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IF, Acidalia's queen,

Come, let us live, and love,
Thou quench in me thy torch,
And with the same Thaumantia's heart shalt scorch, I shall the elm be, be to me the vine;

And kiss, Thaumantia mine;
Each year a myrtle tree

Come, let us teach new billing to the dove:
Here I do vow to consecrate to thee :
And when the meads grow green,

Nay, to augment our bliss,

Let souls e'en other kiss. I will of sweetest flowers

Let love a workman be,
Weave thousand garlands to adorn thy bow'rs.

Undo, distemper, and his cunning prove,
Of kisses three make one, of one make three :

Though Moon, Sun, stars, be bodies far more bright,

Let them not vaunt they match us in delight.
In midst of silent night,
When men, birds, beasts, do rest,
With love and fear possest,

To Heav'n, and Flore, I count my heavy plight.
Again, with roseate wings

Bright meteor of day,
When morn peeps forth, and Philomela sings, For me in Thetis' bow'rs for ever stay;
Then, void of all relief,

Night, to this flow'ry globe
Do I renew my grief;

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.
LEAVE, page, that slender torch,
And in this gloomy night
Let only shine the light
Of Love's hot brandon, which my heart doth scorch:

A sigh, or blast of wind,
My tears, or drops of rain,

When Venus, 'longst that plain,
May that at once make blind;

This Pariau Adon saw,
Whilst this like Ætna burning shall remain. She sigh’d, and said, “ What pow'r breaks Destine's

World-mourned boy, and makes thee live again?"
Then with stretch'd arms she ran him to enfold:

But when she did bebold

The boar, whose snowy tusks did threaten death,
HEN Sun doth bring the day,

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,

That Dapbnis can forget his Orienne.

Old oak, and you thick grove,
I ever shall you love,
With these sweet-smelling briers :

For briers, oak, grove, ye crowned my desires,
STATUE OF VENUS SLEEPING. When underneath your shade
BREAK not my sweet repose,

I left my woe, and Flore her maidenhead.
Thou, whom free will, or chance, brings to this place,
Let lids these comets close,
O do not seek to see their shining grace:

For when mine eyes thou seest, they thine will blind,
And thou shalt part, hut leave thy heart behind. Love, Cypris, Phæbus, will feed, deck, and crown,

Thy heart, brows, verse, with flames, with flow'rs,
This virgin lock of hair
To Idmon Anthea gives,
Idion, for whom she lives,

Though oft she mix his hopes with cold despair:
This now; but, absent if he constant prove, Tay Muse not-able, full, il-lustred rhymes
With gift more dear she vows to meet his love. Make thee the poetaster of our times.





Love, Cypris

, Phæbus,


3 renown.


Who Lina weddeth, shall most happy be;

For he a maid shall find,

Though maiden rone be sbe,
THOSE stones which once had trust

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.
Which now of their first beauty spoil'd are seen,
That they due praise not want,
Inglorious and remain,

A Delian tree (fair Nature's only plant)
Now courts and shadows with her tresses green: And would ye, lovers, know
Sing lo Pæan, ye of Phæbus' train ;

Why Love doth naked go?
Though envy, av'rice, time, your tombs throw down, Fond, waggish, changeling lad!
With maiden laurels Nature will them crown. Late whilst Thaumantia's voice

He wond'ring heard, it made him so rejoice,
That he o'erjoy'd ran mad :
And in a frantic fit threw clothes away,

And since from lip and lap hers cannot stray.
VENUS doth love the rose;
Apollo those dear flow'rs

Which were his paramours;
The queen of sable skies

Wretch'd Niobe I am;
The subtile lanaries :

Let wretches read my case, But Flore likes none of those;

Not such who with a tear ne'er wet their face.
For fair to her no flow'r seems save the lily; Seven daughters of me came,
And why? Because one letter turns it P

And sons as many, which one fatal day,
Orb'd mother! took away.
Thus reft by Heavens unjust,

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,
Ye would have sworn he was your parish clerk.

Drink tears, draw loathed breath,
And all for love of one
Who did affect my death :

But now, thanks to disdain !

I live reliev'd of pain.
How happier is that fea,

For sighs I singing go,
Which in thy breast doth play,

I burn not as before-no, no, no, no !
Than that pied butterfly
Which courts the flame, and in the same doth diel
That hath a light delight,
Poor fool! contented only with a sight;

When this doth sport, and swell with dearest food, Ip all but ice thou be,
And, if he die, he knight-like dies in blood.

How dost thoa thus me burn?
Or how at fire which thou dost raise in me,
Sith ice, thyself in streams dost thou not turn?

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.
Yet by so fair a hand,
That thus to die was destine to command :
Thou didst die, yet didst try
A lover's last delight,

To vault on virgin plains, her kiss and bite:
Thou diedst, yet hast thy tomb

Time makes great states decay,
Between those paps, O dear and stately room; Time doth May's pomp disgrace,
Flea happier far, more blest,

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,
Time changes works in Heaven's eternal spheres; That others her pursue, entice, admire;
Yet this fierce tyrant, which doth all devour, And, though she sometime counterfeit a groan,
To lessen love in me shall have no pow'r.

I shall not think her heart feels uncouth fire;
I shall not style her ruthless to my moan,
Nor proud, disdainful, wayward to desire:

Her thoughts with mine will hold an equal lipe,

I shall be hers, and she shall all be mine.
See, Chloris, how the clouds
Tilt in the azure lists;

EURYMEDON'S PRAISE OF MIRA. And now with Stygian mists

Gem of the mountains, glory of our plains !
Each borned hill his giant forehead shrouds.
Jove thund'reth in the air;

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.
If not for love, yet to shun greater harms.

One phenix only liv'd ere thou wast born,
And Earth but did one queen of love admire,
Three Graces only did the world adorn,

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.
Mild lowliness, with pity, from it fly;
Where beauty reigos, as in their proper sphere,
Ingratitude, disdain, pride, all descry;

The flow'r and fruit, which virtue's tree should bear,

With her bad shadow beauty maketh die:
Beauty a monster is, a monster burl'd

Fair Dian, from the height
From angry Heaven, to scourge this lower world.

Of Heaven's first orb who chear'st this lower place,
Hide now from me thy light;

And, pitying my case,
As fruits which are unripe, and sour of taste,
To be confect'd more fit than sweet we prove;

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,
Take all my joy and comfort hence with thee;

And leave with me thy woe,

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
About that flame, that all so much admitt,
That heavenly fair which doth out-blush the morn,

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.
But, ah! not thou, but honour, doth me wrong;
O cruel honour! tyrant of the mind.”
This said sad Erycine, and all the flowers

Impearled as she went with eyes' salt showers.


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.
They sadly dark and cloudy do appear :

But ah, alas! a cat this prey espies,
Right so my thoughts, and so my notes do change; Then with a leap did thus our joys surprise.
Sweet, if ye smile, and boarse, if ye look strange. Undoubtedly this bird was kill'd by treason,

Or otherwise had of that fiend had reason.
Thus was Achilles by weak Paris slain,

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.
And, though Heavens often weep,
Vet do they smile for joy when comes dismay;

If any knowledge resteth after death
I'rosts do not ever kill the pleasant flow'rs ;

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,
But mew shall they in Pluto's palace blind.
Ye, who with gaudy wings, and bodies light,

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 !



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When with brave art the curious painter drew

This heavenly shape, the hand why made he bear,
With golden veins, that flow'r of purple hue, The king a negative voice most justly hath,
Which follows on the planet of the year?

Since the kirk hath found out a negative faith.
Was it to show how in our hemisphere
Like him she shines? nay, that effects more true
Of pow'r and wonder do in ner appear,

While he but flow'rs, and she doth minds subdue?
Or would he else to virtue's glorious light

In parliament one voted for the king;
Her constant course make known? or is 't that he The crowd did murmur he might for it smart;

His voice again being heard, was no sach thing;
Doth parallel her bliss with Clitra's plight ?

For that which was mistaken was a fart.
Right so; and thus he reading in her eye
Some lover's end, to grace what he did grave,
For cypress tree this muurning flow'r he gave.


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;
But star'd, smild, did lie still, void of all fears,
And sleep'd, though barked at by every cur:

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,
If these two nations fight, 'tis strangers' sport.

Lesly. Who is the greatest ? By Apollo, [he.
The emperor thou; some Palsegrave scarce seems

Couldst thou pull lords, as we do bishops, down,

Small distance were between thee and a crown.
Against the king, sir, now why would you fight?
Forsooth, because he dubb'd me not a knight.
And ye, my lords, why arm ye 'gainst king Charles?

Because of lords he would not make us earls. When lately Pym descended into Hell,
Earls, why do ye lead forth these warlike bands?

Ere he the cups of Lethe did carouse,
Because we will not quit the church's lands.

What place that was, he called loud to tell;
Most holy churchmen, what is your intent?

To whom a devil" This is the Lower House."
The king our stipends largely did augment.
Commons to tumult thus why are you driven?
Priests us persuade it is the way to Heaven.

Are these just cause of war; good people, grant?

Ho! Plunder! thou ne'er swore our covenant.

Flora, upon a time,
Give me a thousand covenants; I'll subscrive Naked Aicides' statue did behold;
Them all, and more, if more ye can contrive And with delight admired each am'rous limb;
Of rage and malice; and let every one

Only one fault, she said, could be of 't told:
Black treason bear, not bare rebellion.

For, by right symmetry,
I'll not be mock'd, hissid, plunder'd, banish'd hence, The craftsman had him wrong'd;
For more years standing for a **** prince. To such tall joints a taller club belong'da
His castles are all taken, and his crown,

The club hung by his thigh.
His sword, and sceptre, ensigns of renown,

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."

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