The Epistle to the Reader.
The applause of them that judge, is the encouragement of those that write. My first two Books of Airs sped so well, that they have produced a third, which they have fetched far from home, and brought even through the most perilous seas: where having escaped so many sharp rocks; I hope they shall not be wracked on land, by curious and biting censures. As in a hive of bees, all labour alike to lay up honey; opposing themselves against none but fruitless drones: so in the House of Learning and Fame, all good endeavours should strive to add somewhat that is good, not malicing one another; but altogether banding against the idle and malicious ignorant.
My labours, for my part, I freely offer to every man's judgement! presuming, that favour once attained, is more easily increased than lost.
John Dowland.
Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigal, Canzonets, &c.
The Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs.
Farewell, too fair! too chaste! but too too cruel!
Discretion never quenchèd fire with swords!
Why hast thou made my heart, thine anger's fuel;
And now would kill my Passions with thy words?
This is Proud Beauty's true anatomy.
If that secure, severe in secrecy, farewell.
Farewell too dear! and too too much desired!
Unless compassion dwelt more near thy heart.
Love by neglect (though constant) oft is tired!
And forc'd from bliss, unwillingly to part.
This is Proud Beauty's true anatomy.
If that secure, severe in secrecy, farewell.
Time stands still, with gazing on her face!
Stand still, and gaze! for minutes, hours, and years, to her give place.
All other things shall change! but She remains the same,
Till heavens changèd have their course, and Time hath lost
his name.
Cupid doth hover up and down, blinded with her fair eyes!
And Fortune captive at her feet, contemned and conquered lies!
When Fortune, Love, and Time attend on
Her with my fortunes, love, and time, I honour will alone,
If bloodless Envy say, "Duty hath no desert!"
Duty replies, that "Envy knows, herself, his faithful heart!"
My settled vows and spotless faith, no fortune can remove!
Courage shall shew my inward faith! and faith shall try my love!
Behold a wonder here!
Love hath received his sight!
Which, many hundred years,
Hath not beheld the light.
Such beams infusèd be,
By Cynthia in his eyes;
As first have made him see,
And then have made him wise.
Love now no more will weep
For them, that laugh the while!
Nor wake for them that sleep!
Nor sigh for them that smile!
So powerful is the Beauty,
That Love doth now behold;
As Love is turned to Duty,
That's neither blind, nor bold.
This Beauty shews her might,
To be of double kind;
In giving Love his sight,
And striking Folly blind.
Daphne was not so chaste, as she was changing,
Soon begun, Love with Hate estranging.
He that to-day triumphs, with favours graced;
Falls before night, with scorns defaced.
Yet is thy beauty feigned! and every one desires
Still, the false light of thy trait'rous fires!
Beauty can want no grace by true love viewed,
Fancy by looks is still renewed;
Like to a fruitful tree it ever groweth,
Or the fresh spring that endless floweth.
But if that Beauty were of one consent with Love;
Love should live free, and true pleasure prove!
Me! me! and none but me! Dart home! O gentle Death!
And quickly! for I draw too long this idle breath.
O how long till I may fly to heaven above,
Unto my faithful and beloved turtle dove!
Like to the silver swan before my death I sing!
And yet alive, my fatal knell I help to ring!
Still I desire from earth, and earthly joys to fly!
He never happy lived, that cannot love to die!
"Say, Love! if ever thou didst find
A woman with a constant mind?"
"None but one!"
"And what should that rare mirror be?
Some goddess or some Queen is she?"
She! She! She! and only She!
She, only Queen of Love and Beauty!
"But could thy fiery poisoned dart,
At no time, touch her spotless heart,
Nor come near?"
"She is not subject to Love's bow.
Her eye commands, her heart saith 'No!'"
No! no! no! and only No!
One No! another still doth follow.
"How might I that fair wonder know,
That mocks Desire with endless 'No!'?"
"See the Moon!
That ever in one change doth grow;
Yet still the same! and She is so!"
So! so! so! and only so!
From heaven, her virtues she doth borrow.
"To her, then, yield thy shafts and bow!
That can command affections so!"
"Love is free,
So are her thoughts that vanquish thee!"
"There is no Queen of Love but She!"
She! She! She! and only She!
She, only Queen of Love and Beauty!
Flow not so fast, ye fountains!
What needeth all this haste?
Swell not above your mountains,
Nor spend your time in waste!
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Weep not apace, whom Reason
Or lingering Time can ease!
My sorrow can no season,
Nor ought besides appease.
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
Time can abate the terror
Of every common pain:
But common grief is error,
True grief will still remain.
Gentle springs! freshly your salt tears
Must still fall, dropping from their spheres.
What if I never speed!
Shall I straight yield to despair?
And still, on sorrow feed,
That can no loss repair?
Or shall I change my love;
For I find power to depart;
And, in my reason, prove
I can command my heart!
But if she will pity my Desire, and my Love requite;
Then ever shall she live my dear delight!
Come! come! come! while I have a heart to desire thee!
Come! come! come! for either I will love, or admire thee!
Oft have I dreamed of joy,
Yet never felt the sweet;
But, tired with annoy,
My griefs each other greet!
Oft have I left my hope,
As a wretch by fate forlorn;
But Love aims at one scope,
And lost will still return.
He that once loves with a true desire, never can depart!
For Cupid is the King of every heart.
Come! come! come! while I have a heart to desire thee!
Come! come! come! for either I will love, or admire thee!
Love stood amazed, at sweet Beauty's pain;
Love would have said, that "all was but vain,
and gods but half divine!"
But when Love saw that Beauty would die,
He, all aghast, to heavens did cry,
"O gods, what wrong is mine!"
Then his tears, bred in thoughts of salt brine,
Fell from his eyes, like rain in sunshine,
expelled by rage of fire.
Yet, in such wise as anguish affords,
He did express in these his last words,
His infinite desire.
"Are you fled, Fair! where are now those eyes?
Eyes but too fair, envièd by the skies?
You angry gods do know!
With guiltless blood, your sceptres you stain!
On poor true hearts, like tyrants you reign!
Unjust! why do you so?"
"Are you false gods! why then do you reign?
Are you just gods! why then have you slain
the life of love on earth?
Beauty! now, thy face lives in the skies!
Beauty! now, let me live in thine eyes,
where bliss felt never death!"
Then from high rock, the rock of despair,
He falls! in hope to smother in the air,
Or else on stones to burst:
Or on cold waves, to spend his last breath;
Or his strange life, to end by strange death.
But Fate forbad the worst!
With pity moved; the gods then changèd Love
To Phœnix's shape, yet cannot remove
his wonted property.
He loves the sun, because it is fair!
Sleep he neglects, he lives but by air!
and would, but cannot die!
Lend your ears to my sorrow,
Good people, that have any pity!
For no eyes will I borrow,
Mine own shall grace my doleful ditty!
Chant then, my voice, though rude like, to my rhyming!
And tell forth my grief, which here,
In sad despair, can find no ease of tormenting!
Once, I lived! Once, I knew delight!
No grief did shadow, then, my pleasure!
Graced with love, cheered with beauty's sight;
I joyed alone true heavenly treasure!
O what a heaven is love firmly embraced!
Such power alone can fix delight,
In Fortune's bosom ever placed.
Cold as ice frozen, is that heart
Where thought of love could no time enter!
Such, of life reap the poorest part,
Whose weight cleaves to this earthly centre!
Mutual joys in hearts, truly united,
Do earth to heavenly state convert;
Like heaven still, in itself delighted!
By a fountain where I lay,
(All blessed be that blessèd day!)
By the glim'ring of the sun,
(O never be her shining done!)
When I might see alone
My true love fairest one!
Love's dear light!
Love's clear sight!
No world's eyes can clearer see!
A fairer sight, none can be!
Fair with garlands all addrest,
(Was never Nymph more fairly blest!)
Blessed in the highest degree;
(So may She ever blessed be!)
Came to this fountain near,
With such a smiling cheer!
Such a face!
Such a grace!
Happy! happy eyes! that see
Such a heavenly sight as She!
Then I forthwith took my pipe,
Which I, all fair and clean did wipe,
And upon a heavenly ground,
All in the grace of beauty found,
Played this Roundelay,
"Welcome, fair Queen of May!
Sing, sweet air!
Welcome Fair!
Welcome be the Shepherds' Queen!
The glory of all our green!"
O what hath overwrought
My all amazed thought?
Or whereto am I brought?
That thus in vain have sought,
Till time and truth have taught
I labour all for nought.
The day, I see is clear;
But I am ne'er the near!
For grief doth still appear,
To cross our merry cheer:
While I can nothing here,
But Winter all the year.
Cold, hold! the sun will shine warm!
Therefore now fear no harm!
O blessed beams! where beauty streams;
Happy, happy light, to love's dreams!
Farewell, Unkind! Farewell! to me, no more a father!
Since my heart holds my Love most dear;
The wealth, which thou dost reap! another's hand must gather.
Though thy heart still lies buried there!
Then farewell! O farewell! Welcome, my Love! welcome, my Joy for ever!
'Tis not the vain desire of human fleeting beauty
Makes my mind to live, though my means do die.
Nor do I Nature wrong, though I forget my duty;
Love, not in the blood, but in the spirit doth lie!
Then farewell! O farewell! Welcome, my Love! welcome, my Joy for ever!
Weep you no more, sad fountains!
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains,
Heaven's sun doth gently waste!
But my sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lie sleeping
Softly! now softly lies sleeping!
Sleep is a reconciling!
A rest that peace begets!
Doth not the sun rise smiling,
When fair at e'en he sets?
Rest you! then, rest, sad eyes!
Melt not in weeping,
While she lies sleeping
Softly! now softly lies sleeping!
Fie on this feigning!
Is Love without Desire?
Heat still remaining,
And yet no spark of fire?
Thou art untrue, nor wert with Fancy moved!
For Desire hath power on all that ever loved!
Show some relenting!
Or grant thou dost not love!
Two hearts consenting,
Shall they no comforts prove?
Yield! or confess that Love is without Pleasure;
And that women's bounties rob men of their treasure!
Truth is not placed
In words and forcèd smiles!
Love is not graced
With that which still beguiles!
Love, or dislike! Yield fire, or give no fuel!
So mayest thou prove kind; or, at the least, less cruel!
It was a time when silly bees could speak.
And in that time, I was a silly bee
Who fed on time [thyme] until my heart 'gan break,
Yet never found the time would favour me.
Of all the swarm, I only did not thrive!
Yet brought I wax and honey to the hive.
Then thus I buzzed, when time no sap would give,
"Why should this blessed time to me be dry;
Since by this time the lazy drone doth live,
The wasp, the worm, the gnat, the butterfly?"
Mated with grief, I kneeled on my knees;
And thus complained unto the King of Bees.
"My liege! gods grant thy time may never end!
And yet vouchsafe to hear my plaint of time;
Which fruitless flies have found to have a friend,
And I cast down, when atomies do climb!"
The King replied but thus, "Peace, peevish bee!
Th'art bound to serve the time! and time, not thee!"
The lowest trees have tops! the ant, her gall!
The fly, her spleen! the little spark, his heat!
And slender hairs cast shadows, though but small!
And bees have stings, although they be not great!
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs!
And Love is Love, in beggars and in kings!
Where waters smoothest run, deep are the fords.
The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move.
The firmest faith is in the fewest words.
The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love.
True hearts have eyes and ears, no tongues to speak!
They hear, and see, and sigh; and then, they break!
What poor astronomers are they,
Take women's eyes for stars!
And set their thoughts in battle 'ray,
To fight such idle wars;
When in the end they shall approve,
'Tis but a jest drawn out of Love.
And Love itself is but a jest
Devised by idle heads,
To catch young Fancies in the nest,
And lay them in fools' beds;
That being hatched in beauty's eyes,
They may be fledged, ere they be wise.
But yet it is a sport to see,
How Wit will run on wheels!
While Wit cannot persuaded be,
With that which Reason feels;
"That women's eyes and stars are odd,
And Love is but a feignèd god!"
But such as will run mad with Will,
I cannot clear their sight!
But leave them to their study still,
To look where is no light!
Till time too late, we make them try,
They study false Astronomy!
A Dialogue.
"Come, when I call, or tarry till I come!
If you be deaf, I must prove dumb!
If thy Desire ever knew the grief of delay,
No danger could stand in thy way!
What need we languish? Can Love quickly fly?
Fear ever hurts more than Jealousy!
Then securely, Envy scorning,
Let us end with joy, our mourning!
Jealousy still defy!
And love till we die!"
"Stay awhile! my heavenly Joy!
I come with wings of love,
When envious eyes, time shall remove.
O die not, add this sorrow to my grief,
That languish here, wanting relief.
Then securely, Envy scorning,
Let us end with joy, our mourning!
Jealousy still defy!
And love till we die!"
A true and just
RELATION
of
Major-General Sir Thomas Morgan's
PROGRESS
in
France and Flanders
with the
Six Thousand English,
in the years 1657 and 1658,
at the taking of
Dunkirk,
and
other important places.
As it was delivered by the General himself.
LONDON:
Printed for J. Nutt, near Stationers' Hall,
1699.