University of Virginia Library

CÆLIA.

Containing certaine Sonets.

To the right Noble and his most honoured good Lord, RICHARD Lord DINGWALL.

Sonet. 1.

[My infant Muse, when I began to write]

My infant Muse, when I began to write,
Led by the furie of my vnstay'd yeares,
Sung euer as my fancie did conceit,
As by her method-wanting-layes appeares:
Now prays'd she Cælia's beauty, then admires
Th' enchanting Musicke of anothers quill:
And now againe she would bewaile with teares,
Th' vntimely fals of some whom death did kill.
Thus neuer staying at one setled theame,
Till that she grew more graue, and I more old,
Vnder protection of a royall name,
Faire Sophonisha's tragicke death she told.
Yet lest poore Muse her first conceits were smor'd,
She here presents them to a Noble LORD.

Sonet 2.

[Kind Nature once did labour so in birth]

Kind Nature once did labour so in birth,
That all the gods to helpe her were conuein'd,
ALL's Mother then such bitter throws sustaind,
Or she this child of wonder could bring forth:
At length supported by celestiall might,
She's brought to bed euen of a girle diuine,
Whom al the present Deities propine
With what rare graces could enrich the sight,
Loues Queene gaue Beauty, Dian Chastnes rare,
Minerua Iudgement, thundring Ioue the Name,
Apollo grac'd her with her golden haire,
Iuno the Heart that should all hearts inflame,
Cupid gaue her his owne two louely eyes,
Wherwith all those are darted who her sees.

3. Sonet.

[Beauty beeing long a resident aboue]

Beauty beeing long a resident aboue,
With importune celestiall sutes was deau'd,
Of sacred sprites who still her fauour crau'd,
That she from thence resolued to remooue:
And so at last from top of all the Rounds,
Loue on his wings conuoy'd her here below,
Where she not willing any should her know,
Sought out the North to be her resting bounds.
There she remains her name being chang'd, yet stil
For beauty now faire Cælia she is cal'd,
Whose sight sometimes, as it the gods all thral'd,
So now her lookes poore humane soules doth kil.
And oh no wonder! if they thus do end,
Since they but faile where gods could not defend.

4. Sonet.

[Thy beauty Cælia so betrayd mine eyes]

Thy beauty Cælia so betrayd mine eyes,
That at the first they forc'd my heart to yeeld:
Thus ouercome into a bloudlesse field,
A yeelding slaue vnto thy mercy flees,
Where humble prostrate on affections knees,
Tyde with the chaines of strongest loue (alas)
I do intreat thy pitty to my case,
Pitty but which thy haplesse captiue dy's,
Then as thy beautie did but stroke or come,
So let thy mercy without rigour saue,
Remorse and pittie shall thee best become,
Remorse and pitty which not els I craue,
Thrise happy thraldome if thou pitty moue,
Vnhappy bondage if disdain'd my loue.

5. Sonet.

[My griefes increase still vrg'd me to impart]

My griefes increase still vrg'd me to impart,
My soules felt-paine vnto my fairest faire,
And that she might b'acquainted with my care:
I choos'd my tongue the agent for my heart,
Which being well instructed as I thought,
In all the passions which oppresse a minde,
And being glad to shew how I was pin'd:
With swift wing'd hast I Cælias presence sought:
But I no sooner had attain'd her sight,
When loe my tongue betra'd me to her eyes,
And dastard-like into my throat straight flies,
Leauing me cleane confounded with his flight.
Beat backe with sighes, yet it return'd againe,
But spake of pleasure when it should of paine.

6. Sonet.

[Still must I grone, still must I sigh, still mourne]

Still must I grone, still must I sigh, still mourne,
And cannot grones, nor sighes, nor teares haue place,
To make faire Cælia one sweete smile returne,
Or at the least to shew some signe of grace?
Ah! who would say that one so faire of face,
So rare of beauty, so diuine in all,
Disdain'd to pitty one in such a case,
And one poore soule who leaues her beauties thral?
Still must I breath those grieuous grones in vaine:
Stil must my sighs euanish in the ayre,
Still must those teares be spent in waste I straine,
Stil must my passions all increase my care.
Then gentle death come and dissolue my paine,
Since sighes, teares, grones and passions bred disdaine.

7. Sonet.

[Pale, sad Aurora leaue thy showres to raine]

Pale, sad Aurora leaue thy showres to raine,
Of perl-like cristall teares thou dayly sheds,
In tender bosomes of the flowry meads,
Wayling his death wh' at llious siege was slaine:
Oh let thy soule appeas'd! with this remaine.
That those thy teares pleads pitty by there sight,
And more, the great bright patterne of the light,
To quench his drought carrouses them againe,
Cease then to weepe, and leaue me still to mourne,
Complayning best becomes my mirthlesse state,
Wh'in quenchlesse flames of lucklesse loue does burne:
(Thy Memnons losse requires no more regrate)
And since my owne cannot procure but scorne,
Lend me thy mouing teares, sweet weeping morne.

8. Sonet.

[And is it true deere, that you are vnkind?]

And is it true deere, that you are vnkind?
Shall I beleeue sweet Saint that you are so?
I feare you are, but stay, oh! stay my minde:
Too soone to credit that that breeds thy woe,
Yet whether shall my resolutions goe,
To thinke you are, or not vnkinde I must
Th' effect saies I, and yet my fancy, no,
Being loth such vndeserued harme to trust;
My passions thus such opperations breed,
In my deuided soule that I can not,
Conceit you are that which you are indeed:
Imperious loue doth so controll my thought,
Vnhappy I that did such loue imbrace,
Vnconstant you that hates such loue (alasse)

9. Sonet.

[Bright Angels face, the paradise of Loue]

Bright Angels face, the paradise of Loue,
High stately throne where Maiesty doth shine,
Beauties Idæa, sweetnesse sweetned shrine,
Cleare heauens, wherein proud Phœbus dazlers moue,
Faire pearly rolles that staine the iuory white,
Inuironed with corroll died walles,
Sweet-nectard breath, more soft then Zephir's gales,
Heart-reauing-tongue whose speech still breeds delight,
Smooth cheekes of Rose, and Lyllies interlac'd,
Art-scorning-nose, in framing which no doubt
Nature of her whole skill plai'd bankerout.
When it in midst of such perfections plac'd.
Gold-glittering-tresses, and soules-wounding-lockes,
Onely proud eares, more deafe then flinty rockes.

10. Sonet.

[My Cælia sat once by a christal brooke]

My Cælia sat once by a christal brooke,
Gazing how smoothly the cleere streams did slide,
Who had no sooner her sweet sight espi'd,
When with amazement they did on her looke,
The waters slyding by her seem'd to mourne,
Desirous stil for to behold her beauty,
Neglecting to the Ocean their duty,
In thousand strange Meanders made returne,
But oh! againe with what an heauenly tune,
Those pleasant streames that issued from the spring,
To see that goddesse did appeare to sing,
Whom hauing view'd did as the first had done.
If those pure streames delighted so to eye her,
Iudge how my soule doth surfet when I see her.

11. Sonet.

[The Suns fond child when he arriu'd into]

The Suns fond child when he arriu'd into,
The sights inueigling palace of his sire,
Incens'd with a præposterous desire,
Would needs to guide his fathers cart step to,
So fondly I once, entering (alasse)
Her chamber who bereaues not eyes, but soules,
And whiles my bold approach there's none controules,
I needs would venture to behold her face,
But as Appolloes child more rash then wise,
Did manage those fierce steeds with skillesse Art,
They like a fire-brand flang him from the skies:
Thus while I ey'd her, beauty fier'd my heart:
Only this difference rests betwixt vs two,
I ceaslesse burne, his flames were quencht in Po.

12. Sonet.

[As Icarus proud of his borrowed winges]

As Icarus proud of his borrowed winges,
Following his flying father through the skies,
Aboue the ayery region did arise,
And for to gaze on Phœbus vpward springs,
Where while with houering pens he staring hings
Thinking the glory of that cart to tel,
From which his match in fondnesse head-long fel:
Appolloes rayes his waxen feathers sings:
So I resembling him like fondly flew,
For my desire being wing'd with fancies plumes
To gaze on brighter rayes then those presumes:
Wherewith the Sunne, the sonne of Dedal slew.
And as our flights so were our fals (alasse)
He in the sea, I into blacke disgrace.

13. Sonet.

[A due sweete Cælia for I must depart]

A due sweete Cælia for I must depart,
And leaue thy sight, and with thy sight all ioy,
Conuoi'd with care, attended with annoy:
A vagabonding wretch from part to part,
Onely deare Cælia grant me so much grace,
As to vouchsafe this heart befraught with sorrow,
T'attend vpon thy shadow euen and morrow:
Whose wonted pleasure was to view thy face,
And if sometimes thou soliter remaine,
And for thy dearest deare a sigh lets slide,
This poore attender sitting by thy side
Shall be thy Eccho to repli't againe.
Then farewell Cælia for I must away,
And to attend thee my poore heart shal stay.

14. Sonet.

[Forsaken whether shall I goe (alasse)]

Forsaken whether shall I goe (alasse)
What place to me can any comfort grant,
Sith I must leaue th' onely happy place,
That doth retaine the worlds admired Saint?
Oh neuer let the rising Sun auant,
I saw his brightnesse! not her brighter face;
Nor let the night in sable shadowes hant,
If that I dreame not of my deare some space.
No longer wish I to enioy this ayre,
No longer craue I breath, no more to liue,
Then that I may still gaze vpon my faire,
Whose sweetest smiles all kind of comfort giue.
Daies, houres and nights, and places where I goe,
Til I her see shall but procure my woe.

15. Sonet.

[Daies, houres and nights thy presence may deteine]

Daies, houres and nights thy presence may deteine,
But neither day, nor houre, nor night shal not
Barre thy sweet beauty from mine eyes vnseene,
Since so diuinely printed in my thought,
That skilful Greeke, that Loues Idæa wrought,
And lim'd it so exactly to the eye,
When beauties rarest patterns he had sought,
With this thy portrait could not matched bee,
Tho on a table he, most skilful he,
In rarest collours rarest parts presented,
So on a hart if one may match a tree,
Tho skillesse I thy rarer shape haue painted.
Not by Loues selfe, Loues beauty formed he,
But by thy selfe, thy selfe art form'd in me.

16. Sonet.

[Mount Etnas flames may peraduenture cease]

Mount Etnas flames may peraduenture cease,
Yet my true heart shall burne still in a low,
The swelling streames o're bankes and brayes that flow,
By miracle may stay their swiftest race.
But restlesse streames of liqui'd teares (alasse)
Shall neuer stay from my poore eies to rin,
The congeald ice longe frozen may grow thin,
By the reflex of bright Appolloes face,
But ah! my hopes shall freeze still in dispaire,
Til I enioy againe faire Cælias sight,
Whose beauties beames which shin'd o're me so bright,
Through longsome absence thus procures my care.
Sweet Cælia then make speed my flames to quench,
To raise my hopes and those my teares to stanch.

17. Sonet.

[Gazing from out the windowes of mine eyes]

Gazing from out the windowes of mine eyes,
To view the obiect of my hearts desire,
My famish'd lookes in wandring troupes forth flies:
Hoping by some good fortune to espie her,
But hauing flowne with staring wings long space,
And missing still the aime that caus'd them soare,
Scorning to feed on any other face,
Turnes to their cabins backe and flies no more,
And there enclos'd disdaines to view the light,
Shadowing my face with sable cloudes of griefe:
And thus I breath in cares continuall night,
Till that her sight afford me some reliefe.
Sweet then make hast these cloudy cares to cleare,
And glad those eyes that holds thy sight so deare.

18. Sonet.

[Deere once you told me that you dream'd my breath]

Deere once you told me that you dream'd my breath
Was past, and that your eyes beheld my graue,
Likewise you sayd that sorrow for my death,
From out those eyes distilling teares beraue,
Ah t'was no dreame! if you will but perceiue
How in effect for you I hourely die,
Thinke that no vision did you then deceiue,
Sith you may view the very truth in me,
If so you dream'd this onely seem's to be:
A dreame that for my death such teares you spent,
Worse then a thousand deaths for you I drie,
Yet for my griefe you neuer teare once lent.
But if for dreaming so you mourn'd so much,
Farre rather mourne that in effect its such.

19. Sonnet. Beeing accused by a Gentlewoman for stealing of a Booke.

Let not thy selfe, faire Nimphe, nor none of thine,
Accuse me of no sacriligious theft,
For by the world, and by the starry lift,
And by the honour I doe owe thy shrine,
By the infernall spirits, and gods deuine,
And by the hallowed stately Stigian brayes,
I neuer meant (sweete dame) thee to displease,
For why thy griefe had likewise then beene mine,
If euer ought deare-loue from thee I stale,
I both protest and sweare it was no booke,
No nothing but a poore inueighling looke,
For which againe I left my freedome thrall,
Then blame me not for stealing of thy bookes,
Since you steale hearts, I onely steale poore lookes.

20. Sonet.

[Ponder thy cares, and summe them all in one]

Ponder thy cares, and summe them all in one,
Get the account of all thy hearts disease,
Recken the torments do thy mind displease,
Write vp each sigh, each plaint, each teare, each grone,
Remember on thy griefe conceau'd by day,
And call to minde thy nights disturbed rest,
Thinke on those visions did thy soule molest,
While as thy wearied corpes a sleeping lay,
And when all those thou hast enrold aright,
Into the count-booke of thy daily care,
Extract them truly, then present the sight,
With them of flinty Cælia the faire,
That she may see, if yet moe ills remaines,
For to be paid to her vniust disdaines.

21. Sonet, Made at the Author's beeing in Bourdeaux.

Thou Sunne, those trees, this earth, faire riuer cleere,
Vouchsafe t'attend my pittious plaints, alasse,
And if remorse of a distressed case
Can plead for pitty, listen oh to heare!
Then be reporters to my fairest faire,
To Phœnix Cælia of my restlesse paines.
This ages glory, whom the North retaines,
Inclos'd by Neptune for his darling there,
But ah! those trees, this earth cannot remooue,
And Phœbus feares her rayes shall dim his pride,
And if this riuer should my complaint guide,
Then Neptune would grow iealous of his loue,
So that I craue all these supports in vaine,
I plagu'd alone, alone must beare my paine.

22. Sonet: On the misfortune of Bellizarius, great Lieutenant to the Emperour Iustinian .

Stay passenger, and with relenting looke,
Behold heere Bellizarius, I pray,
Whom neuer-constant fortune, changing aye,
Euen at the top of greatnesse quite forsooke,
And which is wondrous, in a moment tooke
Mee from the hight of an Imperiall sway,
And plac'd me heere, blind begging by this way,
Whose greatnesse somtime scarce the world could brook,
And while thou daignes thy pittifull aspect,
Ah sorrow not so much my fortunes past,
As I beseech thee to bewaile this last!
That from such honour abiect-lie deiect,
I yet am forc'd a spectacle to liue,
Glad to receiue the meanest almes thou't giue.

Sonet to the right worthy Gentleman, and his louing cousin M. Iohn Murray.

VVhile Eagle-like vpon the lofty wings
Of thy aspiring Muse thou flies on hie,
Making th' immortall Sprites in loue with thee,
And of those Ditties thou so sweetly sings,
Where quaffing boules of their Ambrosian springs,
And sweetest Nectar, thou diuinely stayes:
Low by the earth (poore I) sings homely layes,
Till like desire of fame me vpward brings,
Then borrowing, from thy rich Muse, some plumes,
Icærian-like beyond my skill I soare,
While comming where thy songs are heard before,
My lines are mockt, that thine to match presumes:
And thus I perish in my high desire,
While thou'rt more prais'd, the more thou dost aspire.

Idem.

Inriched sprite by great Apollo crown'd
With cirkling wreaths of stately laurell Bayes,
Scorning as't seemes that thy inchanting layes
Should haue their praise but of immortall sound:
For heau'ns seeing earth, so be thy songs renown'd,
Draw vp thy sweetest Ditties to the skies,
Whose well tun'd notes Phœbus t'his harpe applies:
While as his chariot wheels about the Round.
And thus thy diuine-sprite-inspired Muse
Hath made thee here admir'd, belou'd aboue,
She sings so sweetly that she doth infuse
Wonder in mortals, in the godhead loue:
No maruell if thy songs b'admired then,
That yeeld both musicke vnto gods and men.

The complaint of the Shepheard Harpalus.

Sonet on the death of the Lady Cicily Weemes, Lady of Tillebarne.

Faire Cicil's losse, be thou my sable song,
Not that for which proud Rome and Carthage straue
But thine more famous, whom ago not long
Vntimely death intomb'd so soone in graue.
Deare sacred Lady, let thy ghost receiue
These dying accents of my mourning quill,
The sweetest-smelling incense that I haue,
With sighes and teares vpon thy hearse to spill.
To thee (deare Saint) I consecrate ay still
These sad oblations of my mirthlesse mind,
Who while thou breath'd, this wondring world did fill
With thy perfections, Phœnix of thy kind:
From out whose ashes hence I prophecie,
Shall neuer such another Phœnix flie.

Epitaph on the death of his deare cousin, M. Dauid Murray.

Sonet on the death of his cousin, Adam Murray.

I know not whether discontent or loue,
(Deere friend) hath bred this thy abortiue death:
Or if that both vnited shew'd their wrath,
To make thee this thy fatal last to proue,
But bee the motion what it list, did moue,
This thy vnlook'd for sad vntimely fal,
Yet with the losse of breath thou losd not al,
Thy better part still liues the heauens aboue,
And here thy pen immortaliz'd thy name,
From time, obliuion, enuy, and the graue,
That to corruption now thy bones receiue,
But can no way deface thy glorious fame,
Which stil must sore on wings of endlesse praise,
While yeers haue months, months weekes, and weekes haue daies.