The Whole Works of William Browne of Tavistock ... Now first collected and edited, with a memoir of the poet, and notes, by W. Carew Hazlitt, of the Inner Temple |
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The Whole Works of William Browne | ||
'Twas neere the place where Pans transformed Loue
Her guilded leaues displaid, and boldly stroue
For lustre with the Sun: a sacred tree
(Pal'd round) and kept from violation free:
Whose smallest spray rent off, we neuer prize
At lesse then life. Here, though her heauenly eyes
From him she lou'd could scarce afford a sight,
(As if for him they onely had their light)
Those kinde and brighter Stars were knowne to erre
And to all misery betrayed her.
For turning them aside, she (haplesse) spies
The holy Tree, and (as all nouelties
In tempting women haue small labour lost
Whether for value nought, or of more cost)
Led by the hand of vncontroll'd desire
She rose, and thither went. A wrested Bryre
Onely kept close the gate which led into it,
(Easie for any all times to vndoe it,
That with a pious hand hung on the tree
Garlands or raptures of sweet Poesie)
Which by her opened, with vnweeting hand
A little spray she pluckt, whose rich leaues fan'd
And chatter'd with the ayre, as who should say:
Doe not for once, ô doe not this bewray!
Nor giue sound to a tongue for that intent!
“Who ignorantly sinnes, dies innocent.”
Her guilded leaues displaid, and boldly stroue
For lustre with the Sun: a sacred tree
(Pal'd round) and kept from violation free:
Whose smallest spray rent off, we neuer prize
At lesse then life. Here, though her heauenly eyes
From him she lou'd could scarce afford a sight,
(As if for him they onely had their light)
Those kinde and brighter Stars were knowne to erre
And to all misery betrayed her.
104
The holy Tree, and (as all nouelties
In tempting women haue small labour lost
Whether for value nought, or of more cost)
Led by the hand of vncontroll'd desire
She rose, and thither went. A wrested Bryre
Onely kept close the gate which led into it,
(Easie for any all times to vndoe it,
That with a pious hand hung on the tree
Garlands or raptures of sweet Poesie)
Which by her opened, with vnweeting hand
A little spray she pluckt, whose rich leaues fan'd
And chatter'd with the ayre, as who should say:
Doe not for once, ô doe not this bewray!
Nor giue sound to a tongue for that intent!
“Who ignorantly sinnes, dies innocent.”
The Whole Works of William Browne | ||