The Treasury of Musick :: :: University of Virginia Library

Cloris at Sea, near the Land, is surprized by a Storm: Amintor on the Shore, expecting her Arrival, THUS COMPLAINS:
Help, help, O help, Divinity of Love!

Help, help, O help, Divinity of Love! or Neptune will commit a Rape upon my Cloris; She's on his bosome, and without a wonder cannot scape. See, see, the Winds grow drunk with Joy, and throng so fast to see Loves Argo, and the wealth it bears, that now the tackling and the sails they tear: They fight, they fight! who shall convey Amintor's Love into her Bay; and hurl whole Seas at one another, as if they would the Welkin smother. Hold Boras, hold; He will not hear:

The Rudder cracks, the Main-mast falls; the Pilot swears, the Skipper bawls; a showre of Clouds in darkness fall, to put out Cloris light withall. Ye gods, where are ye? where are ye? Are ye all asleep, or drunk with Nectar: Why do you not keep a watch upon your Ministers of Fate? Tie up the Winds, or they will blow the Seas to heav'n, and drown your Deities. A calm, a calm! Miracle of Love; the Sea-born Queen, that sits above, hath heard Amintor's cryes, and Neptune now must lose his prize. Welcome, welcome Cloris to the Shore; Thou shalt go to Sea no more: We to Tempe's

Groves will go, where the calmer winds do blow, and embarque our hearts together, fearing neither Rocks nor Weather, but out-ride the storms of Love, and for ever constant prove.

No REPRIEVE.

Now now Lucatia, now make hast

Now now Lucatia, now make hast, if thou wilt see how strong thou art, there needs but one frown more to waste the whole remainer of my heart. Alas! undone to Fate, I bow my head ready to die, now die, and now now now am dead. You look to have an Age of tryal ere you a Lover will repay; but my state brooks no more denial, I cannot this one minute stay. Alas! undone to

Fate, I bow my head ready to die; now die, and now now now am dead. Look in my wound and see how cold, how pale and gasping my Soule lies, which Nature strives in vain to hold; whilst wing'd with sighs away it flies. Alas! undone to Fate, I bow my head ready to die; now die, and now now now am dead. See see already Charon's boat, who grimly asks, Why all this stay? Hark how the fatal Sisters shout! and now they call away away. Alas! undone to Fate, I bow my head, ready to die, now die, and now now now am dead.

A TALE out of Anacreon.

At dead low ebb of night

At dead low ebb of night, when none but Great Charles Wayn was driven on; When Mortals strict cessation keep, to re-recruit themselves with sleep; 'Twas then a Boy knockt at my gate. Who's there, said I, that calls so late? O let me In! he soon reply'd, I am a Childe; and then he cry'd, I wander without guide or light, lost in this wet, blind, Moonless night. In pity then I rose, and straight unbarr'd my dore, and sprang a light: Behold, It was a Lovely Boy, a sweeter sight ne're bless'd mine Eye: I view'd him round, and saw strange things; a

Bow, a Quiver, and two Wings; I led him to the fire, and then I dry'd and, chaf'd his hands with mine: I gently press'd his tresses, curles, which new faln rain had hung with perls: At last, when warm'd, the Yonker said, Alas my Bow! I am afraid the string is wet, 'Pray (Sir) let's try; let's try my Bow. Do, do, said I. He bent it; Shot so quick and smart, as though my liver reach'd my heart. Then in a trice he took his flight, and laughing said; My Bow is right, it is O 'tis! For as he spoke, 'twas not his Bow, but my Heart is broke.

To his Mistres going to SEA.

Farewell, fair Saint!

Farewell, fair Saint! May not the Sea and Wind swell like the Hearts and Eyes you leave behind; but calm and gentle as the Looks you bear, smile in your face, and whisper in your ear. Let no bold Billow offer to arise, that it may never look upon your Eyes; lest wind and wave, enamour'd of your form, should throng and crowd themselves into a Storm. But if it be your Fate, vast Seas! to Love; of my becalmed breast learn how to move: Move then but in a gentler Lovers pace; no furrows nor no wrinkles in your face: And ye fierce winds, see that you tell your

tale in such a breath as may but fill her Sail: So whilest ye court her each your sev'ral way, ye may her safely to her Port convey; and lose but in a noble way of Wooing, whilest both contribute to your own undoing.

A Complaint against Cupid.

Venus redress a wrong that's done

Venus redress a wrong that's done by that young sprightful Boy thy Son; he Wounds and then laughs at the Sore, Hatred it self could do no more; If I pursue, he's small and light,

both seen at once, and out of sight; if I do fly, he's wing'd, and then at the first step I'm caught again. Lest one day thou thy self mayst suffer so, or clip the Wantons wings, or break his Bow.

The Surprise.

Careless of Love, and free from Fears,
I sate and gaz'd on Stella's Eyes,
Thinking my Reason or my Years
Might keep me safe from all surprize.

But Love, that hath been long despis'd,
And made the Baud to others trust,
Finding his Deity surpriz'd,
And chang'd into degenerate Lust,

So that too late (alas!) I find
No steeled Armour is of proof,
Nor can the best resolved mind
Resist her Beauty and her Youth.

Summon'd up all his strength and power,
Making her Face his Magazine,
Where Virtue's grace, and Beauty's flower
He plac'd his Godhead to redeem.

But yet the folly to untwist,
That loving I deserve no blame;
Were it not Atheisme to resist
Where Gods themselves conspire her flame.

Beauties Excellency.

Gaze not on Swans, in whose soft breast
A full hatcht beauty seems to nest;
Nor Snow, which (falling from the Sky)
Hovers in its Virginity.

Gaze not on Roses, though new blown,
Grac'd with a fresh complexion;
Nor Lillies, which no subtle Bee
Hath rob'd by kissing Chymistrie.

For if my Emp'ress appears,
Swans moultring dye, Snow melts to tears;
Roses do blush and hang their heads,
Pale Lillies shrink into their beds.

Gaze not on that pure Milky way
Where night uses splendour with the day;
Nor Pearl, whose silver walls confine
The Riches of an Indian Mine.

The Milky way rides post, to shroud
Its baffled glory in a Cloud;
And Pearls do climb into her ear,
To hang themselves for Envy there.

So have I seen Stars big with light
Prove Lanthorns to the Moon-ey'd night;
Which when Sol's Rays were once display'd,
Sink in their Sockets, and decay'd.

To his Mistres upon his going to travel.

Dearest, do not now delay me,
Since thou know'st I must be gone;
Wind and Tide 'tis thought doth stay me;
But 'tis wind that must be blown
From thy breath, whose native smell
Indian Odours doth excel.

O then speak, my Dearest Fair!
Kill not him who vows to serve thee;
But persume the Neighb'ring Air,
For dumb silence else will starve me:
'Tis a word is quickly spoken,
Which restrain'd, a heart is broken.

Mediocrity in Love rejected.

Give me more Love, or more Disdain

Give me more Love, or more Disdain, the Torrid or the Frozen Zone bring equal ease unto my pain, the Temperate affords me none; either extream of Love or Hate is sweeter than a calm estate. Give me a storm, if it be Love, like Dana in that golden showre, I swim in pleasure; if it prove Disdain, that torrent will devoure my vulture hopes, and he's possest of Heav'n, that's but from Hell releas'd: Then crown my Joys, or cure my Pain; give me more Love, or more Disdain.

The Self-Banished.

It is not that I love you less
Then when before your feet I lay,
But to prevent the sad encrease
Of hopeless Love I keep away:
In vain alas! for ev'ry thing
That I have known belong to you,
Your form dares to my fancy bring,
And make my old wounds bleed anew.
But I have vow'd, and never must
Your banish'd Servant trouble you;
For if he break, you may distrust
The vow he made to love you too.

Who in the Spring from the new Sun
Already hath a Feaver got;
Too late begins those shafts to shun
Which Phœbus through his veins hath shot;
Too late he would the pains asswage,
And to thick shadows does retire,
About with him he bears the rage,
And in his tainted bloud the fire.
But I have vow'd, &c.

To his Mistres objecting his Age.

Am I despis'd because you say

Am I despis'd because you say, and I believe, that I am gray? Know, Lady, you have but your day, and night will come, when men will swear Time has spilt snow upon your hair: Then when in your Glass you seek, but find no Rose-bud in your cheek; no, nor the bed to give the shew, where such a rare Carnation grew; and such a smiling Tulip too. Ah, then, too late, close in your Chamber keeping, it will be told, that you are old, by those true tears y'are weeping

To a Lady, more affable since the War began.

Cloris , since first our calm of Peace was frighted hence

Cloris , since first our calm of Peace was frighted hence, this good we find, Your favours with your fears increase, and growing mischief makes you kind: So the fair Tree, (which still preserves her Fruit and state when no Wind blowes) in Storms, from that uprightness swerves; and the glad Earth about her strowes with treasure, with treasure from her yeelding boughs.

Cloris Singing.

Yes, yes, 'tis Cloris sings

Yes, yes, 'tis Cloris sings, 'tis she; Mark how the Nymphs and Shepherds all flock to her: so the Master Bee the swarm leads with his awful call; so to the Thracian Lyre the floods resorted, and the listning woods: so shoals of Dolphins on the green waves spring, when Doris or her Sea-born Daughters sing; and so her Notes their hearts benum: one looks pale, others eyes ore-flow with tears of pleasure, perhaps some distil from sad hearts tears of woe; but as if fetter'd in a chain to soft their passions felt no pain, she stops no sooner, but th'inchanted throng straight cry, Sweet Cloris sing another Song.

The Unconstant Lover.

[I]

O how I hate thee now,
And my self too,
For loving such a false, false thing as thee!
Who hourly canst depart
From heart to heart,
To take new harbour as thou didst in me;
But when the world shall spie,
And know thy shifts as well as I,
They'l shut their hearts and take thee in no more;
He that can dwell with none, must out of dore.

II

Thy pride hath overgrown
All this great Town
Which stoops, and bowes as low as I to you;
Thy falshood might support
All the new Court
Which shifts, and turn, almost as oft as thou.
But to express thee by,
There's not an object low, or high,
For 'twill be found, when ere the measures tride,
Nothing can read thy falshood, but thy pride.

Night and day to his Mistres.

If when the Sun at Noon displayes his brighter rays

If when the Sun at Noon displayes his brighter rays, Thou but appear, he then all pale with shame and fear, quencheth his light, and grows more dim, compos'd to thee, then Stars to him. If thou but show thy face again, when darkness doth at midnight reign, darkness flyes, and light is hurl'd round about the silent world; so as alike thou driv'st away both light and darkness, night and day.

To his Rivall.

Seek not to know my Love

Seek not to know my Love, for she hath vow'd her Constant faith to me: her milde Aspects are mine, and thou shalt onely find a Stormy brow; for if her Beauty stir desire in mee, her Kisses quench the fire: Or I can to Loves Fountain goe, or dwell upon her Hills of Snow; But when thou burn'st, shee shall not spare one gentle Breath to cool the Air; thou shalt not climbe those Alps, nor spie where the sweet Springs of Venus lie: Search hidden Nature, and there find a treasure to enrich thy mind: Discover Arts not yet reveal'd,

But let my Mistress live conceal'd. Though men by knowledge wiser grow, yet here 'tis wisdome not to know.

To his Mistres.

I prethee Sweet to me be Kind, delight not so in Scorning

I prethee Sweet to me be Kind, delight not so in Scorning; I sue for Love; O let me find some pleasure midst my mourning! What though to you I vassal be? Let me my right inherit: Send back the Heart I gave to thee, since thine it cannot merit. So I shall to the world declare how good, how sweet and fair you are.

The Heart Intire.

Canst thou love me, and yet doubt
So much Falshood in my heart,
That a way I should find out
to impart
Fragments of a broken Love to you,
More then all b'ing less then due:
O, no! Love must clear Distrust,
Or be eaten with that Rust;
Short Love liking may find Jars,
The Love that lasteth knows no Wars.

There Belief begets Delight,
And so satisfies Desire,
That in them it shines as Light
No more Fire;
All the burning Qualities appeas'd,
Each in others joying pleas'd;
Not a whisper, not a thought
But 'twixt Both in common's brought;
Even to seem Two they are loath,
Love being only Soul to both.

Love in Despair.

A lover once I did espie

A lover once I did espie with bleeding Heart and weeping Eye; he sigh'd and groan'd, and curst the Boy that planted woe, supplanted joy; he wept and cry'd, How great's his pain that lives in Love, and loves in vain! Can there (says he) no Cure be found, but by the hand that gave the wound. Then let me die, which Ile endure, since she wants Charity to Cure: Yet let her one day feel the pain to wish sh' had cur'd, but wish in vain; for wither'd cheeks may chance recover some sparks of Love, but not a Lover.

Loves Fruition.

Come come, thou glorious object of my sight

Come come, thou glorious object of my sight: O my Joy, my Life, my only Delight! May this glad Minute be blest to Eternitie. See how the glim'ring Tapers of the Sky do gaze and wonder at our Constancy: How they croud to behold what our Arms do unfold! How all do envy our Felicities, and grudge the Triumph of Selindras Eyes! How Cynthia seeks to shroud her Crescent in yon Cloud, where sad Night puts her sable Mantle on thy Light; mistaking hasteth to be gone, her gloomy Shades give way as at th'approach of Day, and all the Planets shrink for fear to be ecclips'd

by a brighter Deitie. Look, O look, how the small Lights do fall and adore what before the Heavens have not shown, nor their godhead known. Such a Faith, such a Love as may move Mighty Jove from above to descend and remain amongst Mortals again.

Love in the Spring.

[I]

Pleasure, Beauty, Youth attend ye;
Love and Melting thoughts befriend ye:
While the spring of Nature lasteth
Use your time ere Winter hasteth.

II

Active blood and free delight,
Place and Privacy invite:
O be kind as you are fair,
Lose no advantage got for Air.

III

She is cruel that denies it,
Stealth of sport in love supplies it:
Bounty best appears in granting,
Else the Ears of Love are wanting.

IV

There's the sweet Exchange of Bliss
Where each Whisper proves a Kiss:
In the Gain are felt no pains,
For still in all the Loser gains.

The Lark.

Swift through the yielding Air I glide

Swift through the yielding Air I glide, while nights shall be, shades abide: Yet in my flight (though ne're so fast) I Tune and Time the wilde winds blast: And ere the Sun be come about, teach the young Lark his Lesson out; who early as the Day is born sings his shrill Anthem to the rising Morn: let never Mortal lose the pains to imitate my Aiery strains, whose pitch too high for humane Ears, was set me by the tuneful Spheres. I carrol to the Faries King, wakes him a mornings when I sing: And when the Sun stoops to the deep, Rock him again and his fair Queen asleep.

Loves Dying Passion.

Amarillis tear thy hair

Amarillis tear thy hair, beat thy breast, sigh, weep, despair; cry cry Ay me! Is Daphne dead? I see a paleness on his brow, and his cheeks are drown'd in snow; Whether, whether, whether are those Roses fled? O my heart! how cold, how cold he's growne? Sure his Lips are turn'd to stone. Thus, Thus then I offer up my blood, and bathe my body in his shrowd. Since living accents cannot move, Know Amarillis, know Amarillis dy'd for Love.

On a lost Heart.

What shall I do? I've lost my Heart

What shall I do? I've lost my Heart; 'tis gone I know not whether: Cupid cut's strings, then lent him wings and both are flowne together. Fair Ladies, tell, for Loves sweet sake, Did any of you find it? Come come, it lies in your Lips or Eyes, though you'l not please to mind it. Well, If 'tis lost, then farewell frost, I will enquire no more; for Ladies they steal Hearts away but only to restore.

Loves Flattery.

Ladies, fly from Loves smooth Tale

Ladies, fly from Loves smooth Tale, Oaths steep'd in tears do oft prevaile: Grief is Infectious, and the Air inflam'd with sighs will blast the Fair: Then stop your Ears when Lovers cry, lest your selves weep when no lost Eye shall with a sorrowing tear repay that pity which you cast away. Young men, fly when Beauty darts Am'rous glances at your hearts; the fixt mark gives the Shooter aim, and Ladies looks have power to maim: Now 'twixt the Lips, now in their Eyes, wrapt in a Kiss or Smile Love lies. Then fly betimes, for only they Conquer Love that run away.

A Dream.

I laid me down upon a pillow soft

I laid me down upon a pillow soft, and dream'd I clypt and kist my Mistress oft: She cry'd, Fie fie, away, you are too bold. I pray'd her be content, though she were cold, my veins did burn with flames of hot desire, and must not leave till she had quench'd my fire. Well, since (said she) I may not from you fly, do what you please, I give you liberty. With that I wak'd, but found I was deceiv'd; for which I storm'd like one of sense bereav'd.

Upon the Hearing Mrs. Mary Knight Sing.

You that think love can convey no other way but through the Eye

You that think love can convey no other way but through the Eye into the heart his fatal dart; Close up those Casements, and but hear this Syren sing, and on the wings of her clear voyce it will appear that Love can enter at the Ear. Then unveil your Eyes, behold the Curious mold where that voyce dwells: and as we know when the Cocks crow we freely may gaze on the day, So may you when the Musicks done, awake and see the Rising Sun.

The Thrifty Lover.

I lov'd thee once, Ile love no more

I lov'd thee once, Ile love no more; thine be the grief as is the blame: Thou art not what thou wert before; What reason I should be the same? He that can love unlov'd again, hath better store of Love than Brain. God send me Love my Debts to pay, whilest Unthrifts fool their Love away.

A Lover on his Dying Mistres.

Death cannot yet extinguish that entire pure flame her Eys did kindle in my breast

Death cannot yet extinguish that entire pure flame her Eys did kindle in my breast: now they are clos'd, and she is laid to rest, my heart hath embers left of chaste desire, which as the Elements, so they require something to feed and keep alive the rest, that heart in which her Image was exprest, shall be the fuel, sighs shall blow the fire: There now she seems to move her sweetest Lips, which ever must be so till they be none, bids me not grieve, she's but eclips'd who from the Eys, not from the Heart is gone; yet with mine Eys my Heart shal bear a part, because mine Eys first brought her to my Heart.

The Fly.

When this Fly liv'd she us'd to play

When this Fly liv'd she us'd to play in the Sunshine all the day, till coming neer my Cælia's sight, she found a new and unknown light, so full of glory as it made the Noon-day Sun a gloomy shade. Then this am'rous Fly became my Rivall, and did court my flame; she did from hand so Bosome skip; and from her breath, her cheek, her lip, suckt all the Incense, Mirrhe and Spice, and grew a Bird of Paradice. At last into her Eye she flew; there scorcht with flames, and drown'd in dew, like Phaeton from the Suns sphere she fell, and with her dropt a Tear, of which a Pearl was streight compos'd,

wherein her Ashes lie inclos'd: Thus she receiv'd from Cælia's Eye, Funeral flame, Tombe Obsequie.

Loves Torment.

I was foretold your Rebel Sex nor love nor pity knew,
And with what scorn you use to vex poor Hearts that humbly sue:
But I believe, to crown our pain, could we the fortress win,
A happy Lover sure should gain a Paradice within.
I thought Loves plagues like Dragons sate,
Only to fright us at the Gate.

If I did enter and enjoy what happy Lovers prove,
I would Kiss, and Sport, and Toy, and taste those Sweets of Love:
Or had they but a lasting fate, or if in Cælia's breast,
Or of Love might not abate, Jove was too mean a Guest:
But now her breach of faith far more
Afflicts than did her Scorn before.

Hard Fate! to have been once possest as Victor of a Heart,
Atchiev'd with labour and unrest, and then forc'd to Depart.
If the stout foe will not resigne when I besiege a Town,
I lose but what was never mine; but he that is cast down
From Injoy'd Beauty, feels a woe
Only deposed Kings can know.

Love Unveil'd.

When thou, Fair Cælia!

When thou, Fair Cælia! like the Setting Sun, shalt blush to see thy Day is done: And I a Martyr in thy Virgin flame, though dead bespot thy living fame, and call thee Murdress; Then thou shalt see thou hast deceiv'd thy self, not me: When from my constant Ashes Truth shall rise, and silence thy intended Obsequies. Then unpitied thou shalt fall, and we both die by each others Cruelty. Yet, pitious Fates! will not I die unmourn'd, though we both die, and both die scorn'd.

The Mournful Lovers.

Come, come, sad Turtle, mateless moaning

Come, come, sad Turtle, mateless moaning; droop no more for want of Owning: Here's a Breast for your Nest, like an Altar Cypress drest, sacrificing griefful groaning. Come, sad Turtle, O come hither, our fate's alike, let's die together. Come come, and use sigh-soothing skill, and with Loving gently kill, soon as Asps fatal clasps, whilest your sad glad feeder gasps, feed on woe, and feast your fill. Come, sad Turtle, O come hither; our Fate's alike, Let's die together.

Loves Power.

Behold and listen whilst the Fair breaks in sweet sound the willing Air

Behold and listen whilst the Fair breaks in sweet sound the willing Air: And with her own breath fans the fire which her bright Eyes did first inspire. What reason can that Love controll which two such ways commands the Soul. So when a flash of Lightning falls on our abodes, the danger calls for humane aid, with hopes the flame to conquer though from Heaven it came: But if the winds with it conspire, Men strive not, but deplore the fire.

Loves Ardency.

No more of Tears, I've now no more to quench my flame

No more of Tears, I've now no more to quench my flame, but make it scorch the more: My sighs that should have cool'd my hot desire, blow my flame high, and set me all on fire. No remedy to Cure me? Yes, there's one: If thou wilt girt me in thy Frozen Zone, then may I be as thou art, or make thee melt thy white snow, and turn to fire like me.

The Nightingale.

Hark how the Nightingale displayes
The latest pleasures of her throat,
And dies content, if her poor Note
Might serve but as one step to raise
A Trophie to your Beauties praise.

The Rose, in whose rich Odours lie
The perfum'd Treasures of the Year,
Doth blush to death when you appear,
And Martyr-like towards you doth fly,
To wear your Cheeks fresh Livery.

Aurora weeps to see a light
Outvie her splendour in your Eyes,
The Sun's asham'd to walk the skies;
And th'Envious Moon, grown pale for spight,
Vows ne're to Revel but with Night.

The saucy Wind with senseless care
(Seeming to feel soft sense of bliss)
Steals through your hair, your lips to kiss,
So Rivals me, who now despair
To touch your Lip, Cheek, Eye or Hair.

Loves Constancy.

That flame is born of Earthly fire
That soon enjoys, and soon expires:
His love with wings Ill-feather'd flies,
That cannot reach beyond his Eyes.

Where Hope doth fan the Idle fire
'Tis easie to Maintain desire;
But that's the Noble Love that dare
Continue Constant in Despare.

Cupid's Alarm.

Whether so gladly and so fast,
As if you knew all danger past
Of Combate and of War:
As you believ'd my arms were bound;
Or when I shoot, that ev'ry wound
I make is but a Scar.

Arm now your breasts with shields of Steel,
And plates of Brass, yet you shall feel
My Arrows are so keen,
Like Lightning that not hurts the skin,
Yet melts the sollid parts within;
They'l wound although unseen.

My Mother taught me long ago
To aim my Shafts, and draw my Bow,
When She did Mars subdue:
And now you must resigne to Love
Your warlike Shafts, that She may prove
Those Antique stories true.

Beauties Excellency.

Transcendent Beauty! thou that art light to mine Eyes, life to my Heart

Transcendent Beauty! thou that art light to mine Eyes, life to my Heart: And in whose Virtue rests alone the only true Philosophers Stone: For as th'Elixir can restore Nature decay'd as 'twas before, thy power hath wrought a stranger thing, by changing Autumn to a Spring.

Sympathy in Love.

Weep not, my dear for I shall go
Loaden enough with my own woe;
Add not thy heaviness to mine,
Since Fate our Pleasures must disjoyn.

Why should our Sorrows meet, if I
Must go and leave thy Company?
I wish not there's it shall relieve
My Heart, to think thou dost not grieve.

Yet grieve and weep, that I may bear
Every Sigh and every Tear;
And it shall glad my Heart to see
Thou wert thus loth to part from mee.

A Remembrance.

[1]

On this swelling bank (once proud
Of its burthen) Cloris lay:
Here she smil'd, and did uncloud
Those bright Suns ecclipse the day.

2

Here we sate, and with kind art
She about me twin'd her arms,
Clasp'd in hers my hand and heart
Fetter'd by those pleasing charms.

3

Here my love and joys she crown'd
Whil'st the hours stood before me,
With a killing glance did wound
And a melting kiss restore me.

4

On the doun of either breast
Whil'st with joy my soul retir'd,
My resigning heart did rest
Till her lips new life inspir'd.

5

The renewing of these sights,
Doth with grief and pleasure fill me,
And the thought of those delights
Both at once revive and kill me.

Sufferance.

[1]

Delicate Beauty, why should you disdain
With pity at least, to lessen my pain?
Yet if you purpose to render no cause,
Will, and not Reaon, is judge of those Laws.

2

Suffer in silence I can with delight
Courting your anger to live in your sight;
Inwardly languish, and like my disease,
Always provided my sufferance please.

3

Take all my comforts in present away,
Let all but the hope of your favour decay;
Rich in reversion I'le live as content,
As he to whom Fortune her fore-lock hath lent.

Mutual affection between Orinda and Lucatia.

Come, my Lucatia, since we see
That miracles mens faith do move
By wonder and by prodigie:
To the fierce angry world let's prove
There's a Religion in our Love.

For though we were design'd t'agree,
That Fate no liberty destroys,
But our Election is as free
As Angels, who with greedy choice
Are yet determin'd to their joys.

Our hearts are doubled by their loss,
Here mixture is addition grown,
We both difuse, and both ingross,
And we whose minds are so much one,
Never, yet ever are alone.

We court our own captivity,
Then Thrones more great and innocent,
'Twere banishment to be set free,
When we wear fetters, whose intent
Not bondage is, but ornament.

Divided joys are tedious found,
And griefs united easier grow,
We are our selves but by rebound,
And all our titles shuffl'd so,
Both Princes, and both Subjects too.

Loves Parting.

But that I knew before we met,
The hour would come that we must part,
And so had fortifi'd my heart,
I hardly could escape the net,
My Passions for my Reason set.

But why should Reason hope to win
A Victory that's so unkind,
And so unwelcom to my mind;
To yield is neither shame nor sin,
Besieg'd without, betray'd-within.

But Friends ne're part (to speak aright)
For who's but going is not gone;
Friends like the Sun must still move on,
And when they seem most out of sight,
There absence makes at most but night.

And though that night be ne're so long,
In it they either sleep or wake:
And either way enjoyments take,
In Dreams or Visions which belong
Those to the old: these to the young.

I'm old when going, gone 'tis night,
My Parting then shall be a Dream,
And last till the auspicious Beam
Of our next meeting gives new light,
And the best Vision that's your sight.

The Rose.

Go lovely Rose,
Tell her that wasts her time and me,
That now she knows
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spi'd,
That hadst thou sprung
In Desarts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended dy'd.

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retir'd,
Bid her come forth,
Suffer her self to be desir'd,
And not blush to be admir'd.
Then die, that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee,
How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

Active Love.

Tell me no more 'tis Love
Your passions move
In a fantastick sphere,
And only there:
Thus you confine
What is divine,
When Love hath pow'r, and can dispense
Sufficient to the soul and sense.

'Tis Love the sense informs,
And cold bloud warms;
Nor gives the soul a Throne
To us alone,
But bids them bend
Both to one end;
And then 'tis Love when thus design'd
They make another of their kind.

Not to be altred from Affection.

Can so much Beauty own a mind?
Oresway'd by tyranny,
As new afflicting ways to find
A doubtless faith to try,
And all example to out-do,
To scorn and make me jealous too:
Alass! she knows my fires are too great;
And though she be
Stone ice to me,
Her thaw to others cannot quench my heat.

That Law which with such force o're-ran
The Armies of my heart,
When no one thought I could out-man,
That durst once take my part.
For by assault she did invade,
No composition to be made:
Then, since all must yield as well as I
to stand in aw
of Victors Law
There's no prescribing in captivity.

That Love which loves for common ends,
Is but self-loving love;
But nobler conversation tends
Soul mysteries to prove.
And since Love is a passive thing,
It multiplies by suffering.
Then, though she throw life to the waning Moon,
on him her shine,
the dark part mine,
Yet I must love her still when all is done.

Policy in Love.

Art thou in Love? It cannot be;
'Twill prove too great a Raritie:
For Love is banisht from the mind,
And every Creature proves unkind.

Your sex we know hath too much power
To be confin'd above an hour,
And Ladies are become so wise
They'l please their own, not others Eyes.

No Archers from above are sent
Poor Cupid's Bow lies now unbent,
And Women boast that they can find
A nearer way to please the mind.

Yet still you sigh and keep adoe
Only to tempt poor men to wooe:
But sure if thou a Lover be
'Tis of thy Self, but not of Me.

A Glee at Christmas.

Tis Christmas now, 'tis Christmas now,
When Cato's self would laugh,
And smoothing forth his wrinkled brow,
Gives liberty to Quaff,
To Dance, to Sing, to Sport and Play;
For ev'ry hour's a Holy-day.

And for the Twelve days, let them pass
In mirth and jollity:
The Time doth call each Lad and Lass
That will be blithe and merry
Then Dance, and Sing, &c.

And from the Rising of the Sun
To th'Setting cast off Cares;
'Tis time enough when Twelve is done
To think of our Affairs.
Then Dance, and Sing, &c.

The Power of Love.

Where shall a man an object find that may preserve a quiet mind?

Where shall a man an object find that may preserve a quiet mind? Sad sorrow dwells in Loves fair Eyes, and Beauty stirs up Jealousies: A Lovers Hopes are mixt with Fears, and all his Joys, and all his Joys do end in Tears: Yet I must love, though't be my fate to be rewarded still with hate; for by experience now I feel Loves Darts are all Magnetick steel: For when I fly to ease my pain, an Arrow draws me back again.

Orpheus Hymn.

O King of Heaven and Hell, of Sea and Earth!

O King of Heaven and Hell, of Sea and Earth! who shak'st the world when

thou shout'st Thunder forth; whom Devils dread, and Hosts of Heaven praise, whom Fate (which masters all things else) obeys: Eternal Cause! who on the Winds dost ride, and Natures face wit, thick dark Clouds dost hide; Cleaving the Air with Balls of dreadful Fire; Guiding the Stars which run, and never tire. About thy Throne bright Angels stand, and Bow to be dispatch'd to Mortals here below. Thy early Spring in Purple robes comes forth: Thy Summers South does conquer all the North: And though thy Winter freeze the Hearts of Men, glad wine, from Autumn cheers them up agen.

Here endeth the AYRES of Mr. Henry Lavves.