LYRICS: THOMAS STANLEY
I. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1647.
The Dream.
That I might ever dream thus! that some power
To my eternal sleep would join this hour!
So, willingly deceiv’d, I might possess
In seeming joys a real happiness.
Haste not away: O do not dissipate5
A pleasure thou so lately didst create!
Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin’d:
Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.
Despair.
No, no, poor blasted Hope!
Since I (with thee) have lost the scope
Of all my joys, I will no more
Vainly implore
The unrelenting Destinies:5
He that can equally sustain
The strong assaults of joy and pain,
May safely laugh at their decrees.
Despair, to thee I bow,
Whose constancy disdains t’allow10
Those childish passions that destroy
Our fickle joy;
How cruel Fates so e’er appear,
Their harmless anger I despise,
And fix’d, can neither fall nor rise,15
Thrown below hope, but rais’d ’bove fear.
The Picture.
Thou that both feel’st and dost admire
The flames shot from a painted fire,
Know Celia’s image thou dost see:
Not to herself more like is she.
He that should both together view5
Would judge both pictures, or both true.
But thus they differ: the best part
Of Nature this is; that of Art.
Opinion.
Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow’d rays
That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise?
Why should rude feet contemn the snow’s chaste white,
Which from the sun receives a sparkling light,
Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth5
Decks the green garment of the richer earth?
Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice
Congeal’d, why do weak judgements so despise?
Which, melting, show that to impartial sight
Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright.10
But Fancy those first priz’d, and these did scorn,
Taking their praise the other to adorn.
Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave
To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave;
Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense,15
Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.
II. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1651.
The Cure.
Nymph.
What busy cares, too timely born,
Young swain! disturb thy sleep?
Thy early sighs awake the morn,
Thy tears teach her to weep.
Shepherd.
Sorrows, fair nymph, are full alone,5
Nor counsel can endure.
Nymph.
Yet thine disclose; for, until known,
Sickness admits no cure.
Shepherd.
My griefs are such as but to hear
Would poison all thy joys;10
The pity which thou seem’st to bear
My health, thine own destroys.
How can diseased minds infect?
Say what thy grief doth move!
Shepherd.
Call up thy virtue to protect15
Thy heart, and know—’twas love.
Nymph.
Fond swain!
Shepherd.
By which I have been long
Destin’d to meet with hate.
Nymph.
Fie! shepherd, fie! thou dost love wrong,
To call thy crime thy fate.20
Shepherd.
Alas! what cunning could decline,
What force can love repel?
Nymph.
Yet there’s a way to unconfine
Thy heart.
Shepherd.
For pity, tell.
Choose one whose love may be assur’d25
By thine: who ever knew
Inveterate diseases cur’d
But by receiving new?
Shepherd.
All will, like her, my soul perplex.
Nymph.
Yet try.
Shepherd.
Oh, could there be30
But any softness in that sex,
I’d wish it were in thee!
Nymph.
Thy prayer is heard: learn now t’esteem
The kindness she hath shown,
Who, thy lost freedom to redeem,35
Hath forfeited her own.
To the Countess of S[underland?] with the Holy Court.[1:1]
Since every place you bless, the name
This book assumes may justlier claim.
(What more a court than where you shine?
And where your soul, what more divine?)
You may perhaps doubt at first sight5
That it usurps upon your right;
And praising virtues that belong
To you, in others, doth you wrong.
No, ’tis yourself you read, in all
Perfections earlier ages call10
Their own; all glories they e’er knew
Were but faint prophecies of you.
You then have here sole interest, whom ’tis meant
As well to entertain, as represent.
Drawn For Valentine by the L[ady] D[orothy] S[pencer?].[2:1]
Though ’gainst me Love and Destiny conspire,
Though I must waste in an unpitied fire,
By the same deity, severe as fair,
Commanded adoration and despair;
Though I am mark’d for sacrifice, to tell5
The growing age what dangerous glories dwell
In this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays,
Will challenge every heart, and every praise;
Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim,
By Fortune’s taught indulgence to my flame,10
Great Queen of Chance! unjustly we exclude
Thy power an interest in beatitude,
Who with mysterious judgement dost dispense
The bounties of unerring Providence;
Whilst we, to whom the causes are unknown,15
Would style that blindness thine, which is our own.
As kind, in justice to thyself, as me,
Thou hast redeem’d thy name and votary:
Nor will I prize this less for being thine,
Nor longer at my destiny repine.20
Counsel and choice are things below thy state:
Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate.
III. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1657 [JOHN GAMBLE’S AYRES AND DIALOGUES] HAVING NO TITLES.
On this Swelling Bank.
On this swelling bank, once proud
Of its burden, Doris lay:
Here she smil’d, and did uncloud
Those bright suns eclipse the day;
Here we sat, and with kind art5
She about me twin’d her arms,
Clasp’d in hers my hand and heart,
Fetter’d in those pleasing charms.
Here my love and joys she crown’d,
Whilst the hours stood still before me,10
With a killing glance did wound,
And a melting kiss restore me.
On the down of either breast,
Whilst with joy my soul retir’d,
My reclining head did rest,15
Till her lips new life inspir’d.
Thus, renewing of these sights
Doth with grief and pleasure fill me,
And the thought of these delights
Both at once revive and kill me!20
Dear, fold me once more in thine arms!
And let me know
Before I go
There is no bliss but in those charms.
By thy fair self I swear5
That here, and only here,
I would for ever, ever stay:
But cruel Fate calls me away.
How swiftly the light minutes slide!
The hours that haste10
Away thus fast
By envious flight my stay do chide.
Yet, Dear, since I must go,
By this last kiss I vow,
By all that sweetness which dwells with thee,[3:1]15
Time shall move slow, till next I see thee.
The Lazy Hours.
The lazy hours move slow,
The minutes stay;
Old Time with leaden feet doth go,
And his light wings hath cast away.
The slow-pac’d spheres above5
Have sure releas’d
Their guardians, and without help move,
Whilst that the very angels rest.
The number’d sands that slide
Through this small glass,10
And into minutes Time divide,
Too slow each other do displace;
The tedious wheels of light
No faster chime,
Than that dull shade which waits on night:15
For Expectation outruns Time.
How long, Lord, must I stay?
How long dwell here?
O free me from this loathed clay!
Let me no more these fetters wear!20
With far more joy
Shall I resign my breath,
For, to my griev’d soul, not to die
Is every minute a new death.
IV. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITIONS OF 1647 AND 1651.
Love’s Innocence.[4:1]
See how this ivy strives to twine[4:2]
Her wanton arms about the vine,
And her coy lover thus restrains,
Entangled in her amorous chains;
See how these neighb’ring palms do bend5
Their heads, and mutual murmurs send,
As whispering with a jealous fear[4:3]
Their loves into each other’s ear.
|
Then blush not such a flame to own As, like thyself, no crime hath known;10 Led by these harmless guides, we may Embrace and kiss as well as they. | } | [4:4] |
And like those blessed souls above,
Whose life is harmony and love,
Let us our mutual thoughts betray,15
And in our wills our minds display.
This silent speech is swifter far
Than the ears’ lazy species are;
And the expression it affords
(As our desires,) ’bove reach of words.20
Thus we, my Dear, of these may learn[4:5]
A passion others not discern;
Nor can it shame or blushes move,
Like plants to live, like angels love:
Since all excuse with equal innocence25
What above reason is, or beneath sense.
The Dedication.[5:1]
To Love.
Thou whose sole name all passions doth comprise:
Youngest and eldest of the Deities,
Born without parents, whose unbounded reign
Moves the firm earth, fixeth the floating main,
Inverts the course of heaven, and from the deep5
Awakes those souls that in dark Lethe sleep,
By thy mysterious chains seeking t’unite,
Once more, the long-since-torn hermaphrodite!
He who thy willing prisoner long was vow’d,
And uncompell’d beneath thy sceptre bow’d,10
Returns at last in thy soft fetters bound,
With victory, though not with freedom, crown’d:
And, (of his dangers past a grateful sign,)
Suspends this tablet at thy numerous shrine.
The Glow-Worm.
Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark
This animated gem,[6:1] whose fainter spark
Of fading light, its birth had from the dark:
A star thought by the erring[6:2] passenger
Which falling from its native orb, dropped here,5
And makes the earth, its centre, now its sphere.
Should many of these sparks together be,
He that the unknown light far off should see
Would think it a terrestrial galaxy.
Take ’t up, fair Saint; see how it mocks thy fright;10
The paler flame doth not yield heat, though light,
Which thus deceives[6:3] thy reason, through thy sight.
But see how quickly it, ta’en up, doth fade,
(To shine in darkness only being made),
By th’ brightness of thy light turn’d to a shade,15
And burnt to ashes by thy flaming eyes!
On the chaste altar of thy hand it dies,
As to thy greater light a sacrifice.
To Chariessa,[7:1]
Desiring her to Burn his Verses.
These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath
Condemn, thy hand unto the flames bequeath;
’Tis fit who gave them life, should give them death.
And whilst[7:2] in curled flames to heaven they rise,
Each trembling sheet shall, as it upwards flies,5
Present itself to thee a sacrifice.
Then when above[7:3] its native orb it came,
And reach’d the lesser lights o’ th’ sky, this flame,
Contracted to a star, should wear thy name,
Or falling down on earth from its bright sphere,10
Shall in a diamond’s shape its lustre bear,
And trouble (as it did before) thine ear.
But thou wilt cruel even in mercy be,
Unequal in thy justice, who dost free
Things without sense from flames, and yet not me!15
On Mr. Fletcher’s Works [1647].[8:1]
Fletcher, whose fame no age can ever waste,
(Envy of ours, and glory of the last,)
Is now alive again; and with his name
His sacred ashes wak’d into a flame
Such as before could[8:2] by a secret charm5
The wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm,
And lend the ladies’ eyes a power more bright,
Dispensing thus, to either, heat and light.
He to a sympathy those souls betray’d
Whom love or beauty never could persuade;10
And in each mov’d spectator did[8:3] beget
A real passion by a counterfeit.
When first Bellario bled, what lady there
Did not for every drop let fall a tear?
And when Aspasia wept, not any eye15
But seem’d to wear the same sad livery;
By him inspir’d, the feign’d Lucina drew
More streams of melting sorrow than the true;
But then The Scornful Lady did[8:4] beguile
Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile.20
Thus he affections could or raise or lay;
Love, grief, and mirth thus did his charms obey:
He Nature taught her passions to out-do,
How to refine the old, and create new;
Which such a happy likeness seem’d to bear,25
As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were.
Yet all had nothing been, obscurely kept
In the same urn wherein his dust hath slept;
Nor had he risen[8:5] the Delphic wreath to claim,
Had with[8:6] the dying scene expir’d his name.30
O the indulgent justice of this age,
To grant the press what it denies the stage!
Despair our joy hath doubled: he is come
Twice welcome by this post liminium.
His loss preserv’d him; they that silenc’d wit35
Are now the authors to eternize it.
Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv’d,
And plays, by intermission, longer liv’d.
To the Lady D[ormer].[9:1]
Madam! the blushes I betray,
When at your feet I humbly lay
These papers, beg you would excuse
Th’ obedience of a bashful Muse,
Who, bowing to your strict command,5
Trusts her own errors to your hand,
Hasty abortives, which, laid by,
She meant, ere they were born, should die:
But since the soft power of your breath
Hath call’d them back again from death,10
To your sharp judgement now made known,
She dares for hers no longer own;
The worst she must not: these resign’d
She hath to th’ fire; and where you find
Those your kind charity admir’d,15
She writ but what your eyes inspir’d.
To Mr. W[illiam] Hammond.
Thou best of Friendship, Knowledge, and of Art!
The charm of whose lov’d name preserves my heart
From female vanities, (thy name, which there
Till time dissolves the fabric, I must wear!)
Forgive a crime which long my soul oppress’d,5
And crept by chance in my unwary breast,
So great, as for thy pardon were unfit,
And to forgive were worse than to commit,
But that the fault and pain were so much one,
The very act did expiate what was done.10
I, who so often sported with the flame,
Play’d with the Boy, and laugh’d at both as tame,
Betray’d by idleness and beauty, fell
At last in love, love both the sin and hell:
No punishment great as my fault esteem’d,15
But to be that which I so long had seem’d.
Behold me such: a face, a voice, a lute;
The sentence in a minute execute.
I yield, recant; the faith which I before
Deny’d, profess; the power I scorn’d, implore.20
Alas, in vain! no prayers, no vows can bow
Her stubborn heart, who neither will allow.
But see how strangely what was meant no less
Than torment, prov’d my greatest happiness;
Delay, that should have sharpen’d, starv’d Desire,25
And Cruelty not fann’d, but quench’d my fire.
Love bound me; now, by kind Disdain set free,
I can despise that Love as well as she.
That sin to friendship I away have thrown!
My heart thou may’st without a rival own,[10:1]30
While such as willingly themselves beguile,
And sell away their freedoms for a smile,
Blush to confess our joys as far above
Their hopes, as friendship’s longer-liv’d than love.
On Mr. Shirley’s Poems [1646].[11:1]
When, dearest Friend, thy verse doth re-inspire
Love’s pale decaying torch with brighter fire,
Whilst everywhere thou dost dilate thy flame,
And to the world spread thy Odelia’s name,
The justice of all ages must remit5
To her the prize of beauty, thee of wit.
Then, like some skilful artist, that to wonder[11:2]
Framing some[11:3] piece, displeas’d, takes it asunder,
Thou Beauty dost depose, her charms deny,
And all the mystic chains of Love untie.10
Thus thy diviner Muse a power ’bove Fate
May boast, that can both make and uncreate.
Next, thou call’st back to life that love-sick boy,
To the kind-hearted nymphs less fair than coy,
Who, by reflex beams burnt with vain desire,15
Did, phœnix-like, in his own flames expire;
But should he view his shadow drawn by thee,
He with himself once more in love would be.
Echo, (who though she words[11:4] pursue, her haste
Can only overtake and stop the last,)20
Shall her first speech and human voice[11:5] obtain,
To sing thy softer numbers o’er again.
Thus, into dying poetry, thy Muse
Doth full perfection and new life infuse.
Each line deserves a laurel, and thy praise25
Asks not a garland, but a grove of bays;
Nor can ours raise thy lasting trophies higher,
Who only reach at merit to admire.
But I must chide thee, friend: how canst thou be
A patron, yet a foe to Poesy?[11:6]30
|
For while thou dost this age to verse restore, Thou dost deprive the next of owning more; | } |
[11:7] |
And hast so far all future times surpass’d,[11:8]
That none dare write: thus, being first and last,
All their abortive Muses will suppress,35
And Poetry, by this increase, grow less.
On Mr. Sherburne’s Translation of Seneca’s Medea, and Vindication of the Author [1647-8].[12:1]
That wise philosopher who had design’d
To [th’] life the various passions of the mind,
Did wrong’d Medea’s jealousy prefer
To entertain the Roman theatre;
Both to instruct the soul, and please the sight,5
At once begetting horror and delight.
This cruelty thou dost once more express
Though in a strange, no less becoming dress;
And her revenge hast robb’d of half its pride,
To see itself thus by itself outvied,10
That boldest ages past may say, our times
Can speak, as well as act, their highest crimes.
Nor was’t enough to do his scene this right,
But what thou gav’st to us, with equal light
Thou wouldst bestow on him, nor wert more just15
Unto the author’s work, than to his dust.
Thou dost make good his title, aid his claim,
Both vindicate his poem and his name,
So shar’st a double wreath; for all that we
Unto the poet[12:2] owe, he owes to thee.20
Though change of tongues stol’n praise to some afford,
Thy version hath not borrow’d, but restor’d.
On Mr. Hall’s Essays [Horae Vacivae, 1646].[13:1]
Wits that matur’d by time have courted praise,
Shall see their works outdone in these essays,
And blush to know thy earlier years display
A dawning clearer than their brightest day.[13:2]
Yet I’ll not praise thee, for thou hast outgrown5
The reach of all men’s praises but thine own.
Encomiums to their objects are exact:
To praise, and not at full, is to detract.
And with most justice are the best forgot;
For praise is bounded when the theme is not:10
Since mine is thus confin’d, and far below
Thy merit, I forbear it, nor will show
How poor the autumnal pride of some appears,[13:3]
To the ripe fruit thy vernal season bears!
Yet though I mean no praise, I come t’invite15
Thy forward aims still to advance their flight.
Rise higher yet; what though thy spreading wreath
Lessen, to their dull sight who stay beneath?
To thy full learning how can all allow
Just praise, unless that all were learn’d as thou?20
Go on, in spite of such low souls, and may
Thy growing worth know age, though not decay,
Till thou pay back thy theft, and live to climb
As many years as thou hast snatch’d from Time.
On Sir J[ohn] S[uckling] his Picture and Poems [1646].[14:1]
Suckling, whose numbers could invite
Alike to wonder and delight,
And with new spirit did inspire
The Thespian scene, and Delphic lyre,
Is thus express’d in either part,5
Above the humble reach of Art.
Drawn by the pencil, here you find
His form; by his own pen, his mind.
Answer [to “The Union,” Poem addressed to Stanley by his Friend and Tutor, William Fairfax].[15:1]
If we are one, dear Friend! why shouldst thou be
At once unequal to thyself and me?
By thy release thou swell’st my debt the more,
And dost but rob thyself to make me poor.
What part can I have in thy luminous cone,5
What flame, since my love’s thine, can call my own,
(The palest star is less the son of night,)
Who but thy borrow’d know no native light?[15:2]
Was’t not enough thou freely didst bestow
The Muse, but thou must[15:3] give the laurel too,10
And twice my aims by thy assistance raise,
Conferring first the merit, then the praise?
But I should do thee greater injury,
Did I believe this praise were meant to me,
Or thought, though thou hast worth enough to spare15
T’enrich another soul, that mine should share.
Thy Muse, seeming to lend, calls home her fame,
And her due wreath doth, in renouncing, claim.
V. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITIONS OF 1647 AND 1657 [GAMBLE].
The Blush.
So fair Aurora doth herself discover
(Asham’d o’ th’ aged bed of her cold lover,)
In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light
Betrays her early shame to the world’s sight.
Such a bright colour doth the morning rose5
Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose
Half drown’d in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear
Of night doth like a dissolv’d pearl appear;
Yet ’twere in vain a colour out to seek
To parallel my Chariessa’s cheek;10
Less are compar’d[16:1] with greater, and these seem
To blush like her, not she to blush like them.
But whence, fair soul, this passion? what pretence
Had guilt to stain thy spotless innocence?
Those only this feel who have guilty been,15
Not any blushes know, but who know[16:2] sin.
Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame,
That knows no cause, know no effects of shame.
Such icy kisses, anchorites that live
Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give;
And those[17:1] cold maids on whom Love never spent
His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,
To their expiring fathers such bequeath,5
Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath:
The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice
Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice.
Fie, Chariessa! whence so chang’d of late,
As to become in love a reprobate?10
Quit, quit this dulness, Fairest, and make known
A flame unto me equal with mine[17:2] own.
Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon
Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone,
Let’s once more join our lips,[17:3] and thou shalt see15
That by the flame of mine ’twill melted be.
The Idolater.
Think not, pale lover, he who dies
Burnt in the flames of Celia’s eyes,
Is unto Love a sacrifice;
Or, by the merit of this pain,
Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain!5
Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain.
For when, by death, from[18:1] these flames free,
To greater thou condemn’d shalt be,
And punish’d for idolatry,
Since thou, Love’s votary before,10
(Whilst she[18:2] was kind,) dost him no more,
But, in his shrine, Disdain adore.
Nor will this fire the gods prepare
To punish scorn, that cruel Fair,
Though now from flames exempted, spare;15
But as together both shall die,
Both burnt alike in flames shall lie,
She in thy heart,[18:3] thou in her eye.
The Magnet.
Ask the empress of the night
How the Hand which guides her sphere,
Constant in unconstant light,
Taught the waves her yoke to bear,
And did thus by loving force5
Curb or tame the rude sea’s course.
Ask the female palm how she
First did woo her husband’s love;
And the magnet, ask how he[19:1]
Doth th’ obsequious iron move;10
Waters, plants, and stones know this:
That they love; not what Love is.
Be not thou[19:2] less kind than these,
Or from Love exempt alone!
Let us twine like amorous trees,15
And like rivers melt in one.
Or, if thou more cruel prove,
Learn of steel and stones to love.
On a Violet in her Breast.
See how this violet, which before
Hung sullenly her drooping head,
As angry at the ground that bore
The purple treasure which she spread,
Doth smilingly erected grow,5
Transplanted to those hills of snow.
And whilst the pillows of thy breast
Do her reclining head sustain,
She swells with pride to be so blest,
And doth all other flowers disdain;10
Yet weeps that dew which kissed her last,
To see her odours so surpass’d.
Poor flower! how far deceiv’d thou wert,
To think the riches of the morn
Or all the sweets she can impart.15
Could these or sweeten or adorn,
Since thou from them dost borrow scent,
And they to thee lend ornament!
Foolish Lover, go and seek
For the damask of the rose,
And the lilies white dispose
To adorn thy mistress’ cheek;
Steal some star out of the sky,5
Rob the phœnix, and the east
Of her wealthy sweets divest,
To enrich her breath or eye!
We thy borrow’d pride despise:
For this wine to which we are10
Votaries, is richer far
Than her cheek, or breath, or eyes.
And should that coy fair one view
These diviner beauties, she
In this flame would rival thee,15
And be taught to love thee too.
Come, then, break thy wanton chain,
That when this brisk wine hath spread
On thy paler cheek a red,
Thou, like us, may’st Love disdain.20
Love, thy power must yield to wine!
And whilst thus ourselves we arm,
Boldly we defy thy charm:
For these flames extinguish[20:1] thine.
I go, dear Saint, away,
Snatch’d from thy arms
By far less pleasing charms,
Than those I did[21:1] obey;
But if hereafter thou shalt know5
That grief hath kill’d me, come,[21:2]
And on my tomb
Drop, drop a tear or two;
Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep,
And I shall smile in death to see thee weep.10
Thy tears may have the power
To reinspire
My ashes with new fire,
Or change me to some flower,
Which, planted ’twixt thy breasts, shall grow:15
Veil’d in this shape, I will
Dwell with thee still,
Court, kiss, enjoy thee too:
Securely we’ll contemn[21:3] all envious force,
And thus united be by death’s divorce.20
Counsel.
When deceitful lovers lay
At thy feet their suppliant hearts,
And their snares spread to betray
Thy best treasure[22:1] with their arts,
Credit not their flatt’ring vows:5
Love such perjury allows.
When they with the[22:2] choicest wealth
Nature boasts of, have possess’d thee;
When with flowers (their verses’ stealth),
Stars, or jewels they invest thee,[22:3]10
Trust not to their borrow’d store:
’Tis but lent to make thee poor.
When with poems[22:4] they invade thee,
Sing thy praises or disdain;
When they weep, and would persuade thee15
That their flames beget that rain;
Let thy breast no baits let in:
Mercy’s only here a sin!
Let no tears or offerings move thee,
All those cunning charms avoid;20
For that wealth for which they love thee,
They would slight if once enjoy’d.
|
Guard thy unrelenting mind! None are cruel but the kind. | } | [22:5] |
Expostulation with Love, in Despair.
|
Love! what tyrannic laws must they obey Who bow beneath thy uncontrolled sway! Or how unjust will that harsh empire prove Forbids to hope and yet commands to love! | } | [23:1] |
Must all are to thy hell condemn’d sustain5
A double torture of despair and pain?
Is’t not enough vainly to hope and woo,
That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?
It were some joy,[23:2] Ixion-like, to fold
The empty air, or feed on thoughts as cold;[23:3]10
But if thou to my passion this deny,
Thou may’st be starv’d to death as well as I;
For how can thy pale sickly flame burn clear
When death and cold despair inhabit here?[23:4]
Then let thy dim heat warm, or else expire;[23:5]15
Dissolve this frost, or let that quench the[23:6] fire.
Thus let me not desire, or else possess!
Neither, or both, are equal happiness.[23:7]
Song.
Faith, ’tis not worth thy pains and care
To seek t’ensnare
A heart so poor as mine:[24:1]
Some fools there be
Hate liberty,5
Who[m] with more ease thou may’st confine.
Alas! when with much charge thou hast
Brought it at last
Beneath thy power to bow,
It will adore10
Some twenty more,
And that, perhaps, you’d[24:2] not allow.
No, Chloris, I no more will prove
The curse of love,
And now can boast a heart15
Hath learn’d of thee
Inconstancy,
And cozen’d women of their art.
Expectation.
Chide, chide no more away
The fleeting daughters of the day,
Nor with impatient thoughts outrun
The lazy sun,
Nor[25:1] think the hours do move too slow;5
Delay is kind,
And we too soon shall find
That which we seek, yet fear to know.
The mystic dark decrees
Unfold not of the Destinies,10
Nor boldly seek to antedate
The laws of Fate;
Thy anxious search awhile forbear,
Suppress thy haste,
And know that Time at last15
Will crown thy hope, or fix thy fear.
VI. LYRICS PRINTED IN ALL ORIGINAL EDITIONS OF STANLEY.
The Breath.
Favonius, the milder breath o’ th’ Spring,
When proudly bearing on his softer wing
Rich odours, which from the Panchean groves
He steals, as by the phœnix-pyre he moves,
Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispense5
To the next rose’s blushing innocence;
But from the grateful flower, a richer scent
He doth receive[26:1] than he unto it lent.
Then, laden with his odour’s richest store,
He to thy breath hastes, to which these are poor;10
Which, whilst the amorous wind[26:2] to steal essays,
He like a wanton lover ’bout thee plays,
And sometimes cooling thy soft cheek doth lie,
And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye:
Drawn in at last by that breath we implore,15
He now[26:3] returns far sweeter than before,
And rich by being robb’d, in thee he finds
The burning sweets of pyres, the cool of winds.
Chariessa.[27:1] What if Night
Should betray us, and reveal
To the light
All the pleasures that we steal?
Philocharis. Fairest! we5
Safely may this fear despise:
How can she
See our actions, who wants eyes?
Chariessa. Each dim star,
And the clearer lights, we know,10
Night’s eyes are:
They were blind that thought her so!
Philocharis. Those pale fires
Only burn to yield a light
T’ our desires;15
And, though blind, to give us sight.
Chariessa. By this shade
That surrounds us, might our flame
Be betray’d!
And the day disclose its name.20
Philocharis. Dearest Fair!
These dark witnesses, we find,
Silent are:
Night is dumb, as well as blind.
Then whilst these black shades conceal us,25
We will scorn
Th’ envious morn,
And the sun that would reveal us.
Our flames shall thus their mutual light betray,
And night, with these joys crown’d, outshine the day.30
Unalter’d by Sickness.
|
Pale envious Sickness, hence! no more Possess her breast, too cold before. In vain, alas, thou dost invade A beauty that can never fade. | } | [28:1] |
Could all thy malice but impair5
One o’ th’ sweets which crown her fair;[28:2]
Or steal the spirits from her eye;
Or kiss into a paler dye
The blooming[28:3] roses of her cheek;
Our suffering[28:4] hopes might justly seek10
Redress from thee, and thou mightst save
Thousands of lovers from the grave.
But such assaults are vain, for she
Is too divine to stoop to thee,
Blest with a form as much too high15
For any change, as[28:5] Destiny,
Which no attempt can violate:
For what’s her beauty is our fate.
EXCUSE FOR WISHING HER LESS FAIR.[29:1]
Why thy passion should it move
That I wished thy beauty less?
Fools desire what is above
Power of nature to express;
And to wish it had been more5
Had been to outwish her store.
If the flames within thine eye
Did not too great heat inspire,
|
Men might languish, yet not die, At thy less ungentle fire,10 | } |
[29:2] |
And might on thy weaker light
Gaze, and yet not lose their sight.
Nor wouldst thou less fair appear,
For detraction adds to thee;
If some parts less beauteous were,15
Others would much fairer be;
Nor can any part we know
Best be styl’d, when all are so.
Thus this great excess of light,
Which now dazzles our weak eyes,20
Would, eclips’d, appear more bright;
And the only way to rise,
Or to be more fair, for[29:3] thee,
Celia! is less fair to be.
Celia, Sleeping or Singing.[30:1]
Roses, in breathing forth their scent,
Or stars their borrowed ornament;
Nymphs in the watery sphere that move,
Or angels in their orbs above;
The winged chariot of the light,5
Or the slow silent wheels of night;
The shade which from the swifter sun
Doth in a circular motion run,
Or souls that their eternal rest do keep,
Make far more[30:2] noise than Celia’s breath in sleep.10
But if the angel which inspires
This subtle frame[30:3] with active fires,
Should mould this[30:4] breath to words, and those
Into a harmony dispose,
The music of this heavenly sphere15
Would steal each soul out at the ear,
And into plants and stones infuse
A life that cherubim[30:5] would choose,
And with new powers[30:6] invert the laws of fate:
Kill those that live, and dead things animate.20
Palinode.[31:1]
Beauty, thy harsh imperious chains
As a scorn’d weight, I here untie,
Since thy proud empire those disdains
Of reason or philosophy,
That would[31:2] within tyrannic laws5
Confine the power of each free cause.
Forc’d by the potent[31:3] influence
Of thy disdain, I back return:
Thus with those flames I do dispense
Which, though they would not light, did burn,10
And rather will through cold expire,
Than languish at[31:4] a frozen fire.
But whilst I the insulting pride
Of thy vain beauty do despise,
Who gladly wouldst be deified15
By making me thy sacrifice,
May Love thy heart which to his charm
Approach’d, seem’d cold, at distance warm!
The Return.
Beauty, whose soft magnetic chains
Nor time nor absence can untie,[32:1]
Thy power the narrow bound[32:2] disdains
Of Nature or Philosophy;
Thou[32:3] canst by unconfined laws5
A motion, though at distance, cause.
Drawn by the powerful[32:4] influence
Of thy bright eyes, I back return;
And since I nowhere can dispense
With flames that[32:5] do in absence burn,10
I rather choose ’twixt[32:6] them t’expire,
Than languish by a hidden fire.
But if thou th’[32:7] insulting pride
Of vulgar beauties dost despise,
Who, by vain triumphs deified,15
Their votaries do sacrifice,
Then let those flames, whose magic charm
At distance scorch’d, approach’d, but warm.
Chang’d, Yet Constant.
Wrong me no more
In thy complaint,
Blam’d for inconstancy:
I vow’d t’ adore
The fairest Saint,5
Nor chang’d whilst thou wert she:
But if another thee outshine,
Th’ inconstancy is only thine!
To be by such
Blind fools admir’d10
Gives thee but small esteem,
By whom as much
Thou’dst be desir’d,
Didst thou less beauteous seem.
Sure, why they love they know not well,15
Who why they should not, cannot tell!
Women are by
Themselves betray’d,
And to their short joys cruel,
Who foolishly20
Themselves persuade
Flames can outlast their fuel;
None (though platonic their pretence),
With reason love, unless by sense.
And he,[33:1] by whose25
Command to thee
I did my heart resign,
Now bids me choose
A deity
Diviner far than thine;30
No power can Love from Beauty sever:
I’m still Love’s subject; thine was, never.
The fairest she
Whom none surpass,
To love hath only right;35
And such to me
Thy beauty was,
Till one I found more bright;
But ’twere as impious to adore
Thee now, as not to have done ’t before.40
Nor is it just
By rules of Love,
Thou shouldst deny to quit
A heart that must
Another’s prove45
Even in thy right to it;
Must not thy subjects captives be
To her who triumphs over thee?
Cease, then, in vain
To blot my name50
With forg’d apostasy!
Thine is that stain
Who dar’st to claim
What others ask of thee.
Of lovers they are only true55
Who pay their hearts where hearts[33:2] are due.
To Chariessa,
Beholding herself in a Glass.[34:1]
Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away;
Not in its crystal face thine own survey.
What can be free from Love’s imperious laws,
When painted shadows real flames can cause?
The fires may burn thee from this mirror rise,5
By the reflected beams of thine own eyes;
And thus at last fall’n with thyself in love,
Thou wilt my rival, thine own[34:2] martyr, prove.
But if thou dost desire thy form to view,
Look in my heart, where Love thy picture drew,10
And then, if pleas’d with thine own shape thou be,
Learn how to love thyself by[34:3] loving me.
When I lie burning in thine eye,
Or freezing in thy breast,
What martyrs, in wish’d flames that die,
Are half so pleas’d or blest?
When thy soft accents through mine ear5
Into my soul do fly,
What angel would not quit his sphere,
To hear such harmony?
Or when the kiss thou gav’st me last
My soul stole in its breath,10
What life would sooner be embrac’d
Than so desir’d a death?
|
When I commanded am by thee, (Or by thine eye or hand,) What monarch would not prouder be15 To serve than to command? | } | [35:1] |
Then think not[35:2] freedom I desire,
Or would my fetters leave,
Since, phœnix-like, I from this fire
Both life and youth receive.20
Fool! take up thy shaft again.
If thy store
Thou profusely spend in vain,
Who can furnish thee with more?
Throw not then away thy darts5
On impenetrable hearts.
Think not thy pale flame can warm
Into tears,
Or dissolve the snowy charm
Which her frozen bosom wears,10
That expos’d unmelted lies
To the bright suns of her eyes.
But since thou thy power hast lost,
Nor canst fire
Kindle in that breast, whose frost15
Doth these flames in mine inspire;
Not to thee but her I’ll sue,
That disdains both me and you!
Delay.
Delay! Alas, there cannot be
To Love a greater tyranny:
Those cruel beauties that have slain
Their votaries by their disdain,
Or studied torments sharp and witty.5
Will be recorded for their pity,
And after-ages be misled
To think them kind, when this is spread.
Of deaths the speediest is despair;
Delays the slowest tortures are;10
Thy cruelty at once destroys,
But expectation starves my joys.
Time and Delay may bring me past
The power of Love to cure, at last;
And shouldst thou wish to ease my pain,15
Thy pity might be lent in vain.
Or if thou hast decreed that I
Must fall[36:1] beneath thy cruelty,
O kill me soon! Thou wilt express
More mercy, ev’n in showing less.20
The Repulse.
Not that by this disdain
I am releas’d,
And, freed from thy romantic[37:1] chain,
Do I myself think blest;
Not that thy flame shall burn5
No more; for know
That I shall into ashes turn
Before this fire doth so.
Nor yet that unconfin’d
I now may rove,10
And with new beauties please my mind;
But that thou ne’er didst love!
For since thou hast no part
Felt of this flame,
I only from thy tyrant heart15
Repuls’d, not banish’d, am.
To lose what once was mine
Would grieve me more
Than those inconstant sweets of thine
Had pleas’d my soul before.20
Now I’ve not lost that[37:2] bliss
I ne’er possessed;
And, spite of Fate, am blest in this:
That I was never blest.
Song.
Celinda, by what potent art
Or unresisted charm,
Dost thou thine ear and frozen heart
Against my passion arm?
Or by what hidden influence5
Of powers in one combin’d,
Dost thou rob Love of either sense,
Made deaf as well as blind?
Sure thou as friends[38:1] united hast
Two distant deities,10
And scorn within thy heart hast plac’d,
And love within thine eyes;
Or those soft fetters of thy hair,
(A bondage that disdains
All liberty,) do guard thine ear15
Free from all other chains.
Then my complaint how canst thou hear,
Or I this passion fly,
Since thou imprison’d hast thine ear,
And not confin’d thine eye?20
The Tomb.
When, cruel fair one, I am slain
By thy disdain,
And as a trophy of thy scorn
To some old tomb am borne,
Thy fetters must their power bequeath5
To those of Death;
Nor can thy flame immortal burn
Like monumental fires within an urn.
Thus freed from thy proud empire, I shall prove
There is more liberty in Death than Love.10
And when forsaken lovers come
To see my tomb,
Take heed thou mix not with the crowd,
And, as a victor, proud
To view the spoils thy beauty made,15
Press near my shade!
Lest thy too cruel breath, or name,
Should fan my ashes back into a flame.
|
And thou, devour’d by this revengeful fire, His sacrifice, who died as thine, expire.20 | } |
[39:1] |
Or should my dust thy pity move
That could not, love,
Thy sighs might wake me, and thy tears
Renew my life and years;
Or should thy proud insulting scorn25
Laugh at my urn,
Kindly deceiv’d by thy disdain,
I might be smil’d into new life again.
Then come not near: since both thy love and hate
Have equal power to kill[39:2] or animate.30
But if cold earth or marble must
Conceal my dust,
Whilst, hid in some dark ruins, I
Dumb and forgotten lie,
The pride of all thy victory35
Will sleep with me;
And they who should attest thy glory
Will or forget, or not believe this story.
Then, to increase thy triumph, let me rest,
(Since by thine eye slain,) buried in thy breast!40
PLEADING WANT OF MERIT.[40:1]
Dear, urge no more the killing cause
Of our divorce:
Love is not fetter’d by such laws,
Nor bows to any force.
Though thou deniest I should be thine,5
Yet say not thou deserv’st not to be mine!
Oh, rather frown away my breath
With thy disdain,
Or flatter me with smiles to death;
By joy or sorrow slain,10
’Tis less crime to be kill’d by thee,
Than I thus cause of mine[40:2] own death should be.
Thyself of beauty to divest,
And me of love,
Or from the worth of thine own breast15
Thus to detract, would prove
In us a blindness, and in thee
At best a sacrilegious modesty.
But, Celia,[40:3] if thou wilt despise
What all admire,20
Nor rate thyself at the just price
Of beauty or desire,
Yet meet my flames! and thou shalt see
That equal love knows no disparity.
The Kiss.[41:1]
When on thy lip my soul I breathe,
Which there meets thine,
Freed from their fetters by this death,
Our subtle forms[41:2] combine:
Thus without bonds of sense they move,5
And like two cherubim converse by[41:3] love.
Spirits to chains of earth confin’d
Discourse by sense;
But ours, that are by flames refin’d,
With those weak ties dispense.10
Let such in words their minds display:
We in a kiss our mutual thoughts convey.[41:4]
But since my soul from me doth fly,
To thee retir’d,
Thou canst not both retain; for I15
Must be with one inspir’d;
Then, Dearest,[41:5] either justly mine
Restore, or in exchange let me have thine.
Yet if thou dost return mine own,
O tak’t again!20
For ’tis this pleasing death alone
Gives ease unto my pain.
Kill me once more, or I shall find
Thy pity than thy cruelty less kind.
Doris, I that could repel
All those darts about thee dwell,
And had wisely learn’d to fear
’Cause I saw a foe so near;
I that my deaf ear did arm5
’Gainst thy voice’s powerful charm;
And the lightning of thine eye
Durst, by closing mine, defy;
Cannot this cold snow withstand
From the winter[42:1] of thy hand.10
Thy deceit hath thus done more
Than thy open force before:
For who could suspect or fear
Treason in a face so clear,
Or the hidden fires descry15
Wrapt in this cold outside lie?
Flames might thus, involv’d in ice,
The deceiv’d world sacrifice;
Nature, ignorant of this
Strange antiperistasis,20
Would her falling frame admire,
That by snow were set on fire!
Speaking and Kissing.
The air which thy smooth voice doth break
Into my soul like lightning flies;
My life retires whilst thou dost speak,
And thy soft breath its room supplies.
Lost in this pleasing ecstasy,5
I join my trembling lips to thine,
And back receive that life from thee,
Which I so gladly did resign.
Forbear, platonic fools! t’inquire
What numbers do the soul compose:10
No harmony can life inspire,
But that which from these accents flows.
The Deposition.[43:1]
Though when I lov’d thee thou wert[43:2] fair,
Thou art no longer so:
Those glories do[43:3] the pride they wear
Unto opinion owe.
Beauties, like stars, in borrow’d lustre shine;5
And ’twas my love that gave thee thine.
The flames that dwelt within thine eye
Do now with mine expire;
Thy brightest graces[43:4] fade and die
At once, with my desire.10
Love’s fires thus mutual influence return:
Thine cease to shine when mine to burn.
Then, proud Celinda, hope no more
To be implor’d or woo’d,
Since by thy scorn thou dost restore15
The wealth my[43:5] love bestow’d;
And thy despis’d disdain too late shall find
That none are fair but who are kind.
He whose active thoughts disdain
To be captive to one foe,
And would break his single chain,
Or else more would undergo,
Let him learn the art of me,5
By new bondage to be free!
What tyrannic mistress dare
To one beauty Love confine?
Who, unbounded as the air,
All may court, but none decline.10
Why should we the heart deny
As many objects as the eye?
Wheresoe’er I turn or move,
A new passion doth detain me:
Those kind beauties that do love,15
Or those proud ones that disdain me.
This frown melts, and that smile burns me;
This to tears, that, ashes, turns me.
Soft fresh virgins not full-blown
With their youthful sweetness take me;20
Sober matrons that have known,
Long since, what these prove, awake me;
Here, staid coldness I admire,
There, the lively active fire.
She that doth by skill dispense25
Every favour she bestows,
Or the harmless innocence
Which nor court nor city knows;—
Both alike my soul inflame,
That wild beauty, and this tame.30
She that wisely can adorn
Nature with the wealth of Art,
Or whose rural sweets do scorn
Borrow’d helps to[44:1] take a heart;—
The vain care of that’s my pleasure;35
Poverty of this, my treasure.
Both the wanton and the coy
Me with equal pleasure[44:2] move;
She whom I by force enjoy,
Or who forceth me to love:40
This, because she’ll not confess,
That, not hide, her happiness.
She whose loosely flowing hair,
(Scatter’d like the beams o’ th’ morn.)
Playing with the sportive air,45
Hides the sweets it doth adorn,
Captive in that net restrains me,
In those golden fetters chains me;
Nor doth she with power less bright
My divided heart invade,50
Whose soft tresses spread, like night,
O’er her shoulders a black shade;
For the starlight of her eyes
Brighter shines through those dark skies.
Black, or fair, or tall, or low,55
I alike with all can sport,
The bold sprightly Thaïs woo,
Or the frozen vestal court:
Every beauty takes my mind,
Tied to all, to none confin’d.60
La Belle Confidante.
You earthly souls that court a wanton flame,
Whose pale weak influence
Can rise no higher than the humble name
And narrow laws of sense!
Learn by our friendship to create5
An immaterial fire,
Whose brightness angels may admire
But cannot emulate.
Sickness may fright the roses from her cheek,
Or make the lilies fade,10
But all the subtle ways that Death doth seek
Cannot my love invade.
Flames that are kindled by the eye
Through time and age expire,
But ours, that boast a reach far higher,15
Cannot decay or die.[45:1]
For[45:2] when we must resign our vital breath,
Our loves by Fate benighted,[45:3]
We by this friendship shall survive in death,
Even in divorce united:20
Weak love, through fortune or distrust,
In time forgets to burn,
But this pursues us to the urn,
And marries either’s dust.
La Belle Ennemie.
I yield, dear enemy, nor know
How to resist so fair a foe.
Who would not thy soft yoke sustain,
And bow beneath thy easy chain,
That with a bondage blest might be5
Which far transcends all liberty?
But since I freely have resign’d,
At first assault, my willing mind,
Insult not o’er my captiv’d heart
With too much tyranny and art,10
Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prize
Gain’d by the power of thy bright eyes;
And thou this conquest thus shalt prove,
Though got by beauty, kept by love.
You that unto your mistress’ eyes
Your hearts do sacrifice,
And offer sighs or tears at Love’s rich shrine,
Renounce with me
Th’ idolatry,5
Nor this infernal power esteem divine!
The brand, the quiver, and the bow,
Which we did first bestow,
And he as tribute wears from every lover,
I back again10
From him have ta’en,
And the impostor now unveil’d discover.
I can the feeble Child disarm,
Untie his mystic charm,
Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow;15
We will obey
No more his sway,
Nor live confin’d to laws or bounds so narrow
And you, bright Beauties, that inspire
The Boy’s pale torch with fire,20
We safely now your subtle power despise,
And unscorch’d may,
Like atoms, play
And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.
Nor think hereafter by new arts25
You can bewitch our hearts,
Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm:
We will no more
His power implore,
Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm.30
The Divorce.
Dear, back my wounded heart restore,
And turn away thy powerful eyes;
Flatter my willing soul no more:
Love must not[46:1] hope what Fate denies.
Take, take away thy smiles and kisses!5
Thy love wounds deeper than disdain;
For he that sees the heaven he misses,
Sustains two hells of loss and pain.
Shouldst thou some other’s suit prefer,
I might return thy scorn to thee,10
And learn apostasy of her
Who taught me, first, idolatry.[46:2]
Or in thy unrelenting breast
Should I[46:3] disdain or coyness move,
|
He by thy hate might be releas’d,15 Who now is prisoner to thy love. | } |
[46:4] |
Since, then, unkind Fate will divorce
Those whom affection long united,
Be thou as cruel as this force,
And I in death shall be delighted.20
|
Thus whilst so many suppliants woo, And beg they may thy pity prove, | } |
[46:5] |
I only for thy scorn do sue:
’Tis charity here not to love.
The Bracelet.
Rebellious fools that scorn to bow
Beneath Love’s easy sway,
Whose stubborn wills no laws allow,
Disdaining to obey,
Mark but this wreath of hair, and you shall see5
None that might wear such fetters would be free.
I once could boast a soul like you,
As unconfin’d as air;
But mine, which force could not subdue,
Was caught within this snare;10
And by myself betray’d, I for this gold
Have to mine enemy my freedom sold.[47:1]
No longer now, wise Art, inquire,
(With this vain search delighted,)
How souls that human[47:2] breasts inspire15
Are to their frames united:
Material chains such spirits well may bind,
When this soft braid can tie both arm and mind.
Now, Beauties, I defy your charm,
Rul’d by more powerful art:20
This mystic wreath which crowns my arm
Defends my vanquish’d heart;[47:3]
And I, subdu’d by one more fair, shall be
Secur’d from conquest by captivity.
The Farewell.
Since Fate commands me hence, and I
Must leave my soul with thee, and die,
Dear, spare one sigh, or else let fall
A tear to crown my funeral,
That I may tell my grieved heart5
Thou art unwilling we should part;
And martyrs that embrace the fire
Shall with less joy than I expire.
With this last kiss I will bequeath
My soul, transfus’d into thy breath,10
Whose active heat shall gently slide
Into thy breast, and there reside,
And may, (in spite of Fate thus blest,)
Be, in this death, of heaven possess’d.[48:1]
Then prove but kind; and thou shalt see15
Love hath more power than Destiny.
The Exchange: Dialogue.[49:1]
Phil[ocharis].
That kiss which last thou gav’st me, stole
My fainting life away;
Yet, though to thy breast fled, my soul
Still in mine own doth stay.
|
Weak Nature no such power doth know:5 Love only can these wonders show. | } |
[49:2] |
Char[iessa].
And with the same warm breath did mine
Into thy bosom slide,
There dwell, contracted unto thine,
Yet still with me reside.10
Weak Nature no such power doth know:
Love only can these wonders show.
Chor[us].
Both souls thus in desire are one,
And each is two in skill,
Doubled in intellect alone,15
United in the will.
Weak Nature no such power doth know:
Love only can these wonders show.
Draw near,
You lovers, that complain
Of Fortune or Disdain,
And to my ashes lend a tear.
Melt the hard marble with your groans,5
And soften the relentless stones,
|
Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide Of all Love’s cruelties, and Beauty’s pride. | } |
[50:1] |
No verse,
No epicedium, bring;10
Nor peaceful requiem sing,
To charm the terrors of my hearse;
No profane numbers must flow near
The sacred silence that dwells here.
Vast griefs are dumb: softly, oh softly mourn!15
Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.
Yet strew
Upon my dismal grave
Such offerings as you have:
Forsaken cypress, and sad yew;20
For kinder flowers can take no birth
Or growth from such unhappy earth.
Weep only o’er my dust, and say: “Here lies
To Love and Fate an equal sacrifice.”
The[51:1] silkworm, to long sleep retir’d,
The early year hath re-inspir’d,
Who now to pay to thee prepares
The tribute of her pleasing cares;
And hastens with industrious toil5
To make her ornament thy spoil.[51:2]
See with what pains[51:3] she spins for thee
The thread of her own destiny,
Then, (growing proud in death, to know
That all her curious labours thou[51:4]10
Wilt, as in triumph, deign to wear!)
Retires to her soft sepulchre.
Such, Dearest, is that hapless state
To which I am design’d by Fate,
Who, by thee willingly o’ercome,15
Work mine own fetters and my tomb.
Ambition.
I must no longer now admire
The coldness which possess’d
Thy snowy breast,
That can by other flames be set on fire;
Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray’d,5
Is by Ambition thus outweigh’d.
Hadst thou but known the vast extent
Of constant faith, how far
’Bove all that are
Born slaves to wealth, or honours’ vain ascent;[52:1]10
No richer treasure couldst thou find
Than hearts with mutual chains combin’d.
But Love is too despis’d a name,
And must not hope to rise
Above these ties.15
Honours[52:2] and wealth outshine his paler flame!
These unite souls, whilst true desire
Unpitied dies in its own fire.
Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim
With no less justice too,20
Than those that sue
For other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim.
Wealth honours, honours wealth, approve;
But Beauty’s only meant for Love.
Song.
When, dearest Beauty, thou shalt pay
Thy faith and my vain hope away
To some dull soul that cannot know
The worth of that thou dost bestow;
Lest[53:1] with my sighs and tears I might5
Disturb thy unconfin’d delight,
To some dark shade I will retire,
And there, forgot by all, expire.
Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove
Betwixt a feign’d and real love,10
Whilst he, more happy, but less true,
Shall reap those joys I did pursue,
And with those pleasures crowned be
By Fate, which Love design’d for me,
Then thou perhaps thyself wilt find15
Cruel too long, or too soon kind.
Song.
I will not trust thy tempting graces,
Or thy deceitful charms,
Nor prisoner be to thy embraces,
Or fetter’d in thy arms;
No, Celia, no: not all thy art5
Can wound or captivate my heart.
I will not gaze upon thy eyes,
Or wanton with thy hair,
Lest those should burn me by surprise,
Or these my soul ensnare;10
Nor with those smiling dangers play,
Or fool my liberty away.
Since, then, my wary heart is free
And unconfin’d as thine,
If thou wouldst mine should captiv’d[54:1] be,15
Thou must thine own resign;
And gratitude may thus move more
Than love or beauty could before.
No, I will sooner trust the wind,
When, falsely kind,
It courts the pregnant sails into a storm,
And when the smiling waves persuade,
Be willingly betray’d,5
Than thy deceitful vows or form.
Go, and beguile some easy heart
With thy vain art;
Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow
Who only see the calms that sleep10
On this smooth flattering deep,
But not the hidden dangers know.
They that, like me, thy falsehood prove,
Will scorn thy love,
Some may, deceiv’d at first, adore thy shrine;15
But he that as thy sacrifice
Doth willingly fall twice,
Dies his own martyr, and not thine.
Song.
I prithee let my heart alone!
Since now ’tis raised above thee:
Not all the beauty thou dost own
Again can make me love thee.
He that was shipwreck’d once before5
By such a Siren’s call,
And yet neglects to shun the[55:1] shore,
Deserves his second fall!
Each flattering kiss, each tempting smile
Thou dost in vain bestow,10
Some other lovers might beguile
Who not thy falsehood know.
But I am proof against all art:
No vows shall e’er persuade me
Twice to present a wounded heart15
To her that hath betray’d me.
Could I again be brought to love
Thy form, though more divine,
I might thy scorn as justly move
As now thou sufferest mine.20
The Loss.
Yet ere I go,
Disdainful Beauty, thou shalt be
So wretched as to know
What joys thou fling’st away with me:
A faith so bright,5
As Time or Fortune could not rust,
So firm, that lovers might
Have read thy story in my dust,
And crown’d thy name
With laurel verdant as thy youth.10
Whilst the shrill voice of Fame
Spread wide thy beauty and my truth.
This thou hast lost!
For all true lovers, when they find
That my just aims were crossed,15
Will speak thee lighter than the wind;
And none will lay
Any oblation on thy shrine,
But such as would betray
Their[56:1] faith to faiths as false as thine.20
Yet if thou choose
On such thy freedom to bestow,
Affection may excuse:
For love from sympathy doth flow.
The Self-Cruel.[57:1]
Cast off, for shame, ungentle maid,
That misbecoming joy thou wear’st!
For in my death (though long delay’d),
Unwisely cruel thou appear’st.
Insult o’er captives with disdain:5
Thou canst not triumph o’er the slain.
No, I am now no longer thine;
Nor canst thou take delight to see
Him whom thy love did once confine
Set, though by death, at liberty;10
For if my fall a smile beget,
Thou gloriest in thy own defeat.
Behold how thy unthrifty pride
Hath murthered him that did maintain it;
And wary souls who never tried15
Thy tyrant beauty, will disdain it:
But I am softer, and, (though[57:2] me
Thou wouldst not pity,) pity thee.
An Answer to a Song, “Wert thou much [?] Fairer than thou art,” by Mr. W. M.[58:1]
Wert thou by all affections sought,
And fairer than thou wouldst be thought,
Or had thine eyes as many darts
As thou believ’st they shoot at hearts,
Yet if thy love were paid to me,5
I would not offer mine to thee.
I’d sooner court a fever’s heat,
Than her that owns a flame as[58:2] great.
She that my love will entertain
Must meet it with no less disdain;10
For mutual fires themselves destroy,
And willing kisses yield no joy.
I love thee not because alone
Thou canst all beauty call thine own,
Nor doth my passion fuel seek15
In thy bright eye or softer cheek.
Then, Fairest! if thou wouldst know why:
I love thee ’cause thou canst deny.
The Relapse.[59:1]
O turn away those cruel eyes,
The stars of my undoing!
Or death, in such a bright disguise,
May tempt a second wooing.
Punish their blindly impious[59:2] pride,5
Who dare contemn thy glory!
It was my fall[59:3] that deified
Thy name, and seal’d thy story.
Yet no new sufferings can prepare
A higher praise to crown thee;10
Though my first death proclaim thee fair,
My second will unthrone thee.
Lovers will doubt thou canst entice
No other for thy fuel,
And if thou burn one victim twice,15
Both think thee poor and cruel!
[!-- [70] --]