The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton Edited by Charles B. Gullans |
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 | DOUBTFUL POEMS |
| 57. |
| 58. |
| 59. |
| 60. |
 | The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton |  |
199
DOUBTFUL POEMS
201
57. [To his Forsaken Mistresse]
I doe confess th'art smooth, and faire,
& I might ha' gon neer to loue thee
had I not found ye sleightest pray'r
yt lip could move had pow'r to move thee.
but I can let ye now a lone,
as worthy to be loued by none.
& I might ha' gon neer to loue thee
had I not found ye sleightest pray'r
yt lip could move had pow'r to move thee.
but I can let ye now a lone,
as worthy to be loued by none.
I doe confess thart sweet, yet finde
thee such an vnthrift of thy Sweetes,
thy favors are but like the winde
wch kisseth eurythinge it meetes,
and since thou canst wth more then one
th'art worthy to be kist by none.
thee such an vnthrift of thy Sweetes,
thy favors are but like the winde
wch kisseth eurythinge it meetes,
and since thou canst wth more then one
th'art worthy to be kist by none.
The morninge rose yt vntoucht standes,
Armd wth her briers how sweet she smels,
but pluckt, & straind through ruder Hands,
her sweets noe longer wth her dwels,
but sent and beautye soone are gone
And leaues fall from her one, by one.
Armd wth her briers how sweet she smels,
but pluckt, & straind through ruder Hands,
her sweets noe longer wth her dwels,
but sent and beautye soone are gone
And leaues fall from her one, by one.
Such fate ere longe will thee betide,
when thou hast Handled bin a whyle,
wth sear flowrs to be thrown asyde,
And I shall syghe, when som will smile,
to see thy loue to evry one
hath brought thee to be loude by none.
when thou hast Handled bin a whyle,
wth sear flowrs to be thrown asyde,
And I shall syghe, when som will smile,
to see thy loue to evry one
hath brought thee to be loude by none.
202
58. A Song
By Sir John Eaton.
I
Tell me not I my Time mis-spend,'Tis Time lost to reprove me;
Pursue thou thine, I have my End,
So Chloris only love me;
II
Tell me not other Flocks are full,Mine poor, let them despise me
Who more abound with Milk and Wool,
So Chloris only prize me.
III
Tire other easier Ears with theseUnappertaining Stories;
He never felt the World's Disease,
Who car'd not for its Glories.
IV
For Pity, thou that wiser art,Whose Thoughts lye wide of mine;
Let me alone with my own Heart,
And I'll ne'er envy thine.
V
Nor blame him who e'er blames my Wit,That seeks no higher Prize,
Than in unenvy'd Shades to sit,
And sing of Chloris' Eyes.
203
59. Old-Long-syne,
First Part.
Should old Acquaintance be forgot,
And never thought upon,
The Flames of Love extinguished,
And freely past and gone?
Is thy kind Heart now grown so cold
In that Loving Breast of thine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On Old-long-syne?
And never thought upon,
The Flames of Love extinguished,
And freely past and gone?
Is thy kind Heart now grown so cold
In that Loving Breast of thine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On Old-long-syne?
Where are thy Protestations,
Thy Vows and Oaths, my Dear,
Thou made to me, and I to thee,
In Register yet clear?
Is Faith and Truth so violate
To the Immortal Gods Divine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On Old-long-syne?
Thy Vows and Oaths, my Dear,
Thou made to me, and I to thee,
In Register yet clear?
Is Faith and Truth so violate
To the Immortal Gods Divine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On Old-long-syne?
Is't Cupid's Fears, or frosty Cares,
That makes thy Sp'rits decay?
Or is't some Object of more Worth,
That's stoll'n thy Heart away?
Or some Desert, makes thee neglect
Him, so much once was thine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On Old-long-syne?
That makes thy Sp'rits decay?
Or is't some Object of more Worth,
That's stoll'n thy Heart away?
Or some Desert, makes thee neglect
Him, so much once was thine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On Old-long-syne?
Is't Worldly Cares so desperate,
That makes thee to despair?
Is't that makes thee exasperate,
And makes thee to forbear?
If thou of that were free as I,
Thou surely should be Mine:
If this were true, we should renew
Kind Old-long-syne.
That makes thee to despair?
Is't that makes thee exasperate,
And makes thee to forbear?
If thou of that were free as I,
Thou surely should be Mine:
If this were true, we should renew
Kind Old-long-syne.
204
But since that nothing can prevail,
And all Hope is in vain,
From these rejected Eyes of mine
Still Showers of Tears shall rain:
And though thou hast me now forgot,
Yet I'll continue Thine,
And ne'er forget for to reflect
On Old-long-syne.
And all Hope is in vain,
From these rejected Eyes of mine
Still Showers of Tears shall rain:
And though thou hast me now forgot,
Yet I'll continue Thine,
And ne'er forget for to reflect
On Old-long-syne.
If e'er I have a House, my Dear,
That truly is call'd mine,
And can afford but Country Cheer,
Or ought that's good therein;
Tho' thou were Rebel to the King,
And beat with Wind and Rain,
Assure thy self of Welcome Love,
For Old-long-syne.
That truly is call'd mine,
And can afford but Country Cheer,
Or ought that's good therein;
Tho' thou were Rebel to the King,
And beat with Wind and Rain,
Assure thy self of Welcome Love,
For Old-long-syne.
Second Part.
My Soul is ravish'd with Delight
When you I think upon;
All Griefs and Sorrows take the Flight,
And hastily are gone;
The fair Resemblance of your Face
So fills this Breast of mine,
No Fate nor Force can it displace,
For Old-long-syne.
When you I think upon;
All Griefs and Sorrows take the Flight,
And hastily are gone;
The fair Resemblance of your Face
So fills this Breast of mine,
No Fate nor Force can it displace,
For Old-long-syne.
Since Thoughts of you doth banish Grief,
When I'm from you removed;
And if in them I find Relief,
When with sad Cares I'm moved,
How doth your Presence me affect
With Ecstacies Divine,
Especially when I reflect
On Old-long-syne.
When I'm from you removed;
And if in them I find Relief,
When with sad Cares I'm moved,
How doth your Presence me affect
With Ecstacies Divine,
Especially when I reflect
On Old-long-syne.
205
Since thou has rob'd me of my Heart
By those resistless Powers,
Which Madam Nature doth impart
To those fair Eyes of yours;
With Honour it doth not consist
To hold a Slave in Pyne,
Pray let your Rigour then desist,
For Old-long-syne.
By those resistless Powers,
Which Madam Nature doth impart
To those fair Eyes of yours;
With Honour it doth not consist
To hold a Slave in Pyne,
Pray let your Rigour then desist,
For Old-long-syne.
'Tis not my Freedom I do crave
By deprecating Pains;
Sure Liberty he would not have
Who glories in his Chains:
But this I wish, the Gods would move
That Noble Soul of thine
To Pity, since thou cannot love
For Old-long-syne.
By deprecating Pains;
Sure Liberty he would not have
Who glories in his Chains:
But this I wish, the Gods would move
That Noble Soul of thine
To Pity, since thou cannot love
For Old-long-syne.
60. [Scorn of Love's Power]
What art thow Cupid or yow queene of Louethat poetts fayne can our affections moue
to like where yow shall fancy, t'is not soe.
Ile loue there only where I treuly know
my loue shall bee repay'd wth equall fire
and both our harts make vp but one desire.
Were my owne honor'd saint exactly Faire
in euery parte soe exquisitly rare
that the great Judge of Beautie would confesse
shee'd farre exceede the three fam'd Goddessese
made vp into one Beautie: I will scorne
to bee hir Captiue, since I haue been forlorne.
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