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Aurelian Townshend's Poem and Masks

Edited by E. K. Chambers
Townshend, Aurelian (fl. 1601-1643)

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Poems from Songbooks.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II. To the Countesse of Salisbury.
 III. 
III. Youth and Beauty.
 IV. 
IV. A Dialogue betwixt Time and a Pilgrime.
 V. 
V. A Bacchanall.
 VI. 
VI. In praise of his Mistress.
 VII. 
VII. Sufferance.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX. On his hearing her Majesty sing.
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Poems from Manuscripts.
 X. 
X. To the Lady May.
 XI. 
XI
 XII. 
XII.
 XIII. 
XIII. Pure Simple Love.
 XIV. 
XIV. A Paradox.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI. An Elegie made by Mr Aurelian Townshend In remembrance of the Ladie Venetia Digby.
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Commendatory Poems.
 XVII. 
XVII. To the Right Honourable, the Lord Cary, eldest sonne to the Earle of Monmouth.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. To the Incomparable Brothers, Mr. Henry, and Mr. William Lawes (Servants to His Majestie) upon the setting of these Psalmes.
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Doubtful Poems.
 XIX. 
XIX. Mr. Townsends Verses to Ben Johnsons, in answer to an Abusive Copie, crying down his Magnetick Lady.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI. La Boiuinette.
 XXII. 
XXII. Upon kinde and true Love.
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ALBIONS TRIVMPH.
  
The first Song.
  
The first Chorus.
  
The second Song.
  
The second Chorus.
  
The third Song.
  
The Dialogue betweene Cvpid and Diana.
  
The Chorus below sing.
  
The fourth Song.
  
The fift Song.
  
The sixth Song sung by the five Deities.
  
Peace Sings alone the seventh Song.
  
The Five.
  
The eighth Song.
  
The last generall Chorus.
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TEMPE RESTORD
  
The fugitive Favourite.
  
The Song of Circe, represented by Madam Coniacke.
  
Harmony presented by Mris Shep.
  
A Saraband.
  
The Highest Sphere represented by Mr. Laneere.
  
The Song.
  
[It is but Iustice, to torment a heart]

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3

I.

[Let not thy beauty make thee proud]

Let not thy beauty make thee proud
Though Princes do adore thee,
Since time & sicknes were alow'd
To mow such flowers before thee.
Nor be not shy to that degree,
Thy friends may hardly know thee,
Nor yet so comming or so free,
That every fly may blow thee.
A state in every Princely brow,
As decent is requir'd,
Much more in thine, to whom they bow
By Beauties lightnings fir'd.
And yet a state so sweetly mixt
With an attractive mildnesse,
It may like Vertue sit betwixt
The extreams of pride and vilenesse.
Then every eye that sees thy face
Will in thy Beauty glory,
And every tongue that wags will grace
Thy vertue with a story.
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