Skip directly to:Main content Main navigation

University of Virginia Library

Clarastella

Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath

Heath, Robert (fl. 1636-1659)

collapse section

To my honoured friend Mr R.H. on his rich Poems and Satyrs.

collapse section

The Temple of Virtue.

On a dust got in Clarastella's eie.

On Clarastella singing to the Eccho at Aythorn Church in Kent.

On Loving at first sight.

On a black mole on Clarastella's faire check.

Bleeding at the nose at Clarastella's approach.

Seeing Her Dancing.

To her having got a great Cold.

The Invocation to Cupid.

To one blaming my high-minded Love.

On Clarastella's Picture drawn very like her.

On Mrs. E. H. having red haire on her head, and on her left side a pure white lock growing.

Amoris Somnium. To Clarastella.

On Clarastella singing.

A Love Dialogue between Damon and Stella.

Clarastella playing sweetly on the Lute.

To Clarastella. Loves enterteinment.

On Clarastella walking in the Snow that dissolved assoon as it came near her or the ground she trod on.

To Clarastella. Loves Silence.

Clarastella distrusting.

To Clarastella affrighted at the sight of a Cats fiery eies in the dark, which caused her to shreik.

On a Fleabite espied on her fair hand.

On the taking of an Amethist ring from off Clarastella's finger as she was sleeping.

Loves Expiration.

On a Christal Watch presented to Clarastella.

Of Love and Liking.

Dialogue between Sylvio and Mirtillo.

To Clarastella. Loves Constancie.

To Clarastella upon a favour received from her which she tied in my hat.

Clarastella's Indictment.

On the loss of a Gold-open-ring in which some of Clarastella's hair was enclosed.

To Clarastella saying she would commit her selfe to a Nunnerie.

The Quære. What is Love?

To Clarastella on St. Valentines day morning.

To Clarastella in a storme at Sea.

To her, the Storm ceasing.

On Clarastella walking in her Garden.

On the loss of Clarastella's black fan.

To Clarastella on a Nosegay of flowers which she wore at her bosome.

On Clarastella discovered sleeping in her bed.

To her at departure.

To Cupid. Song.

To a Lady wearing a Looking-glass at her girdle.

To Clarastella.

The Farewel to Clarastella.

On the Report of Clarastella's death.

To a Painter limning a Curtezan.

On the young and fair Mrs M.H. her hair being unfortunately burnt by chance in the candle as she was Combing her head at night.

Writ on Clarastella's Busk.

Deploring Clarastella's Inconstancie.

Loves Hæsitation.

To Clarastella admiring her black Eies and Hair.

To Clarastella complaining of my long kisses.

To Clarastella. Why Lovers walk round.

A Pastoral Protest of Love by Damon to Stella.

collapse section

Occasional POEMS

To an old Gentlewoman that would have her Picture drawn.

Epithalamium Amatorium

On the strange unfortunate breaking of a Glass in a Tavern.

Drinking on a rainy day.

To one that hearing I had some faculty in Poesie, simply requested me to write somewhat on his dear wife lately dead.

On Copernicus his opinion of the earths turning round.

To one that was so impatient with the tooth-ach that he would not rest til all his teeth were drawn forth.

On Whip the Preaching Coachman.

On the unusual cold and rainie weather in the Summer. 1648.

Farewel to passionate Love.

To a friend. Ode.

A sudden Phansie at Midnight.

On a Map of the World accidentally faln into the water and spoiled.

Upon the sight of an old but very deformed woman.

On the late Sect of the Adamites.

To a Ladie on the Death of her little Dog.

In Crumenâ Vacuum an non?

To a Friend wishing peace.

Song in a siege.

On the Creeple souldiers marching in Oxford in the Lord Thr. Cottington's Companie.

collapse section

On the Death of the young and pious Ladie Mrs C. P.

Epicedium On the beautiful Lady Mrs A. K. unfortunately drowned by chance in the Thames in passing the Bridge.

On the Death of the excellent fair Lady, the Lady A.R.

On the losse of Mr N.W. his three finggers cut off at the battel of Edgehil, he being both a Poet and a Musitian.

Nænia Upon the death of my dear friend T.S. Esquire, slain at the first fight at Newbery, 1645.

Upon the lingring death of the Virtuous Mrs L.H.

Upon the Death of the truly valiant Sir Bevil Grenvil slain.

Upon the unfortunate death of the truly gallant and noble Gent. Ed. Sackvil, Esquire.

Elegie Upon the death of that thrice valiant Lord, the Lord Bernard Stewart, slain in the fight neer VVest-Chester.

On the Death of that most famous Musician Mr VV. Lawes, slain in this unhappy Civil Warr.

collapse section

collapse section

1.

The first Book.

To the Reader of my Epigrams and Satyrs.

To a lacivious Blackamoore Woman.

On Lieutenant Catch.

To one that after ten years studie, brought forth a lamentable work.

To the Printer.

On Galla her going to a Nunnerie.

On Cleombrotus.

To a Travellour.

On the Ladie Seem-pol.

On Sir Gervas Loftie.

Epitaph on a Poor Alchymist.

Why men are so unlike.

To Madam Moyle on her Picture.

Epitaph on a very fat man.

On the English Mounsieur.

On Nab and Plodwel.

On Priske and Galla.

To a fat Usurer.

On Mopsa a Chambermaide.

To fat Apicius.

On a deaf man and his blind wife.

Why Justice is painted blind.

Of Love Sonnets.

To Sir Gregorie Nonsense.

To spend-fast a Gamster.

To the Ingenious Reader.

On a fruitful Merchants wife.

To a painted Whore.

To Jeffry the Kings dwarfe.

On Mounsieur Finedress.

On Lurch the match-contriver.

To his dear friend H. N.

To Gripe and Holdclose.

Of Loving Husbands.

On the strange Death of Eschylus a Poet.

On an Inveighing Poetaster.

The Dedication to Momus.

On Braggadochio Cit.

On Childish love.

On Mr Spendall.

On Lawyer Say-much.

To Medicus on Tucca.

To Vetus an old Antiquary.

On the Drunkards lavishness.

On Poetizing Momus.

To a Tobaccoseller.

To the Physicians.

Epitaph on Bibulus.

On Nano being angry.

To one that asked me why I would write an English Epigram after B. Johnson.

Certain modest deprecations against my malevolent Detractour.

collapse section

2.

Epigrams. Lib. 2.

To the gentle Reader.

To the Lady Phanton.

Epitaph on John Newter.

A Question about Law.

To my Book-seller.

On Mr Fanning the Engastrometh.

On the Invention of Printing and Guns.

To VV.B. a smal Poet.

The Stonie Age.

To Captain Nym.

On Resolute Bat.

To Veta an old Shrew.

On Captain Sharke.

To Phydias a Painter.

On Sir Sullen Haughtie.

To his worthy friend T.S. Esquire.

The effects of Brainsick's letters.

On Mr Ap-Taffie Shentilman of Wales.

To an Irish-man.

The Wisdome of this age.

On Doctor Emperick.

To his friend and Companion Mr H.N.

Blessed Ignorance.

To a poore Begger.

On Thais her Bastard.

Epitaph on the Preaching Cobler How.

On Sir John Lackland.

On Lowsi-Patch.

On a fire in a Town.

Epitaph on Hocas Pocas.

To one that talked finely.

To Cosmo on his fair scolding wife.

To Madam Cr. wearing a lookinglass at her Girdle.

On Squire Huffe.

On Philip Soupe and Jone his wife.

On Poet Cordus a Rimer.

To an old deformed Woman.

To Lysippus a Barber.

To a corrupt Judge.

Lydia encountered.

On Mounsieur Congee.

On proud Mrs. Minx.

On three Knights without spurs.

On Copernicus his opinion who thought the earth went round.

On Doctour Love-Self.

To my smal friend with a great beard.

To Ignorant Zoile.

collapse section

1.

2.

3.

4.

collapse section

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

Epithalamium Amatorium

To Aurora.

Why peeps the envious Morne so soon upon
The pleasures of our bed?
Pul back thy fierie coursers Phaeton!
And drive not til I bid!
And lest thy headstrong steeds their reins shu'd break,
That Virgin girdle take
I now unti'd! too soon for you it is
And me, our rosie nests to leave, and rise.

3

Have I so many tedious Suns beheld
And nights in sighing spent,
E'r to temptation I could make her yield?
And would you now prevent
The long-wisht harvest of my joys delight?
Nor grant as long a night?
Go back to thy lov'd Thetis bosome! go!
Whilst in our beds wee'l sport it longer too.

I'd have the world til we our curtains ope,
Expect the Morning star,
And from my glorious Darlings blushes, hope
The Day may once appear:
'T shud be then alwaies night she saies, that we
Might ne'r discover'd be.
So might it be! for whilst she's in mine arme,
In her Suns shade I'd keep me ever warme.