Occasional Verses of Edward Lord Herbert, Baron of Cherbery and Castle-Island Deceased in August, 1648 |
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A Vision.
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 | Occasional Verses of Edward Lord Herbert, Baron of Cherbery and Castle-Island |  |
A Vision.
Within an open curled Sea of Gold
A Bark of Ivory, one day, I saw,
Which striking with his Oars did seem to draw
Tow'rds, a fair Coast, wch! then did behold.
A Bark of Ivory, one day, I saw,
Which striking with his Oars did seem to draw
Tow'rds, a fair Coast, wch! then did behold.
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A Lady held the Stern, while her white hand
Whiter then either Ivory or Sail,
Over the surging Waves did so prevail,
That she had now approached near the Land.
Whiter then either Ivory or Sail,
Over the surging Waves did so prevail,
That she had now approached near the Land.
When suddenly, as if she fear'd some wrack,
And yet the Sky was fair, and Air was clear,
And neither Rock, nor Monster did appear,
Doubting the Point, which spi'd, she turned back.
And yet the Sky was fair, and Air was clear,
And neither Rock, nor Monster did appear,
Doubting the Point, which spi'd, she turned back.
Then with a Second course I saw her steer
As if she meant to reach some other Bay,
Where being approach'd, she likewise turn'd away,
Though in the Bark some Waves now entred were.
As if she meant to reach some other Bay,
Where being approach'd, she likewise turn'd away,
Though in the Bark some Waves now entred were.
Thus varying oft her course, at last I found,
While I in quest of the Adventure go,
The Sail took down, and Oars had ceas'd to row,
And that the Bark it self was run aground.
While I in quest of the Adventure go,
The Sail took down, and Oars had ceas'd to row,
And that the Bark it self was run aground.
Wherewith Earths fairest Creature I beheld,
For which both Bark and Sea I gladly lost.
Let no Philosopher of Knowledge boast,
Unless that he my Vision can unfold.
For which both Bark and Sea I gladly lost.
Let no Philosopher of Knowledge boast,
Unless that he my Vision can unfold.
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Tears, flow no more, or if you needs must flow,
Fall yet more slow,
Do not the world invade,
From smaller springs then yours rivers have grown,
And they again a Sea have made,
Brackish like you, and which like you hath flown.
Fall yet more slow,
Do not the world invade,
From smaller springs then yours rivers have grown,
And they again a Sea have made,
Brackish like you, and which like you hath flown.
Ebb to my heart, and on the burning fires
Of my desires,
Let your torrents fall,
From smaller sparks then theirs such sparks arise
As into flame converting all,
This world might be but my love's sacrifice.
Of my desires,
Let your torrents fall,
From smaller sparks then theirs such sparks arise
As into flame converting all,
This world might be but my love's sacrifice.
Yet if the tempests of my sighs so slow
You both must flow,
And my desires still burn,
Since that in vain all help my love requires.
Why may not yet their rages turn
To dry those tears, and to blow out those fires.
You both must flow,
And my desires still burn,
Since that in vain all help my love requires.
Why may not yet their rages turn
To dry those tears, and to blow out those fires.
Italy 1614.
| Occasional Verses of Edward Lord Herbert, Baron of Cherbery and Castle-Island | |