Pocula Castalia The Authors Motto. Fortunes Tennis-Ball. Eliza. Poems. Epigrams. &c. By R. B. [i.e Robert Baron] |
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| ELIZA |
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79
ELIZA
------ Huic labrr est placidam exorare Puellam.
OVID.
OVID.
81
Upon the first sight of ELIZA, Masked.
When her saint Metaphore, Heavens radiant eye
Puts his black Velvet Mask of darknesse by
And freely shines, those Statues of live Jet
I'th' Eastern shores half pickled up in sweat
Adore his Lustre; but they never bow
Whilst Clouds case up and night-cap his fair Brow:
So when mine eyes first reacht her, she (alas!)
Was Mask'd, and Ignorant I by did passe
Without adoring, when such Shrines as hers
May make Saints croud to be Idolaters.
Puts his black Velvet Mask of darknesse by
And freely shines, those Statues of live Jet
I'th' Eastern shores half pickled up in sweat
Adore his Lustre; but they never bow
Whilst Clouds case up and night-cap his fair Brow:
So when mine eyes first reacht her, she (alas!)
Was Mask'd, and Ignorant I by did passe
Without adoring, when such Shrines as hers
May make Saints croud to be Idolaters.
When Lady-like Loadstones in boxes cas'd
I've sometimes seen neer Iron wedges plac't
The am'rous metall wav'd, and still crept neer,
As if it knew its Love were shrined there.
I felt this sympathy, and in my breast
(Like a stray Bird now fluttering near his Neast,
Or like the Needle) my warm'd Heart did hover,
As who would say, the North I do discover,
The Center, cease then 'mongst the Rocks to steer
Thy course, but fix with presporous Omens here.
I've sometimes seen neer Iron wedges plac't
82
As if it knew its Love were shrined there.
I felt this sympathy, and in my breast
(Like a stray Bird now fluttering near his Neast,
Or like the Needle) my warm'd Heart did hover,
As who would say, the North I do discover,
The Center, cease then 'mongst the Rocks to steer
Thy course, but fix with presporous Omens here.
Now with devouter eyes I lookt agen,
But her black veil not drawn, thus (thought I then)
Thus Angels Pictures in the Sacred Quire
Are veild to raise our adoration higher.
But her black veil not drawn, thus (thought I then)
Thus Angels Pictures in the Sacred Quire
Are veild to raise our adoration higher.
Still (fair one) for the common good thus shroud
Your beames in waving curl, or silken cloud,
Or you'l scorch more than Phaeton with one Ray,
Whose shine might send the Cime'rans a Day.
Each Heart an Ætna, evry man must turn
A Salamander, and even living burn.
Blind as wag Cupid your refulgency
(As it did his) will strike each daring eye.
Myriads on each side as you walk must fall
As spurious Eaglets fore your Emblem Sol.
Thus you'd with looks Philosophy controul
And Fate, and leave the world without a Soul,
Or prove (which I confesse, since I was hit)
This all hath but one soul, and you are it.
Your beames in waving curl, or silken cloud,
Or you'l scorch more than Phaeton with one Ray,
Whose shine might send the Cime'rans a Day.
Each Heart an Ætna, evry man must turn
A Salamander, and even living burn.
Blind as wag Cupid your refulgency
(As it did his) will strike each daring eye.
Myriads on each side as you walk must fall
As spurious Eaglets fore your Emblem Sol.
Thus you'd with looks Philosophy controul
And Fate, and leave the world without a Soul,
Or prove (which I confesse, since I was hit)
This all hath but one soul, and you are it.
83
On Eliza Unmasked.
When her bright eyes (those ruling Starres which now
Must guide my Fortune, and mine Actions too
Boasting a power 'bove Fate) pleas'd to dispell
Those silken mists and clouds which trembling fell
'Fore them, as bowing to those Rayes Divine,
And whilst they did ecclipse, adore their shrine.
Now darted she her beames through Beauties skies
And kindled willing me her Sacrifice.
Must guide my Fortune, and mine Actions too
Boasting a power 'bove Fate) pleas'd to dispell
Those silken mists and clouds which trembling fell
'Fore them, as bowing to those Rayes Divine,
And whilst they did ecclipse, adore their shrine.
Now darted she her beames through Beauties skies
And kindled willing me her Sacrifice.
So Heaven its holy fier once did fling
On its Elijah's piled offering,
Like it, in pure and Turtle flames I burne
Ne'r to be quencht till th'Pyle shall ashes turne,
Then, like a coal in dust of Juniper
Mine Heart shall glow a Martyr still to her.
On its Elijah's piled offering,
Like it, in pure and Turtle flames I burne
Ne'r to be quencht till th'Pyle shall ashes turne,
Then, like a coal in dust of Juniper
Mine Heart shall glow a Martyr still to her.
Since then i'm turn'd all heat, had she not best
Consult with coldnesse, so to slake my breast?
No, Fondling no, then (as the deeper well
Makes fuell of the Ice) my flame will swell.
Consult with coldnesse, so to slake my breast?
No, Fondling no, then (as the deeper well
Makes fuell of the Ice) my flame will swell.
Thou then, the twang of whose Bow all commands,
Turn thy plum'd shafts to sacred fierbrands,
And make her Breast the Vestall Harth, that she
May sweetly burn in equall flames with me,
So (Love's 'bove Nature) this fire that sh'ant smother
But both vie Ardour, and maintaine each other.
Turn thy plum'd shafts to sacred fierbrands,
And make her Breast the Vestall Harth, that she
May sweetly burn in equall flames with me,
So (Love's 'bove Nature) this fire that sh'ant smother
But both vie Ardour, and maintaine each other.
84
Sonnet. To Eliza upon May day morning. 1649.
1
See! (Fairest) Virgins gather dew;Wing'd Heralds blaze on evry bough
May's come; if you say so, tis true.
For thus your Power's 'bove his that seasons sway,
He brings the Moneth, but you must make it May.
Arise, Arise
Bright eyes,
And silver over Beauties skies:
You set, Noon's Night, you up, each Day
Turns jolly May.
2
Now Venus hatches her young Doves,This fruitfull Moneth's proper for Loves,
Though Aprill sayes like her it moves
Full of sad change; but you may chase away
All showres with smiles, and make all our days May.
Arise, Arise, &c.
3
All, but you, Love, (though all love you.)The Birds their song each morn renew,
Even Earth has dond her gaudy hue.
85
Do more than Sol's, and make in me too May.
Arise, Arise, &c.
4
May this Moneth last, when bald Time shallClimb your fair Hill of Youth, may all
His steps be slip'rie, and he back fall
To Beauties Spring, that your cheek may alway
That lustre weare that now adorneth May.
Arise, Arise
Bright eyes,
And silver over Beauties skies, &c.
Song. A Dialogue 'twixt Passion and Reason.
P.VVhy doth her smiling eye shoot Rayes
(Able to gild a Captives Dayes,)
Which kindle in my Soul Desire?
R.
'Cause Love that dwels there is a fire.
P.
But why is tender Pitty bar'd
Out of her Heart that's frozen hard,
And cold as ycie Scythia?
R.
'Cause Love's a Nymph born o'the Sea.
And like her wavering Dame to be
Is faithlesse, as the Moon or Shee.
86
Chorus.
Love is cold, and yet a fire,Tis a hot cold fiction,
A pleasant Affliction,
A fond Desire,
That puzzles Reason with a meer contradiction.
To Eliza, with my Cyprian Academy.
Lady,
Now hath the Youthfull Spring unbound
The Icie fetters of the Ground,
And ransom'd Flora from beneath
The frosty Prison of the Earth.
Fresh cloaths of State she spreads upon
The Downes, in hope you'l walke thereon,
And many fair flowers she doth create
Your fair cheeks to imitate,
Then borrowes perfumes for her Birth
From the Spicery of your Breath.
The Icie fetters of the Ground,
And ransom'd Flora from beneath
The frosty Prison of the Earth.
Fresh cloaths of State she spreads upon
The Downes, in hope you'l walke thereon,
And many fair flowers she doth create
Your fair cheeks to imitate,
Then borrowes perfumes for her Birth
From the Spicery of your Breath.
Shall I more barren than the thick
Element be? no, I'm more quick,
When she but leaves, see! fruits I bring,
Though scarce (I fear) well rellishing.
Their only excuse is, they be
Early, in the yeers Infancy.
Even tender Weeds 'mong Sallads passe,
And young things claime to prettinesse.
These clusters, if yet sowre of tast,
(As being somewhat too soon Prest,
And nipt with many an envious blast)
Thus still may hope maturity,
From the kind sunshine of your eye.
Daign but to gild them with one Ray,
And evry sprig shall turn a Bay
Green as that coy one. And I'l dare
To swear they're good when yours they are;
In you and shrines Divinity dwells
That hallowes all your utensills.
So I may hope too your sweet Power
Might make even me good were I
Element be? no, I'm more quick,
When she but leaves, see! fruits I bring,
Though scarce (I fear) well rellishing.
Their only excuse is, they be
Early, in the yeers Infancy.
Even tender Weeds 'mong Sallads passe,
And young things claime to prettinesse.
87
(As being somewhat too soon Prest,
And nipt with many an envious blast)
Thus still may hope maturity,
From the kind sunshine of your eye.
Daign but to gild them with one Ray,
And evry sprig shall turn a Bay
Green as that coy one. And I'l dare
To swear they're good when yours they are;
In you and shrines Divinity dwells
That hallowes all your utensills.
So I may hope too your sweet Power
Might make even me good were I
Your R. B.
Upon a Black patch on Eliza's cheek, cut in the form of an Heart.
VVhat's this, that holds that happy place
Her Cheek? and to requite such grace
Serves for a foyle unto her face?
Her Cheek? and to requite such grace
Serves for a foyle unto her face?
Such Mole, the Queen hot Hearts obay,
Such Spots she beares that makes Night Day,
Such Tho[illeg.]e of Love wore Helena.
Such Spots she beares that makes Night Day,
Such Tho[illeg.]e of Love wore Helena.
At distance, like a Cloud it showes
I'th' Skie when Morn doth first disclose,
Or like a Fly upon a Rose.
I'th' Skie when Morn doth first disclose,
Or like a Fly upon a Rose.
88
Near, tis an Heart, which being so nigh
The Torrid Zone of her bright eye,
Is scorch'd into the Negro's die.
The Torrid Zone of her bright eye,
Is scorch'd into the Negro's die.
I guest it some poor Heart, which late
Died th'Martyr of her Love and Hate,
Now Mourner turn'd for its sad fate.
Died th'Martyr of her Love and Hate,
Now Mourner turn'd for its sad fate.
And for Reward of Loyalty
Made by some pittying Destinie
A mourning Star in Beauties skie.
Made by some pittying Destinie
A mourning Star in Beauties skie.
Strait on my Breast my Hand was thrown,
From whence I found my Heart was flown,
And thought to claime this for mine own.
From whence I found my Heart was flown,
And thought to claime this for mine own.
But mine flames bright like Juniper,
A Turtle Sacrifice to her,
Not turn'd a coal by black Despair.
A Turtle Sacrifice to her,
Not turn'd a coal by black Despair.
Yet lively this doth Typifie
My State me thought, if January
Should keep her Heart as Iune her eye.
My State me thought, if January
Should keep her Heart as Iune her eye.
But since my Heart will be her Guest,
May it not be shut out, but rest
For ay i'th' Paradise of her Breast.
May it not be shut out, but rest
For ay i'th' Paradise of her Breast.
89
Song. The Rose.
1
Ffrom Eliza's Breast(That sweet Nest
Where my heart and Cupid rest)
I took a Rose-bud, which flew thither
For shelter from the droughty weather.
2
Whilst a Place it heldIn that field
Of Lillies with Violet Mazes rill'd,
It gathered all its sweetnesse there,
And smells not of it selfe, but Her.
3
I thought to kisse theStalk, but see
It (angry) raiz'd it's fangs at me,
And prickt my lips in poor revenge
For making it its sweet bed change.
90
4
Whilst it therein laidIn its shade
Thousand Cupids frisk'd and plai'd
With Fairy Graces thither come
To prove her Breast Elizium.
5
Whence had it this die?Did the skie
Lend it her Ruby Livery?
No, No, it only blusht to see
Her cheeks excell its gallantry.
6
See! so to be sham'dAnd be tane
From her bosom, the poor man
Languishing floure its leaves hath spred
For Griefe, and lies (griefes Martyr) dead.
7
In it yet doth lieFragrancy;
Thus must choycest Beauties die,
But as this after death shall be
Still od'rous in their memory.
91
The Temper.
1
Cease me with Ardour to infestFierce Leo, and Heavens burning stone,
Th'Idalian fire hath made my Breast
Loves Africk, Cupids Torrid Zone,
Or Ætna, which doth feed such great
Flames, as I need no other Heat.
2
Invested in thine icye tireCome hoary Hyems to my reliefe.
But yet I fear before my fire
Thoul't drop away; or else for Griefe
Dissolve to briny tears to see
My feaver, and drown thy selfe and me.
3
If Poison Poison can allay,Sol fires extinguish with his beams,
Come Titan, with thy scalding Ray
Look out my flame. If by th'extremes
I chance to get a Calenture,
That's cool to what I now endure.
92
4
Cease Winter crown'd with Cristall iceTo frigidate my Eliza.
Her Heart's the Court of Dian nice,
Who makes it Greenland, Scythia
Or Caucasus, the frozen Station
Of cold which needs no Augmention.
5
She's white enough, and well may spareThine ashie fleece, a foyle to her,
Which when it sees it self so far
Excell'd, dissolves into a tear,
For spight its not so fair as she,
It turnes durt foule as others be.
6
Come Phœbus arm'd with scorching beams,Besiege her with Iunes heat. But I
Fear e'r shee'l thaw to amorous streames
Thy selfe wilt freeze, or from her eye
(The Cittadell o'th' God of Love)
Thou'lt be shot and my Rivall prove.
7
If Snow can keep the Saplings warm,If Wells be hottest in December,
Winter thy selfe with Ice go arme,
And come beleager evry member,
Till she yeelds Dian shall be sent
Into perpetuall Banishment.
93
8
When thou hast chas'd her from her hold,And art possest thy selfe of it,
If by thy over-chilly cold
She chance an Ague for to get,
She shall extract from me such Cyprian heat
As'l cast us both into a panting sweat.
The Lovers Sun.
1
Let age-dry'd Æson SacrificeTo Sol, and he whose weather-wise
Autumnine joynts at evry blast
Of Boreas keener Breath are cast
Into a Palsie, and do find
As much adoe to stand i'th' wind
And frost, as the thatcht shud, which he
Erected in's Minority.
And let Amyntas, and the Swaine
Whose Soule is corn, and Hope the gain
That the kindly-ripning Springs
And Golden-headed Harvest brings,
Evry Yeer
An Altar rear
To the gay Planet of the East,
And with a fatted Horse him feast.
94
2
Think not (Loves tell-tale foe) to seeThese Superstitious rites from me,
For I acknowledge unto you
No Orgies or Allegiance due.
Tis not thy Atom-thronged Beam
Creates the Day in my esteem,
But bright Eliza's eyes which are
Than thee more radiant by far.
Compar'd with them, thou seem'st to me
Like Bristow stones compar'd with thee.
Nor is't thy abscence (flaming stone)
That makes my christall day-light gone,
But when dear she
Frownes upon me,
And shuts her eyes, Oh, then am I
Involv'd in Tenebrosity.
3
I owe not to thy sparkling RayThe benefit of Night or Day,
Did she ever smile, thy light would be
Just as uselesse unto me
As is thy bicorn'd Sister Moon,
When sometimes she peeps out at Noon.
When my Saint shuts those heavenly lids
Whose wink each daring thought forbids
I hate to see thy glaring Light
And love my melancholy Night.
I wish thy race were shorter yet;
For when my Souls fair Sun be set
95
Needeth no Day.
Besides, thou want'st enough of Light
To make it day when she makes Night.
So smiles or frownes she me upon
I either slight, or wish thee gon.
4
Nor owe I unto thee, but HerAll the foure Seasons of the yeer.
When Hyems hath benum'd the World
And such a cold about it hurld
As thou thy selfe hadst need to shine
Wrapt in an Irish Gausopine,
If I obtaine a Glance of Her
Or if her Name but strikes mine eare,
I am with a strange heat possest,
A Lightning's darted through my Breast,
And in my glowing Soul Desire
Hath kindled such a Vestall fire
As Trent and Thames
With all their streames
Shall ne'r quench; but for aye shall burne,
And warm mine ashes in mine Urne.
5
When thy fierce heat (Olympick coal)Hath crack'd and thaw'd the Icye Pole,
And thou hast wrought thy toylsom track
Up to the lofty Lyons back.
And thereon rid'st environed
With beames ejected from thine Head,
96
And tan the jolly Shepherdesse.
The Oxe now grazes not, but lies
Tormented by the stinging Flies,
Or runs to find a cooler Bower,
I'l slight thy Tyrannizing Power,
I'l not in (vain)
Wish frost againe,
But shroud me from that flame of thine
In her sweet Grove of Eglantine.
6
Neither canst thou (for all thy heat)Two Seasons at one time create,
But all succeed by turns. In her
All fower at one Time appeare.
The Spring perfum'd with fragrancy
I'th' Violets of her veines I spie;
To evidence tis Summer Time
Her Lips bear Cherries in their prime;
Wish I Autum? Lo, all the Year
On her Cheek hangs a Katherine Pear;
And Apples on her Breast be set
By Nature fairer far than that
Which tempted Eve
T'eat without leave.
If I desire a Winters Day
Warm Snow upon her hands doth lay.
But Ah! (which most I grieve to tell)
He also in her Heart doth dwell.
97
Upon a black patch on Eliza's Breast cut in the form of a Dart.
Sure
Cupid thou hast lost thine Art?
See how neer, yet in vain thy Dart
Flew to my dearest dearest's Heart?
See how neer, yet in vain thy Dart
Flew to my dearest dearest's Heart?
What triumphs can such Archery claim?
Reason would have thought in half this time
You might have taken surer aime.
Reason would have thought in half this time
You might have taken surer aime.
But Pardon, I blaspheme in Jest,
Yet dread not thy Revenge i'th' least,
Thou canst not wound me more than th'hast.
Yet dread not thy Revenge i'th' least,
Thou canst not wound me more than th'hast.
But 'cause I'de have thee not refuse
Againe at her thy Bow to use,
I'l cog, and frame thee this excuse.
Againe at her thy Bow to use,
I'l cog, and frame thee this excuse.
You gaz'd so long her eyes upon
(Far brighter than thy Psyche's own,
Or Heavens illustrating stone)
(Far brighter than thy Psyche's own,
Or Heavens illustrating stone)
As dazled with the wondrous flame,
Alas! you lost your levell'd aime,
And with halfe strength thine Arrow came;
Alas! you lost your levell'd aime,
And with halfe strength thine Arrow came;
Which, losing th'point did side-waies fall,
And on her Breast hung like a small
Anchor upon a free-stone wall.
And on her Breast hung like a small
Anchor upon a free-stone wall.
98
To Eliza with my Apology for Paris.
See! (Sweet) the Trojan Prince is come
To you t'attend his finall doome,
His judgement oft hath Judged been,
And controverted Pro and Con,
But if you please t'allow it just
He'l henceforth scorne each Criticks gust.
And from your mouth our Oracle
Wee'l him Loves Minos ever call.
To you t'attend his finall doome,
His judgement oft hath Judged been,
And controverted Pro and Con,
But if you please t'allow it just
He'l henceforth scorne each Criticks gust.
And from your mouth our Oracle
Wee'l him Loves Minos ever call.
If my soft Muse you think rän low
In blazing Cypria, and I show
But a pale shadow of her worth,
Alas! tis' cause I drew it forth
Before your eye beames did inspire
My fancy with Idalian fire.
If this I said for th'Queen of Love
What had I said if you had strove?
In your behalfe? but (fairest) then
No Argument had needed been,
The least glance of your conquering eyes
Had made the youth lay Beauties prize
And's Heart too, at your feet, without
Which to prefer the smallest doubt;
And then he had not needed mee
To coyne him this Apologie.
Such choice even Cato had approv'd,
And Cæsar for it had him lov'd.
For this I'l prove, with smal expence of wit,
Venvs gat Beauties prize, you merit it.
In blazing Cypria, and I show
But a pale shadow of her worth,
Alas! tis' cause I drew it forth
Before your eye beames did inspire
My fancy with Idalian fire.
If this I said for th'Queen of Love
What had I said if you had strove?
In your behalfe? but (fairest) then
No Argument had needed been,
The least glance of your conquering eyes
Had made the youth lay Beauties prize
And's Heart too, at your feet, without
Which to prefer the smallest doubt;
And then he had not needed mee
To coyne him this Apologie.
Such choice even Cato had approv'd,
And Cæsar for it had him lov'd.
For this I'l prove, with smal expence of wit,
Venvs gat Beauties prize, you merit it.
99
To Eliza, with a Tulip fashion'd Watch.
Lady,
This measure of Time accept with serene eye
From him, whose Love to you shall Time out-vie.
See! what disguise this spie of Day doth wear,
A Tulip! as the forge its Garden were.
Indeed heat procreates even Flowers, but this
A peece of an Egyptian Mysterie is.
From him, whose Love to you shall Time out-vie.
See! what disguise this spie of Day doth wear,
A Tulip! as the forge its Garden were.
Indeed heat procreates even Flowers, but this
A peece of an Egyptian Mysterie is.
Time, by a Flower denotes how suddenly,
Earths frailer crops bloom, flourish, fade, and die,
In speciall Beauty (that sweet Tulip) hasts
To waite on Time, then use it whilst it lasts.
Earths frailer crops bloom, flourish, fade, and die,
In speciall Beauty (that sweet Tulip) hasts
To waite on Time, then use it whilst it lasts.
When these small clicking orbs you busie hear,
Panting in their round journey, like the Spheres,
Think so my constant heart doth palpitate
Towards you, and th'Pulse of my Affections beat,
Ne'r to stand, till shee that each happy thing
Envies (the peevish sister) cuts the string.
Panting in their round journey, like the Spheres,
Think so my constant heart doth palpitate
Towards you, and th'Pulse of my Affections beat,
Ne'r to stand, till shee that each happy thing
Envies (the peevish sister) cuts the string.
Song. The Maiden Blush.
VVhere
hast thou been Aurora bright?
With Bacchus revelling last Night?
And now the Clarret thou drank'st there,
I'th' tincture of thy cheeks appear.
With Bacchus revelling last Night?
And now the Clarret thou drank'st there,
I'th' tincture of thy cheeks appear.
100
Or thou art turned Gallant gay?
And wilt perhaps to Court to Day?
And for thy more admired grace
Hast painted thy enchanting face?
And wilt perhaps to Court to Day?
And for thy more admired grace
Hast painted thy enchanting face?
But Eliza has not revell'ing been
Nor meanes to be i'th' Presence seen,
And yet the same Vermilion
Her Rosie-tincted cheek is on.
Nor meanes to be i'th' Presence seen,
And yet the same Vermilion
Her Rosie-tincted cheek is on.
Or Morn doth blush to see, so far
Her selfe excell'd in hue by her,
Else sure carnation Heaven doth die
Her cheeks, or they bepaint the skie.
Her selfe excell'd in hue by her,
Else sure carnation Heaven doth die
Her cheeks, or they bepaint the skie.
Doubts & Feares.
Rouze
Erra Pater, and erect a Scheme,
Tell, tell me, may I hope one cheering beame
From my Loves eye? say, shall my Joyes become
Perfect on this side of Elizium?
Cast, Cast a figure, shall I find that place
On Earth in a sweet Heaven of her embrace.
Tell, tell me, may I hope one cheering beame
From my Loves eye? say, shall my Joyes become
Perfect on this side of Elizium?
Cast, Cast a figure, shall I find that place
On Earth in a sweet Heaven of her embrace.
Why should hope flatter me? since her fair hands
I find so loath to tie those life-long bands?
But why should she shun Juno's fane? or be
So adverse to the Genial Deitie?
Truth on mens tongues (she saies) doth seldom sit
But what they rashly swear they soon forget.
Shee saies they write in Sand when they take oathes
And keep their vowes just as they weare their cloaths,
Whilst only they be new and fresh i'th'fashion
But once grown old (like words they speak in Passion)
They lay them by forgot, and their Loves leave
With watry eyes to waile the faith they gave
To their more watry vowes; And then in Pride
In scornes Triumphall Chariot will they ride
Over their spoyles, and tirannously glory
How many female Trophees deck their story.
So quick-eele Theseus of two conquests vapour,
Poor Ariadne and the Minotaure,
And leaves Fame in the Labyrinth to tell
Of that, or himselfe which was beast most fell.
So did false Jason by his vow-breach prove
'Twas gaine he sought for, not Medea's Love.
Thus slippery streames the yielding banks do court,
Then gliding thence, say they but lov'd in sport.
Thus winds wooe Flowers, but having of their smells
Rob'd them, sly thence perfum'd to other cells.
I find so loath to tie those life-long bands?
But why should she shun Juno's fane? or be
So adverse to the Genial Deitie?
Truth on mens tongues (she saies) doth seldom sit
But what they rashly swear they soon forget.
Shee saies they write in Sand when they take oathes
And keep their vowes just as they weare their cloaths,
101
But once grown old (like words they speak in Passion)
They lay them by forgot, and their Loves leave
With watry eyes to waile the faith they gave
To their more watry vowes; And then in Pride
In scornes Triumphall Chariot will they ride
Over their spoyles, and tirannously glory
How many female Trophees deck their story.
So quick-eele Theseus of two conquests vapour,
Poor Ariadne and the Minotaure,
And leaves Fame in the Labyrinth to tell
Of that, or himselfe which was beast most fell.
So did false Jason by his vow-breach prove
'Twas gaine he sought for, not Medea's Love.
Thus slippery streames the yielding banks do court,
Then gliding thence, say they but lov'd in sport.
Thus winds wooe Flowers, but having of their smells
Rob'd them, sly thence perfum'd to other cells.
Rouse ye infernall Hags, yee direfull three
From the foule lakes of Nights darke Empery.
Give me a bunch of Scorpions to lash
Lady-deceivers, and to teare their flesh
With stings, more than they did the gentle hearts
Of maids they cheated with their Crocodile Arts.
Hells curse on the inconstant crew that tooke
Loves sacred name their fraud or lust to cloak.
Vipers to your own kind, its long on you
Ladies scarce credit us that would be true.
From the foule lakes of Nights darke Empery.
Give me a bunch of Scorpions to lash
Lady-deceivers, and to teare their flesh
With stings, more than they did the gentle hearts
Of maids they cheated with their Crocodile Arts.
Hells curse on the inconstant crew that tooke
Loves sacred name their fraud or lust to cloak.
Vipers to your own kind, its long on you
Ladies scarce credit us that would be true.
Rest thee Ixion, these deserve to feel
The weary service of thy constant wheel.
May the inconstant Stone disturb your rests,
And ravenous Vultures banquet on your Breasts.
And 'cause your flame of Love went out, fry there
In flames eternall as your shame is here.
There (though not here) be constant in your tones,
But let them be Caligula's musick, groanes.
May heaven invent new Plagues, and Poets adde
More curses for you to the store we had.
And may your Ribs in Hell a Grydiron be
Whereon your soules may broile eternally.
The weary service of thy constant wheel.
May the inconstant Stone disturb your rests,
And ravenous Vultures banquet on your Breasts.
And 'cause your flame of Love went out, fry there
In flames eternall as your shame is here.
102
But let them be Caligula's musick, groanes.
May heaven invent new Plagues, and Poets adde
More curses for you to the store we had.
And may your Ribs in Hell a Grydiron be
Whereon your soules may broile eternally.
But ah! I faint! I fear my fate is near,
I feel that colder poyson sad Despair
Invade my veines, shaking my cot of clay,
Warning my soul out; thus warn'd none can stay.
Yet may I ere on Earth I quit my room
Bespeak a better in Elizium.
I feel that colder poyson sad Despair
Invade my veines, shaking my cot of clay,
Warning my soul out; thus warn'd none can stay.
Yet may I ere on Earth I quit my room
Bespeak a better in Elizium.
Sweet Svckling then, the glory of the Bower
Wherein I've wanton'd many a geniall hower,
Fair Plant! whom I have seen Minerva wear
An ornament to her well-plaited hair
On highest daies, remove a little from
Thy excellent Carevv, and thou dearest Tom,
Loves Oracle, lay thee a little off
Thy flourishing Svckling, that between you both
I may find room: then, strike when will my fate,
I'l proudly hast to such a Princely seat.
But you have Crownes, our Gods chast darling Tree
Adorn your Brows with her fresh gallantry.
Stay, I'l go get a wreath too, the Saint I
So long ador'd a Willow can't deny,
I'l claim it, and of that as proud be seen
(Cause tis her favour, and in her hand hath been)
As you of Lawrell, tis as fresh, as green.
Wherein I've wanton'd many a geniall hower,
Fair Plant! whom I have seen Minerva wear
An ornament to her well-plaited hair
On highest daies, remove a little from
Thy excellent Carevv, and thou dearest Tom,
Loves Oracle, lay thee a little off
Thy flourishing Svckling, that between you both
I may find room: then, strike when will my fate,
I'l proudly hast to such a Princely seat.
But you have Crownes, our Gods chast darling Tree
Adorn your Brows with her fresh gallantry.
Stay, I'l go get a wreath too, the Saint I
So long ador'd a Willow can't deny,
I'l claim it, and of that as proud be seen
(Cause tis her favour, and in her hand hath been)
As you of Lawrell, tis as fresh, as green.
103
Sonnet. The Protestation.
1
First stones shall races upward run,Scots forget craft, and Avarice Jewes;
The Needle its dear North shall shun,
And Impudence the publique Stewes;
First supple flattery Nero's Court shall flee,
E're I cease thee to Love, and only Thee.
6
If any object to mine eyeSeems fair, but what in thee is found;
If my dull ear hears melody
Besides thy voice in any sound;
If my abused taste its art should misse,
And relish ought besides thy balmy kisse;
4
If my false touch should think it hathFelt any thing smooth or soft, but thee;
Or if my smell, besides thy Breath
Counts ought Perfume, or Nard to be;
May Titians Kites feast on me, whilst I see
My Rivall joy in and enjoying Thee.
FINIS.
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