Alcilia Philoparthens louing Folly. Wherevnto Js Added Pigmalions Image. With The Loue of Amos and Lavra. And also Epigrammes by Sir I. H. and others. Neuer before imprinted |
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 | Alcilia |  |
These Sonnets following, were written by the Author, (who giueth himselfe this fained name of Philoparthen, as his accidentall attribute) at diuers times, and vpon diuers occasions, and therefore in the forme and matter they differ, and sometimes are quite contrary one to another, considering the nature and qualitie of Love, which is a Passion full of varietie, and contrarietie in it selfe.
[Vnhappy Eyes that first my Heart betraid]
I
Vnhappy Eyes that first my Heart betraid,Had you not seene, my griefe had not bin such:
And yet how may I iustly you vpbraid,
Since what I saw delighted me so much?
But hence, alas, proceedeth all my smart,
Vnhappie Eyes that first betray'd my Hart.
II
To seeke aduentures, as Fate hath assign'd,My slender Barke now flotes vpon the Maine:
Each troubled thought an Oare, each sigh a winde,
VVhose often puffes haue rent my Sayles in twaine.
LOVE steeres the Boat, which, for that sight he lacks,
Is still in danger of tenne thousand wracks.
III
VVhat sodaine chance hath chang'd my wonted chear,VVhich makes me other then I seeme to be?
My dayes of ioy, that once were bright and cleare,
Are turn'd to night, my mirth to miserie.
Ah, well I weene that somewhat is amisse,
But sooth to say, I know not what it is.
IIII
VVhat, am I dead? Then could I feele no smart:But still in me the sense of griefe reuiueth.
Am I aliue? Ah no, I haue no heart;
For she that hath it, me of life depriueth.
Oh that she would restore my heart againe,
Or giue mee hers, to counteruayle my paine.
V
If it be LOVE, to waste long houres in griefe;If it be LOVE, to wish, and not obtaine;
If it be LOVE, to pine without reliefe;
If it be LOVE, to hope, and neuer gaine:
Then may you thinke that he hath truely lou'd,
VVho for your sake, all this and more haue prou'd.
VI
If ought that in mine Eyes haue done amisse,Let them receiue deserued punishment:
For so the perfect rule of Iustice is,
Each for his owne deedes should be prais'd or shent.
Then doubtlesse it is both 'gainst Law and sence
My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes offence.
VII
I am not sicke, and yet I am not sound;I eare and sleepe, and yet me thinkes I thriue not:
I sport and laugh, and yet my griefes abound;
I am not dead, and yet me thinkes I liue not.
What vncouth cause hath these strange passions bred,
To make at once, sicke, sound, aliue, and dead?
VIII
Some thing I want, but what I cannot say;O now I know, it is my selfe I want:
My Loue with her hath tane my Heart away.
Yea, Heart and all; and left me very scant.
Such power hath LOVE, & nought but LOVE alone,
To make diuided Creatures liue in one.
Come gentle Death, & strike me with thy dart
Life is but loathsome to a man opprest.
Death.
How can I kill thee when thou hast no heart?
That which thou hadst is in anothers breast.
Philo.
Then must I liue, and languish still in paine?
Death.
Yea, till thy Loue restore thy heart againe.
X
VVere Loue a fire, my teares might quench it lightly;Or were it water, my hot heart might dry it;
If Ayre, then might it passe away more slightly,
Or were it Earth, the world would soone descry it.
If Fire, nor VVater, Ayre nor Earth it be,
VVhat then is it that thus tormenteth me?
XI
To paint her outward shape and gifts of mindeIt doth exceed my wit and cunning farre:
She hath no fault, but that she is vnkinde.
All other parts in her so compleate are
That who to view them thoughly would deuise,
Must haue his body nothing else but Eyes.
XII
Faire is my Loue, whose parts are so well framedBy Natures speciall order and direction:
That shee her selfe is more then halfe ashamed,
In hauing made a worke of such perfection.
And well may Nature blush at such a feature,
Seeing her selfe excelled in her creature.
XIII
Her bodie is straight, slender, and vpright;Her visage comely, and her lookes demure,
Mixt with a chearfull grace that yeelds delight;
Her eyes like starres, bright shining, cleare, and pure,
VVhich I describing, Loue bids stay my pen,
And sayes it's not a worke for mortall men.
XIIII
The auncient Poets write of Graces three,VVhich meeting altogether in one Creature,
In all points perfect make the same to bee,
For inward vertues, and for outward feature.
But smile Alcilia, and the world shall see,
That in thine eyes an hundred graces bee.
XV
As Loue had drawne his Bow ready to shoote,Ayming at me with resolute intent:
Straight Bow and Shaft he cast downe at his foote,
And said, why needlesse should one Shaft be spent?
Ile spare it then, and now it shall suffice
In stead of Shafts to vse Alciliaes eyes.
XVI
Blush not my Loue, for feare least Phœbus spie,VVhich if he doe, then doubtlesse he vvill say
Thou seek'st to dim his clearnesse with thine eye,
That clearnesse which from East brings gladsome day.
But most of all, least Ioue should see I dread,
And take thee vp to heauen like Ganymede.
VVhat is the cause Alcilia is displeased?
Lo.
Because she wants that which shold most content her
Phil.
O did I know it, soone should she be eased.
Loue.
Perhaps thou dost, and that doth most torment her.
Phil.
Yet let her aske what she desires to haue.
Loue.
Gesse by thy selfe; for maidens must not craue.
XVIII
My Loue by chance her tender finger pricked,As in the darke I striued for a kisse:
VVhose bloud I seeing, offerd to haue licked;
But halfe in anger she refused this.
O that she knew the difference of the smart,
Twixt her prick'd finger and my wounded hart.
I pray the tell, what makes my hart to tremble
VVhen on a sodaine I Alcilia spye?
Loue.
Because thy heart cannot thy ioy dissemble,
Thy life and death are both lodg'd in her eye.
Phil.
Dost thou not her with self-same passion strike?
Loue.
O no, her heart and thine are not alike.
XX
Such are thy parts of body and of minde,That if I should not loue thee as I doe;
I should too much degenerate from kinde,
And thinke the world would blame my weaknes to.
For he, whom such perfections cannot moue,
Is eyther senslesse, or not borne to loue.
XXI
Alcilia's eyes haue set my heart on fire,The pleasing obiect that my paine doth feede:
Yet still to see those eyes I doe desire,
As if my helpe should from my hurt proceede.
Happy were I, might there in her be found,
A will to heale, as there was power to wound.
XXII
Vnwise was hee that painted Loue a Boy,VVho for his strength a Gyant should haue beene:
It's strange a childe should worke so great annoy:
Yet howsoeuer strange, too truely seene.
“But what is he that dares at Loue repine
“VVhose workes are wonders, and himselfe diuine?
XXIII
My faire Alcilia, gladly would I know it,If euer louing passion pierc'd thy hart:
Oh no; for then thy kindnesse soone would shew it,
And of my paines thy selfe would beare some part.
Full little knoweth hee that hath not proued,
VVhat hell it is to loue, and not be loued.
XXIIII
Loue, art thou blinde? nay, thou canst see too well;And they are blinde that so report of thee:
That thou doest see, my selfe by proofe can tell,
A haplesse proofe thereof is made by mee:
For sure I am, had'st thou not had thy sight,
Thou neuer could'st haue hit my heart so right.
XXV
Long haue I languish'd, and indur'd much smart,Since haplesse I the cruell faire did loue,
And lodg'd her in the center of my heart,
VVho there abiding, reason should her moue,
Though of my paines she no compassion take,
Yet to respect me, for her owne sweet sake.
XXVI
In midst of VVinter season, as the Snow,VVhose milk-white mantle ouer-spreds the ground:
In part the colour of my loue is so,
Yet their effects I haue contrary found.
For when the sunne appeares, Snow melts anone,
But I melt alwayes when my Sunne is gone.
XXVII
The sweet content at first I seem'd to proue,VVhile yet Desire vnfledg'd could scarcely flye:
Did make me thinke there was no life to Loue,
Till all too late Time taught the contrarie.
For, like a Flye, I sported with the flame,
Till, like a Foole, I perish'd in the same.
XXVIII
After darke night, the chearfull day appeareth;After an ebbe, the riuer flowes againe;
After a storme, the cloudy heauen cleareth:
All labours haue their end, or ease of paine;
Each creature hath reliefe and rest, saue I,
VVho onely dying liue, and liuing dye.
XXIX
Sometimes I seeke for company to sport,VVhereby I might my pensiue thoughts beguile:
Sometimes againe I hide me from resort,
And muse alone; but yet alas the while,
In changing place I cannot change my minde,
For where so e'er I flye, my selfe I finde.
XXX
Faine would I speak, but straight my hart doth trēbleAnd checkes my tongue that should my griefes reueale:
And so I striue my passion to dissemble,
VVhich all the Art I haue cannot conceale:
Thus standing mute, my hart with longing sterueth
It grieues a man to aske what he deserueth.
XXXI
Since you desire the cause of me to know,For which these diuers passions I haue proued:
Looke in your glasse, which will not faile to show
The shadowed portrait of my best beloued.
If that suffice not, looke into my hart,
VVhere it's ingrauen in a new-found Art.
XXXII
The painefull Plow-man hath his hearts delight,VVho through his daily toyle his body tyreth:
Yet merrily comes whistling home at night,
And sweetly takes the ease his paine requireth.
But neyther dayes nor nights can yeeld me rest,
Borne to be wretched, and to liue opprest.
XXXIII
O well were it, if Nature would deuise,That men with men together might engender:
As Grafts from Trees, one from another rise,
Then nought of due to women should we render,
But vaine conceit, that Nature should doe this,
Since well wee know, her selfe a woman is.
XXXIIII
Vpon the Altar where Loues fire burned;My sighs and teares for sacrifice I offer'd:
When Loue in rage from me his countenance turned,
And did reiect, what I so humbly proffer'd.
If hee my heart expect, alas it's gone,
How can a man giue that is not his owne?
XXXV
Alcilia said, she did not know my minde,Because my words did not declare my loue:
Thus where I merit most, least helpe I finde,
And her vnkindnesse all too late I proue.
Grant Loue, that shee of whom thou art neglected,
May one day loue, and little be respected.
XXXVI
The Cynicke being ask'd when he would loue,Made answere, when hee nothing had to doe:
For Loue was sloath; but he did neuer proue
By his experience what belong'd thereto.
For had he tasted but as much as I,
He would haue soone reform'd his heresie.
XXXVII
O iudge me not, sweet Loue, by outward show,Though sometimes strange I seeme, and to neglect thee:
Yet didst thou but my inward passions know,
Thou shouldst perceiue how highly I respect thee.
“When lookes are fixed, the hart oft times doth tremble,
Little loues he that cannot much dissemble.
XXXVIII
Parting from thee, euen from my selfe I part,Thou art the starre by which my life is guided:
I haue the body, but thou hast the hart;
The better part is from it selfe diuided.
Thus doe I liue, and this doe I sustaine,
Till gracious fortune make vs meet againe.
XXXIX
Open the sluces of my feeble eyes,And let my teares haue passage from their fountain:
Fil all the earth with plaints, the aire with cries,
Which may pierce rocks, & reach the highest mountain
That so Loues wrath by these extreames appeased,
My griefes may cease, and my poore heart be eased.
XL
“After long sicknes, health brings more delight;“Seas seem more calm, by storms once ouerblowne;
“The day's more chearfull by the passed night;
“Each thing is by his contrary best knowne;
“Continuall ease is paine; Change somtimes meeter;
“Discords in Musicke, make the Musicke sweeter.
XLI
Feare to offend, forbids my tongue to speake,And signes and sighes must tell my inward woe:
But (aye the while) my heart with griefe doth break,
And she by signes my sorrowes will not know,
The stillest streames we see in deepest foords;
And loue is greatest when it wanteth words.
XLII
“No paine so great, but may be eas'd by Art,“Though much we suffer, yet despair we should not
“In midst of griefes Hope alwayes hath some part,
“And Time may heale, what Art & Reason could not.
Oh what is then this passion I indure,
VVhich neither Reason, Art, nor Time can cure?
XLIII
“Pale Iealousie, fiend of eternall night,“Mishapen creature, borne before thy time,
“The Impe of horror, foe to sweet delight,
“Making each error seeme a haynous crime:
“Ah too great pittie (were there remedie,)
“That euer Loue should keepe thee companie.
XLIIII
The dayes are now come to their shortest date,And must in time by course increase againe:
But onely I continue at one state,
Voide of all hope of helpe, or ease of paine.
For dayes of ioy must still be short with me,
And nights of sorrow must prolonged be.
XLV
Sleepe now my Muse, and henceforth take thy rest,VVhich all too long thy selfe in vaine hast wasted:
Let it suffice I still must liue opprest,
And of my paine the fruit must ne'er be tasted.
“Then sleepe my Muse: Fate cannot be withstood,
“It's better sleepe then wake and doe no good.
XLVI
VVhy shold I loue, since she doth proue vngrateful?Since for reward I reape nought but disdaine:
Loue thus to be requited it is hatefull,
And Reason would I should not loue in vaine.
Yet all in vaine, when all is out of season,
For Loue hath no societie with Reason.
XLVII
Harts-ease and I haue beene at ods too long,I follow fast, but still he flyes from mee:
I sue for grace, and yet sustaine the wrong,
So gladly would I reconciled bee.
Loue make vs one: so shalt thou worke a wonder,
Vniting them, that were so farre asunder.
XLVIII
Vncouth, vnkist, our auncient Poet said,And he that hides his wants, when hee hath neede:
May after haue his want of wit bewraid,
And faile of his desire, when others speede.
Then boldly speake: the worst is at first entring;
“Much good successe men miste for lack of ventring.
XLIX
Declare thy griefes wherewith thou art opprest,And let the world be witnesse of thy woes:
Let not thy thoughts lye buryed in thy brest,
But let thy tongue thy discontents disclose.
“For who conceales his paine when he is grieued,
“May well be pittied, but no way relieued.
L
VVretched is hee, that louing sets his hartOn her, whose loue from pure affection swerued:
VVho doth permit each one to haue a part
Of that which none but he alone deserueth.
Giue all or none: For once of this be sure,
Lordship and Loue no partners may endure.
LI
VVho spends the weary day in pensiue thought,And night in dreames of horror, and affright:
Whose welth is want, whose hope is come to nought;
Himselfe the marke for Loue and Fortunes spight:
Let him appeare, if any such there bee,
His case and mine most fitly will agree.
LII
Faire tree, but fruitlesse, sometimes full of sap,VVhich now yeelds nought at all that may delight me:
Some cruell frost, or some vntimely hap
Hath made thee barren, onely to despite me.
Such Trees in vaine with hope doe feede desire,
And serue for fuell to increase Loues fire.
LIII
In company, while sad and mute I sit,My thoughts else-where, then there I seeme to be
Potless'd with some deepe Melancholy fit,
One of my friends obserues the same in me,
And sayes in iest, (which I in earnest proue)
Hee lookes like one, that had lost his first Loue.
LIIII
Twixt Hope and Feare in doubtfull ballance peazed,My Fate, my Fortune, and my Loue depends:
Sometime my Hope is rais'd, when Loue is pleased.
Which feare weighs down, whé ought his wil offends
The heauens are somtimes cleer, and somtimes lowre
“And he that loues, must tast both sweet and sowre.
LV
Retyre my wandring thoughts vnto your rest,Doe not henceforth consume your selues in vaine:
No mortall man in all poynts can be blest,
VVhat now is mine, may be anothers paine.
The watry clouds are cleere, when stormes are past,
And things in their extreames long cannot last.
LVI
The fire of Loue is first bred in the eye,And thence conuayes his heate vnto the hart:
VVhere it lies hid, till Time his force descry:
The tongue thereto addes fuell for his part.
The touch of lips, which doth succeed the same,
Kindles the rest, and so it proues a flame.
LVII
The tender sprigs that sprowted in the field,And promis'd hope of fruit to him that planted:
In stead of fruit doth nought but blossomes yeeld,
Though care and paine to prune it neuer wanted,
Euen so my hopes doe nought but blossomes proue,
And yeeld no fruits to recompence my loue.
LVIII
Though little signe of loue in show appeare,Yet thinke true loue of colours hath no neede:
It's not the glorious garments which men weare
That make them others then they are indeede.
“In meanest show the most affection dwels,
And richest pearles are found in simplest shels.
LIX
Let not thy tongue thy inward thoughts disclose,Or tell the sorrowes that thy heart endures:
Let no mans eare be witnesse of thy woes,
Since pittie neyther helpe nor ease procures.
And onely hee is truely said to mone,
VVhose griefes none knoweth but himselfe alone.
LX
A thousand times I curse these idle rimes,VVhich doe their makers follies vaine set forth:
Yet blesse I them againe as many times,
For that in them I blaze Alcilia's worth.
Meane while I fare as doth the Torch by night,
VVhich wastes it selfe in giuing others light.
LXI
Enough of this: for all is nought regarded,And she not once with my complaints is moued:
Dye haplesse Loue, since thou art not rewarded;
Yet ere thou dye, to witnesse that I loued,
Report my truth, and tell the faire vnkinde,
That she hath lost, what none but she shall finde.
LXII
Louers lament you that haue truely loued;For Philoparthen now hath lost his loue:
The greatest losse that euer Louer proued;
O let his hard hap some compassion moue.
VVho had not rued the losse of her so much,
But that he knowes the world yeelds no more such.
LXIII
Vpon the Ocean of conceited error,My weary spirit many stormes haue past,
VVhich now in harbour, free from wonted terror,
Ioy the possession of their rest at last:
And henceforth safely they may lye at road;
And neuer roue for had-I-wist abroad.
| Alcilia | |