thou, Procrisy in thefe groves to hide
thee ?
What rage of love doth to this madnefs guide thee ?
Thou hop'ft the air he calls, in all her bravery,
Will ftrait approach, and thou fhalt fee their knavery.
Pjfms on fever nl Occajions. igi
And now again it irks, her to be there,
For fuch a killing fight her heart will tear.
No truce can with her troubled thoughts difpenfe,
She would not now be there, nor yet be thence.
Behold the place her jealous mind foretels,
Here do they ufe to meet, and no where elfe :
The grafs is laid, and fee their true impreffion,
Even here they lay ! aye, here was their tranfgreffion.
A body's print fhe faw, it was his feat,
Which makes her faint heart 'gainft her ribs to beat.
Phoebus the lofty eaftern hill had fcal'd,
And all moift vapours from the earth exhal'd.
Now in his noon-tide point he ihineth bright,
It was the middle hour, 'twixt noon and night.
Behold young Gs^halus draws to the place,
And with the fountain-water fprinks his face.
Procris is hid, upon the grafs he lies,
And come fvveet Zephyr^ come fweet air he cries.
She fees her error now from where he flood,
Her mind returns to her, and her frefh blood ;
Among the fhrubs and briars fhe moves and ruftles,
And the injurious boughs away fhe jufties,
Intending, as he lay there to repofe him,
Nimbly to run, and in her arms inclofe him.
He quickly cafts his eye upon the bum,
Thinking therein fome favage beaft did rufh ;
His bow he bends, and a keen (haft he draws :
Unhappy man, what doft thou ? flay, and paufe,
It is no brute beaft thou would'ft 'reave of life ;
O ! man unhappy ! thou haft flain thy wife !
O heaven ! fhe cries, O help me ! I am flain j
Still doth thy arrow in my wound remain.
Yet tho' by timelefs fate my bones here lie,
It glads me moft, that I no cuck-qu?an die.
jg2 Poems upon feveral Occafant.
Her breath (thus in the arms fhe moft affected)
She breathes into the air (before fufpedted)
The whilft he lifts her body from the ground,
And with his tears doth wafli her bleeding wound.
Cupid'j Treachery.
Cupid laid by his brand, and fell afleep ;
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly fteep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground :
Which borrow'd from his holy fire of love,
A datelefs lively heat ftill to endure,
And grew a feething bath, which yet men prove
Againft ftrange maladies a fovereign cure.
But at my. miftrefs' eyes love's brand new fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breaft ;
I fick withal the help of bath defircd,
And thither hied a fad diftemper'd gueft :
But found no cure, the bath for my help lie?,
When Cupid got new fire, my miftrefs' eyes.
The little love-god lying once afleep,
Laid by his fide his heart in flaming brand,
Whilft many nymphs that vow'd chafte life to keep,
Came tripping by ; but in her maiden hand,
The faire votary took up that fire,
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd ;
And fo the general of hot defire
Was fleeping, by a virgin hand difarm'd.
This brand fhe quenched in a cool well by,
Which from love's fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men difeas'd ; but I, my miftrefs' thrall,
Posms on' fever al Occajions, 19;
Game there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.
That Menelaus was the Caufe of bis own Wrongs.
When Menelaus from his houfe is gone,
Poor Helen is afraid to lie alone j
And to allay thefe fears (lodg'd in her breaft)
In her warm bofom fhe receives her gueft.
What madnefs was this, Menelaus^ fay ?
Thou art abroad, whilft in thy houfe doth ftay,
Under the felf-fame roof, thy gueft, and love :
Madman ! unto the hawk thou trurts the dove.
And who but fuch a gull, would give to keep
Unto the mountain-wolf, full folds of fheep :
Helen is blamelefs, fo is Paris too,
And did what thou, or I myfelf would do.
The fault is thine, I tell thee to thy face,
By limiting thefe lovers, time and place.
From thee the feeds of all thy wrongs are grown,
Whofe counfels have they follow'd but thine own r
Alack ! what mould they do ? abroad thou art,
At home thou leav'ft thy gueft to play thy part,
To lie alone, the poor queen is afraid,
In the next room an amorous ftranger ftaid ;
Her arms are ope t' embrace him, he falls in :
And, Paris^ I acquit thee of the fin.
And in another Place fomewkat rcfembling thit.
Oreftes liked, but not loved dearly
Hermione^ till he had loft her clearly.
Sad Menelaus ! why doft thou lament
Thy late mifhap ? I prithee be content.
N
194- Poems on Jeveral Occafioni.
Thou know'ft the amorous Helen fair and fvveet ;
And yet without her didft thou fail to Crete.
And thou waft blithe, and merry all the way ;
But when thou faw'ft fhe was the Trojan's prey,
Then waft thou mad for her, and for thy life,
Thou canft not now one minute want thy wife.
So ftout Achilles^ when his lovely bride,
BrifetSy was difpos'd to great Atrlde,
Nor was he vainly mov'd, Strides too
Offer'd no more, than he of force muft do.
I fhould have done as much, to fet her free ;
Yet I (Heaven knows) am not fo wife as he.
Vulcan was Jupiter'j Smithy an excellent
on whom the Poets father many rare JVorks^ among
which I find this one.
Mars and Venus.
This tale is blaz'd thro' Heaven, how once un'ware,
Venus and Mars were took in Vulcan's fnare.
The god of war doth in his brow difcover
The perfect and true pattern of a lover.
Nor could the goddefs Venus be fo cruel
To deny Mars (foft kindnefs is a jewel
In any woman, and becomes her well)
In this the queen of love doth moft excel, [flouted
(Oh Heaven!) how often have they mockt and
The fmith'spolt-foot(whilft nothing he mifdoubted.)
Made jefts of him, and his begrimed trade ;
And his fmoog'd vifage, black with coal-duftmade;
Marsj tickled with loud laughter, when he faw
Venus like Vulcan limp, to halt and draw
Poems on fever al Qccafions. 195
One foot behind another, with fweet grace,
To counterfeit his lame uneven pace.
Their meetings firft the lovers hide with fear
From every jealous eye, and captious ear.
The god of war, and love's lafcivious dame,
In publick view were full of bamful (hame.
But the Sun fpies how this fweet pair agree,
(O what, bright Phcebus, can be hid from thee?)
The Sun both fees and blabs the fight forthwith,
And in all poft he fpeeds to tell the fmith.
O Sun ! what bad examples doft thou Ihow ?
What thou in fecret feeft, muft all men know ?
For filence, afk a bribe from her fair treafure ;
She'll grant thee that fhall make thee fwell with
pleafure.
The god, whofe face is fmoog'd with fmoke and
fire,
Placeth about their bed a net of wire ;
So quaintly made, that it deceives the eye.
Strait (as he feigns) to Lemnos he muft hie.
The lovers meet, where he the train hath fet,
And both lie faft catch'd in a wiry net :
He calls the gods, the lovers naked fprall,
And cannot rife ; the queen of love Ihews all.
Mars chafes, and Venus weeps, neither can flinch $
Grappled they lie, in vain they kick and wince.
Their legs are one within another ty'd,
Their hands fo faft, that they can nothing hide.
Amongft thefe high fpe£tators, one by chance,
That faw them naked in this pitfall dance,
Thus to himfelf faid ; if it tedious be,
Good god of war, beftow thy place on me.
N 2
*9^ Poem: on feveral Occajiins.
The Hi/lory how the Minotaur was begot.
Ida of cedars, and tall trees {lands full,
Where fed the glory of the herd, a bull
Snow-white, fave 'twixt his horns one fpot there
grew ;
Save that one ftain, he was of milky hue.
This fair fleer did the heifers of the groves
Defire to bear, as prince of all the droves.
But moft Pafiphae^ with adulterous breath,
Envies the wanton heifers to the death.
'Tis faid, that for this bull the doating lafs
Did ufe to crop young boughs, and mow frefti grafs ;
Nor was the amorous Cretan queen afeard,
To grow a kind companion to the herd.
Thus thro' the champian (he is madly borne,
And a wild bull to Minos gives the horn.
'Tis not for bravery he can love or loath thee,
Then why Pafiphae doft thou richly clothe thee ?
Why fhould'ft thou thus thy face and looks prepare ?
What mak'ft thou with thy glafs ordering thy hair ?
Unlefs thy glafs could make thee feem a cow ;
But how can horns grow on that tender brow ?
If Minos pleafe thee, no adulterer feek thee j
Or if thy hufband Minos do not like thee,
But thy lafcivious thoughts are frill increas'd,
Deceive him with a man, not with a beaft.
Thus by the queen the wild woods are frequented,
And leaving the king's bed, fhe is contented
To ufe the groves, borne by the rage of mind,
Even as a fhip with a full eaftcrn wind.
Some of thefe ftrumpet heifers the queen flew,
Her fmoking altars their warm bloods imbrue j
Whilft by the facrificing prieft fhe ftands,
And gripes their trembling entrails in her hands ;
Poems on fever al Occafians. 197
At length, the captain of the herd beguil'd
With a cow's-fkin, by curious art compil'd,
The longing queen obtains her full defire,
And in her infant's form bewrays the fire.
This Minotaur, when he came to Growth^ was inclos'd
in the Labyrinth^ which was made by the curious
Arts-majlcr Dedalus, whofe Tale likewife we thus
purfue.
When Dedalus the labyrinth had built,
In which t' include the queen Pafiphae's guilt,
And that the time was now expired full,
T' inclofe the Minotaur^ half man, half bull :
Kneeling, he fays, Juft Minos end my moans,
And let my native foil intomb my bones :
Or if, dread fovereign, I deferve no grace,
Look with a piteous eye on my fon's face ;
And grant me leave, from whence we are exil'd,
Or pity me, if you deny my child.
This, and much more, he fpeaks, but all in vain,
The king both fon and father will detain :
Which he perceiving, fays ; Now, now, 'tis fit,
To give the world caufe to admire my wit :
Both land and fea are watch'd by day and night ;
Nor land nor fea lies open to our flight,
Only the air remains ; then let us try
To cut a paflage thro' the air and fly.
Jove be aufpicious in my enterprize,
I covet not to mount above the fkies :
But make this refuge, fmce I can prepare
No means to fly my lord but thro' the air.
Make me immortal, bring me to the brim
Of the black Stypian water Styx, I'll fwim-
N 3
Poems on feveral Occaftont.
Oh ! human wit, thou canft invent much ill,
Thou fearcheft ftrange arts ; who would think, by
fkill,
A heavy man, like a light bird, fhould ftray,
And thro' the empty heavens find a way ?
He placeth in juft order all his quills,
Whofe bottoms with refolved wax he fills ;
Then binds them with a line, and b'ing faft ty'd,
He placeth them like oars on either fide.
The tender lad the downy feathers blew,
And what his father meant, he nothing knew.
The wax he faften'd, with the firings he play'd,
Not thinking for his fhoulders they were made;
To whom his father fpake (and then look'd pale)
With thefe fwift fhips, we to our land muft fail.
All paflages doth cruel Minos flop,
Only the empty air he ftill leaves ope.
That way muft we ; the land and the rough deep
Doth Minos bar, the air he cannot keep.
But in thy way, beware thou fet no eye
On the fign Virgo, nor Bootes high :
Look not the black Orion in the face,
That fhakes his fword, but juft with me keep pace.
Thy wings are now in faft'ning, follow me,
I will before thee flyj as thou fhalt fee
Thy father mount, or ftoop, fo 1 aread thee ;
Make me thy guard, and fafely I will lead thee.
If we fhould foar too near great Phoebus' feat,
The melting wax will not endure the heat :
Or if we fly too near the humid feas,
Our moiften'd wings we cannot fhake with cafe.
Fly between both, and with the gufts that rife,
Let thy light body fail amidft the fkies.
And ever as his little fon he charms,
He fits the feathcis to his tender arms :
Poems on fever al Occafions. 199
And fhews him how to move his body light,
As birds firft teach thetr little young ones flight.
By this he calls to counfel all his wits,
And his own wings unto his fhoulders fits :
Being about to rife, he fearful quakes,
And in this new way his faint body fhakes.
Firft, ere he took his flight, he kifs'd his fon,
Whilft by his cheeks the brinifh waters run.
There was a hillock not fo tow'ring tall,
As lofty mountains be, nor yet fo fmall
To be with valleys even, and yet a hill ;
From this, thus both attempt their uncouth (kill.
The father moves his wings, and with refpecl:
His eyes upon his wandering fon reflect.
They bear a fpacious courfe, and the apt boy,
Fearlefs of harm, in his new track doth joy,
And flies more boldly. Now upon them looks
The fifhermen, that angle in the brooks ;
And with their eyes caft upward, frighted ftand.
By this, is Samos ifle on their left hand j
Upon the right, Lebintbos they forfake,
Jtylipale and the fifhy. lake ;
Shady Pachine full of woods and groves.
When the rafh youth, too bold in vent'ring, roves ;
Lofeth his guide, and takes his flight fo high,
That the foft wax againft the fun doth fry,
And the cords flip that kept the feathers faft,
So that his arms have power upon no blaft.
He fearfully from the high clouds looks down
Upon the lower heavens, whofe curl'd waves frown
At his ambitious height, and from the fkies
He fees black night and death before his eyes.
Still melts the wax, his naked arms he fhakes,
And thinking to catch hold, no hold he takes.
N4
2OO Poems upon frveral Occafiotn.
But now the naked lad down headlong falls,
And by the way, he father, father, calls;
Help, father, help, I die : and as he fpeaks,
A violent furge his courfe of language breaks.
Th' unhappy father (but no father now)
Cries out aloud, Son Icarus where art thou ?
Where art thou, Icarus^ where doft thou fly ?
Icarus where art ? when lo, he may efpy
The feathers fwim ; aloud he doth exclaim :
The earth his bones, the fea flill bears his name.
Achilles his Concealment of bis fex in the Court of
Lycomedes.
Now from another world doth fail with joy,
A welcome daughter to the king of Troy.
The whilft the Grecians are already come,
(Mov'd with that general wrong 'gain ft Ilium)
Achilles in a fmock his fex doth fmother,
And lays the blame upon his careful mother.
What mak'fl thou, great Achilles, teazing wool,
When Pallas in a helm fhould clafp thy fkull ?
What do thefe fingers with fine threads of gold,
Which were more fit a warlike fhield to hold ?
Why fhould that right hand rock or tow contain,
By which the Trojan Heflor muft be flain ?
Caftoff thy loofe veils, and thy armour take,
And in thy hand the fpcar of Pallas (hake.
Thus lady-like he with a lady lay,
Till what he wss, her belly muft bewray ;
Yet was flic forc'd (fo fhould we .ill believe)
Not to be forc'd fo, now her heart would grieve.
When he fhould rife from her, ftill would fhe ciya
(For he had arm'd him, and his rock laid by)
Poems on fever al Occajlons^
And with a foft voice fpeak : Achilles ftay,
Jt is too foon to rife, Tie down I pray,
And then the man that forc'd her fhe would kifs ;
What force (Deidcemea) call you this ?
A Lover's Complaint.
From off a hill, whofe concave womb reworded
A plaintful ftory from a fift'ring vale,
My fpirits t' attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to lift the fad-tun'd tale,
Ere long efpied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her words with fqrrow's wind and rain :
Upon her head a platted hive of ftraw,
Which fortify'd her vifage from the fun,
Whereon the thought might think fometime it faw
The carcafe of a beauty fpent and done.
Time had not fcithed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit ; but fpite of heaven's fell rage,
Some beauty peep'd thro' lattice of fear'd age.
Oft did (he heave her napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters;
Laundring the filken figures in the brine,
That feafon'd woe had pelleted in tears ;
And often reading what contents it bears :
As often fhrieking undiftinguifh'd woe,
In clamours of all fize, both high and low.
Sometimes her Jevel'd eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battery to the fpheres intend ;
Sometimes diverted, their poor balls are ty'd
To th' orbed earth ; fometimes they do extend
Their view right on ; anon their gazes lend
To every place at once, and no where fix'd,
'fhe mind and fight diftradledly commix'd.
202 Poem* on feveral Occaftons.
Her hair, nor loofe nor ty'd in formal plat,
Proclaim'd in her a carelefs hand of pride ;
For fome untuck'd defcendcd her fhav'd hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek befide}
Some in her thredden fillet flill did bide,
And true to bondage, would not break from thence,
Tho' flackly braided in loofe negligence.
A thoufand favours from a maund fhe drew,
Of amber, cryflal, and of beaded jet ;
Which one by one fhe in a river threw,
Upon whofe weeping margent fhe was fet,
Like ufury, applying wet to wet ;
Or monarch's hands, that let not bounty fall,
Where want cries fome, but where excefs begs all.
Of folded fchedules had fhe many a one,
Which fhe perus'd, figh'd, tore, and gave the flood;
Crack'd many a ring of pofied gold and bone,
Bidding them find their lepulchers in mud :
Found yet more letters fadly penn'd in blood,
With fleided filk, feat and afrededly
Enfwath'd and feal'd to curious fecrccy.
Thefe often bath'd fhe in her fluxive eves,
And often kifs'd, and often gave a tear;
Cry'd, O falfe blood ! thou regiftcr of lyes,
What unapproved witnefs doft him bear !
Ink would have fecm'd more black and damned here!
This faid, in top of rage the lines fhe rents,
Big difcontent fo breaking their contents.
A reverend man, that graz'd his cattle nigh,
Sometime a blufterer, that the ruffle knew
Of court, of city, and had let go by
The fwifteft hours obferved as they flew ;
Towards this afflicted fancy faftly drew :
And, privileg'd by age, defires to know,
In brief, the grounds and motives of her woe.
Poems on feveral Occafions. 203
So flides he down upon his grained bat,
And comely diftant fits he by her fide;
When he again defires her, being fat,
Her grievance with his hearing to divide ;
If that from him there may be ought apply'd,
Which may her fuffering extafy affuage :
'Tis promis'd in the charity of age.
Father, fhe fays, tho' in me you behold
The injury of many a blafting hour,
Let it not tell your judgment I am old ;
Not age, but forrow, over me hath power :
I might as yet have been a fpreading flower,
Frefh to myfelf, if I had felf-apply'd
Love to myfelf, and to no love befide.
But woe is me ! too early I attended
A youthful fuit; it was to gain my grace ;
O ! one by nature's outwards fo commended,
That maidens eyes ftuck over all his face ;
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place;
And when in his fair parts fhe did abide,
She was new lodg'd, and newly deify'd.
His browny locks did hang in crooked curls,
And every light occafion of the wind
Upon his lips their filken parcels hurls.
What's fweet to do, to do will aptly find ;
Each eye that faw him did inchant the mind :
For on his vifage was in little drawn,
What largenefs thinks in paradife was fawn.
Small {hew of man was yet upon his chin,
His phoenix down began but to appear,
Like unfhorn velvet, on that termlefs fkin,
Whofe bare out-bragg'd the web it feem'd to wear j
Yet (hew'd his vifage by that coft moft dear :
And nice affections wavering, flood in doubt
If beft 'twere as it was, or beft without.
204 Poems on fevtral Occafons.
His qualities were beauteous as his form,
For maiden-tongu'd he was, and thereof free :
Yet if men mov'd him, was he fuch a ftorm,
As of 'twixt May and April is to fee,
When winds breathe fweet, unruly tho' they be.
His rudenefs fo with his authorized youth,
Did livery falfenefs in a pride of truth.
Well could he ride, and often men would fay,
That horfe his mettle from his rider takes ;
Proud of fubjec'lion, noble by the fway,
What rounds, what bounds, what courfe, what flop
And controverfy hence a queftion takes, [he make* !
Whether the horfe by him became his deed,
Or he his, manag'd by th' well-doing ftced ?
But quickly on this fide the verdict went ;
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplifh'd in himfelf, not in his cafe ;
All aids themfelves made fairer by their place,
Can for additions yet their purpofe trim,
Piec'd not his grace, but were all grac'd by him.
So on the tip of his fubduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and queftions deep,
All replication prompt, and reafon ftrong,
For his advantage ftill did wake and fleep,
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep.
He had the dialecl and different (kill,
Catching all paffions in his craft of will ;
That he did in the general bofom reign
Of young, of old, and fexes both inchanted,
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In perfonal duty, following where he haunted ;
Confent's bewitch'd, ere he defire have granted ;
And dialogu'd for him what he would fay,
Afk'd their own wills, and made their wills obey.
Poems on feveral Occafans. 205
Many there were that did his pi&ure get,
To ferve their eyes, and in it put their mind;
Like fools that in th' imagination fet
The goodly objects, which abroad they find,
Of lands and manfions, theirs in thought affign'd ;
And labouring, in more pleafures to beftow them,
Than the true gouty landlord, who doth own them.
So many have, that never touch'd his hand,
Sweetly fuppos'd them miftrefs of his heart:
My woful felf, that did in freedom ftand,
And was my own fee fimple, not in part,
What with his art in youth, and youth in art,
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Referv'd the ftalk, and gave him all my flower.
Yet did I not, as fome my equals did,
Demand of him, nor being defir'd, yielded :
Finding myfelf in honour fo forbid,
With fafeft diftance I my honour fhielded :
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new bleeding, which remain'd the foil
Of this falfe jewel, and his amorous fpoil.
But ah ! whoever fhunn'd by precedent
The deftin'd ill, (he muft herfelf aflay ?
Or forc'd examples, 'gainft her own content,
To put the by-paft perils in her way ?
Counfel may flop awhile what will not ftay :
For when we rage, advice is often feen,
By blunting us, to make our wits more keen.
Nor gives it fatisfa&ion to our blood,
That we muft curb it upon others proof:
To be forbid the fweets that feem fo good,
For fear of harms, that preach in our behoof.
O appetite ! from judgment ftand aloof.
The one a palate hath, that needs will tafte,
Tho' reafon weep, and cry, it is thy laft.
2o6 Poems on ftveral Occafions.
For further I could fay this man's untrue,
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling,
Heard where his plants in others orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his fmiling,
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling j
Thought characters and words merely but art,
And baftards of his foul adult' rate heart.
And long upon thefe terms I held my city,
Till thus he 'gan befiege me : Gentle maid,
Have of my fuffering youth fome feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid ;
What's to you fworn, to none was ever faid.
For feafts of love I have been call'd unto,
Till now did ne'er invite, nor never vowj
All my offences, that abroad you fee,
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind ;
Love made them not, with adture they may be,
Where neither party is nor true nor kind :
They fought their fhame, that fo their fhamedid find.
And fo much lefs of ihame in me remains,
By how much of me their reproach contains.
Among the many that mine eyes have feen,
Not one whofe flame my heart fo much as warmed,
Or my affection put to the fmalleft teen,
Or any of my leifures ever charmed :
Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed j
Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,
And reign'd commanding in his monarchy.
Look here what tributes wounded fancy fent me,
Of pallid pearls and rubies red as blood j
Figuring, that they their paffions likewifc lent me,
Of grief and blufties aptly underftood ;
In bloodlefs white, and the encrimfon'd mood,
Effe&s pf terror, and dear modefty,
Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.
Poems on feveral Occajions. 207
And lo! behold thefe talents of their hair,
With twifted metal amroroufly empleach'd,
I have receiv'd from many a feveral fair ;
Their kind acceptance weepingly befeech'd,
With th' annexions of fair gems inrich'd ;
And deep-brain'd fonnets, that did amplify
Each fame's dear nature, worth and quality :
The diamond ! why 'twas beautiful and hard,
Whereto his invis'd properties did tend :
The deep green emerald, in whofe frefh regard
Weak fights their fickly radiance do amend :
The heaven-hued faphyr, and the ophal blend
With objects manifold ; each feveral ftone,
With wit well blazon'd, fmil'd, or made fome moan.
Lo ! all thefe trophies of affections hot,
Of penfiv'd and fubdu'd defires, the tender;
Nature hath charg'd me, that I hoard them not,
But yield them up, where I myfelf muft render ;
That is, to you my origin and ender.
For thefe of force muft your oblations be
Since I their altar, you enpatron me.
O ! then advance (of yours) that phrafelefs hand,
Whofe white weighs down the airy fcale of praife !
Take all thefe fimiles unto your own command,
Hallow'd with fighs, that burning lungs did raifej
What me your minifter for you obeys,
Works under you, and to your audit comes
Their diftracT: parcels, incombined fums.
Lo ! this device was fent.me from a nun,
Or fifter fanclify'd, of holieft note,
Which late her noble fuit in court did fhun ;
Whofe rareft havings made the blofToms doat,
For (he was fought by fpirits of richeft coat,
But kept cold diftance, and did thence remove,
To fpend her living in eternal love,
2 68 Poems on feveral Occafans.
But O ! my fweet, what labour is't to leave
The thing we have not, maft'ring what not ftrives ?
Playing the place which did no form receive ;
Playing patient fports in unconflrained gives !
She that her fame fo to herfelf contrives,
The fears of battle fcapeth, by the flight,
And makes her abfence valiant, not her might.
0 ! pardon me, in that my boaft is true ;
The accident which brought me to her eye,
Upoh the moment did her force fubdue,
And now fhe would the caged cloifter fly j
Religious love put out religious eye :
Not to be tempted, would fhe be immur'd ;
And now to tempt, all liberty procur'd.
How mighty then you are, O hear me tell !
The broken bofoms that to me belong,
Have empty'd all their fountains in my well ;
And mine I pour your ocean all among.
1 ftrong o'er them, and you o'er me b^ing ftrong,
Aluft for your victory us all congeft,
As compound love to phyfick your cold breaft.
My parts had power to charm a facred fun ;
Tho* difciplin'd, I dieted in grace,
Believ'd her eyes, when they t' ailail begun,
All vows and confecrations giving place.
O ! moft potential love ! vow, bond, nor fpace,
In thee hath neither ftring, knot, nor confine,
For thou art all, and all things elfe are thine.
When thou imprefTeft, what are precepts worth,
Of dale example ? When thou wilt enflame,
How coldly thofe impediments ftand forth
Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame ?
Love's arms are peace, 'gainft rule,'gainft fenfe,'gainft
{hame,
Poems on feveral Occaftons. 209
And fweetnefs in the fuffering pang it bears,
The aloes of all forces,' (hoc ks and fears.
Now all thefe hearts, that do on mine depend,
Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine,
And fupplicant, their fighs to you extend,
To leave the battery that you make 'gainft mine,
Lending foft audience to my fweet defign ;
And credent foul to that ftrong bonded oath,
That {hall prefer and undertake my troth.
This faid, his watry eyes he did difmount,
Whofe fights till then were leveFd on my face,
Each cheek a river running from a fount,
With brinifh current downward flow'd apace.
Oh ! how the channel to the ftream gave grace !
Who glaz'd with cryftal gate the glowing rofes,
That flame thro' water which their hue inclofes.
Oh ! father ! what a hell of witchcraft lies
In the fmall orb of one particular tear !
But with the inundation of the eyes
What rocky heart to water will not wear ?
What breaft fo cold, that is not warmed here r
Oh ! cleft effecl: ! cold modefty, hot wrath !
Both fire from hence, and chill extincrture hath,
For lo ! his paflion but an art of craft,
Even there refolv'd my reafon into tears j
There my white ftole of chaftity I daft,
Shook off my fober- guards, and civil fears,
Appear to him, as he to me appears,
All melting, tho' our drops this difference Bore,
His poifon'd me and mine did him reftore.
In him a plenitude of fubtil matter,
Apply'd to cautlefs, all ftrange forms receives
Of burning bhifhes, or of weeping water,
O
210 Poems tn fcveral Occafions.
Or fwooning palenefs ; and he takes and leaves
In cither's aptnefs, as it beft deceives :
To blufh at fpeeches rank, to weep at woes,
Or to turn white, and fwoon at tragic (hows :
That not a heart, which in his level came
Could 'fcape the hail of his all-hurting aim,
Shewing fair nature is both wild and tame :
And veil'd in them, did win whom he would maim ;
Againll the thing he fought, he wou'd exclaim ;
When he moil burnt in heart- wifh'd luxury,
He preach'd pure maid, and prais'd cold chaftity.
Thus merely with the garment of a grace,
The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd ;
That th' unexpericnc'd gave the tempter place,
Which like a cherubim above them hover'd :
Who, young and fimple, would not be fo lover'd ?
Ah me ! I fell : and yet do queftion make,
What I fhould do again for fuch a fake.
Oh ! that infected moifture of his eye !
Oh ! that falfe fire which in his cheek fo glow'd !
Oh ! that forc'd thunder from his heart did fly !
Oh ! that fad breath his fpongy lungs beftow'd !
Oh ! all that borrow'd motion, feeming ow'd I
Would yet again betray the fore-betray'd,
And new pervert a reconciled maid.
The dnurcus EpijHe of Paris to Helen.
Health unto Leda's daughter, Priam's fon
Sends in thefe lines, whofe health cannot be won
But by your gift, in whofe power it may lie
Mo make me whole or fick ; to live or die.
Shall I then fpeak ? or doth my flame appear
Plain without index ? Oh ! 'tis that I fear!
Poems on federal Qccafions. 2ii
My love without difcovering fmilc takes place,
And more than I could wifh, fhines in my face;
When I could rather in my thoughts defire
To hide the fmoke, till time difplay the fire :
Time, that can make the fire of love mine clear,
Untroubled with the mifty fmoke of fear.
But I diflemble it; for who, I pray,
Can fire conceal ? that will itfelf betray,
Yet if you look, I mould affirm that plain
In words, which in my countenance I maintain.
I burn, I burn, my faults I have confefs'd,
My words bear witnefs how my looks tranfgrefs'd.
Oh ! pardon me, that have confefs'd my error,
Caft not upon my lines a look of terror ;
But as your beauty is beyond compare,
Suit unto that your looks (oh ! you moft fair !)
That you my letter have receiv'd by this,
The fuppofhion glads me, and I wifh,
By hope encourag'd, hope that makes me ftrong,
You will receive me in fome fort ere longt
I afk no more, than what the queen of beauty
Hath promis'd me, for you are mine by duty.
By her I claim you, you for me were made,
And me it was my journey did perfuade.
Nor, lady, think your beauty vainly fought;
I by divine inftincSt was hither brought :
And to this enterprize the heavenly powers
Have given confent, the gods proclaim me yours.
I aim at wonders, for I covet you ;
Yet pardon me, I a(k but what's my due,
Venus herfelf my journey hither led, •
And gives you freely to my promis'd bed.
Under her conduit fafe the ieas I pafr,
Till I arriv'd upon thefe coafts at luft :
O 2
212 Poems on fever al Oaa/iarrs.
Shipping niyfclf from the Sygean fhore,
Whence unto thefe confines my courfe I bore.
She made the furges gentle, the winds fair ;
Nor marvel whence thefe calms proceeded arc :
Need mult ihe power upon the fait feas have,
That was fea-born, created from a wave.
Still may fhe ftand in her ability,
And as ihe made the feas with much facility,
To be thxo'-fail'd ; fo may fhe calm my heat,
And bear my thoughts to their defired feat,
My flames I found not here ; no, I protcrt,
I brought them with me clofed in my brcaft ;
Myfelf tranfported them without attorney,
Love was the motive to my tedious journey.
Not bluft'ring winter, when he triumph'd moil,
Nor any error drove me to this coaft :
Not led by fortune where the rough winds pleafe,
Nor merchant-like, for gain crofs'd I the feas.
Fulnefs of wealth in all my fleet I fee,
I'm rich in all things, fave in wanting thee.
No fpoil of petty nations my Ihip feelcs,
Nor Jand I as a fpy among the Greeks.
What need we ? See, of all things we have ftore !
Compar'd with Troy^ alas ! your Greece is poor.
For thee I come, thy fame hath thus far driven me,
Whom golden Venus hath by promiie given me.
I wifh'd thee ere I knew thee, long ago,
Before thefe eyes dwelt on this glorious (how.
I faw thee in my thoughts ; know, beauteous dame,
I firft beheld you with the eyes of fame.
.Nor marvel, Jady, I was ftroke fo far.
Thus darts or arrows fent from bows of war,
Wound a great diftance off: fo was I hit
With a deep fmarting wound, that rankles yet.
Poems on feveral Occafions. 213
For fo it pleas'd the fates, whom left you blame,
I'll tell a true tale to confirm the fame.
When in my mother's womb full ripe I lay,
Ready the firft hour to behold the day,
And fhe at point to be deliver'd ftrait,
And to unlade her of her royal freight,
My birth-hour was delay'd, and that fad night
A fearful vifion did the queen affright.
In a fon's ftead, to pleafe the aged fire,
She dreamt fhe had brought forth a brand of fire.
Frighted, fhe rifes, and to Priam goes;
To the old king this ominous dream fhe fhows;
He to the prieft.; the prieft doth this return,
That the child born fhall flately Ilium burn.
Better than he was 'ware, the prophet guefs'd,
For lo ! a kindled brand flames in my breaft.
To prevent fate, a peafant I was held,
Till my fair fhape all other fwains excell'd j
And gave the doubtful world afTurance good,
Your Paris was deriv'd from royal blood.
Amid the Idean fields, there is a place
Remote, full of high trees, which hide the face
Of the green mantled earth, where in thick rows,
The oak, the elm, the pine, the pitch-tree grows,
Here never yet did browze the wanton ewe,
Nor from his plot the flow ox lick the dew.
The favage goat, that feeds among the rocks,
Hath not graz'd here, nor any of their flocks.
Hence the Dardanian walls I might e(j>y,
The lofty towers of Ilium reared high.
Hence I the feas might from the firm land fee,
Which to behold, 1 lean'd me on a tree.
214 Poems on feveral Occafons.
Believe me, for I fpeak but what is true,
Down from the flcy, with feather'd pinions, flew
The nephew to great Atlas, and doth ftand,
Wiih golden Caduceus in his hand.
This, as the gods to me thought good to (how,
I hold it good, that you the fame fhould know.
Three goddefles behind young Hermes move;
Great jfuno, Pallas, and the Queen of Love ;
Who as in pomp and pride of gait they pafs,
Scarce with their weight they bend the tops of grafs.
Amaz'd I dart, and endlong ftands my hair,
When Maias fon thus fays ; Abandon fear,
Thou courteous fwain, that to thefe groves repaireft,
And freely judge, which of thefe three is faireft.
And left I fhould this curious fentence fhun,
He tells me by jfove's fentence all is done.
And to be judge, I no way can efchew.
This having faid, up thro' the air he flew.
I ftrait took heart-a-grace, and grew more bold ;
And there their beauties one by one behold.
Why am I made the judge to give this doom ?
Methinks all three are worthy to o'ercome.
To injure two fuch beauties what tongue dare ?
Or prefer one, where they be all fo fair ?
Now this feems faireft, now again that other;
Now would I fpeak, and now my thoughts I fmother :
And yet at length the praife of one mort founded,
And from that one my prefent love is grounded.
The goddefles out of their earneft care,
And pride of beauty to be held moft fair,
Seek, with large alms, and gifts of wond'rous price,
To their owrt thoughts my cenfure to entice.
Juno the wife of Jove doth firft inchant me ;
To judge her faireft, (he a crown will grant me.
Poems on fever al Occafions. 215
Pallas her daughter, next doth undertake me ;
Give her the prize, and valiant fhe will make me.
I ftrait devife which can moft pleafure bring,
To be a valiant foldier, or a king.
Laft Venus fmiling, came with fuch a grace,
As if fhe fway'd an empire in her face :
Let not (faid fhe) thefe gifts the conqueft bear,
Combats and kingdoms are both fraught with fear.
I'll give thee what thou lov'ft beft (lovely fwain)
The faireft faint that doth on earth remain,
Shall be thine own : make thou the conqueft mine,
Fair Leeda's faireft daughter fhall be thine.
This faid, when with myfelf I had devifed,
And her rich gift and beauty jointly prized ;
Venus the victor o'er the reft is plac'd,
Juno and Pallas leave the mount difgrac'd.
Mean time my fate a profperous courfe had run,
And by known flgns King Priam call'd me fon.
The day of my reftoring is kept holy
Among the faints days, confecrated folely
To my remembrance, being a day of joy
For ever in the calendars of Troy.
As I wifh you, I have been wifh'd by others ;
The faireft maids by me would have been mothers :
Of all my favours, I beftow'd not any,
You only may enjoy the loves of many.
Nor by the daughters of great dukes and kings,
Have I alone been fought, whofe marriage-rings
I have turn'd back ; but by a ftrain more high,
By nymphs and fairies, fuch as never die.
No fooner were you promis'd as my due,
But I all hated, to remember you ;
Waking, I faw your image ; if I dreamt,
Your beauteous figure ftill appear'd to tempt,
216 Pot tm on fiveral Occafuns.
And urge this voyage; till your face excelling,
Thefe eyes beheld my dreams were all of Helen.
Image how your face (hould now incite me,
Being feen, that unfecn did fo much delight me.
If I was fcorch'd fo far oft' from the fire,
How am I burnt to cinders thus much nigher !
Nor could I longer owe myfelf this treafure,
But thro' the ocean I muft fearch my pleafure.
The Phrygian hatchets to the loots are put
Of the Idean pines ; afunder cut,
The wood-land mountain yielded me large fees,
Being defpoil'd of all her talleft trees.
From whence we have fquar'd outunnumber'd beams,
That muft be wafh'd within the marine ftreams.
The grounded oaks are bow'd, tho' ftift" as fteel,
And to the tough ribs is the bending keel
Woven by fhipwrights craft; then the main maft,
Acrofs whofe middle is the fail-yard plac'd,
Tackles and fails ; and next you may difcern
Our painted gods upon the hooked ftern :
The god that bears me on my happy way,
And is my guide, is Cupid, Now the day
In which the laft ftroke of the hammer's heard
Within our navy, in the caft appear'd :
And I muft now launch forth (fo the fates pleafe)
To feek adventures in the Mgeav feas..
My father and my mother move delay,
And by intreaties would inforce my ftay :
They hang about my neck, and with their tears
Woo me, defer my journey ; but their fears
Can have no power to keep me from thy fight :
And now Cfijfendra, full of fad affright,
With loofe difhevel'd trammels, madly fkips,
J uft in the way betwixt rne and my (hips :
Poems on feveral Occaftons. a 1 7
0 ! whither wilt thou headlong run ? fhe cries ;
Thou beareft fire with thee, whofe fmoke up-flies
Unto the heavens (O Jove /) thou little feareft
What quenchlefs flames thou thro' the water beareft.
CaJJandra was too true a prophetefs ;
Her quenchlefs flame (he fpake of (I confefs)
My hot defires burn in my breaft fo faft,
That no red furnace hotter flames can caft.
I pafs the city-gates, my bark I board,
The favourable winds calm gales afford,
And fill my fails ; unto your land I freer,
For whither elfe his courfe fhould Paris bear ?
Your hufband entertains me as his gueft,
And all this happ'neth by the gods beheft.
He fhews me all his paftures, parks, and fields,
And every rare thing Lacedamon yields.
He holds himfelf much pleafed with my being,
And nothing hides that he efteems worth feeing.
1 am on fire, till I behold your face,
Of all Atkaicfs kingdom the fole grace.
All other curious objects I defy,
Nothing but Helen can content mine eye :
Whom when I faw, I flood transform'd with won-
der,
Senfelefs, as one ftruck dead by Jove's fharp thun-
der.
As I revive, my eyes I roll and turn,
Whilft my flam'd thoughts with hotter fancies burn :
Even fo, as I remember, look'd love's queen,
When fhe was laft in Phrygian Ida feen ;
Unto which place by fortune I was train'd,
Where, by my cenfure, fhe the conqueft gain'd.
But had you made a fourth in that contention,
Qf Menus' beauty there had been no mention :
218 PofMS on fever al Occajions.
Helen afluredly had borne from all
The prize of beauty, the bright golden ball.
Only of you may this your kingdom boaft,
By you it is rcnown'd in every coaft :
Rumour hath every where your beauty blaz'd :
In what remote clime is not Helen prais'd ?
From the bright eaftern fun's up-rife, inquire,
Even to his downfall, where he flakes his fire j
There Jives not any of your fex that dare
Contend with you, that are proclaim'd fo fair.
Truft me j for truth I fpeak : nay, what's moft true,
Too fparingly the world hath fpoke of you.
Fame that hath undertook your name to blaze,
Play'd but the envious houfewife in your praife.
More than report could promife, or fame blazon,
Are thefe divine perfections that I gaze on :
Thcfe were the fame that made duke Thefeus lavifh,
Who in thy prime and nonage did thee ravifli :
And worthy rape for fuch a worthy man !
Thrice happy ravifher ! to feize thee then,
When thou wert ftript ftark naked to the fkin ;
A fight of force to make the gods to fin.
Such is your country's guife, at feafons when
With naked ladies they mix'd naked men.
That he did fteal thee from thy friends, I praife
him ;
And for that deed, I to the heavens will raife him.
That he return'd thee back, by Jove I wonder;
Had I been Tbefeus, he that fhould afunder
Have parted us, or fnatch'd thee from my bed,
Firft from my fhouldcrs fhould have par'd my head :
So rich a purchafc, fuch a glorious prey,
Should conftantly have been detain'd for aye.
Poems on fevtral Occajions. 2 1 £
Could thefe my ftrong arms poffibly unclafp,
Whilft in their amorous folds they Helen grafp ?
Neither by forc'd conftraint, nor by free giving,
Could you depart that compafs, and I living.
But if by rough inforce I muil reftore you,
Some fruits of love (which I fo long have bore you)
I firft would reap, and fome fweet favour gain,
That all my fuit were not beftow'd in vain.
Either with me you fhall abide and- fray,
Or for your pafs your maidenhead fhould pay :
Or fay, I fpar'd you that, yet would I try
What other favour I could elfe come by ;
All that belongs to love I would not mifs,
You fhould not let me both to clip and kifs.
Give me your heart, fair queen, my heart you
owe,
And what my refolution is, you know.
Till the laft fire, my breathlefs body take,
The fire within my breafr. can never flake.
Before large kingdoms I prefer'd your face,
And Juno's love, and potent gifts difgrace ;
To fold you in my amorous arms I chus'd,
And Pallas' virtues fcornfully refus'd :
When they, with Venus^ on the hill of Ide^
Made me the judge their beauties to decide.
Nor do I yet repent me, having took
Beauty, and ftrength, and fcepter'd rule forfook:
Methinks I chus'd the beft (nor think it ftrange)
I ftill perfifl, and never mean to change.
Only that my employment be not vain,
(Oh ! you more worth than any empire's gain !)
Let me intreat : left you my birth fhould fcorn,
Or parentage, know, I am royal born :
220 Ponm on Jeveral Occaftons.
By marrying me, you fhall not wrong your ftate,
Nor be a wife to one degenerate.
Search the records where we did firft begin,
And you fhall find the Pleiads of our kin ;
Nay, Jove himfelf, all others to forbear
That in our flock renowned princes were.
My father of all Afia reigns fole king,
Whofe boundlefs coaft fcarce any fcather'd wing
Can give a girdle to ; a happier land,
A neighbour to the ocean, cannot ftand.
There in a narrow compafs you may fee
Cities and towers, more than may numb'red be;
The houfes gilt, rich temples that excel,
And you will fay, I near the great gods dwell.
You fhall behold high Ilium's lofty towers,
And Troy's brave walls, built by no mortal powers ;
But made by Phcebus^ the great god of fire,
And by the touch of his melodious lyre.
Afk if we have people to inhabit, when
The fad earth groans, to bear fuch troops of men ;
Judge, Helen, likev/ife when you come to land,
The Jfian women fhall admiring fland,
Saluting thee with welcome, more and lefs,
In prefling throngs, and numbers numberlefs.
More, that our courts can hold of you (moft fair)
You to yourfelf will fay, alas ! how bare
And poor Acbala is ! when, with great pleafure,
You fee each houfe contain a city's trealure.
Miftake me not, I Sparta do not fcorn,
I hold the land bleft where my love was born :
Tho' barren elfe, rich Sparta Helen bore,
And therefore I that province muft adore.
Yet is your land, methinks, but lean and empty,
You worthy of a clime that flows with plenty :
£oems on federal Occafiom* 221
Full Troy I proftrate, it is yours by duty ;
This petty Teat becomes not your rich beauty.
Attendance, preparation, curt'fy, ftate,
Fit fuch a heavenly form ; on which fhould wait
Coft, frefti variety, delicious diet,
Pleafure, contentment, and luxurious riot.
What ornaments we ufe, what fafhions feign,
You may perceive by me and my proud train.
Thus we attire our men ; but with more coft
Of gold and pearl, the rich gowns are imboil
Of our chief ladies ; guefs by what you fee,
You may be foon induc'd to credit me.
Be tractable, fair Spartan, nor contemn
A Trojan born, deriv'd from royal flem ;
He was a Trojan, and ally'd to Hector,
That waits upon Jove's cup, and fills him nectar.
A Trojan did the fair Aurora wed,
And nightly flept within her rofeat bed.
The goddefs that ends night, and enters day,
From our fair Trojan coait ftole him away.
Anchijes was a Trojan, whom love's queen
(Making the trees of Ida a thick fkreen
'Twixt heaven and her) oft lay with. View me
well,
I am a Trojan too, in Troy I dwell.
Thy hufband Menelaus hither bring,
Compare our (hapcs, our years, and every thing :
I make you judgefs, wrong me if you can ;
You needs muft fay, I am the properer man.
None of my line hath turn'd the fun to blood,
And robb'd his fteeds of their ambrofial food.
My father grew not from the Caucafe rock,
Nor (hall I graft you in a. bloody ftock.
222 Poems on feveral Occaftons.
Priam ne'er wrong'd the guiltlcfs foul, or further,
Made the Myrtean ft a look red with murder :
Nor thirfteth my great grandfire in the lake
of Lethe, chin-deep, yet no thirft can flake :
Nor after ripen'd apples vainly fkips,
Who fly him ftill, and yet ftill touch his lips.
But what of this ? if you be fo deriv'd,
You, notwithftanding, are no right depriv'd :
You grace your ftock, and being fo divine,
Jove is of force compel I'd into your line.
Oh mifchief ! whilft I vainly fpeak of this,
Your hufband all unworthy of fuch blifs,
Enjoys you this long night, enfolds your waift,
And where he lifts, may boldly touch and tafte.
So when you fat at table, many a toy
Pafleth between you, my vex'd foul t' annoy.
At fuch high feafts I wifh my enemy fit,
Where difcontent attends on every bit.
I never yet was plac'd at any feaft,
But oft it irk'd me that 1 was your gueft.
That which offends me moft, thy rude lord knows ;
For ftill his arms about thy neck he throws.
Which I no fooner fpy, but I grow mad,
And hate the man whofe courting makes me fad.
Shall I be plain ? I am ready to link down,
When I behold him wrap you in his gown ;
When you fit fmiling on his amorous knee,
His fingers prefs where my hands itch to be.
But when he hugs you, 1 am forc'd to frown ;
The meat I'm eating will by no means down,
But flicks halfway : amidft thefe difcontcnts,
I have obferv'd you laugh at my laments,
And with a fcomful, yet a wanton fmile,
Deride my fighs and groans. Oft to beguile
Poems on feveral Occafions. 223
My pa/lions, and to quench my fiery rage,
By quaffing healths I've thought my flame t' afluage ;
But Bacchus' full cups make my flames burn higher,
Add wine to love, 'and you add fire to fire.
To fhun the fight of many a wanton feat,
Betwixt your lord and you, I fhift my feat,
And turn my head ; but thinking of your grace,
Love fcrews my head to gaze back on your face.
What were I beft to do r to fee you play,
Mads me, and I perforce muft turn away;
And to forbear the place where you abide,
Would kill me dead, fhould I but ftart afide.
As much as lies in me, I ftrive to bury
The fhape of love, and in mirth's fpite ft em merry.
But oh ! the more I feek it to fupprefs,
The more my blabbing looks my love profefs.
You know my love which I in vain fhould hide;
Would God it did appear to none befide !
Oh Jove ! how often have I turn'd my cheek,
To hide th' apparent tears, that paflage feek
From forth my eyes, and to a corner ftept,
Left any man fhould afk wherefore I wepf.
How often have I told you piteous tales,
Of conflant lovers, and how love prevails ?
When fuch great heed to my difcourfe I took,
That every accent fuited to your look.
In forged names myfelf I reprefented :
The lover fo perplex'd, and fo tormenter?,
If you will know, behold I am the fame ;
Paris was meant in that true lover's name.
As often, that I might the more fecurelv,
Speak loofe immodeit words, that found impurely,
That they offencelefs might your fweet ears touch,
I've lifpt them up, like one had drunk too much.
224. Poems on feveral Occafions.
Once I remember, your loofe veil betray 'd
Your naked fkin, and a fair paflage made
To my tnamour'd eye : Oh ! fkin much brighter
Than fnow, or pureft milk, in colour whiter
Than your fair mother Lecda, when y^t^grac'd her,
And in the fhape of feather'd fwan embrac'd her.
Whilft at this ravifhing fight I flood amaz'd,
And without interruption freely gaz'd,
The wreathed handle of the bowl I grafp'd,
Fell from my hold, my ftrengthlefs hand unclafp'd.
A goblet at that time I held by chance,
And down it fell, for I was in a trance.
Kifs your fair daughter, and to her I fkip,
And Inatch your kiftes from your fweet child's lip.
Sometimes 1 throw myfelf along, and lie,
Singing lovc-fongs ; and if you caft your eye
On my effeminate gcfture, I (till find
Some pretty cover'd figns to fpeak my mind ;
And then my earneft fuit bluntly invades
Mtbra and Climene^ your two chief maids.
But they return me anfwers full of fear,
And to my motions lend no further car.
Oh ! that you were the prize of Ibme great ftrife,
And he that wins, might claim you for his wife.
Hyppomenes with fwift Atlanta ran,
And at one courfe the goal and lady won ;
Even fhe, by whom fo many fuitors perifh'd,
Was in the bofom of her new love cheriih'd.
So Plercuks for Dejaneira ftrove,
Brake Acbelou^ horn, and gain'd his love.
Had I fuch liberty, fuch freedom granted,
My refolution never could be daunted.
Yourfelf fhould find, and all the world ihould fee,
Helen a prize alone referv'd for inc.
Poems on fever al Occafiom, 225
There is not left me ahy means (mofr. fair)
To court you now, but by intreats and prayer j
Unlefs (as it becomes me) you think meet,
That I {hould proftrate fall, and kifs your feet.
Oh ! all the honour, that our laft age wins,
Thou glory of the two Tindarian twins !
Worthy to be Jove's wife, in heaven to reign,
Were you not Jove's own daughter, of his ftrain.
To the Sygean confines I will carry thee,
And in the temple of great Pallas marry thee j
Or in this ifland where I vent my moans,
I'll beg a tomb for my exiled bones.
My wound is not a flight raze with an arrow,
But it hath pierc'd my heart, and burnt my marrow;
This prophecy my fifter oft hath founded,
That by an heavenly dart I fliould be wounded.
Oh ! then forbear ( fair Helen ! ) to oppofe you
Againft the gods, they fay I fliatf-not lofe you.
Yield you to their beheft, and you Rjall find
The gods to your petitions likewife kind.
A thoufand things at once are in my brain,
Which that I may effentially complain,
And not in papers empty all my head,
Anon at night receive me to your bed.
Blufh you at this ? or lady do you fear
To violate the nuptial laws auftere ?
Oh ! fimple Helen ! foolifh I might fay,
What profit reap you to be chafte I pray ?
Is't poflible, that you a world to win,
Should keep that face, that beauty without fin ?
Rather you muft your glorious face exchange
For one (lefs fair) or elfe not feem fo ftrange.
Beauty and chaftity at variance are,
'Tis hard to find one woman chafte and fair.
P
226 Poem$ on feveral Occafiont.
Venus will not have beauty over-aw'd,
High Jove himfelf ftolen pleafures will applaud j
And by fuch thievifh paftimes we may gather
How Jove 'gainft wedlock's laws became your father.
He and your mother Leeda both tranfgrefs'd,
When you were got (he bare a tender brcaft.
What glory can you gain love-fweets to fmother ?
Or to be counted charter than your mother ?
Profefs ftri& chaftity, when with great joy",
I lead you as my bride-efpous'd thro' Troy.
Then 1 intreat you rein your pleafures in,
I wifti thy Paris may be all thy fin.
If Citherea her firm covenant keep,
Tho' I within your bofom nightly fleep,
We (hall not much mifdo, but fo offend,
That we by marriage may our guilt amend.
Your hufband hath himfelf this bufinefs aided,
And tho' (not with his tongue) he hath perfuaded,
By all his deeds (as much) left he fliould flay
Our private meetings, he is far away,
Of purpofe rid unto the fartheft IFe/l,
That he might leave his wife unto his gueft.
No fitter time he could have found to vifit
The Cbrifean royal fcepter, and to feize it.
Oh ! fimple, fjmple hufband ! but he's gone,
And going, left you this to think upon.
Fair wife (quoth he) I prithee in my place
Regard the Trojan prince, and do him grace.
Behold, a witnefs I againft you ftand,
You have been carelefs of this kind command.
Count from his firft day's journey, never fince
Did you regard or grace the Trojan prince.
What think you or your hufband ? that he knows
The worth and value of the face he owes ?
Poems on fevcral Qccafuns. 227
Who (but a fool) fuch beauty would endanger ?
Or truft it to the mercy of a ftranger ?
Then, royal queen \ if .neither may intreat,
My quenchlefs paflion, nor love's raging heat
Can win you ; we are woo'd both to this crime,
Even by the fit advantage of the time ;
Either to Jove fweet fport we muft agree,
Or mew ourfelves to be worfe fools than he.
He took you by the hand the hour he rode,
And knowing 1 with you muft make abode,
Brings you to me ; what mould I further fay ?
It was his mind to give you quite away.
What meant he elfe ? then let's be blithe and jolly,
And make the beft ufe of your hufband's folly.
What mould we do ? your hufband is far gone,
And this cold night (poor foul) you lie alone.
I want a bedfellow, fo do we either,
What lets us then, but that we lie together ?
You flumb'ring think on me, on you I dream,
Both our defires are fervent and extreme.
Sweet, then appoint the night, wjhy do you ftay ?
O night ! more clearer than the brighten day.
Then I dare freely fpeak, proteft, and fwear,
And of my vows the gods fhall record bear.
Then will I feal the contract and the ftrife,
From that day forward we are iiian and wife :
Then queftionlefs I fhall fo far perfuade,
That you with me fhall Troy's rich coaft invade,
And with your Phrygian gueft at laft agree,
Our potent kingdom, and rich crown to fee.
But if you (blufhing) fear the vulgar bruit,
That fays you follow me, to me make fuit,
P 2
228 Poems on fcveral Occaftons.
Fear it not Helen j I'll fo work with fame,
I will (alone) be guilty of all blame.
Duke Thefeus was my inftance, and fo were
Yoar brothers, lady j can I come more near,
To enfample my attempt's by ? Thefeus halM
Helen perforce : your brothers they prevail'd
With the Leucippian fitters ; now from thcfe,
I'll count myfelf the fourth (if Helen pleafe.)
Our Trojan navy rides upon the coaft,
Rigg'd, arm'd, and mann'd, and I can proudly boafi,
The banks are high, why do you longer flay?
The winds and oars are ready to make way.
You fhall be like a high majeftic queen,
Led thio' the Dardan city, and be feen
By millions, who your Hate having commended,
Will (wond'ring) fwear, fomegoddcfs is defcendcd.
Where'er you walk the priefts fhall incenfe burn,
No way you fhall your eye or body turn,
Uut facririced beafls the ground fhall beat,
And bright religious fires the welkin heat.
My father, mother, brother, fitters, all
Ilium and Troy in pomp majeftical,
Shall -with rich gifts prefent you (but alas !)
"Not the leaft part (fo far they do furpafs)
Can my epiftle fpeak ; you may behold
More than my worCs or writings can unfold.
Nor fear the bruit of war, or threatning fteel,
When we are fled, to dog us at the heel ;
Or that all Gra-cia will their powers unite:
Of many ravifh'd, can you one recite
Whom war repurchas'd ? thefe be idle fears,
Rough bluftering Boreas fair Orithea bears
Poems on feveral Occajions. 2.29
Unto the land of Thrace, yet Thrace ftill free,
And Athens rais'd no rude hoftility.
In winged Pegafus 'did Jafon fail ;
And from great Cbolcos he Medea ftale ;
Yet TbeJJaly you fee can fhew no fear
Of former wounds in the Thefjalitm war.
fje that firft ravifh'd you, in fuch a fleet
As ours is, Ariadne brought from Crete.
Yet Minos and duke Tbefcus were agreed,
About that quarrel not a breaft did bleed.
Lefs is the danger (truft me) than the fear,
That in thefe vain and idle doubts appear.
But fay, rude war fhould be proclaim'd at length,
Know I am valiant, and have fmevvy ftrength.
The weapons that I ufe are apt to kill.
AJla befides more fpacious fields can fill
With armed men, than Greece. Amongft us are
More perfect foldiers, more beads apt for war.
Nor can thy hufband Menelaus be
Of any high fpirit and magnanimity >,
Or fo well prov'd in amis : for Helen I,
Being but a lad, have made my enemies fly ;
Regain'd the prey from out the hands of thieves,
Who had defpoil'd our herds, and ftol'n our beeves.
By fuch adventures I my name obtain'd,
(Being but a lad) the conquer! I have gain'd
Of young men in their prime, who much could do.;
LteipkobuS) Ilioneus too
I have o'ercome in many fharp contentions ;
Nor think thefe are my vain and forg'd inventions j
Or that I only hand to hand can fight,
My arrows when I pleafe fliall touch the white ;
I am expert i'th' quarry and the bow,
You cannot boaft your heartlefs hufband fo.
P 7
230 Poems on federal Occafions.
Had you the power in all things to fupply me,
And fhould you nothing in the world deny me j
To give me fuch a Heftor to my brother,
You could not, the earth bears not fuch another.
By him alone all dfia is well mann'd ;
He like an enemy againft Greece (hall ftand,
Oppos'd to your bell fortunes, wherefore ftrive you ?
You do not know his valour that muft wive you,
Or what hid worth is in me ; but at length
You will confefs when you haveprov'd my ftrength.
Thus either war fhall ftill our fteps purfue,
Or Greece fhall fall in Troy's all conquering view.
Nor would I fear for fuch a royal wife,
To fet the univerfal world at ftrife.
To gain rich prizes, men will venture far,
The hope of purchafe makes us bold in war.
If all the world about you fhould contend,
Your name fhould be eterniz'd without end j
Only be bold ; and fearlefs may we fail
Into my country, with a profperous gale !
If the gods grant me my expected day,
It to the full fhall all thefe covenants pay.
Helen to Paris.
No fooner came mine eye unto the fight
Of thy rude lines, but I muft needs re-write.
Dar'ft thou (O fhamelefs) in fuch heinous wife,
The laws of hofpitality defpife ?
And being a ftranger, from thy country's reach,
Solicit a chafte wife to wedlock's breach ?
Was it for this our free Teenarian port
Receiv'd thee and thy train, in friendly fort ?
And when great Neptune nothing could appeafe,,
Gave thee fafe harbour from the ftormy feas r
Poems on fever al Occafions. 231
Was it for this, our kingdom's arms fpread wide
To entertain thee from the water-fide ?
Yet thou of foreign foil remote from hence,
A ftranger, coming we fcarce knew from whence.
Is perjur'd wrong the recompence of right ?
Is all our friendfliip guerdon'd with defpight?
I doubt me then, whether in our court doth tarry
A friendly gueft, or a fierce adverfary.
Nor blame me, for if juftly you confider,
And thefe prefumptions well compare together,
So fimple my complaint will not appear,
But you yourfelf mufr needs excufe my fear.
Well, hold me fimple, much it matters not,
Whilft I preferve my chafte name far from fpot ;
For when I feem touch'd with a bafhful fhame,
It fhews how highly I regard my fame.
When I feem fad, my countenance is not feigned j
And when I lour, my look is unconftrained.
But fay my brow be cloudy, my name's clear,
And reverently you fhall of Helen hear.
No man from me adulterate fpoils can win ;
For to this hour I have fported without fin :
Which makes me in my heart the more to wonder,
What hope you have in time to bring me under :
Or from mine eye what comfort thou canft gather,
To pity thee, and not defpife thee rather.
Becaule once Thefeus hurry'd me from hence,
And did to me a kind of violence ;
Follows it therefore, I am of fuch price,
That ravifli'd once, I fhould be ravifh'd twice?
Was it my fault, becaufe I ftriv'd in vain,
And wanted ftrength his fury to reftrain ?
He fhtter'd, and fpake fair, I ftruggled (till ;
And what he got, was much againft my will.
P 4
232 Poems on Jirveral (Jccafeoni,
Of all his toil, he rcap'd no wifhed fruit,
For with my wrangling I withftood his fuit.
At length I was reftor'd, untouch'd, and clear ;
In all my Ruf>e, I fuffcr'd nought fave fear :
A few untoward kiflcs he (God wot)
Of further favours he could never boaft j
Dry, without relifh, by much ftriving got,
And them with much ado, and to his coft.
I doubt your purpofe aims at greater blifles,
And hardly would alone be pleas'd with kill
Thou haft fome further aim, and feek'ft to do
XV hat, Jove defend, I fhuuld confent unto.
He bore not thy bad mind, but did reltore me
Unblemifli'd to the place from whence he bore me.
The youth was bafliful, and thy boldnefs laok'd,
And 'tis well known, repented his bold fadh
Thefeus repented, fo fhould Paris do,
Succeed in love and in repentance too,
Nor am I angry ; who can angry be
With him that loves her r if your heart agree
With your kind words, your fuit I could applaud,
So I were fure your lines were void of fraud.
1 caft not thefe ftrange doubts, or this difpenfe,
Like one that were bereft all confidence ;
that I with my felt" am in difgracc,
Or do not know the beauty of my face :
But becaufe too much truit hath damag'd fuch
As have believ'd men in their loves too much.
And now the general tongue of women faith,
Mens words are full of treafpn, void of faith.
Let others fin, and hours of pleafures wafte,
'Tis rare to find the fober matron chafte.
Why ? fay it be that fin prevails with fair ones,
May not my name be rank'd among the rare ones ?
Poems on feveral Occafions. 233
Becaufe my mother Lada was beguil'd,
Muft I ftray too, that am her eldeft child ?
I muft confefs my mother made a rape,
But Jove beguil'd her in a borrow'd fhape :
When (he (poor foul) nor dreamt of god nor man5
He trod her like a milk-white feather'd fwan.
She was deceiv'd by error; if I yield
To your unjuft requeft, nothing can fhield
Me from reproach ; I cannot plead concealing :
'Twas in her, error; 'tis in me, plain dealing.
She happily err'd ; he that her honour fpilt,
Had in himfelf full power to falve the guilt.
Her error happy 'd me too (I confefs)
If to be Jove's child, be a happinefs.
T' omit high Jove, of whom I ftand in awe,
As the great grand fire to our father-in-law ;
To pafs the kin I claim from Tantalus^
From Pelops, and from noble Tindarus \
L<zda by Jove^ in fhape of fwan, beguil'd,
Herfelf fo chang'd, and by him made with child,
Proves Jove my father. Then you idly ftrive,
Your name from gods and princes to derive.
What need you of old Priam make relation,
Laomedon, or your great Phrygian nation ?
Say all be true ; what then ? He of whom moll
To be of your alliance, you fo boaft,
Jove (five degrees at leaft) from you removed,
To be the fidl from me, is plainly proved.
And tho' (as I believ'd well) Troy may ftand
Powerful by fea, and full of ftrength by land j
And no dominion to your ftate fuperior,
1 hold our clime nothing to Troy inferior.
234 Poems on fever al Occafions.
Say, you in riches pafs us, or in number
Of people, whom you boaft your ftreets to cumber;
Yet yours a barbarous nation is, I tell you,
And in that kind do we of Greece excel you.
Your rich epiftle doth fuch gifts prefent,
As might the goddefies themfelves content,
And woo them to your pleafure : but if I
Shall pafs the bounds of fhame, and tread awry ;
If ever you fhould put me to my (hifts,
Yourfelf fhould move me more than all your gifts.
Or if I ever fhall tranfgrefs by ftealth,
It fhall be for your fake, not for your wealth.
But as your gifts I fcorn not, fo fuch feem
Moft precious, where the giver we efteem.
More than your prefents it fhall Helen pleafe,
That you for her have part the ftormy ieas ;
That fhe hath caus'd your toil, that you refpe& her,
And more than all your Trojan dames affect her.
But you're a wag in troth, the notes and figns
You make at table, in the meats and wines,
J have obferv'd, when I leaft feem'd to mind them,
For at the firft my curious eye did find them.
Sometimes (you wanton) your fix'd eye advances
His brightnefs againft mine, darting fvveet glances,
Out-gazing me with fuch a ftedfaft look,
That my daz'd eyes their fplendor have forfook 3
And then you figh, and by and by you ftretch
Your amorous arm outright, the bowl to reach,
That next me {rands, making excufe to fip
Juft in the felf-fame place that kifs'd my lip.
How oft have I obferv'd your finger make
Tricks and conceited figns, which ftrait I uk.c :
Poems on feveral Occajions. 235
How often doth your brow you rfmooth thoughts cloke
When, to my Teeming, .it hath alrrioft fpoke ?
And ftill I fear'd my hufband would have fpy'd you ;
In troth you are to blame, and I muft chide you.
You are too manifeft a lover (tufh)
At fuch known figns I could not chufe but blufh.
And to myfelf I oft was forc'd to fay,
This man at nothing {names. Is this (I pray)
Ought fave'the truth ? Oft-times upon the board
Where Helen was engraven, you the word
Amo have underwrit, in new-fpilt wine :
(Good footh) at firft I could not fcan the line,
Nor underftand your meaning. Now (oh ! fpite)
Myfelf am now taught fo to read and write.
Should I offend, as fin to me is ftrange,
Thefe bland ifhments have power chafte thoughts to
Or if I could be mov'd to ftep aftray, [change.
Thefe would provoke me to lafcivious play :
Befides, I muft confefs, you have a face
So admirable rare, fo full of grace,
That it hath power to woo, and to make feizure
Of the moft bright chafte beauties to your pleafure.
Yet had I rather ftainlefs keep my fame,
Than to a ftranger hazard my good name.
Make me your inftance, and forbear the fair ;
Of that which moft doth pleafe you, make moil fpare.
The greateft virtues, of which wife men boaft,
Is to abftain from that which pleafeth moft.
How many gallant youths (think you) defire
That which you covet, fcorch'd with the felf-fame fire?
Are all the world fools ? only Paris wife ?
Or is there none, fave you, have judging eyes ?
No, no, you view no more than others fee,
But you are plainer and more bold with me.
236 Poems on jeveral
You are more earned to purfuc your game j
I yield you not more knowledge, but lefs (hame.
I would to God that you had fail'd from TV&y,
When my virginity and bed to enjoy,
A thoufand gallant princely fuiters came :
Had I beheld young Paris, I proclaim,
Of all thofe thoufand I had made you chief,
And Spartan Mcnelatis, to his grief,
Should to my cenfure have fubfcrib'd and yielded.
But now (alas !) your hopes are weakly builded :
You covet goods pofltfs'd, pleafures foretafted ;
Tardy you come, that fhould before have hafted ;
"What you dcfire, another claims as clue :
As I could wifh t' have been efpftus'd to you,
So let me tell you, fmce it is my fate,
I hold me happy in my prcfent ftate.
Then ceafe, fair prince, an idle luit to move,
Seek not to harm her, whom you feem to love.
In my contented ftate let me be guided,
As both my ftates and fortunes have provided ;
Nor in fo vain a queft your fpirits toil,
To feek at my hands an unworthy fpoil.
But fee how foon poor women are deluded,
Venus herfelf this covenant hath concluded :
For in the Idean vallies you efpy
Three goddefies, ftrip'd naked to your eye ;
And when the firft had promis'd you a crown,
The fecond fortitude and war's renown ;
The third befpake you thus ; crown, nor war's pride,
Will I bequeath, but Helen to thy bride.
I fcarce believe, thofe high immortal creatures
Would to your eye expofe their naked features.
Poems on fever al Occafions. 23;
Or fay the firft part of your tale be pure,
And meet with truth, the fecond's falfe I'm fure;
In which poor I was thought the greateft meed,
In iuch a high caufe by the gods decreed.
I have not of my beauty fuch opinion,
T' imagine it prefer'd before dominion,
Or fortitude ; nor can your words perfuade me,
The greateft gift of all the goddefs made me.
It is enough to me men praife my face,
But from the gods I merit no fuch grace :
Nor doth the praife, you charge me with, offend me,
If Venus do not envioufly commend me.
But, lo ! I grant you, and imagine true
Your free report, claiming your praife as due?
Who would in pleafing things call fame a lyar,
But give that credit which we mod delire ?
That we have mov'd thefe doubts, be not you griev'd,
The greateft wonders are the leaft believ'd :
Know then, I firft am pleas'd that Venus ought me
Such undeferved grace; next that you thought me
The greateft meed. Nor fcepter, nor war's fame,
Did you prefer before poor Helen's name.
( Hard heart ! 'tis time thou fhouldft at laft come down }
Therefore I am your valour, I your crown.
Your kindnefs conquer's me, do what I can ;
I were hard-hearted not to love this man.
Obdurate I was never, and yet coy
To favour him whom I can ne'er enjoy.
What profits it the barren fands to plough,
And in the furrows our affedlions fow?
In the fweet theft of Venus I am rude,
And know not how my hufband to delude,
238 Poems on fevered Occafuns.
Now I thcfe love-lines write, my pen, I vow,
Is a new office taught, not known till now.
Happy are they that in this trade have flcill j
Alas ! I am a fool, and fhall be full ;
And having till this hour not ftcpt aftray,
Fear in thefe fports left I mould mils my way.
The fear (no doubt) is greater than the blame,
I ftand confounded, and amaz'd with fhame ;
And with the very thought of what you feck,
Think every eye fix'd on my guilty cheek.
Nor are theie fuppofitions merely vain,
The murmuring people whifperingly complain ;
And my maid /Etbra hath, by lift'ning flily,
Brought me fuch news, as touch'd mine honour highly.
Wherefore (dear lord) diflemble or defift;
Being over-ey'd, we cannot as we lift
Fafhion our fports, our loves pure harveft gather j
But why mould you defift ? Difiemble rather.
Sport, but in fecret; fport where none may fee:
The greater, but not greateft liberty
Is limited to our lafcivious play,
That Mcnelaus is far hence away.
My hufband about great affairs is ported,
Leaving his royal gueft fecurely hofted ;•
His bulinefs was important and material,
Being employ'd about a crown imperial.
And as he now is mounted on his fteed,
Ready on his long journey to proceed :
Even as he queftions to depart or ftay,
Sweet-heart (quoth I) Oh ! be not Icng away.
With that he reach'd me a fweet parting kif?,
(How loth he was to leave me, guefs by this :)
Farewel, fair wife (faith he) bend all thy cares
To my domeftic bufinefs, home-affairs ;
Poems on frveral Qt effort's. 239
But as the thing that I affe&ion beft,
Sweet wife, look, well unto my Trojan gueft.
It was no fooner out, but with much pain
My itching fpleen from laughter I reftrain ;
Which ftriving to keep in, arid bridle ftill,
At length I rung forth thefe few words (I will.)
He's on his journey to the ifle of Crete,
But think not we may therefore fafely meet :
He is fo abfent, that as prefent I
Am ftill within his reach, his ear, his eye ;
And tho' abroad, his power at home commands,
For know you not kings have long-reaching hands?
The fame for beauty you befides have given me,
Into a great exigent hath driven me.
The more your commendation fill'd his ear,
The more juft caufe my hufband hath to fear;
Nor marvel you the king hath left me fo,
Into remote and foreign climes to go :
Much confidence he dares repofe in me,
My carriage, haviour, and my modefty ;
My beauty he miftrufts, my heart relies in ;
My face he fears, my chafte life he affies in.
To take time now when time is, you perfuade me,
And with his apt fit abfence you invade me:
I would but fear, nor is my mind well fet ;
My will would further what my fear doth let.
I have no hulband here, and you no wife;
I love your fhape, you mine, dear as your life.
The nights feem long to fuch as fleep alone,
Our letters meet to interchange our moan.
You judge me beauteous, I eiteem you fair,
Under one roof we lovers lodged arc.
240 Poems on fiver al Occafum.
And (let me die) but every thing confider,
Each thing perfuades us we fhall lie together.
Nothing we fee molcfts us, nought we hear,
And yet my forward will is flack thro' fear.
I would to God, that what you ill perfuade,
You could as well compel ; fo I were made
Unwilling willing, pleafingly abus'd,
So my fimplicity might be excus'd.
Injury's force is oft-times wond'rous pleafmg,
To fuch as fuffer eafe in their difeafing ;
If what I will, you 'gainft my will mould do,
I with fuch force could be well pleafed too.
But whilfl our love is young and in the bud,
Suffer his infant vigour be withftood :
A flame new kindled is as eafily qucnch'd,
And fudden fparks in little drops are drench'd.
A traveller's love is, like himfelf, unftay'd,
And wanders where he walks ; it is not laid
On any firmer ground ; for when we alone
Think him to us, the wind blows fair, he's gone.
Witnefs Hypfipilc^ alike betray'd ;
Witnefs with her the bright Mynoyan maid :
Nay then yourfelf, as you yourfelf have fpoken,
To fair Oenone have your promife broken.
Since I beheld your face firft, my defire
Hath been, of Trojan Paris to enquire.
I know you now in every true refpccl:,
I'll grant you thus much then, fay you affeft
Me (whom you term your own.) I'll go thus far
Do not the Phrygian mariners prepare
Their fails and oars, ev'n now whilft we recite
Exchange of words about the wifhcd night r
Poems on federal Occafan*.
Say that even now you were prepar'd to climb
My long-wifh'd bed, juft at th' appointed time
The wind fhould alter, 'and blow fair for Troy^
You muft break off, in midft of all your joy,
And leave me in the infancy of pleafure ;
Amid my riches, I fhall lofe my treafure.
You will forfake the fweets my bed affords;,
T' exchange for cabins, hatches and pitch'd boards*
Then what a fickle courtfhip you commence,
When, with the firft wind,, all your love blows
hence ?
But fliall I follow you when 5^ou are gone,
And be the grandchild to Laomedon f
And Iliujn fee, whofe beauty you proclaim ?
I do not fo defpife the bruit of fame,
That fhe to whom I am indebt fuch thanks,
Should fill the earth with fuch adulterate pranks,
What will Acbaia ? What will Sparta fay ?
What will your Troy report, and 4Jia?
What my old Prlam^ or his reverend queen ?
What may your fitters, having Helen feen,
Or your Dardanian brothers deem of me ?
Will they not blame my loofe inchaftity ?
Nay, how can you yourfelf faithful deem me.
And not amongft the loofeft dames efteem me?
No ftranger fhall your Afian ports come nearj
But he fhall fill your guilty foul with fear.
Row often) angry at fome fmall offence j
Will you thus fay ; adult'refsj get thee hence ?
Forgetting you yourfelf have been the chief
In my tranigreflion, tho' not in my grief.
Confider what it is, forgetful lover,
To be fin's author, and fin's fharp reprover.
Q.
242 Poems on feveral Qua/ions,
But ere the leaft of all thefe ills betide me,
I wifli the earth may in her bofom hide me.
But I fliall all your Phrygian wealth poflefsj
And more than your epiftle can exprefs :
Gifts, woven gold, imbroidery, rich attire,
Purple and plate, or what I can defire.
Yet give me leave, think you all this extends
To countervail the lofs of my chief friends ?
Whofe friendship, or whofe aid fhall I imploy
To fuccour me, when I am wrong'd in Troy ?
Or whether can I, having thus mifdone,
Unto my father, or my brothers run ?
As much as you to me, falfe Jafon iwore
Unto Medea^ yet from /Efon's door
He after did exile her. Now, poor heart,
Where is thy father that fhould take thy part ?
Old sEtes or Cakiope ? thou took'ft
No aid from them, whom thou before forfook'ft.
Or fay thou didft (alas ! they cannot hear
Thy fad complaints) yet I no fuch thing fear;
No more Medea did : good hopes engage
Themfelves fo far, they fail in their prefage.
You fee the fhips that in the main are tofs'd,
And many times by tempefts wreck'd and loft,
Had, at their launching from the haven's mouth,
A fmooth fea, and a calm gale from the fouth.
Befides, the brand your mother dreamt fhe bare,
The night before your birth, breeds me frefti care.
It prophefy'd, ere many years expire,
Inflamed 'Troy muft burn with Greekijb fire.
As Venus favours you, becaufe fhe gain'd
A doubtful prize by you j yet the difdainM
Poems on feveral Occafions. 243
And vanquifh'd goddefTes, difgrac'd fo late,
May bear you hard ; I therefore fear their hate.
Nor make no queftion, but if I confort you,
And for a ravifher pur Greece report you ;
War will be wag'd with Troy, and you fhall rue
The fword' (alas !) your conqueft fhall purfue.
When Hypodamia^ at her bridal feaft,
Was rudely ravifh'd by her Centaur guefl ;
Becaufe the falvages the bride durft feize,
War grew betwixt them and the Lapythes.
Or think you Menelaus hath no fpleen ?
Or that he hath not power to avenge his teen ?
Or that old Tyndarus this wrong can fmother ?
Or the two famous twins, each lov'd of other ?
So where your valour and rare deeds you boaft,
And warlike fpirits in which you triumph'd moft ;
By which you have attain'd 'mongft foldiers grace,
None will believe you, that but fees your face.
Your feature, and fair fhape, is fitter far
For amorous courtfhips, than remorflefs war.
Let rough-hew'd foldiers warlike dangers prove,
'Tis pity Paris mould do ought fave love.
Heftor (whom you fo praife) for you may fight;
I'll find you war to fkirmifh every night,
Which fhall become you better. Were I wife,
And bold withal, I might obtain the prize :
In fuch fweet fingle combats, hand to hand,
'Gainft which no woman that is wife will ftand.
My champion I'll encounter breaft to breaft,
Tho' I were fure to fall, and be o'erpreft,
If that you private conference intreat me,
I apprehend you, and you cannot cheat me :
244 Poemt on feverai Occafions.
I know the meaning, durft I yield thereto,
Of what you would confer, what you would do.
You are too forward, you too far would wade j
Rut yet (God knows) your harveft's in the blade.
My tired pen fliall here its labour end,
A guilty fenfe in thievifh lines I fend.
Speak next when your occafion beft perfuades,
By Clymenc and &tbra my two maids.
The pajfionate Shepherd to his Love.
Live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleafure prove,
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we fit upon the rocks,
And fee the fhepherds feed their flocks^
By {hallow rivers, by whofe falls
Melodious birds fing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of rofesa
With a thoufand fragrant pofies ;
A. cap of flowers, and a girdle
Imbroider'd all with leaves of myrtle ;
A gown made of the fineft wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull i
Fair lined flippers for the cold,
With buckles of the pureft gold j
A belt of ftraw and ivy buds,
With coral clafps, and amber ftuds.
And if thefc pleafures may thee move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
The fhepherd fwains (hall dance and fing,
For thy delight each May morning.
Pcems on feveral Occafions. 24$
If thefe delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd,
Jf that the world and love were young,
And truth in every fhepherd's tongue ;
Thefe pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When river? rage, and rocks grow cold ;
And Philomel becometh dumb,
And all complain of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yield :
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's fpring, but forrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy (hoes, thy bed of rofes,
Thy cap, thy girdle, and thy pofies ;
Some break, fome wither, fome forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reafon rotten.
Thy belt of ftraw, and ivy buds ;
Thy coral clafps, and amber ftuds ;
All thefe in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.
But could youth laft, and love (till breed,
Had joys no date and age no need ;
Then thefe delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Another of the fame Nature.
Come live with me, and be my dear, •
And we will revel all the year
246 Poems on feveral Occafuns.
In plains and groves, on hills and dales,
Where fragrant air breathes fweeteft gales.
There fhall you have the beauteous pine,
The cedar, and the fpreading vine,
And all the woods to be a fkreen,
Left Phoebus kifs my fummer's queen.
The feat of your difport fhall be,
Over fome river, in a tree ;
Where filver fands and pebbles fing
Eternal ditties to the fpring.
There you fhall fee the nymphs at play,
And how the fatyrs fpend the day :
The fifties gliding on the fands,
Offering their bellies to your hands j
The birds, with heavenly-tuned throats,
PofTefs woods echoes with fweet notes j
Which to your fenfes will impart
A mufick to inflame the heart.
Upon the bare and leaflefs oak,
The ring-doves wooings will provoke
A colder blood than you poflefs,
To play with me, and do no lefs.
In bowers of laurel trimly dight,
We will outwear the filent night,
While Flora bufy is to fpread
Her richeft treafure on our bed.
The glow-worms fhall on you attend,
And all their fparkling lights fhall fpend ;
All to adorn and beautify
Your lodging with moft majcfty :
Then in my arms will I inclofe
Lilies fair mixture with the rofe ;
Whofe.nice perfections in love's plav,
Shall tune me to the higheft key.
Poems on feveral Occajions. 247
Thus as we pafs the welcome night
In fportful pleafures and delight,
The nimble fairies on the grounds
Shall dance and fing melodious founds.1
If thefe may ferve for to intice,
Your prefence to love's paradife j
Then come with me, and be my dear,
And we will ftrait begin the year.
Take, O ! take thofe lips away,
That fo fweetly were forfworn ;
And thofe eyes, the break of day$
Lights which do miilead the morn.
But my kifles bring again,
Seals of love, tho' feal'd in vain*j
Hide, O ! hide thofe hills of fnow,
Which thy frozen bofom bears,
On whofe tops the pinks that grow,
Are of thofe that April wears.
But my poor heart firft fet free,
Bound in thofe icy chains by thee.
Let the bird of loweft lay,
On the fole Arabian tree,
Herald fad, and trumpet be,
To whofe found chafte wings obey,
But thou fhrieking harbinger,
Foul procurer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.
248 Peetns on feveral Qc<afwM.
From this fcflion interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle feather'd king.
Keep the obfequy fo ftrict ;
Let the prieft in furplice white,
That defundtive mufick ken,
Be the death-divining fwan.
Left the requiem lack his right.
And thou treble-dated crow,
That thy fable gender mak'ft,
With the breath thou giv'ft and tak'ft,
'Mongft our mourners flialt thou go.
Here the anthem doth commence,
Love and conftancy is dead,
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they loved as love in twain
Had the eflence but in one;
Two diftin&s but in none ;
Number there in love was {lain :
Hearts remote, yet not afunder,
Diftance, and no fpace was fecn
'Twixt thy turtle and his queen,
But in them it were a wonder.
So between them love did fhine,
That the turtle faw his right
Flaming in the phoenix fight,
Either was the other's mine.
Property was thus appalled,
That the felf was not the fame,
Single natures, double name,
Neither two nor one was called.
Reafon in itfelf confounded,
Saw divifion grow together,
Poems on federal Occaftons. 249
To themfelves yet either neither,
Simple were fo well compounded,
That it cried how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one,
Love hath reafon, reafon none,
If what parts can fo remain.
Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-fupremes and ftars of love,
As chorus to their tragic fcene.
I'hrenes.
Beauty, truth and rarity,
Grace in all fimplicity,
Hence inclofed, in cynders lie:
Death is now the phoenix neft,
And the turtle's loyal breaft
To eternity doth reft ;
Leaving no pofterity,
'Twas not their infirmfty,
It was married chaftity.
Truth may feem, but cannot be ;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not fhe ;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let thofe repair,
That are either true or fair;
For thefe dead birds figh a prayer.
Why fhould this defart be,
For it is unpeopled ? No,
Tongue I'll hang on every tree,
That lhall civil fayings fhow.
R
250 Pot'tns on feveral Occa/icn!,
Some how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the ftretching of a fpan
-Buckles in his fum of age.
Some of violated vows
'Twixt the fouls of friend and friend,
But upon the faireft boughs,
Or at every fentence' end
Will I Rofalinda write j
Teaching all that read to know,
The quinteflence of every fprite,
Heaven would in little (how.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd,
Tint one body fliould be fill'd
With ill graces wide enlarg'd ;
Nature prefently diftill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majefty ;
Atalantas better part,
Sad Luirttia's modefty.
Thus Rofalind of many parts,
By heavenly fynods was devis'd,
Of many faces, eyes and hearts,
To have die touches deareft priz'd.
Heaven would thcfe gifts (he fhould have,
And I to live and die her flave.
HE END.
A 000 062 885 9
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