ROWALLAN'S POEMS.

Since all thy parts some special grace
Decoirs, to show thy heavenly race,
Virtue thy mind, and love thy face,
Proportion brave thy feature:
Pity then, must needs have place
In such a divine creature,

Whose sweetness,

And meekness,

Exceeds the bounds of nature!

When first those angel's eyes I view'd,
Two sparks to inflame a world of love—
My fatal thraldom then ensued;
Then did my liberty remove.

There, first, infected was my mind;
Love's nectared poison there I drank-
Thy sacred countenance aye shined
So far above all human rank.

Let then those eyes, which did ensnare,
Those shining stars, their fault repair;
Dispensing, by their beams preclair,
The clouds of thy disdaining.
Wisdom, virtue, beauty rare,

In thee have all remaining.
Let not then,

The sport then,

Of rigour, be thy staining.

Should cruelty, sweet love, eclipse

The sunshine of those glorious rays? Or, should those lovely smiling lips Breathe forth affection's delays?

M

121

Let mercy countervail thy worth,
And measure pity by my pain,
So, thy perfections to paint forth,
An endless labour shall remain.
Let beauty's beams then thaw away,
Reflecting only on us tway,

The iciness of love's delay;

And melt disdain's cold treasure.

Nature's due so shall we pay,

Bathing in boundless pleasure;

Enjoying,

And toying,

Whose sweets exceed all measure.

Finis-1615, W. M. Rowallan.

NO CHANGE SHALL PART MY LOVE AND ME. To the Tune of "ANE NEW LILT."

BEAUTY hath mine eyes assail'd,

And subdued my soul's affection;
Cupid's dart hath so prevail'd,

That I must live in his subjection.
Tied till one who's matchless alone,
And second to none in all perfection:
fortune such must be,

Since my

No change shall part my love and me!

Wisdom, meekness, virtue, grace,

Sweetness, modesty, bounty, but measure,

Decks her sweet celestial face

Rich in beauty's heavenly treasure.

ROWALLAN'S POEMS.

123

Joy, nor smart, shall never divert,

My most loyal heart, for pain nor pleasure:
But, resolved, I avow, till I die,

No change shall part my love and me!

Time, nor distance, shall have force,

Although by fortune's smile invited,
Us two ever to divorce!

By such a sympathy united.

True love hates the wavering estates,

Of such as the Fates hath changed or retreated!
But recourse, in any degree,

No change shall part my love and me!

Dear! let death then only finish,

And alter alone our choice and election;
Let no change our love diminish,

Nor breed from constancy any defection.
Time nor space, no distance of place,
Shall ever deface our fervent affection.
Then, sweet love! thus let us decree,
No change shall part us while we die.

Finis-1615.

At the date of these fervent verses, the author, for the first time, had entered the holy bands of matrimony; so, the object of his present devotions can hardly be mistaken. They are, probably,

A copy, and no more,

Of something better, seen before.

SONNETS.

MORE chaste than fair Diana, first in place;
From whose fair eyes flows love's alluring springs;
Second to none in bounty, beauty grace,

Whose heavenly hands holds proud Cupid's stings. Endless report, upon aspiring wings,

Thy high heroic virtues hath stored; Admired, but maik, even in a thousand things: To eternize thee Fame hath endeavor'd. Miraculous, matchless Margarite! decoir'd With all preferments nature can afford; Favour'd from heavens above, on earth adored! Extoll'd by truth of thy most loyal word. With virtue graced far more than form of face, Yet Venus, in the same, doth yield thee place.

MAIR GRAIT than I can any ways deserve,
Mair rair than fair, yet matchless in the same;
Who with thy eyes, least my poor life should starve,
Vouchsafes to look with pity on my pain.

Here, I avow, thine ever to remain,

To serve thee still, till breath and life depart, Revived by virtue of thy sacred name:

Come death or life, in love I find no smart.
Let Cupid wreck him on my martyr'd heart,
Let fortune frown, and all the world envy,
If I be thine, no grief can death impart,

Shall make me seem thy service to deny.
I live mair weil contended thine to die,
Than crown'd with honour and disdain'd by thee.

ROWALLAN'S POEMS.

125

CAN any cross, shall ever intervene,

Make me to change my never-changing mind?
Can ought that my poor eyes hath ever seen
Make me to her, who holds my life, unkind?
O no! even though the world's beauty shined,
To try my truth, and tempt my loyal love;
I more esteem for her to live still pined
Than any other, be preferr'd above.
My constant heart no torture shall remove:

Though duilful death, and frowning fortune threat,
No grief at all, no pain that I can prove,
Shall make me ever loathe of my estate.

I gladly yield me, let her save or kill-
I hate to live except it be her will.

ALACE! Sweet love, that ever my poor eyes
Presum❜d to gaze on that most heavenly face!
Alace! that fortune ever seem'd to ease

My endless woes, but now would me deface.
Alace! that ever I expected grace;

To snare myself, in hope to be relieved!
Alace! alace! that Love would now disgrace
My loyal heart, which once to serve him lived!
Alace! alace! that ever I survived

The fatal time, when first appear'd my joy:
For now, alace, I die: but yet revived

In hope, thy love my luck shall once enjoy.
Still to remain, resolved then shall I live,
Thy humble servant, even till breath me leave!

Thir Sonets, maid 1612.