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 | Poems, with a maske |  |
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To my Lord Admirall, on his late sickness, and recovery.
VVith joy like ours, the Thracian youth invade
Orpheus, returning from th'Elysian shade,
Embrace the Heroe, and his stay implore,
Make it their publike sute he would no more
Desert them so, and for his Spouses sake,
His vanisht love, tempt the Lethæan Lake;
The Ladies too, the brightest of that time,
Ambitious all his lofty bed to climbe,
Their doubtfull hopes with expectation feed,
Which shall the fair Euridice succeed;
Euridice, for whom his numerous moan
Makes listning Trees, and savage Mountaines groan,
Through all the Ayr his sounding strings dilate
Sorrow like that, which touch'd our hearts of late,
Your pining sickness, and your restless pain,
At once the Land affecting, and the Mayn,
When the glad newes that you were Admirall,
Scarce through the Nation spread, 'twas fear'd by all
That our great CHARLES, whose wisdom shines in you,
Should be perplexed how to chuse a new:
So more than private was the joy and grief,
That at the worst it gave our soules relief,
That in our Age such sense of vertue liv'd,
They joy'd so justly, and so justly griev'd.
Orpheus, returning from th'Elysian shade,
Embrace the Heroe, and his stay implore,
Make it their publike sute he would no more
Desert them so, and for his Spouses sake,
His vanisht love, tempt the Lethæan Lake;
The Ladies too, the brightest of that time,
Ambitious all his lofty bed to climbe,
Their doubtfull hopes with expectation feed,
Which shall the fair Euridice succeed;
Euridice, for whom his numerous moan
Makes listning Trees, and savage Mountaines groan,
Through all the Ayr his sounding strings dilate
Sorrow like that, which touch'd our hearts of late,
Your pining sickness, and your restless pain,
At once the Land affecting, and the Mayn,
When the glad newes that you were Admirall,
Scarce through the Nation spread, 'twas fear'd by all
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Should be perplexed how to chuse a new:
So more than private was the joy and grief,
That at the worst it gave our soules relief,
That in our Age such sense of vertue liv'd,
They joy'd so justly, and so justly griev'd.
Nature, her fairest light ecclipsed, seemes
Her self to suffer in these sad extremes,
While not from thine alone thy blood retires,
But from those cheeks which all the world admires.
The stem thus threatned, and the sap, in thee
Droop all the branches of that noble Tree,
Their beauties they, and we our love suspend,
Nought can our wishes, save thy health intend;
As Lillies over-charg'd with rain they bend
Their beauteous heads, and with high heaven contend,
Fold thee within their snowy arires, and cry,
He is too faultless, and too young to die:
So like Immortals, round about thee They
Sit, that they fright approaching death away.
Who would not languish, by so fair a train
To be lamented, and restor'd again?
Or thus with-held, what hasty soul would go.
Though to the Blest? O'r young Adonis so
Faire Venus mourn'd, and with the precious showr
Of her warm teares cherisht the springing flower.
Her self to suffer in these sad extremes,
While not from thine alone thy blood retires,
But from those cheeks which all the world admires.
The stem thus threatned, and the sap, in thee
Droop all the branches of that noble Tree,
Their beauties they, and we our love suspend,
Nought can our wishes, save thy health intend;
As Lillies over-charg'd with rain they bend
Their beauteous heads, and with high heaven contend,
Fold thee within their snowy arires, and cry,
He is too faultless, and too young to die:
So like Immortals, round about thee They
Sit, that they fright approaching death away.
Who would not languish, by so fair a train
To be lamented, and restor'd again?
Or thus with-held, what hasty soul would go.
Though to the Blest? O'r young Adonis so
Faire Venus mourn'd, and with the precious showr
Of her warm teares cherisht the springing flower.
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The next support, fair hope, of your great name,
And second Pillar of that noble frame,
By loss of thee would no aduantage have,
But step by step pursues thee to thy grave.
And second Pillar of that noble frame,
By loss of thee would no aduantage have,
But step by step pursues thee to thy grave.
And now relentless Fate about to end
The line, which backward doth so farr extend,
That Antique stock, which still the world supplies
With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes,
Kind Phæbus interposing bade me stay,
Such stormes no more shall shake that house, but say,
Like Neptune, and his Sea-born Neece shall be
The shining glories of the Land and Sea,
With courage guard, and beauty warm our Age,
And Lovers fill with like Poetique rage.
The line, which backward doth so farr extend,
That Antique stock, which still the world supplies
With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes,
Kind Phæbus interposing bade me stay,
Such stormes no more shall shake that house, but say,
Like Neptune, and his Sea-born Neece shall be
The shining glories of the Land and Sea,
With courage guard, and beauty warm our Age,
And Lovers fill with like Poetique rage.
On Mistris N. to the green sickness.
Stay coward blood, and doe not yield
To thy pale sister, beauties field,
Who there displaying round her white
Ensignes, hath usurp'd thy night;
Invading thy peculiar throne,
The lip, where thou shouldst rule alone;
And on the cheek, where natures care,
Allotted each an equall share,
Her spreading Lilly only growes,
Whose milky deluge drowns thy Rose.
To thy pale sister, beauties field,
Who there displaying round her white
Ensignes, hath usurp'd thy night;
Invading thy peculiar throne,
The lip, where thou shouldst rule alone;
And on the cheek, where natures care,
Allotted each an equall share,
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Whose milky deluge drowns thy Rose.
Quit not the field faint blood, nor rush
In the short salley of a blush
Vpon thy sister foe, but strive
To keep an endless warre alive;
Though peace doe petty States maintain,
Here warre alone makes beauty raign.
In the short salley of a blush
Vpon thy sister foe, but strive
To keep an endless warre alive;
Though peace doe petty States maintain,
Here warre alone makes beauty raign.
Vpon a Mole in Celia's bosome.
That lovely spot which thou dost see
In Celia's bosome was a Bee,
Who built her amorous spicy nest
I'th' Hyblas of her either breast,
But from close Ivory Hyves, she flew
To suck the Aromatick dew
Which from the neighbour vale distils,
Which parts those two twin-sister hils,
There feasting on Ambrosiall meat,
A rowling sile of Balmy sweat,
(As in soft murmurs before death,
Swan-like she sung) chokt up her breath.
So she in water did expire,
More precious than the Phænix fire;
In Celia's bosome was a Bee,
Who built her amorous spicy nest
I'th' Hyblas of her either breast,
But from close Ivory Hyves, she flew
To suck the Aromatick dew
Which from the neighbour vale distils,
Which parts those two twin-sister hils,
There feasting on Ambrosiall meat,
A rowling sile of Balmy sweat,
(As in soft murmurs before death,
Swan-like she sung) chokt up her breath.
So she in water did expire,
More precious than the Phænix fire;
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Yet still her shaddow there remains
Confind to those Elizian plains;
With this strict Law, that who shall lay
His bold lips on that milky way,
The sweet, and smart, from thence shall bring
Of the Bees Honey, and her sting.
Confind to those Elizian plains;
With this strict Law, that who shall lay
His bold lips on that milky way,
The sweet, and smart, from thence shall bring
Of the Bees Honey, and her sting.
An Hymeneall Song on the Nuptials of the Lady Ann Wentworth, and the Lord Lovelace.
Break
not the slumbers of the Bride,
But let the Sun in Triumph ride,
Scattering his beamy light,
But let the Sun in Triumph ride,
Scattering his beamy light,
When she awakes, he shall resigne
His rayes: And she alone shall shine
in glory all the night.
His rayes: And she alone shall shine
in glory all the night.
For she till day return must keep
An Amorous Vigill, and not steep
Her fayr eyes in the dew of sleep.
An Amorous Vigill, and not steep
Her fayr eyes in the dew of sleep.
Yet gently whisper as she lies,
And say her Lord waits her uprise,
The Priests at the Altar stay.
And say her Lord waits her uprise,
The Priests at the Altar stay.
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With Flowry wreathes the Virgin crew
Attend while some with roses strew,
And Mirtles trim the way.
Attend while some with roses strew,
And Mirtles trim the way.
Now to the Temple, and the Priest,
See her convaid, thence to the Feast;
Then back to bed, though not to rest.
See her convaid, thence to the Feast;
Then back to bed, though not to rest.
For now to crown his faith and truth,
Wee must admit the noble youth
To revell in Loves sphere.
Wee must admit the noble youth
To revell in Loves sphere.
To rule as chiefe Intelligence
That Orb, and happy time dispence
To wretched Lovers here.
That Orb, and happy time dispence
To wretched Lovers here.
For there exalted farre above,
All hope, fear, change, or they to move
The wheel that spins the fates of Love.
All hope, fear, change, or they to move
The wheel that spins the fates of Love.
They know no night, nor glaring noon
Measure no houres of Sunn or Moon,
Nor mark time's restless Glass.
Measure no houres of Sunn or Moon,
Nor mark time's restless Glass.
Their kisses measure as they flow,
Minutes, and there embraces show
The hower's as they pass.
Minutes, and there embraces show
The hower's as they pass.
165
Their Motions, the yeares circle make,
And we from their conjunctions take,
Rules to make Love an Almanack.
And we from their conjunctions take,
Rules to make Love an Almanack.
A married Woman
VVhen I shall marry, if I doe not findA wife thus moulded; I'l create this mind:
Nor from her noble birth, nor ample dower,
Beauty, or wit, shall she derive a power
To prejudice my Right, but if she be
A subject born, she shall be so to me:
As to the soul the flesh, as Appetite
To reason is, which shall our wils unite
In habits so confirm'd, as no rough sway
Shall once appear, if she but learn t'obey.
For in habituall vertues, sense is wrought
To that calm temper, as the bodie's thought
To have nor blood, nor gall, if wild and rude
Passions of Lust, and Anger, are subdu'd;
When 'tis the fair obedience to the soul,
Doth in the birth those swelling Acts controul.
If I in murder steep my furious rage,
Or with Adult'ry my hot lust asswage,
Will it suffice to say my sense, the Beast
Provokt me to't? could I my soul devest,
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Both freely, but man must in judgement sit,
And tame this Beast, for Adam was not free,
When in excuse he said, Eve gave it me:
Had he not eaten, she perhaps had been
Vnpunisht, his consent made hers a sinne.
A divine Love.
1
Why should dul Art, which is wise Natures Ape,If she produce a shape
So farre beyond all parternes, that of old
Fell from her mold
As thine (admir'd Lucinda) not bring forth
An equall wonder, to express that worth
In some new way, that hath
Like her great work, no print of vulgar path?
2
Is it because the rapes of Poetry,Rifeling the spacious sky
Of all his fires, light, beauty, influence,
Did those dispence
On ayrie creations that surpast
The reall workes of Nature, she at last
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Shew'd such a light as Poets could not feign?
3
Or is it 'cause the factious wits did vieWith vain Idolatry,
Whose Goddess was supreme, and so had hurld
Schism through the world,
Whose Priest sung sweetest layes; thou didst appear
A glorious mysterie, so dark, so clear,
As Nature did intend
All should confess, but none might comprehend?
4
Perhaps all other beauties share a lightProportion'd to the fight
Of weak mortality, scatt'ring such loose fires,
As stir desires,
And from the brain distill salt amorous rhumes,
Whilst thy immortall flame such dross consumes,
And from the earthy mold
With purging fires severs the purer gold.
5
If so, then why in Fames immortall scrowl,Doe we their names inroul,
168
With sensuall heat?
If Petrark's unarm'd bosome catch a wound
From a light glance, must Laura be renown'd?
Or both a glory gain,
He from ill-govern'd Love, she from Disdain?
6
Shall he more fam'd in his great Art become,For wilfull martyrdome?
Shall she more title gain to chast and fair
Through his dispair?
Is Troy more noble 'cause to ashes turn'd?
Than Virgin Cities that yet never burn'd?
Is fire when it consumes
Temples, more fire, than when it melts perfumes?
7
Cause Venus from the Ocean took her formMust Love needs be a storm?
Cause she her wanton shrines in Islands reares,
Through seas of tears,
O'r Rocks, and Gulphs, with our own sighs for gales,
Must we to Cyprus, or to Paphos sayl?
Can there no way be given,
But a true Hell that leads to her false Heaven.
169
Loves Force.
In the first rude t'Age, when Love was wild,Not yet by Lawes reclam'd, nor reconcil'd
To order, nor by Reason maun'd, but flow
Full-summ'd by Nature, on the instant view
Vpon the wings of Appetite, at all
The eye could fair, or sense delightfull call:
Election was not yet, but as their cheap
Food from the Oak, or the next Acorn-heap,
As water from the nearest spring or brook,
So men their undistinguisht females took
By chance, not choyce; but soon the heavenly spark
That in mans bosome lurkt, broke through this dark
Confusion, then the noblest breast first felt
Itself, for its own proper object melt.
A Fancy.
Mark how this polisht Eastern sheetDoth with our Northern tincture meet,
For though the paper seem to sink,
Yet it receives, and bears the Ink;
And on her smooth soft brow these spots
Seem rather ornaments than blots;
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Mysteriously about your face;
Not only to set off and break
Shaddowes and Eye beams, but to speak
To the skild Lover, and relate
Vnheard, his sad or happy Fate:
Nor doe their Characters delight,
As careless workes of black and white
But 'cause you underneath may find
A sense that can informe the mind;
Divine, or moral rules impart
Or Raptures of Poetick Art:
So what at first was only fit
To fold up silkes, may wrap up wit.
| Poems, with a maske | |