 | Poetical works (1908) |  |
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To my ever honoured Cousin W. R. Esquire.
Strange power of home, with how strong-twisted arms
And Gordian-twined knot dost thou enchain me!
Never might fair Calisto's doubled charms,
Nor powerfull Circe's whispring so detain me,
Though all her art she spent to entertain me;
Their presence could not force a weak desire:
But (oh!) thy powerfull absence breeds still-growing fire.
And Gordian-twined knot dost thou enchain me!
Never might fair Calisto's doubled charms,
Nor powerfull Circe's whispring so detain me,
Though all her art she spent to entertain me;
Their presence could not force a weak desire:
But (oh!) thy powerfull absence breeds still-growing fire.
By night thou try'st with strong imagination
To force my sense 'gainst reason to belie it:
Me thinks I see the fast-imprinted fashion
Of every place, and now I fully eye it;
And though with fear, yet cannot well denie it,
Till the morn bell awakes me; then for spite
I shut mine eyes again, and wish back such a night.
To force my sense 'gainst reason to belie it:
Me thinks I see the fast-imprinted fashion
Of every place, and now I fully eye it;
And though with fear, yet cannot well denie it,
Till the morn bell awakes me; then for spite
I shut mine eyes again, and wish back such a night.
But in the day, my never-slak't desire
Will cast to prove by welcome forgerie,
That for my absence I am much the nigher;
Seeking to please with soothing flatterie.
Love's wing is thought; and thought will soonest fly,
Where it findes want: then as our love is dearer,
Absence yeelds presence; distance makes us nearer.
Will cast to prove by welcome forgerie,
That for my absence I am much the nigher;
Seeking to please with soothing flatterie.
Love's wing is thought; and thought will soonest fly,
Where it findes want: then as our love is dearer,
Absence yeelds presence; distance makes us nearer.
Ah! might I in some humble Kentish dale
For ever eas'ly spend my slow-pac't houres;
Much should I scorn fair Æton's pleasant vale,
Or Windsor Tempe's self, and proudest towers:
There would I sit safe from the stormie showers,
And laugh the troublous windes, and angrie skie.
Piping (ah!) might I live, and piping might I die!
For ever eas'ly spend my slow-pac't houres;
Much should I scorn fair Æton's pleasant vale,
Or Windsor Tempe's self, and proudest towers:
There would I sit safe from the stormie showers,
And laugh the troublous windes, and angrie skie.
Piping (ah!) might I live, and piping might I die!
And would my luckie fortune so much grace me,
As in low Cranebrook, or high Brenchly's hill,
Or in some cabin neare thy dwelling place me,
There would I gladly sport, and sing my fill,
And teach my tender Muse to raise her quill;
And that high Mantuan shepherd self to dare;
If ought with that high Mantuan shepherd mought compare.
As in low Cranebrook, or high Brenchly's hill,
Or in some cabin neare thy dwelling place me,
There would I gladly sport, and sing my fill,
And teach my tender Muse to raise her quill;
229
If ought with that high Mantuan shepherd mought compare.
There would I chant either thy Gemma's praise,
Or els my Fusca; (fairest shepherdesse)
Or when me list my slender pipe to raise,
Sing of Eliza's fixed mournfulnesse,
And much bewail such wofull heavinesse;
Whil'st she a dear-lov'd Hart (ah lucklesse!) slew:
Whose fall she all too late, too soon, too much, did rue.
Or els my Fusca; (fairest shepherdesse)
Or when me list my slender pipe to raise,
Sing of Eliza's fixed mournfulnesse,
And much bewail such wofull heavinesse;
Whil'st she a dear-lov'd Hart (ah lucklesse!) slew:
Whose fall she all too late, too soon, too much, did rue.
But seeing now I am not as I would,
But here among th'unhonour'd willows shade,
The muddy Chame doth me enforced hold;
Here I forsweare my merry piping trade:
My little pipe of seven reeds ymade
(Ah pleasing pipe!) I'le hang upon this bough.
Thou Chame, and Chamish Nymphs, bear witnesse of my vow.
But here among th'unhonour'd willows shade,
The muddy Chame doth me enforced hold;
Here I forsweare my merry piping trade:
My little pipe of seven reeds ymade
(Ah pleasing pipe!) I'le hang upon this bough.
Thou Chame, and Chamish Nymphs, bear witnesse of my vow.
| Poetical works (1908) | |