SIng we the Rose! Than which no flower there grows Is sweeter; And aptly her compare With what in that is rare: A parallel none meeter.
Or made posies, Of this that encloses Such blisses: That naturally flusheth, As she blusheth When she is robbed of kisses.
Or if strewed, When with the morning dewed; Or stilling; Or how to sense exposed: All which in her enclosed, Each place with sweetness filling.
That most renowned By Nature richly crowned With yellow; Of that delicious lair: And as pure her hair, Unto the same the fellow.
Fearing of harm; Nature that flower doth arm From danger: The touch gives her offence, But with reverence Unto herself, a stranger.
The red, or white, Or mixed, the sense delight, Beholding, In her complexion: All which perfection, Such harmony infolding,
That divided, Ere it was decided Which most pure, Began the grievous War Of York and Lancaster, That did many years endure.
Conflicts as great As were in all that heat, I sustain: By her, as many hearts As men on either parts. That with her eyes hath slain.
The Primrose flower. The first of Flora's bower Is placed: So is She first, as best: Though excellent the rest; All gracing, by none graced.
ODE 9.
[A Skeltoniad.]
THe Muse should be sprightly; Yet not handling lightly Things grave: as much loath Things that be slight, to cloathe Curiously. To retain The Comeliness in mean Is true Knowledge and Wit. Nor me forced rage doth fit, That I thereto should lack Tobacco, or need Sack; Which to the colder brain Is the true Hippocrene. Nor did I ever care For Great Fools, nor them spare. Virtue, though neglected, Is not so dejected As vilely to descend To low baseness, their end: Neither each rhyming slave Deserves the name to have Of Poet. So, the rabble Of Fools, for the table, That have their jests by heart, As an Actor his part, Might assume them chairs Amongst the Muses' heirs. Parnassus is not clomb By every such Mome: Up whose steep side who swerves, It behoves t' have strong nerves. My resolution such How well, and not how much, To write. Thus do I fare Like some few good, that care (The evil sort among) How well to live, and not how long.