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IDMON TO VENUS.
Come, let us live, and love,
And kiss, Thaumantia mine;
Come, let us teach new billing to the dove:
Nay, to augment our bliss,
Let souls e'en other kiss. I will of sweetest flowers
Let love a workman be,
Undo, distemper, and his cunning prove,
Though Moon, Sun, stars, be bodies far more bright,
Let them not vaunt they match us in delight.
A LOVER'S DAY AND NIGHT.
Bright meteor of day,
Night, to this flow'ry globe
Ne'er show for me thy star-embroidered robe, Day follows night, night day, whilst still I prove My night, my day, do not proceed from you, That Heaven is deaf, Flore careless of my love. But hang on Mira's brow:
For when she low'rs, and hides from me her eyes, 'Midst clearest day I find black night arise;
When smiling she again those twins doth tum,
In midst of night I find noon's torch to burn.
THE STATUE OF ADONIS.
When Venus, 'longst that plain,
This Pariau Adon saw,
World-mourned boy, and makes thee live again?"
But when she did bebold
The boar, whose snowy tusks did threaten death,
Fear closed up her breath. From the Hesperian sea,
Who can but grant then that these stones do lire, Or Moon her coach doth roll
Sith this bred love, and that a wound did give? Above the northern pole, When serpents cannot hiss, And lovers shall not kiss, Then may it be, but in no time till then,
CLORUS TO A GROVE,
Old oak, and you thick grove,
For briers, oak, grove, ye crowned my desires,
I left my woe, and Flore her maidenhead.
A COUPLET ENCOMIASTIC.
Thy heart, brows, verse, with flames, with flow'rs,
Who Lina weddeth, shall most happy be;
For he a maid shall find,
Though maiden rone be sbe,
A girl or boy beneath her waist confin'd:
And though bright Ceres' locks be never shorn, Of Maro's sacred dust,
He shall be sure this year to lack no corn.
Why Love doth naked go?
He wond'ring heard, it made him so rejoice,
And since from lip and lap hers cannot stray.
Wretch'd Niobe I am;
Let wretches read my case, But Flore likes none of those;
Not such who with a tear ne'er wet their face.
And sons as many, which one fatal day,
Grief turn’d me stone, stone too doth me entomb;
Which if thou dost mistrust,
Of this hard rock but ope the finty womb, All that a dog could have
And here thou shalt find marble, and no dust. The good Melampus had : Nay, he had more than what in beasts we crave, For he could play the brave; And often, like a Thraso stern, go mad:
CHANGE OF LOVE. And if ye had not seen, but heard him bark,
Once did I weep and groan,
Drink tears, draw loathed breath,
But now, thanks to disdain !
I live reliev'd of pain.
For sighs I singing go,
I burn not as before-no, no, no, no !
How dost thoa thus me burn?
But rather, plaintful case!
Of ice art marble made, to my disgrace.
O miracle of love, not heard till now ! Poor flea! then thou didst die;
Cold ice doth burn, and bard by fire doth grow.
Time makes great states decay,
Time draws deep furrows in the fairest face, Than phenix burning in his spicy nest.
Time wisdom, force, renown, doth take away;
Time doth consume the years,
I shall not fear thus, though sbe stray alone,
I shall not think her heart feels uncouth fire;
Her thoughts with mine will hold an equal lipe,
I shall be hers, and she shall all be mine.
EURYMEDON'S PRAISE OF MIRA. And now with Stygian mists
Gem of the mountains, glory of our plains !
Rare miracle of nature, and of love!
Sweet Atlas, who all beauty's Heavens sustains, The air, grown great with rain Now seems to bring Deucalion's days again :
No, beauty's Heaven, wbere all her wonders more;
The Sun, from east to west who all doth see, I see thee quake: come, let us home repair ; Come, hide thee in mine arms,
On this low globe sees nothing like to thee.
One phenix only liv'd ere thou wast born,
But thrice three Muses sung to Phæbus' lyre; THYRSIS IN DISPRAISE OF BEAUTY.
Two phenixes be pow, love's queens are two,
Four Graces, Muses ten, all made by you. That which so much the doating world doth prize, For those perfections which the bounteous Heaven Fond ladies' only care, and sole delight,
To divers worlds in divers times assign'd, Soon-fading beauty, which of hues doth rise,
With thousands more, to thee at once were given, Is but an abject let of Nature's might; Most woful wretch, whom shining hair and eyes
Thy body fair, more fair they made the mind :
And, that thy like no age should more behold, Lead to Love's dungeon, traitor'd by a sight,
When thou wast fram'd, they after break the mould. Most woful! for he might with greater ease Hell's portals enter and pale Death appease. Sweet are the blushes on thy face wbich shine,
Sweet are the flames which sparkle from thine eyes, As in delicious meads beneath the flow'rs,
Sweet are his torments who for thee doth pine, And the most wholesome herbs that May can show, Most sweet his death for thee who sweetly dies; In crystal curls the speckled serpent low'rs; For, if he die, he dies not by annoy, As in the apple, which most fair doth grow, But too much sweetness and abundant joy. The rotteu worm is clos'd, which it devours;
What are my slender lays to show thy worth ! As in gilt cups, with Gnossian wine which flow,
How can base words a thing so high make known? Oft poison pompously doth hide its sours; So lewdness, falsehood, mischief them advance,
So wooden globes bright stars to us set forth,
So in a crystal is Sun's beauty shown: Cląd with the pleasant rays of beauty's glance.
More of thy praises if my Muse should write, Good thence is chas'd where beauty doth appear;
More love and pity must the same indite.
AT THE DEPARTURE OF IDMON.
Fair Dian, from the height
Of Heaven's first orb who chear'st this lower place,
And, pitying my case,
Spread with a scarf of clouds thy blushing face. For sweet, in spite of care, themselves will waste,
Come with your doleful songs, When they long kept the appetite do move:
Night's sable birds, which plain when others sleep; So, in the sweetness of his nectar, Love
Come, solemnize my wrongs, The foul confects, and seasons of his feast :
And concert to me keep, Sour is far better, which we sweet may make,
Sith Heaven, Earth, Hell, are set to cause me weep. Than sweet, which sweeter sweetness will not take. This grief yet I could bear,
If now by absence I were only pin'd; Foul may my lady be; and may her nose,
But, ah! worse evil I fear; A Tenerif, give umbrage to her chin;
Men absent prove unkind, May her gay mouth, which she no time may close, and change, unconstant like the Moon, their mind. So wide be, that the Moon may turn therein: If thought had so much pow'r May eyes and teeth be made conform to those; Of thy departure, that it could me slay; Eyes set by chance and white, teeth black and thin: | How will that ugly bour May all that seen is, and is hid from sight,
My feeble sense dismay, Like unto these rare parts be framed right. “Farewel, sweet heart," when I shall hear thee say!
Dear life! sith thou must go,
TO HIS AMOROUS THOUGHT.
Sweet wanton thought, who art of beauty borri, Which, until I thee see,
And who on beauty feed'st, and sweet desire, Nor time, nor place, nor change shall take from me.
Like taper fly, still circling, and still turn
Those ivory hands, those threads of golden wire,
Thou still surroundest, yet dar'st not aspire ;
Sure thou dost well that place not to come near, AT THE DEPARTURE OF ALEXIS.
Nor see the majesty of that fair court; * AND wilt thou then, Alexis mine, depart,
For if thou saw'st what wonders there resort, And leave these flow'ry meads and crystal streams, Like souls ascending to those joys above,
The pure intelligence that moves that sphere, These hills as green as great with gold and gems, Which court thee with rich treasure in each part: What can we hope for more ; what more enjoy?
Back never wouldst thou turn, not thence remove. Shall nothing hold thee? not my loyal heart, That bursts to lose the comforts of thy beams?
Since fairest things thus soonest have their end, Nor yet this pipe, which wildest satyrs tames ?
And as on bodies sbadows do attend, Nor lambkins wailing, nor old Dorus' smart?
Soon all our bliss is follow'd with annoy: O ruthless shepherd ! forests strange among
Yet she's not dead, she lives where she did love; What canst thou else but fearful dangers find ?
Her memory on Earth, her soul above.
ON THE DEATH OF HER SPARROW,
AH! if ye ask, my friends, why this salt show'r COMPARISON
My blubber'd eyes upon this paper pour?
Gone is my sparrow! he whom I did train,
And turn'd so toward, by a cat is slain :
No more with trembling wings shall he attend Wrth opening shells in seas, on heavenly dew His watchful mistress. Would my life could end ! A shining oyster lusciously doth feed;
No more shall I him hear chirp pretty lays; And then the birth of that etherial seed
Have I not cause to loath my tedious days? Shows, when conceiv'd, if skies look dark or blue:
A Dedalus he was to catch a fly; So do my thoughts, celestial twins ! of yon, Nor wrath nor rancour men in bim could spy. At whose aspect they first begin and breed, To touch or wrong his tail if any dar'd, When they came forth to light, demonstrate true He pinch'd their fingers, and against them warr'd: If ye then smil'd, or low'r'd in mourning weed.
Then might that crest be seen shake up and down, Pearls then are orient fram'd, and fair in form, Which fixed was unto his little crown; If Heavens in their conceptions do look clear; Like Hector's, Troy's strong bulwark, when in ire But if they thunder or do threat a storm,
He raged to set the Grecian fleet on fire.
But ah, alas! a cat this prey espies,
Or otherwise had of that fiend had reason.
And stout Camilla fell by Aruns vain;
So that false horse, which Pallas rais'd 'gainst Troy, “ The angry wiuds not aye
King Priam and that city did destroy. Do cuff the roaring deep;
Thou, now whose heart is big with this frail glory,
Shalt not live long to tell thy honour's story.
If any knowledge resteth after death
In ghosts of birds, when they have left to breathe, And love hath sweets when gone are all the sours." My darling's ghost shall know in lower place I'his said a shepherd, closing in his arms
The vengeance falling on the cattish race. is dear, who blush'd to feel love's new alarms.
For never cat nor catling I shall find,
Do dint the air, turn hitherwards your flight;
To my sad tears comply these potes of yours,
Unto bis idol bring an harv'st of flow'rs; The greatest gift that from their lofty thrones Let him accept from us, as most divine The all-governing pow'rs to man can give,
Sabæan incense, milk, food, sweetest wine; Is, that he never breathe; or, breathing once, And on a stone let us these words engrave: A suckling end his days, and leave to live;
“ Pilgrim the body of a sparrow brave For then he neither knows the woe nor joy
In a fierce glutt'nous cat's womb clos'd remains, Of life, nor fears the Stygian lake's annoy. Whose ghost now graceth the Elysian plains."
I'll not die martyr for a mortal thing ;
'Tis 'nongh to be confessor for a king. PORTRAIT OF THE COUNTESS OF PERTH. Will this you give contentment, hopest men?
I've written rebels—pox upon the pen !
When with brave art the curious painter drew
Since the kirk hath found out a negative faith.
In parliament one voted for the king;
His voice again being heard, was no sach thing;
For that which was mistaken was a fart.
Bold Scots, at Barnnockburn ye kill'd your king, MADRIGAL
Then did in parliament approve the fact;
And would ye Charles to such a nonplas bring, Ip light be not beguild,
To authorize rebellion by an act? And eyes right play their part,
Well what ye crave who knows but granted may be? This flow'r is not of art, but fairest Nature's child; But, if he do ’t, cause swaddle bion for a baby. And though, when Titan's from our world exil'd, She doth not look, her leaves, his loss to moan, To wonder Earth finds now more suns than one.
Swaddled is the baby, and almost two years
(His swaddling time) did neither cry nor stir;
Yea, had not wak’d, if Lesly, that hoarse nurse,
Had not hiin hardly rock'd-old wives him curse ! The Scottish kirk the English church do name; The English church the Scots a kirk do call; Kirk and not church, church and not kirk, O shame!
VII. Your kappa turn in chi, or perish all.
The king nor band nor host had him to follow, Assemblies meet, post bishops to the court :
Of all his subjects; they were given to thee,
Lesly. Who is the greatest ? By Apollo, [he.
Couldst thou pull lords, as we do bishops, down,
Small distance were between thee and a crown.
Ere he the cups of Lethe did carouse,
What place that was, he called loud to tell;
To whom a devil" This is the Lower House."
THE STATUE OF ALCIDES.
Flora, upon a time,
Only one fault, she said, could be of 't told:
For, by right symmetry,
The club hung by his thigh.
To wbich the statuary did reply : With that lieutenant Fame did so extol;
“ Fair nymph, in ancient days, your *** by far And captives carried to the capital.
Were not so hugely vast as now they are."