Pocula Castalia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Rouze Erra Pater, and erect a Scheme,
Tell, tell me, may I hope one cheering beame
From my Loves eye? say, shall my Joyes become
Perfect on this side of Elizium?
Cast, Cast a figure, shall I find that place
On Earth in a sweet Heaven of her embrace.

Why should hope flatter me? since her fair hands
I find so loath to tie those life-long bands?
But why should she shun Juno's fane? or be
So adverse to the Genial Deitie?
Truth on mens tongues (she saies) doth seldom sit
But what they rashly swear they soon forget.
Shee saies they write in Sand when they take oathes
And keep their vowes just as they weare their cloaths,

101

Whilst only they be new and fresh i'th'fashion
But once grown old (like words they speak in Passion)
They lay them by forgot, and their Loves leave
With watry eyes to waile the faith they gave
To their more watry vowes; And then in Pride
In scornes Triumphall Chariot will they ride
Over their spoyles, and tirannously glory
How many female Trophees deck their story.
So quick-eele Theseus of two conquests vapour,
Poor Ariadne and the Minotaure,
And leaves Fame in the Labyrinth to tell
Of that, or himselfe which was beast most fell.
So did false Jason by his vow-breach prove
'Twas gaine he sought for, not Medea's Love.
Thus slippery streames the yielding banks do court,
Then gliding thence, say they but lov'd in sport.
Thus winds wooe Flowers, but having of their smells
Rob'd them, sly thence perfum'd to other cells.

Rouse ye infernall Hags, yee direfull three
From the foule lakes of Nights darke Empery.
Give me a bunch of Scorpions to lash
Lady-deceivers, and to teare their flesh
With stings, more than they did the gentle hearts
Of maids they cheated with their Crocodile Arts.
Hells curse on the inconstant crew that tooke
Loves sacred name their fraud or lust to cloak.
Vipers to your own kind, its long on you
Ladies scarce credit us that would be true.

Rest thee Ixion, these deserve to feel
The weary service of thy constant wheel.
May the inconstant Stone disturb your rests,
And ravenous Vultures banquet on your Breasts.
And 'cause your flame of Love went out, fry there
In flames eternall as your shame is here.

102

There (though not here) be constant in your tones,
But let them be Caligula's musick, groanes.
May heaven invent new Plagues, and Poets adde
More curses for you to the store we had.
And may your Ribs in Hell a Grydiron be
Whereon your soules may broile eternally.

But ah! I faint! I fear my fate is near,
I feel that colder poyson sad Despair
Invade my veines, shaking my cot of clay,
Warning my soul out; thus warn'd none can stay.
Yet may I ere on Earth I quit my room
Bespeak a better in Elizium.

Sweet Svckling then, the glory of the Bower
Wherein I've wanton'd many a geniall hower,
Fair Plant! whom I have seen Minerva wear
An ornament to her well-plaited hair
On highest daies, remove a little from
Thy excellent Carevv, and thou dearest Tom,
Loves Oracle, lay thee a little off
Thy flourishing Svckling, that between you both
I may find room: then, strike when will my fate,
I'l proudly hast to such a Princely seat.
But you have Crownes, our Gods chast darling Tree
Adorn your Brows with her fresh gallantry.
Stay, I'l go get a wreath too, the Saint I
So long ador'd a Willow can't deny,
I'l claim it, and of that as proud be seen
(Cause tis her favour, and in her hand hath been)
As you of Lawrell, tis as fresh, as green.