The Poetry of George Wither Edited by Frank Sidgwick |
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| A Miscellany of Epigrams,
Sonnets, Epitaphs, and such other
Verses as were found written with the
Poem aforegoing. |
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 | The Poetry of George Wither |  |
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A Miscellany of Epigrams, Sonnets, Epitaphs, and such other Verses as were found written with the Poem aforegoing.
1. OF THE INVENTION OF THE NINE MUSES.
The acts of ages past doth Clio write,The tragedy's Melpomene's delight,
Thalia is with comedies contented,
Euterpe first the shepherd's pipe invented,
Terpsichore doth song and lute apply,
Dancing Erato found geometry,
Calliope on loving verses dwells,
The secrets of the stars Urania tells,
Polymnia with choice words the speech doth trim,
And great Apollo shares with all of them.
Those thrice three feminines we Muses call;
But that one masculine is worth them all.
2. OF THE LABOURS OF HERCULES.
First he the strong Nemean lion slew;The many-headed Hydra next o'erthrew.
The Erymanthian boar he thirdly foils;
Then of his golden horns the stag he spoils.
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Next he the queen of Amazons o'er-swayed.
Then cleansed Augeas' stalls, with filth so full;
And eighthly tamed the untamed bull.
He slew proud Diomedes with his horses;
From triple Geryon his rich herd he forces.
He slew the dragon for the fruit of gold,
And made black Cerberus the day behold.
These were his twelve stout labours. And they say
With fifty virgins in one night he lay.
If true it be, 'tis thought he labour'd more
In that one act than in the twelve before.
3. BEING LEFT BY A GENTLEMAN IN HIS DINING-ROOM, WHERE WAS NOTHING BUT A MAP OF ENGLAND TO ENTERTAIN HIM, HE THUS TURNED IT INTO VERSE.
Fair England in the bosom of the seas,
Amid her two-and-fifty provinces,
Sits like a glorious empress, whose rich throne
Great nymphs of honour come to wait upon.
Amid her two-and-fifty provinces,
Sits like a glorious empress, whose rich throne
Great nymphs of honour come to wait upon.
First in the height of bravery appears
Kent, East-, and South-, and Middle-Saxon shires;
Next, Surrey, Berkshire, and Southampton get,
With Dorset, Wilton, and rich Somerset.
Then Devon, with the Cornish promontory;
Gloucester and Worcester, fair Sabrina's glory.
Then Salop, Suffolk, Norfolk large and fair,
Oxford and Cambridge, that thrice-learned pair.
Then Lincoln, Derby, Yorkshire, Nottingham,
Northampton, Warwick, Stafford, Buckingham.
Chester and Lancaster, with herds well stor'd,
Huntingdon, Hertford, Rutland, Hereford.
Then princely Durham, Bedford, Leicester, and
Northumber-, Cumber-, and cold Westmoreland.
Kent, East-, and South-, and Middle-Saxon shires;
Next, Surrey, Berkshire, and Southampton get,
With Dorset, Wilton, and rich Somerset.
Then Devon, with the Cornish promontory;
Gloucester and Worcester, fair Sabrina's glory.
Then Salop, Suffolk, Norfolk large and fair,
Oxford and Cambridge, that thrice-learned pair.
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Northampton, Warwick, Stafford, Buckingham.
Chester and Lancaster, with herds well stor'd,
Huntingdon, Hertford, Rutland, Hereford.
Then princely Durham, Bedford, Leicester, and
Northumber-, Cumber-, and cold Westmoreland.
Brave English shires, with whom lov'd equally
Welsh Monmouth, Radnor, and Montgomery,
Add all the glory to her train they can;
So doth Glamorgan, Brecknock, Cardigan,
Carnarvon, Denbigh, Merionethshire,
With Anglesea, which o'er the sea doth rear
Her lofty head. And with the first, though last,
Flint, Pembroke, and Carmarthen might be plac'd.
For all of these unto their power maintain
Their mistress England with a royal train.
Yea, for supporters at each hand hath she
The Wight and Man, that two brave islands be.
Welsh Monmouth, Radnor, and Montgomery,
Add all the glory to her train they can;
So doth Glamorgan, Brecknock, Cardigan,
Carnarvon, Denbigh, Merionethshire,
With Anglesea, which o'er the sea doth rear
Her lofty head. And with the first, though last,
Flint, Pembroke, and Carmarthen might be plac'd.
For all of these unto their power maintain
Their mistress England with a royal train.
Yea, for supporters at each hand hath she
The Wight and Man, that two brave islands be.
From these I to the Scottish nymphs had journey'd
But that my friend was back again returned,
Who having kindly brought me to his home,
Alone did leave me in his dining-room,
Where I was fain, and glad I had the hap,
To beg an entertainment of his map.
But that my friend was back again returned,
Who having kindly brought me to his home,
Alone did leave me in his dining-room,
Where I was fain, and glad I had the hap,
To beg an entertainment of his map.
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4. AN EPITAPH UPON THE RIGHT VIRTUOUS LADY, THE LADY SCOTT.
Let none suppose this relic of the justWas here wrapt up to perish in the dust;
No, like best fruits her time she fully stood,
Then being grown in faith, and ripe in good,
With steadfast hope that she another day
Should rise with Christ, with Death here down she lay.
And that each part which her in life had grac'd
Preserv'd might be, and meet again at last,
The poor, the world, the heavens, and the grave,
Her alms, her praise, her soul, her body have.
5. AN EPITAPH UPON A WOMAN AND HER CHILD, BURIED TOGETHER IN THE SAME GRAVE.
Beneath this marble stone doth lieThe subject of Death's tyranny—
A mother, who in this close tomb
Sleeps with the issue of her womb.
Though cruelly inclin'd was he,
And with the fruit shook down the tree,
Yet was his cruelty in vain,
For tree and fruit shall spring again.
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6. A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
So now is come our joyful'st feast;
Let every man be jolly.
Each room with ivy-leaves is dress'd,
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine,
Round your foreheads garlands twine,
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.
Let every man be jolly.
Each room with ivy-leaves is dress'd,
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine,
Round your foreheads garlands twine,
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.
Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.
Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labour;
Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor.
Young men, and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one another's joys,
And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.
And no man minds his labour;
Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor.
Young men, and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one another's joys,
And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.
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Rank misers now do sparing shun,
Their hall of music soundeth,
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.
The country-folk themselves advance,
For crowdy-mutton's come out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry.
Their hall of music soundeth,
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.
The country-folk themselves advance,
For crowdy-mutton's come out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry.
Ned Swash hath fetch'd his bands from pawn,
And all his best apparel;
Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn
With droppings of the barrel;
And those that hardly all the year
Had bread to eat or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare,
And all the day be merry.
And all his best apparel;
Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn
With droppings of the barrel;
And those that hardly all the year
Had bread to eat or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare,
And all the day be merry.
Now poor men to the justices
With capons make their arrants,
And if they hap to fail of these
They plague them with their warrants.
But now they feed them with good cheer,
And what they want they take in beer,
For Christmas comes but once a year,
And then they shall be merry.
With capons make their arrants,
And if they hap to fail of these
They plague them with their warrants.
But now they feed them with good cheer,
And what they want they take in beer,
For Christmas comes but once a year,
And then they shall be merry.
Good farmers in the country nurse
The poor, that else were undone.
Some landlords spend their money worse,
On lust and pride at London.
There the roysters they do play,
Drab and dice their land away,
Which may be ours another day;
And therefore let's be merry.
The poor, that else were undone.
Some landlords spend their money worse,
On lust and pride at London.
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Drab and dice their land away,
Which may be ours another day;
And therefore let's be merry.
The client now his suit forbears,
The prisoner's heart is eased,
The debtor drinks away his cares,
And for the time is pleased.
Though others' purses be more fat,
Why should we pine or grieve at that?
Hang sorrow, care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry.
The prisoner's heart is eased,
The debtor drinks away his cares,
And for the time is pleased.
Though others' purses be more fat,
Why should we pine or grieve at that?
Hang sorrow, care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry.
Hark how the wags abroad do call
Each other forth to rambling;
Anon you'll see them in the hall
For nuts and apples scambling.
Hark how the roofs with laughters sound!
Anon they'll think the house goes round,
For they the cellar's depth have found,
And there they will be merry.
Each other forth to rambling;
Anon you'll see them in the hall
For nuts and apples scambling.
Hark how the roofs with laughters sound!
Anon they'll think the house goes round,
For they the cellar's depth have found,
And there they will be merry.
The wenches with their wassail-bowls
About the streets are singing,
The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in is bringing.
Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox
Our honest neighbours come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.
About the streets are singing,
The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in is bringing.
Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox
Our honest neighbours come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.
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Now kings and queens poor sheepcotes have,
And mate with everybody;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play at noddy.
Some youths will now a-mumming go,
Some others play at rowland-hoe,
And twenty other gameboys moe,
Because they will be merry.
And mate with everybody;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play at noddy.
Some youths will now a-mumming go,
Some others play at rowland-hoe,
And twenty other gameboys moe,
Because they will be merry.
Then wherefore in these merry days
Should we, I pray, be duller?
No; let us sing some roundelays
To make our mirth the fuller.
And, whilest thus inspir'd we sing,
Let all the streets with echoes ring;
Woods, and hills, and everything,
Bear witness we are merry.
Should we, I pray, be duller?
No; let us sing some roundelays
To make our mirth the fuller.
And, whilest thus inspir'd we sing,
Let all the streets with echoes ring;
Woods, and hills, and everything,
Bear witness we are merry.
7. AN EPITAPH UPON THE PORTER OF A PRISON.
Here lie the bones of him that was of lateA churlish porter of a prison gate.
Death many an evening at his lodging knock'd,
But could not take him, for the door was lock'd;
Yet at a tavern late one night he found him,
And getting him into the cellar, drown'd him.
On which the world, that still the worst is thinking,
Reports abroad that he was kill'd with drinking;
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Rejoice, as if his fortune were the better;
Their sorrow's likely to be ne'er the shorter,
The warden lives, though death hath took the porter.
8. A SONNET UPON A STOLEN KISS.
Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyesWhich waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe,
And free access unto that sweet lip lies,
From whence I long the rosy breath to draw;
Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal
From those two melting rubies one poor kiss;
None sees the theft that would the thief reveal,
Nor rob I her of ought which she can miss;
Nay, should I twenty kisses take away,
There would be little sign I had done so;
Why then should I this robbery delay?
Oh! she may wake, and therewith angry grow.
Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one,
And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.
9. AN EPITAPH UPON ABRAM GOODFELLOW, A COMMON ALEHOUSE-HUNTER.
Beware thou look not who hereunder lies,
Unless thou long to weep away thine eyes.
This man, as sorrowful report doth tell us,
Was, when he lived, the prince of all Goodfellows.
That day he died, it cannot be believed
How out of reason all the alewives grieved,
And what abominable lamentation
They made at Black-boy and at Salutation;
They howl'd and cried, and ever more among
This was the burden of their woeful song:
Well, go thy ways, thy like hath never been,
Nor shall thy match again be ever seen;
For out of doubt now thou art dead and gone,
There's many a tap-house will be quite undone,
And Death by taking thee did them more scathe,
Than yet the alehouse project done them hath.
Unless thou long to weep away thine eyes.
This man, as sorrowful report doth tell us,
Was, when he lived, the prince of all Goodfellows.
That day he died, it cannot be believed
How out of reason all the alewives grieved,
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They made at Black-boy and at Salutation;
They howl'd and cried, and ever more among
This was the burden of their woeful song:
Well, go thy ways, thy like hath never been,
Nor shall thy match again be ever seen;
For out of doubt now thou art dead and gone,
There's many a tap-house will be quite undone,
And Death by taking thee did them more scathe,
Than yet the alehouse project done them hath.
Lo, such a one but yesterday was he,
But now he much is alter'd, you do see.
Since he came hither he hath left his riot,
Yea, changed both his company and diet,
And now so civil lies, that to your thinking
He neither for an alehouse cares, nor drinking.
But now he much is alter'd, you do see.
Since he came hither he hath left his riot,
Yea, changed both his company and diet,
And now so civil lies, that to your thinking
He neither for an alehouse cares, nor drinking.
10. AN EPITAPH UPON A GENTLEWOMAN WHO HAD FORETOLD THE TIME OF HER DEATH.
Her who beneath this stone consuming liesFor many virtues we might memorize.
But, most of all, the praise deserveth she
In making of her words and deeds agree.
For she so truly kept the word she spake,
As that with Death she promise would not break.
“I shall,” quoth she, “be dead before the mid
Of such a month.” And, as she said, she did.
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11. AN EPITAPH ON A CHILD, SON TO SIR W. H. KNIGHT.
Here lies, within a cabinet of stone,The dear remainder of a pretty one,
Who did in wit his years so far outpass,
His parents' wonder and their joy he was.
And by his face you might have deemed him
To be on earth some heavenly Cherubim.
Six years with life he labour'd, then deceased,
To keep the sabbath of eternal rest;
So that which many thousand able men
Are lab'ring for till threescore years and ten
This blessed child attained to ere seven,
And now enjoys it with the saints of Heaven.
12. A SONG.
Now, young man, thy days and thy glories appear
Like sunshine and blossoms in spring of the year;
Thy vigour of body, thy spirits, thy wit,
Are perfect and sound and untroubled yet.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Like sunshine and blossoms in spring of the year;
Thy vigour of body, thy spirits, thy wit,
Are perfect and sound and untroubled yet.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Mis-spend not a morning so excellent clear;
Never for ever was happiness here.
Thy noontide of life hath but little delight,
And sorrows on sorrows will follow at night.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Never for ever was happiness here.
Thy noontide of life hath but little delight,
And sorrows on sorrows will follow at night.
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Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That strength and those beauties that grace thee today
To-morrow may perish and vanish away.
Thy wealth or thy pleasures, or friends that now be,
May waste or deceive, or be traitors to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
To-morrow may perish and vanish away.
Thy wealth or thy pleasures, or friends that now be,
May waste or deceive, or be traitors to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy joints are yet nimble, thy sinews unslack,
And marrow unwasted doth strengthen thy back.
Thy youth from diseases preserveth the brain,
And blood with free passage plumps every vein.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And marrow unwasted doth strengthen thy back.
Thy youth from diseases preserveth the brain,
And blood with free passage plumps every vein.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
But trust me it will not for ever be so;
Those arms that are mighty shall feebler grow.
And those legs so proudly supporting thee now,
With age or diseases will stagger and bow.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those arms that are mighty shall feebler grow.
And those legs so proudly supporting thee now,
With age or diseases will stagger and bow.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Then all those rare features now graceful in thee
Shall, ploughed with Time's furrows, quite ruined be.
And they who admired and loved thee so much,
Shall loathe, or forget thou hadst ever been such.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Shall, ploughed with Time's furrows, quite ruined be.
And they who admired and loved thee so much,
Shall loathe, or forget thou hadst ever been such.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
186
Those tresses of hair which thy youth do adorn
Will look like the meads in a winterly morn.
And where red and white intermixed did grow,
Dull paleness a deadly complexion will show.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will look like the meads in a winterly morn.
And where red and white intermixed did grow,
Dull paleness a deadly complexion will show.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That forehead imperious, whereon we now view
A smoothness and whiteness enamelled with blue,
Will lose that perfection which youth now maintains,
And change it for hollowness, wrinkles, and stains.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
A smoothness and whiteness enamelled with blue,
Will lose that perfection which youth now maintains,
And change it for hollowness, wrinkles, and stains.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those ears thou with music didst oft entertain,
And charm with so many a delicate strain,
May miss of those pleasures wherewith they are fed,
And never hear song more when youth is once fled.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And charm with so many a delicate strain,
May miss of those pleasures wherewith they are fed,
And never hear song more when youth is once fled.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those eyes which so many so much did admire,
And with strange affections set thousands on fire,
Shut up in that darkness which age will constrain,
Shall never see mortal, no, never again.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind then, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And with strange affections set thousands on fire,
Shut up in that darkness which age will constrain,
Shall never see mortal, no, never again.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind then, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those lips whereon beauty so fully discloses
The colour and sweetness of rubies and roses,
Instead of that hue will ghastliness wear,
And none shall believe what perfection was there.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
The colour and sweetness of rubies and roses,
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And none shall believe what perfection was there.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy teeth that stood firmly, like pearls in a row,
Shall rotten, and scatter'd disorderly grow;
The mouth whose proportion earth's wonder was thought,
Shall, robb'd of that sweetness, be prized at nought.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Shall rotten, and scatter'd disorderly grow;
The mouth whose proportion earth's wonder was thought,
Shall, robb'd of that sweetness, be prized at nought.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That gait and those gestures that win thee such grace
Will turn to a feeble and staggering pace.
And thou that o'er mountains ran'st nimbly to-day,
Shall stumble at every rub in the way.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will turn to a feeble and staggering pace.
And thou that o'er mountains ran'st nimbly to-day,
Shall stumble at every rub in the way.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
By these imperfections old age will prevail,
Thy marrow, thy sinews, and spirits will fail.
And nothing is left thee, when those are once spent,
To give or thyself or another content.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy marrow, thy sinews, and spirits will fail.
And nothing is left thee, when those are once spent,
To give or thyself or another content.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Those fancies that lull thee with dreams of delight
Will trouble thy quiet the comfortless night.
And thou that now sleepest thy troubles away,
Shalt hear how each cock'rel gives warning of day.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will trouble thy quiet the comfortless night.
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Shalt hear how each cock'rel gives warning of day.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Then thou that art yet unto thousands so dear,
Of all shalt despis'd or neglected appear;
Which, when thou perceiv'st, though now pleasant it be,
Thy life will be grievous and loathsome to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Of all shalt despis'd or neglected appear;
Which, when thou perceiv'st, though now pleasant it be,
Thy life will be grievous and loathsome to thee.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
That lust which thy youth can so hardly forego
Will leave thee, and leave thee repentance and woe.
And then in thy folly no joy thou canst have,
Nor hope other rest than a comfortless grave.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Will leave thee, and leave thee repentance and woe.
And then in thy folly no joy thou canst have,
Nor hope other rest than a comfortless grave.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
For next shall thy breath be quite taken away,
Thy flesh turn'd to dust, and that dust turn'd to clay;
And those thou hast loved, and share of thy store,
Shall leave thee, forget thee, and mind thee no more.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
Thy flesh turn'd to dust, and that dust turn'd to clay;
And those thou hast loved, and share of thy store,
Shall leave thee, forget thee, and mind thee no more.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
And yet if in time thou remember not this,
The slenderest part of thy sorrow it is:
Thy soul to a torture more fearful shall wend,
Hath ever and ever, and never an end.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
The slenderest part of thy sorrow it is:
Thy soul to a torture more fearful shall wend,
Hath ever and ever, and never an end.
Now then, oh, now then, if safety thou love,
Mind thou, oh, mind thou thy Maker above.
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13. A DREAM.
When bright Phœbus at his rest
Was reposed in the west,
And the cheerful daylight gone,
Drew unwelcome darkness on,
Night her blackness wrapp'd about me,
And within 'twas as without me.
Was reposed in the west,
And the cheerful daylight gone,
Drew unwelcome darkness on,
Night her blackness wrapp'd about me,
And within 'twas as without me.
Therefore on my tumbled bed
Down I laid my troubled head,
Where mine eyes, inured to care,
Seldom used to slumb'ring were.
Yet, o'ertired of late with weeping,
Then by chance they fell a-sleeping.
Down I laid my troubled head,
Where mine eyes, inured to care,
Seldom used to slumb'ring were.
Yet, o'ertired of late with weeping,
Then by chance they fell a-sleeping.
But such visions me diseased,
As in vain that sleep I seized:
For I sleeping fancies had,
Which yet waking make me sad.
Some can sleep away their sorrow,
But mine doubles every morrow.
As in vain that sleep I seized:
For I sleeping fancies had,
Which yet waking make me sad.
Some can sleep away their sorrow,
But mine doubles every morrow.
Walking to a pleasant grove,
Where I used to think of love,
I methought a place did view
Wherein Flora's riches grew.
Primrose, hyacinth, and lilies,
Cowslips, violets, daffodillies.
Where I used to think of love,
I methought a place did view
Wherein Flora's riches grew.
Primrose, hyacinth, and lilies,
Cowslips, violets, daffodillies.
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There a fountain close beside
I a matchless beauty spied.
So she lay as if she slept,
But much grief her waking kept.
And she had no softer pillow
Than the hard root of a willow.
I a matchless beauty spied.
So she lay as if she slept,
But much grief her waking kept.
And she had no softer pillow
Than the hard root of a willow.
Down her cheeks the tears did flow,
Which a grieved heart did show,
Her fair eyes the earth beholding,
And her arms themselves enfolding;
She her passion to betoken,
Sigh'd as if her heart were broken.
Which a grieved heart did show,
Her fair eyes the earth beholding,
And her arms themselves enfolding;
She her passion to betoken,
Sigh'd as if her heart were broken.
So much grief methought she shew'd,
That my sorrow it renew'd;
But when nearer her I went
It increased my discontent;
For a gentle nymph she proved
Who me long unknown had loved.
That my sorrow it renew'd;
But when nearer her I went
It increased my discontent;
For a gentle nymph she proved
Who me long unknown had loved.
Straight on me she fix'd her look,
Which a deep impression took;
And, “Of all that live,” quoth she,
“Thou art welcomest to me.”
Then, misdoubting to be blamed,
Thus she spake, as half ashamed.
Which a deep impression took;
And, “Of all that live,” quoth she,
“Thou art welcomest to me.”
Then, misdoubting to be blamed,
Thus she spake, as half ashamed.
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“Thee unknown I long affected,
And as long in vain expected;
For I had a hopeful thought
Thou wouldst crave what others sought;
And I for thy sake have stay'd
Many wanton springs a maid.
And as long in vain expected;
For I had a hopeful thought
Thou wouldst crave what others sought;
And I for thy sake have stay'd
Many wanton springs a maid.
“Still, when any wooed me,
They renew'd the thought of thee;
And in hope thou would'st have tried
Their affections, I denied.
But a lover forc'd upon me
By my friends hath now undone me.
They renew'd the thought of thee;
And in hope thou would'st have tried
Their affections, I denied.
But a lover forc'd upon me
By my friends hath now undone me.
“What I waking dared not show,
In a dream thou now dost know:
But to better my estate
Now, alas, it is too late.
And I, both awake and sleeping,
Now consume my youth in weeping.”
In a dream thou now dost know:
But to better my estate
Now, alas, it is too late.
And I, both awake and sleeping,
Now consume my youth in weeping.”
Somewhat then I would have said,
But replyings were denied.
For, methought, when speak I would,
Not a word bring forth I could.
And as I a kiss was taking,
That I lost too, by awaking.
But replyings were denied.
For, methought, when speak I would,
Not a word bring forth I could.
And as I a kiss was taking,
That I lost too, by awaking.
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14. CERTAIN VERSES WRITTEN TO HIS LOVING FRIEND, UPON HIS DEPARTURE.
Swift Time, that will by no entreaty stay,
Is now gone by, and summons me away;
And what my grief denies my tongue to do,
My true affection drives my pen unto.
Dear heart, that day and that sad hour is come
In which thy face I must be banished from,
And go to live where peradventure we
Hereafter must for aye divided be.
Is now gone by, and summons me away;
And what my grief denies my tongue to do,
My true affection drives my pen unto.
Dear heart, that day and that sad hour is come
In which thy face I must be banished from,
And go to live where peradventure we
Hereafter must for aye divided be.
For, 'twixt our bodies, which now close are met,
A thousand hills and valleys shall be set,
A thousand groves, a thousand weeping springs,
And many thousand other envious things,
Which, when we are departed, keep us may
From coming nearer till our dying day.
A thousand hills and valleys shall be set,
A thousand groves, a thousand weeping springs,
And many thousand other envious things,
Which, when we are departed, keep us may
From coming nearer till our dying day.
So these our hands, which thus each other touch
Shall never after this time do so much;
Nor shall these eyes, which yet themselves delight,
With mutual gazing on each other light,
Be ever raised up again so near
To view each other in their proper sphere;
Nor e'er again, through those their crystal orbs,
Read what sad passion our poor hearts disturbs.
Shall never after this time do so much;
Nor shall these eyes, which yet themselves delight,
With mutual gazing on each other light,
Be ever raised up again so near
To view each other in their proper sphere;
Nor e'er again, through those their crystal orbs,
Read what sad passion our poor hearts disturbs.
Which when we think upon, we scarce contain
Their swelling flood-gates, but a pearly rain
Drops from those plenteous springs; and forth are sent
From those sad dungeons where our hearts are pent,
So many sighs that, in our parting now,
A storm of passions we must venture through,
Whose fury I would stay to see o'erpast
Before I went, in spite of all my haste,
But that I view some tokens which foretell
That by delay the floods will higher swell,
And, whilst to be divided we are loth,
With some worse peril overwhelm us both.
Their swelling flood-gates, but a pearly rain
Drops from those plenteous springs; and forth are sent
From those sad dungeons where our hearts are pent,
So many sighs that, in our parting now,
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Whose fury I would stay to see o'erpast
Before I went, in spite of all my haste,
But that I view some tokens which foretell
That by delay the floods will higher swell,
And, whilst to be divided we are loth,
With some worse peril overwhelm us both.
Oh! rather let us wisely undergo
A sorrow that will daily lesser grow,
Than venture on a pleasing mischief which
Will unawares our honest hearts bewitch,
And bring us to such pass at last that we
Shall ne'er perceive it till undone we be.
A sorrow that will daily lesser grow,
Than venture on a pleasing mischief which
Will unawares our honest hearts bewitch,
And bring us to such pass at last that we
Shall ne'er perceive it till undone we be.
I find your love, and so the same approve,
That I shall ever love you for that love,
And am so covetous of such dear pelf,
That for it I could give away myself.
And yet I rather would go pine and die
For want thereof, than live till you or I
Should give or take one dram of that delight
Which is another's, and so mar outright
Our most unstain'd affection, which hath yet
No inclination unto ill in it.
That I shall ever love you for that love,
And am so covetous of such dear pelf,
That for it I could give away myself.
And yet I rather would go pine and die
For want thereof, than live till you or I
Should give or take one dram of that delight
Which is another's, and so mar outright
Our most unstain'd affection, which hath yet
No inclination unto ill in it.
Nay, though it more unsufferable were,
I would e'en that just liberty forbear
Which honest friendship is allow'd to take,
If I perceived it me unapt did make
To master my affections, or to go
On those affairs that reason calls me to.
I would e'en that just liberty forbear
Which honest friendship is allow'd to take,
If I perceived it me unapt did make
To master my affections, or to go
On those affairs that reason calls me to.
Those parents that discreet in loving be,
When on their new-born child a wen they see
Which may perchance in aftertime disgrace
The sweet proportion of a lovely face,
Although it wound their souls to hear the moan,
And see the tortures of their pretty one,
To weep a little rather are content
Whilst he endures the surgeon's instrument,
Than suffer that foul blemish there to spread,
Until his face be quite disfigured.
When on their new-born child a wen they see
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The sweet proportion of a lovely face,
Although it wound their souls to hear the moan,
And see the tortures of their pretty one,
To weep a little rather are content
Whilst he endures the surgeon's instrument,
Than suffer that foul blemish there to spread,
Until his face be quite disfigured.
So we, betwixt whose souls there is begot
That sweet babe, friendship, must beware no spot
Through our indulgent indiscretion grow,
That may the beauty of our love o'erthrow;
Let's rather bear a little discontent,
And learn of reason those things to prevent
Which mar affection, that our friendship may
Wax firmer and more lovely every day.
That sweet babe, friendship, must beware no spot
Through our indulgent indiscretion grow,
That may the beauty of our love o'erthrow;
Let's rather bear a little discontent,
And learn of reason those things to prevent
Which mar affection, that our friendship may
Wax firmer and more lovely every day.
There is indeed to gentle hearts no smarting
That is more torment to them than departing
From those they love; and doubtless if that we
Were so united as the married be,
Our bodies at our parture would be so
As if each of them did a soul forego.
That is more torment to them than departing
From those they love; and doubtless if that we
Were so united as the married be,
Our bodies at our parture would be so
As if each of them did a soul forego.
But in our flesh we are, and must remain,
Perpetual strangers, and ourselves contain
From that embrace which marriage love allows,
Or else, I injure virtue, you your vows,
And for a short unworthy pleasure mar
Those rich contentments which eternal are,
Of which I am in hope that always we
Should in each other's presence guiltless be.
But in our absence sure I am we shall
Not only still be innocent of all
That simple folly and that oversight
To which our many frailties tempt us might,
But by this means shall also 'scape the blot
Wherewith ill tongues our names would seek to spot.
Perpetual strangers, and ourselves contain
From that embrace which marriage love allows,
Or else, I injure virtue, you your vows,
And for a short unworthy pleasure mar
Those rich contentments which eternal are,
Of which I am in hope that always we
Should in each other's presence guiltless be.
But in our absence sure I am we shall
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That simple folly and that oversight
To which our many frailties tempt us might,
But by this means shall also 'scape the blot
Wherewith ill tongues our names would seek to spot.
Which if you fear, and would avoid the wrongs
That may befall you by malicious tongues,
Then seek my absence, for I have in that
Unto my friends been too unfortunate;
Yet as I love fair virtue, there is no man
E'er heard me boast the favours of a woman
To her dishonour, neither, by my soul,
Was I e'er guilty of an act so foul
As some imagine; neither do I know
That woman yet with whom I might be so;
For never kindnesses to me were show'd
Which I dared think for evil end bestow'd:
Nor ever, to this present hour, did I
Turn friendship, favour, opportunity,
Or ought vouchsaf'd me, thereby to acquire
Those wicked ends which wantons do desire:
For whensoever lust begun to flame,
It was extinguish'd by true love and shame.
That may befall you by malicious tongues,
Then seek my absence, for I have in that
Unto my friends been too unfortunate;
Yet as I love fair virtue, there is no man
E'er heard me boast the favours of a woman
To her dishonour, neither, by my soul,
Was I e'er guilty of an act so foul
As some imagine; neither do I know
That woman yet with whom I might be so;
For never kindnesses to me were show'd
Which I dared think for evil end bestow'd:
Nor ever, to this present hour, did I
Turn friendship, favour, opportunity,
Or ought vouchsaf'd me, thereby to acquire
Those wicked ends which wantons do desire:
For whensoever lust begun to flame,
It was extinguish'd by true love and shame.
But what would this my innocence prevail
When your fair name detraction should assail?
And how abhorr'd should I hereafter be
If you should suffer infamy by me?
You fear it not one half so much, you say,
As you are loth I should depart away,
And hap what will, you think to be content
Whilst I am here, and you still innocent.
Indeed, those friends approve I not which may
By every slanderous tongue be talk'd away;
But yet I like not him that will not strive,
As much as in him lieth, free to live
From giving just occasions of offence,
For else he vainly brags of innocence;
And so do we, unless that without blame
We purpose with our love to keep our fame.
When your fair name detraction should assail?
And how abhorr'd should I hereafter be
If you should suffer infamy by me?
You fear it not one half so much, you say,
As you are loth I should depart away,
And hap what will, you think to be content
Whilst I am here, and you still innocent.
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By every slanderous tongue be talk'd away;
But yet I like not him that will not strive,
As much as in him lieth, free to live
From giving just occasions of offence,
For else he vainly brags of innocence;
And so do we, unless that without blame
We purpose with our love to keep our fame.
Then let us pleased part; and though the dearness
Of our affection covets both a nearness
In mind and body, let us willingly
Beget a virtue of necessity.
And since we must compelled be to live
By time and place divided, let us strive
In the despite of time and distance, so
That love of virtue may more perfect grow,
And that this separation we lament
May make our meeting fuller of content.
Of our affection covets both a nearness
In mind and body, let us willingly
Beget a virtue of necessity.
And since we must compelled be to live
By time and place divided, let us strive
In the despite of time and distance, so
That love of virtue may more perfect grow,
And that this separation we lament
May make our meeting fuller of content.
Betwixt our bodies, this I'll not deny,
There is a dear respective sympathy,
Which makes us mutually both joy and grieve
As there is cause: and farther, I believe
That our contentment is imperfect till
They have each other in possession still:
But that which in us two I love dare name,
Is 'twixt our souls, and such a powerful flame,
As nothing shall extinguish nor obscure
Whilst their eternal substance doth endure;
No, not our absence, nor that mighty space
Betwixt my home and your abiding-place.
There is a dear respective sympathy,
Which makes us mutually both joy and grieve
As there is cause: and farther, I believe
That our contentment is imperfect till
They have each other in possession still:
But that which in us two I love dare name,
Is 'twixt our souls, and such a powerful flame,
As nothing shall extinguish nor obscure
Whilst their eternal substance doth endure;
No, not our absence, nor that mighty space
Betwixt my home and your abiding-place.
For ere your eyes my eyes had ever seen,
When many thousand furlongs lay between
Our unknown bodies, and before that you
Had seen my face, or thought the same to view,
You most entirely loved me, you say;
Which shows our souls had then found out the way
To know each other, and unseen of us,
To make our bodies meet unthought of thus.
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Our unknown bodies, and before that you
Had seen my face, or thought the same to view,
You most entirely loved me, you say;
Which shows our souls had then found out the way
To know each other, and unseen of us,
To make our bodies meet unthought of thus.
Then much less now shall hill, or dale, or grove,
Or that great tract of ground which must remove
My body from you, there my soul confine,
To keep it back from yours, or yours from mine.
Nay, being more acquainted than they were,
And active spirits, that can anywhere
Within a moment meet, they to and fro
Will every minute to each other go,
And we shall love with that dear love wherein
Will neither be offence nor cause of sin.
Or that great tract of ground which must remove
My body from you, there my soul confine,
To keep it back from yours, or yours from mine.
Nay, being more acquainted than they were,
And active spirits, that can anywhere
Within a moment meet, they to and fro
Will every minute to each other go,
And we shall love with that dear love wherein
Will neither be offence nor cause of sin.
Yea, whereas carnal love is ever colder
As youth decays, and as the flesh grows older,
And, when the body is dissolved, must
Be buried with oblivion in the dust,
We then shall dearer grow, and this our love,
Which now imperfect is, shall perfect prove,
For there's no mortal power can rob true friends
Of that which noblest amity attends,
Nor any separation that is able
To make the virtuous lovers miserable.
Since, when disasters threaten most dejection,
Their goodness maketh strongest their affection,
And that which works in others' loves denial
In them more noble makes it by the trial.
As youth decays, and as the flesh grows older,
And, when the body is dissolved, must
Be buried with oblivion in the dust,
We then shall dearer grow, and this our love,
Which now imperfect is, shall perfect prove,
For there's no mortal power can rob true friends
Of that which noblest amity attends,
Nor any separation that is able
To make the virtuous lovers miserable.
Since, when disasters threaten most dejection,
Their goodness maketh strongest their affection,
And that which works in others' loves denial
In them more noble makes it by the trial.
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'Tis true that when we part we know not whether
These bodies shall for ever meet together,
As you have said. Yet, wherefore should we grieve,
Since we a better meeting do believe?
If we did also know that when we die
This love should perish everlastingly,
And that we must, as brutish creatures do,
Lose with our bodies all our dearness too,
Our separation then a sorrow were
Which mortal heart had never power to bear,
And we should faint and die to think upon
The passions would be felt when I were gone.
But seeing in the soul our love is plac'd,
And seeing souls of death shall never taste,
No death can end our love—nay, when we die,
Our souls, that now in chains and fetters lie,
Shall meet more freely to partake that joy,
Compar'd to which our friendship's but a toy,
And for each bitterness in this our love
We shall a thousand sweet contentments prove.
These bodies shall for ever meet together,
As you have said. Yet, wherefore should we grieve,
Since we a better meeting do believe?
If we did also know that when we die
This love should perish everlastingly,
And that we must, as brutish creatures do,
Lose with our bodies all our dearness too,
Our separation then a sorrow were
Which mortal heart had never power to bear,
And we should faint and die to think upon
The passions would be felt when I were gone.
But seeing in the soul our love is plac'd,
And seeing souls of death shall never taste,
No death can end our love—nay, when we die,
Our souls, that now in chains and fetters lie,
Shall meet more freely to partake that joy,
Compar'd to which our friendship's but a toy,
And for each bitterness in this our love
We shall a thousand sweet contentments prove.
Meanwhile, we that together living may
Through human weaknesses be led astray,
And unawares make that affection foul
Which virtue yet keeps blameless in the soul,
By absence shall preserved be as clean
As to be kept in our best thoughts we mean,
And in our prayers for each other shall
Give and receive more kindnesses than all
The world can yield us; and when other men
Whose love is carnal are tormented when
Death calls them hence, because they robbed be
Of all their hope for evermore to see
The object of their love, we shall avoid
That bitter anguish wherewith they are cloy'd.
And whensoe'er it happens thou or I
Shall feel the time approaching us to die,
It shall not grieve us at our latest breath
To mind each other on the bed of death,
Because of any oversight or sin
Whereof we guilty in our souls have bin;
Nor will death fear us, 'cause we shall perceive
That these contentments which we had not leave
To take now we are living, shall be gain'd
When our imprison'd souls shall be unchain'd:
Nay, rather wish to die, we might possess
The sweet fruition of that happiness
Which we shall then receive in the perfection
Of Him that is the fullness of affection.
Through human weaknesses be led astray,
And unawares make that affection foul
Which virtue yet keeps blameless in the soul,
By absence shall preserved be as clean
As to be kept in our best thoughts we mean,
And in our prayers for each other shall
Give and receive more kindnesses than all
The world can yield us; and when other men
Whose love is carnal are tormented when
Death calls them hence, because they robbed be
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The object of their love, we shall avoid
That bitter anguish wherewith they are cloy'd.
And whensoe'er it happens thou or I
Shall feel the time approaching us to die,
It shall not grieve us at our latest breath
To mind each other on the bed of death,
Because of any oversight or sin
Whereof we guilty in our souls have bin;
Nor will death fear us, 'cause we shall perceive
That these contentments which we had not leave
To take now we are living, shall be gain'd
When our imprison'd souls shall be unchain'd:
Nay, rather wish to die, we might possess
The sweet fruition of that happiness
Which we shall then receive in the perfection
Of Him that is the fullness of affection.
If time prevented not, I had in store
To comfort thee so many reasons more,
That thou wouldst leave to grieve, although we should
Each other's persons never more behold.
But there is hope. And then, that know you may
True friends can in their absence find the way
To compass their contentments whom they love,
You shall ere long the power it hath approve.
Meanwhile, you still are dear; yea, live or die,
My soul shall love you everlastingly.
And howsoe'er there seem such cause of sorrow,
Yet those that part and think to meet to-morrow
Death may divide to-night, and as before
Their fear was less, their grief will be the more.
Since, therefore, whether far I live or nigh
There is in meeting an uncertainty,
Let us for that which surest is provide,
Part like those friends whom nothing can divide;
And since we lovers first became, that we
Might to our power each other's comfort be,
Let's not the sweetness of our love destroy,
But turn these weepings into tears of joy.
On which condition I do give thee this,
To be both mine and sorrow's parting kiss.
To comfort thee so many reasons more,
That thou wouldst leave to grieve, although we should
Each other's persons never more behold.
But there is hope. And then, that know you may
True friends can in their absence find the way
To compass their contentments whom they love,
You shall ere long the power it hath approve.
Meanwhile, you still are dear; yea, live or die,
My soul shall love you everlastingly.
And howsoe'er there seem such cause of sorrow,
Yet those that part and think to meet to-morrow
Death may divide to-night, and as before
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Since, therefore, whether far I live or nigh
There is in meeting an uncertainty,
Let us for that which surest is provide,
Part like those friends whom nothing can divide;
And since we lovers first became, that we
Might to our power each other's comfort be,
Let's not the sweetness of our love destroy,
But turn these weepings into tears of joy.
On which condition I do give thee this,
To be both mine and sorrow's parting kiss.
Philarete.
FINIS
| The Poetry of George Wither | |