Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide No verse, No epicedium bring; Nor peaceful requiem sing, Vast griefs are dumb: softly, oh softly mourn! Upon my dismal grave Such offerings as you have; Forsaken cypress, and sad yew; For kinder flowers can take no birth Or growth from such unhappy earth. Weep only o'er my dust, and say, "Here lies "To love and fate an equal sacrifice. SONG. WHEN, dearest beauty, thou shalt pay Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove ROBERT HEATH, Of whom I know nothing more than that he was the author of "Clarastella," a collection of poems in one volume, 12mo. printed in 1650. INVEST SONG. INVEST my head with fragrant rose, Thus, crown'd with Paphian myrtle, I "Tis wine and love, and love in wine Life's short, and winged pleasures fly; On down and floods then, swan-like, I To Clarastella saying she would commit herself to a Nunnery. [From 9 stanzas.] STAY, Clarastella, prithee stay! Wilt thou thus cast thyself away, Is it a sin to be belov'd? If but the cause you could remove, And, when such beauty tempts, can love refrain? When heaven was prodigal to you, And you with beauty's glory stor❜d, He made you, like himself, for view, To be beheld and then ador'd. Why should the gold then fear to see that sun That form'd it pure? Why should you live a nun, And hide those rays heaven gave to you alone? Thyself a holy temple art, Where love shall teach us both to pray; I'll make an altar of my heart, And incense on thy lips will lay. Thy mouth shall be my oracle, and then Till they, breath'd from our souls, shall cry, Amen. |