University of Virginia Library

THE GROVE:

CONSISTING OF DIVERS SHORTER POEMS UPON SEVERAL SUBJECTS.

ORNANDE'S Lute.

Sight , Smelling, Taste, with Feeling Sense be gone,
Now useful found th' officious Ear alone;
Go, slumber all, or th' idle Loyt'rers play;
But thou attend, grand Favourite, this way:
Ornande, whilst gives Life to th' senseless Lute,
And Warbling Language where 'twas lately mute.
Heark what delicious strains, most heavenly rare,
Do sweeten and enrich th' adjoyning Air.
Those Grecian Harps like blustring Winds would be,
Compar'd to her transcendent Harmony,
Or notes o'th' bubbling Brook, mean Musick is
Bad Discord thought untuned Noise to this.
Depart all dumpish Cares, black Clouds of Sorrow,
My humane World withdraw, fly till the morrow;
I could forget I'm Earth, or burth'ned frame
With dross of Flesh, to Elemental flame
Refin'd, as 'twere, turn'd vital Spirits show;
Whilst Blood doth dance as 'twould the Banks o'reflow.
Heark, there's conjoyn'd more sweetly solemn strain,
Which Charms our sense transformed way again;
Men stand by th' Walls, and furnish so the Room
Like Arras-pictures there, or for some Tomb
Statues each meant, design'd, whilst onely flies
Small glimps of Life, or Twilight from their Eyes;
Till pleasant Sound, more cheerful change restore
From binding Trance for action, as before.
Now let my Sight return, more waking Sense,
Her form behold, Face, bodie's excellence;
Transported thoughts through th' Eye, conjoyned ear,
Well view'd that daintiest shap'd Musitian there
Now Touch withall, that sense doth breed Desire
Those Lips to seal, but dares not so Aspire;
Longs strait therefore that beauteous Hand to kiss:
Fond Dream!—forbear;—all would be spoyl'd by this.

Ornande's close Retirement.

Why do'st (Reserv'd) Spectators shun,
Ornande, choice, terrestrial Sun?
So long withold our Break of day,
Till Darkness Lovers Hearts o'resway?
Did we too far (neglectful) slight
Thy Presence, when enjoy'd that Light?
Ornande so (found justly nice)
By Want doth raise, advance her Price;
And angry Absence shall alone
Make thee more reverenc'd, more known.
Prime Beauties were not made at all
For cloystring Tomb, Live-burial,
Fit for Bats, Owls; those splendid Seven,
Th' unwasted Lamps of Earth and Heaven,
Grand Brooches worn, they were not thrust
In Corners ought, forgotten dust,
But shine to th' World, and progress by
Like blazing Pageants through the Sky:
Choice Rarities beneath, things pure,
Still lock'd in Cabinets, obscure,
Pearl, dainty Gems then lose their glory;
Sight too preserves thy beauteous Story.
'Twere wholsom now to take, fair Maid,
The open Air in Field or Shade.
Much travell'd Land, as 'twere by th' Eye,
From some tall Mount prospectively,
Beholders Thoughts amazed round,
As though new rising Morn were sound:
For, as thy Sights our Physick prove,
Dull, drossy Spirits sublim'd above
Pure, active Fire, whilst Ayr-like so
These earthy Lumps, our Bodies grow,
And Bloods do dance in every Vein,
Thou physick'st too thy Self again.
Spring's dainty-breath'd, delicious Air
Will make thy Cheeks more rosie-fair,
(Choice Wonders now) like Beds of Flowers,
Breasts flourish more, joyn'd Lilly-bowers:
That Angel-shape would please our Eyes
With motion Angel-like, surprize;
Found nimbler far, that gallant frame
So lively as all Soul became:
Then shew thee abroad, Sweet'st, Fairest, thus,
Th' art Cordial to thy self, and us.

Letter sent to Ornande.

The Offering.

Sweet'st, fairest Maid;

Accept my Vows which Incense-like do rise,
And fume before thee in solemn Sacrifice;
My flaming Heart with chast Desires allow,
My Morning offer'd Sighs, and Evening too;
Receive their kinder Breath, whereof each one
Seems to put up short begging Orison,
Love-suit to thee: still pity the Complaint
Each whispers in thine Ear, and lest I saint
In my Devotions, please but other while,
To answer by the Sparkle of a Smile
That I'm accepted; but if Frowns you bring,
My Heart is then turn'd to dead Offering.
Fain would I please my Fair, O, gently bow
T'inform my Ignorance, and teach me how:
Crown me thus far, thy favour'd Votary,
And I'll disclaim each Mistress else but thee.

The Good-morrow,

Under Ornande's Window.

Lovers mix'd Weather.

ORNANDE

The Spring's Mistress.

Ornande's Evening Walk, and Voice

Ornande and I (which here by me
'Mongst joyful Hours recorded be)
Ornande and I, this Evening fair,
Walk'd forth to breath large Garden air;
That mild Decrease of gaudy Day,
When th' Sun bestow'd well temper'd Ray,
Nor faintness bred while Parts Good-night
From western Orb, with drowsie Light:
Such, gentle Morn, for both inclin'd
Nice, daintier Sex of Woman kind.
Those harmless Gales were only straying,
Which dance the Leaves with wanton playing
Soft Murmur's noise, conjoyn'd to this.
May's flower'd Breed like Strangers kiss
Dandled Ornande's Han, as taught
Love's fonder Arts, withal (methought)
Shew'd Reverence, lest by their Crime
One Curl disturbed prov'd that time:
Becalmed th' Air to gentle Rest,
Like her more cheerful Virgin-Breast.
Who having pleas'd her wandring Eye,
Spring's gallant Scene beheld, clear Sky,
Conjoyned Grove for change allow'd,
Fine Lovers Maze, where under Cloud
Prime Beauty appear'd: heard choicest Note
From Nightingales's small-formed Throat,
Strong tun'd withall, Bird, prais'd to be
That Time's best Chanter, Harmony:
Wing'd Consort sound: who strait begun,
As would to th' low-declined Sun
Chirp forth their frank Farewel, till Night
Clad Songs maintain whilst he gave Light.
Which pastime heard, contentful Noise,
Ornande (at my Request) her Voice
Joyn'd also there to th' mirthful Quite,
Bright Goddess seem'd did late inspire
Those plumed Creatures with their Skill,
As chanted forth her Praises still,
That ruder Grove, through Fancy's power,
Transformed seem'd to heavenly Bower,
So well that Face and warbling Tongue
Might to sweet Cherubims belong.
'Twas prime Delight to th' closing end,
Best Joys that th' Ear could apprehend;
Unless those Sounds advanc'd above,
Sweet breath'd, returned Vows of Love
Reason o'resway'd, else I had nigh
Prov'd guilty of Voyce-Idolatry.

Ornande and the Nightingale.

'Twas charming Voice, but joyn, how rare,
Breath'd by that Shee, transcendent fair!
Whose loveliest Face and Person shew'd
That choice Compound, prime view bestow'd,
All beauteous Consort fram'd to th' Eye;
Prov'd Nature's silent Harmony
Both Senses thus did blest appear,
For Love's Record grand Wonder there.
Each warbled Sound by her compos'd,
So soon as born shew'd wrap'd, inclos'd,
Then, straightways dead, embalm'd within
Such Breath as though perfum'd had been.
Th' whole Song, compleat (as Fancy deem'd)
Delightful Soul of Musick seem'd.
If

Orpheus

Thracian Harp could Rivers cause
(Greek Poets feign'd) make wanton pause,
Beasts, charmed Stones themselves and Trees,
Whilst danc'd their Antick Revelries,
Her Voyce H' had made more powerful prove,
Till Bruits howe're should fall in Love.
Ornande when did Song conclude,
This from the Grove Content renew'd:
As drawn by Emulation's Pride,
Th' ambitious Nightingale reply'd,
Would sing her part, so, chanted round
(Fine Nature's Skill) th' adjoyned Ground:
Which mark'd, I pray'd, she would again,
With some short voluntary strain,
(As Fancy pleas'd) by turns, in jest
Still answer it; had my Request,
Ornande sung, then th' Nightingale,
Now She, then She, which should prevail:
'Twas earnest Combat grown from play,
Sharp Voice-contention for the Day,
(Such Lovers thoughts) till strain'd still higher
That Bird as 'twould e're long expire.
When I did beg from joyned Seat,
Ornande first would make Retreat,
And end that Strife so caus'd by me
Though granted a false Victory;
Stop'd, silenc'd there her Mouth with Kisses.
From her own Hand, held up, those Blisses
Since she my Lips declar'd that hour,
All taken off by Fancy's Power
From th' Hand again, so partly seem'd
To kiss the Lips, prime sweet's esteem'd.

The Face and Glass.

Ornande's Morning Walk.

'Twas fresh cheek'd May most gallant round,
Like to th' Year's Queen adorned, crown'd;
Imbroyder'd Garb, those flaunting Plumes
For Robes of State, conjoyn'd Perfumes:
Th' old Chaos-World transform'd each-where
(Such, Winter thought) whose Brow did bear
New, choice Creation stamp'd, large Train,
Leaves, Blossoms, Flowers beheld again.
Forth walk'd fair She who might present
That Princess-Month, more excellent;
Forth prime Ornande trac'd, Earth-Star,
Whilst honour'd prov'd my self so far
To attend, her Walk's chief Favourite,
Sole Guardian to my Soul's delight:
Call'd out by her as joy'd Translation,
To Kingly Throne, grand Celebration;
Since Champion thus become, Defence
To weak, but fairest; Innocence.
For well Ornande knew, that I
Would for that Charge protecting dye:
Temptation though prov'd all her Shape,
Would punish not conceive a Rape:
Whose Hand was strait conjoyn'd to mine,
Did that with lively Snow combine.
Naught envy'd there great Turk, Mogor,
China's, Tartarian Emperour,
Huge Persian King; so scepter'd, I
Could vaunt much rarer Monarchy.
Things senseless, as we farther go,
With Rival Courtship seem'd to wooe
Ornande fair, produc'd in me
Choice mirthful kind of Jealousie:
Birds chant Love-Songs, small Gales (as 'twere)
Breath'd gentle Sighs, oft kiss'd her there;
Mov'd Flowers bow'd down their love-sick heads,
Shewn Reverence from grass-green Beds;
Whilst Hills and wanton Groves rejoyce,
Resounded (last) her heavenly Voice:
Strange active Soul! What thing doth prove
Breed like to Thoughts, Conceits of Love?
With th' Elm's large Branch long time inclos'd
(Whose Leaves soft Murmur cause) repos'd,
When I had offer'd up such Vows,
Like Incense, as chast Heart allows,
Her Breast the Altar made, thus, thus
Ornande breath'd, harmonious,
Delightful Sounds, Compliance shown.
In gentle way; she pleas'd to own—
Fondling, restrain, nor Sweets so rare
Disperse abroad through th' open Air;
Repeat them to thy self, unless
Venus Love's God grand Witnesses:
Feed, feed my liquorish Ears, reviv'd
Your Joy, strong Fancy makes new-liv'd:
Whilst Cupid all doth room afford
(Words, th' Hour, and Place) in Love's Record.

Ornande's Presence.

The Farewel.

One to his Fair, coy Mistress.

Sweet, beauteous Maid, but cruel-coy,
Severest-nice, when, to enjoy
One kinder Grant hard Task does prove;
Herculean Labour found in Love.
What though that daintiest Hand touch mine,
Whose Beauty's more than chrystalline?
Would it least stain'd and soyled be,
Or lose the curious Form, by me
But kindly prest? Since never I
That Virgin-Snow advance so nigh
But with wash'd Hands; nor touch their Down,
But fear of bad conjoyned Frown
Prepares my Palm: Your Glove all day
That leave enjoys, your Sizars may,
Silk, Needle, Lawn, nay, meaner Thread;
My Hand debarr'd, thence banished.
Suppose them chang'd by You in part,
More pure by Touch, same Chimick Art
Would my corce Hands sublim'd refine.
Or say those daintiest Lips touch mine,
Would that decrease their Balmy Store,
Or waste their Delicates the more?
Since lasting Sweets, unchanged th' are;
Their Colour, form still rosie, fair,
Though kindly seal'd, Rubies excelling,
When kiss'd may prove more red, and swelling.
Soft wanton Gales with hov'ring Play
Are joyn'd to them, Suns gaudy Ray,
Slight Toyes sometimes which Fancy please,
My Lips inferiour thought to these;
The Fly may buz and kiss unblam'd
That Cherry-pair, my touch disclaim'd.
Can you dart Frowns; complain, when I
Near starved beg small Charity,
Th' Alms of one Kiss: no fault, offence
There to crave Meat; some Food dispense:
Would you not Life's Support bestow,
When not your self the poorer grow?
Nay, Sweetest, nice conceits forbear,
By Kiss you may prove Riches there;
Those Love's first-tasted Course appear.

The Earnest doubting Lover.

Through Doubt, Desire he freezes, burns
(Found Ague-change) and his Breast turns
Froz'd, Torrid Zone; fair shape adores:
Can grasp his Thraldom when deplores:
Thank, blame his Stars, as kind, unkind
Talk to himself, and wandring Wind:
Haunts curled Streams, where gloomy Trees,
Wild Rocks and Caves societies,
Kisseth his Chain, Love's pointed Dart,
Hopes, Fears fill qualm'd, convulsion'd Heart:
Man of all Weathers droops this hour,
Next Smiles, thought Sun-shine, Honey-show'r:
How poiz'd her Words: each Glance and Look
Anatomiz'd; her Face his Book:
He moves, sighs, breaths by Rule, what more?
To th' good-behaviour bound all o're:
None delves i'th' Indian Mines more hard
Than he for Female Gold's Reward:
Some Heaven-Conceits, more Hells do seize him,
Nought but t'enjoy or dye can ease him.

The violent Despairing Lover.

Much like th' ore-fond, tormented Lover,
Whose Travels Scorns alone discover
To th' chased Stag? Their Dwellings bear
Same form, sad-fortun'd Both appear,
Wilderness round his Fancy shows,
Which wild, disorder'd Thoughts compose;
Hunted by Dogs each strong for Scent
(Grief, Rage, Despair) fierce, turbulent;
Whose Mouths cast Venome, from whose Eyes
Swift flaming Balls (as 'twere) surprize.
Those dreadful Horns resemble well
(Since sounding forth their mortal Knell)
Those sharp disdainful Checks that came
From his too coy, severer Dame:
Found terribler, more shrill beside,
Through Fancy's Eccho's multiply'd.
That frightful Huntsman's Glance, call'd View,
When through the Road or Lawn pursue,
Her Form conceiv'd condemning Face,
Which Lightning darts through every place.
That Shaft lodg'd in his Breast, Desire,
Now pointed seems with flame of Fire,
Which eats Life-spirits, blood feeds upon:
Then tip'd with Ice despairing grown
Full-blown with Sighs, imbost withall,
Through raging heat, near th' Funeral.
Thus, when (confounded Thoughts) sad Race,
So long maintain'd, th' unhappy Chase,
As faintest, gasping Hopes supply
With broken Breath, when 'midst the Cry,
No Comfort's cooler Stream relieving,
Nor Reason's Bay, at last help giving;
With Stag-like Fate he falling dyes,
Scorn's Triumph and Love's Sacrifice.

Song, on Hero and Leander drown'd.

Scorn'd Scornfulness.

Beauty and Frailty.

The fair, young Shepherdess; her Funeral also.

Is any Pastor's Ear so deaf to Fame,
That has not heard of fair Solvandræ's Name?
So us'd to th' bleating Noys, that Funeral-Knell,
(Which groan'd this Nymph to Earth, did Hearts congeal)
Nere mention'd was; thus far more happy, free,
Since ignorant o'th' common Misery;
Arcadia's Loss: the Sun with haste was gone
From her black Funerals, and Night came on
In Sables clad. O, what new-raised Train
Of mournful Ghosts, as 'twere, then trod the Plain!
Whose ceremonious Form that Grief compriz'd,
As each their own near Fun'ral solemniz'd.
Death's March it seem'd; first went young Swains, by pairs,
All crown'd with Cypress-branch, as Usherers
To th' solemn Herse; four next the same, that led,
Shew'd painted Shields, where drawn on Sable Bed
Young, pale, dead Virgin lay, white Shroud did wear
For Bridal Cloaths bare Face beheld, howe're
(Bounteous even then) by Death's black Arms imbrac'd,
And on the Top, white Characters was plac'd,
This must my Brides-groom prove: with Sadness so
All pass'd along. Behind the Horse did go
A single Swain, what mournful Tread! sad Glance!
True Bulk of Wretchedness, whose Countenance
Life-damp display'd; seem'd Ghost to th' Corps before;
Sigh-storm did breath, whilst Cheeks bedrench'd (their Shore)
His Torrent eyes; transcendent thus was found,
Surpass'd in Grief his Hat did mix'd surround
Small Willow, Cypress-branch, writ largely above,
Black Characters, Death does my Rival prove.
Then came th' whole Virgin-Train, white Skarfs did wear,
Part veil'd like clouded Stars, while Torch-light there
Caus'd dismal Noon. Thus all did softly trace
To th' last, retiring Cell, most loathsome place
Where they should leave their slumbring Nymph behind;
Earth-Chamber 'twas, which near transform'd, half blind
That Youth beholds: Never spake Sorrow more
Then silent now, what diff'rent Passions store!
Here Sighs, there Tears, pale Cheeks, all making one
Consort in Grief; his part excell'd alone.
They view'd their utmost round, till lost the Sight
With whom their Eyes seem'd as 'twere bury'd quite,
That way t'enjoy; with solemn thoughtful Muse,
Whilst churlish Clods and cold seem'd there t'abuse
That gallant Form, which, lately though more nice,
Complain'd not now; by Death intranced lies:
Curtains being drawn, all clos'd, ne're daintier Frame
Was lodg'd in simple Earth, their Tongues proclaim.

TRANSLATIONS.

SONG.

Il y a dans ce Village, &c.

On the first Sight of Beauteous Laura.

Era'l giorno, ch'al Sol si scoloraro, &c.

On coy Laura, veil'd.

Lassare il velo o per Sole, o per Ombra, &c.

On Leander drowned, swimming to Hero o're the Hellespont.

Leandro amoroso fuego ardia, &c.

The modest doubtful Lover.

Los oios no peccaron en mirar os.

The Shepherd deeply enamour'd.

Estava Lusitano repastando, &c.