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 | The second book of ayres, and dialogues |  |
Parting.
[1]
Deere thy face is heaven to mee,and the presence of thine eyes;
Is like that same light wee see,
which descendeth from the skies.
O then since my heav'n thou art,
and thine eyes my heav'nly light,
doe but think what 'tis to part
and to leave thy blessed sight.
2
If that Darknes still should maskeThe fair visage of the sun,
Heav'n would tell us if we ask
All things would to ruine run:
O then since my heav'n &c.
3
Sun and you like influence haveWhich give light to things below.
You likewise from death doe save,
When you doe your beams but show:
O then since my sun thou art,
And thine eyes my heav'nly light,
Doe but grieve that I did part,
And was forc't to leave thy sight.
He would not be tempted.
[1]
O turn away those cruell eyes,the stars of my undoing,
or death in such a bright disguise,
may tempt a second wooing:
punish their blind and impious pride,
who dare contemne thy Glory,
it was my fall that deifyde
thy name, and seald thy story.
2
Yet no new suffering can prepareA higher praise to crown thee,
Though my first death proclaime thee fair,
My second will unthrone thee.
Lovers will doubt thou canst intice
No other for thy fuell,
And if thou turne one victim twice
Or thinke thee poor, or cruell.
A Prayer to Cupid.
[1]
Cvpid who didst ne're see light,nor know'st the pleasure of the sight,
but ever blinded canst not say,
now it is night, or now tis day:
so captivate her sence, so blind her eye,
that still she love me, though she know not why.
2
Thou that woundest with such art,We see no bloud drop from the heart,
And subtly cruell leav'st no signe
To tell the blow, or hand was thine:
O gently, gently wound my fayre, that she
May hence beleeve the wound did come from thee.
Parting.
[1]
Such was the sorrow Cloris feltat her Amintors parting,
her heart the pain (aboad) so deal't
(perhaps to ease the smarting)
I saw what she essay'd to hide
(rays'd by her griefs devouring)
Twixt Pinks and Lillies powring.
2
Whilst Love (at fall of ev'ry tear,Weary perhaps with playing)
Sat to refresh, and bath him there,
His pointed wings displaying.
But soon the stream her fayre hand dries,
When straight you might espie him
Into the sun shine of her eyes,
Pearcht up to prune and dry him.
[Bee not proud cause fair and trim]
Bee not proud cause fair and trimBee not proud cause fair and trim, but let those lips be tasted, those eyes will hollow prove and dim; that lip and brow be wasted, and to love whole be perswaded, sullied flowr's or beauty faded. O thou art soft as is the ayre, or the words that court the faire, then let those flames by Lovers felt, that scorch'd my heart, make thine to melt.
Leander Drownd.
When as Leander (yong) was Drown'dWhen as Leander (yong) was Drown'd, no heart by love receiv'd a wound, but on a Rock himselfe sat by, there weeping superabundantly. His head upon his hand he layd, and sighing (deeply) thus he sayd: Ah cruell Fate! and looking on't wept as hee'd drown the Hellespont. And sure his tongue had more exprest, had not his tears, had not his tears forbad the rest.
Betrayd, by Beleefe.
Ah, ah! the false fatall ta'e I readAh, ah! the false fatall ta'e I read, when my heart heedlesse and unwise, first studied, and false commented on the unknown text of thy lov'd eyes, when thy glib-running lavish tongue showr'd down more oaths thy faith t'avow, then morning dews on flowr's are hung, or blossoms on the Summer bough: so was my silly truth betrayd, by a smooth tongue and winning eye, poysons by which ther's many a mayd has perisht sure as well as I.
[Know Celia, since thou art so proud]
Know Celia, since thou art so proudKnow Celia, since thou art so proud, 'twas I that gave thee thy renown, thou hadst in the forgotten crowd of common beauties liv'd unknown, had not my verse exhal'd thy name, and with it imp'd the wings of Fame. That killing pow'r is none of thine, I gave it to thy voyce and eyes, thy sweets, thy graces all are mine, thou art my star, shin'st in my skies, then dart not from thy borrow'd spheare, lighting on him that fixt thee there. Tempt me with such affrights no more, lest what I made, I uncreate: Let fooles thy mysticke forms adore, Ile know thee
[When we were parted]
[1]
When we were parted,though but for a while,
from my brest started
a post ev'ry mile:
but I feare, none were directed
from your bosome to me;
for a beauty so affected,
looks for Love custome free.
2
Tis then no marveillMy state should decay,
Brought to be servil
And kept from my pay.
But ingratefull to the giver,
Know the Sea as your King,
Can as well exhaust a river,
As you suck up a spring.
3
And though triumphingYou rowle to the Main
Small streams are something
And part of your train.
Use me gently then that follow
Made by custome so tame,
I am silent whilest you swallow
Both my tears, and my name.
[Was it a forme, a gate, a grace]
Was it a forme, a gate, a graceWas it a forme, a gate, a grace, was it their sweetnes, meerely? was it the Heav'n of a bright face, that made me love so deerly? was it a skin of silk and snow, that soule and sences wounded? was't any of these, or all of these, whereon my faith was founded? ah no! 'twas a
On his hearing her Majesty sing.
[1]
I have beene in Heav'n, I thinke,for I heard an Angell sing,
Notes my thirsty ears did drinke,
never any earthly thing
sung so true, so sweet, so cleere,
I was then in Heav'n, not heere.
2
But the blessed feele no change,So I may mistake the place,
But mine eyes would think it strange
Should that be no Angels face;
Powr's above, it seems, designe
Me still Mortall, her Divine.
3
Till I tread the Milky way,And I lose my sences quite,
All I wish is that I may
Hear that voice, and see that sight,
Then in types and outward show,
I shall have a heav'n below.
[When first I saw fair Doris eyes]
[1]
When first I saw fair Doris eyes,cheering like rising day our plains,
not envying others wealthier flocks,
I thought my selfe the happiest swain.
2
More blessed yet when my rude eareHeard her harmonious numbers flow,
No more a swain, I felt the joyes
Only victorious Princes know.
3
Since which alowd, on thy free lipTo story out my hopes, and love,
Immortall grown, I held aloft
The mansion of dethroned Jove.
4
But when rul'd by my kinder starres,Thy namelesse treasures crown my paine,
Jove and his empty joyes despis'd,
I Shepheard turn'd on earth again.
Gods, take your own, sayd I, vain altars now,
I chuse a happy fate with her below.
[And is this all? what one poor kisse?]
And is this all? what one poor kisse?And is this all? what one poor kisse? Thinkst thou my heart contented is with this gratuity? no Cloris, no: Or give me all, that Lovers love, and pleasure call, or by a free and full deny, permit me to despair, and so despairing die.
An Elegiack Song,
On the Death of Mrs. Elizabeth Sambroke, who Died at Salisbury, April 11. 1655.
Tell not me my Cælia's deadTell not me my Cælia's dead, and that (as she) our love is fled: Love (as the Soul) no change comes nigh, 'tis immortall, ne'r can die. Her love abides, though mounted high'r, (for flames ascending do'nt expire;) and my flame (like the light) which does releeve the night of the dark sepulchre, (gilding the shadowes there) shall ever wake and to my Cælia burn, constant to the cold Marble, and the Urne.
On a Pint of Sack.
[1]
Old Poets Hipocrin admire,and pray to water to inspire
their wit and Muse with heav'nly fire;
had they this heav'nly fountain seen,
Sacke both their well and Muse had beene,
and this pint-pot their Hipocrin.
2
Had they truly discoverd itThey had like me thought it unfit
To pray to water for their wit,
And had ador'd Sack as divine,
And made a Poet God of Wine,
And this pint-pot had been a shrine.
3
Sack unto them had been in steadOf Nector, and their heav'nly bread,
And ev'ry boy a Ganimed;
Or had they made a God of it,
Or stil'd it patron of their wit,
This pot had been a temple fit.
4
Well then Companions is't not fit,Since to this Jemme we ow our wit,
That we should prayse the Cabonet,
And drink a health to this divine
And bounteous pallace of our wine;
Die he with thirst that doth repine.
| The second book of ayres, and dialogues | |