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University of Virginia Library

Poems

By Thomas Carew

Carew, Thomas (1595?-1639?)

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A divine Mistris.

A cruell Mistris

My mistris commanding me to returne her letters.

Secresie protested.

A prayer to the Wind.

Mediocritie in love rejected.

Good counsel to a young Maid.

To my Mistris sitting by a Rivers side.

A deposition from Love.

Ingratefull beauty threatned.

Disdaine returned.

A Looking-Glasse.

An Elegie on the La: Pen: sent to my Mistresse out of France.

To my Mistresse in absence.

To her in absence.

Upon some alterations in my Mistresse, after my departure into France.

Good counsell to a young Maid.

Celia bleeding, to the Surgeon.

To T.H. a Lady resembling my Mistresse.

Upon a Ribband.

To the King at his entrance into Saxham, by Master Io, Crofts.

Upon the sicknesse of (E.S.)

A New-yeares Sacrifice.

Upon the Kings sicknesse.

A flye that flew into my Mistris her eye.

SONG. Celia singing.

SONG.

In the person of a Lady to her inconstant servant.

Truce in Love entreated.

Boldnesse in love.

A Pastorall Dialogue.

Griefe ingrost.

A Pastorall Dialogue.

Red, and white Roses.

To my Cousin (C.R.) marrying my Lady (A.)

A Lover upon an Accident necessitating his departure, consults with Reason.

Parting, Celia weepes.

Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villers.

Epitaph on the Lady S. Wife to Sir W.S.

Maria Wentworth. Thomæ Comitis Cleveland, filia præmortuæ prima Virginiam animam exhaluit. An. Dom. Æt.suæ.

On the Duke of Buckingham.

Siste Hospes sive Indigena sive Advena vicissitudinis rerum memor pauca pellege.

Foure Songs by way of Chorus to a play, at an entertainment of the King and Queene, by my Lord Chamberlaine

Songs in the Play.

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SONG.

To one that desired to know my Mistris.

Seeke not to know my love, for shee
Hath vow'd her constant faith to me;
Her milde aspects are mine, and thou
Shalt only find a stormy brow:
For if her beautie stirre desire
In me, her kisses quench the fire.
Or, I can to Love's fountaine goe,
Or dwell upon her hills of snow.
But when thou burn'st, she shall not spare
One gentle breath to coole the ayre.
Thou shalt not climbe those Alpes, nor spye
Where the sweet springs of Venus lye;
Search hidden Nature, and there find
A treasure to inrich thy mind;
Discover Arts not yet reveal'd,
But let my Mistris live conceal'd;
Though men by knowledge wiser grow,
Yet bereft is wisdome not to know.