ICE AND FIRE..

NAKED Love did to thine eye,
Chloris, once to warm him, fly;
But its subtle flame, and light,
Scorch'd his wings, and spoil'd his sight.
Forc'd from thence he went to rest
In the soft couch of thy breast:
But there met a frost so great,
As his torch extinguish'd straight.
When poor Cupid, thus (constrain'd
His cold bed to leave) complain'd;
"Las! what lodging's here for me,
If all ice and fire she be."

NOVO INAMORAMENTO.

AND yet anew entangled, see

Him, who escap'd the snare so late! A truce, no league thou mad'st with me, False love! which now is out of date: Fool, to believe the fire quite out, alas! Which only laid asleep in embers was. The sickness, not at first past cure,

By this relapse despiseth art: Now, treacherous boy, thou hast me sure, Playing the wanton with my heart, As foolish children, that a bird have got, Slacken the thread, but not untie the knot.

I a constant love may so,
But, alas! a fruitless show.
Shall I by the erring light

Of two crosser stars still sail?
That do shine, but shine in spite,

Not to guide, but make me fail?
1 a wand'ring course may steer,
But the harbour ne'er come near.
Whilst these thoughts my soul possess,
Reason, passion would o'ersway;
Bidding me my flames suppress,

Or divert some other way:
But what reason would pursue,
That my heart runs counter to.
So a pilot, bent to make

Search for some unfound out land,
Does with him the magnet take,

Sailing to the unknown strand; But that (steer which way he will) To the loved north points still.

THE PENDANTS. THOSE asps of gold with gems that shine, And in enamel'd curls do twine, Why Chloris in each ear Dost thou for pendants wear? I now the hidden meaning guess : Those mystic signs express The stings thine eyes do dart, Killing as snakes, into my heart: And show that to my prayers Thine ears are deaf as theirs.

CELIA'S EYES.

A DIALOGUE.

LOVER.

LOVE! tell me; may we Celia's eyes esteem Or eyes, or stars? for stars they seem.

LOVE.

Fond, stupid man! know stars they are, Nor can Heaven boast more bright or fair.

LOVER.

Are they or erring lights, or fixed? say.

LOVE.

Fix'd; yet lead many a heart astray.

THE RESEMBLANCE.

MARBLE (Coy Celia !) 'gainst my pray'rs thou art, And at thy frown to marble I convert.

Love thought it fit, and Nature, thus
To manifest their several powers in us.

Love made me marble, Nature thee,
To express constancy and cruelty.
Now both of us shall mouuments remain ;
I of firm faith, thon of disdain.

LOVE ONCE, LOVE EVER.

SHALL I hopeless then pursue

A fair shadow that still flies me?

Shall I still adore, and woo

A proud heart, that does despise me?

She my address disdainful flies, And thou like her art fleet; The real beauty she denies,

And thou the counterfeit,

To cross my innocent desires,

And make my griefs extreme, A cruel mistress thus conspires With a delusive dream.

AN OLD SHEPHERD TO A YOUNG NYMPH.
SCORN me not, fair, because you see
My hairs are white; what if they be?
Think not 'cause in your cheeks appear
Fresh springs of roses all the year,
And mine, like winter, wan and old,
My love like winter should be cold:
See in the garland which you wear
How the sweet blushing roses there
With pale-hu'd lilies do combine ?
Be taught by them; so let us join.

BEAUTY ENCREASED BY PITY, 'Tis true; thy beauty (which before

Did dazzle each bold gazer's eye,
And forc'd even rebel-hearts t'adore,

Or from its conquering splendour fly)
Now shines with new increase of light,
Like Cynthia at her full, more bright,
Yet though thou glory in th' increase
Of so much beauty, dearest fair!
They err who think this great access,
(Of which all eyes th' admirers are)
Or art, or Nature's gift should be:
Learn then the hidden cause from me,
Pity in thee, in me desire

First bred; (before, I durst but aim
At fair respect) now that close fire

Thy love hath fann'd into a flame: Which mounting to its proper place, Shines like a glory 'bout thy face,

"From those tempting lips if I

May not steal a kiss (my dear!)
I shall longing pine and die:
And a kiss if I obtain,

My heart fears (thine eyes so near)
By their light'ning 'twill be slain.
Thus I know not what to try;
This I know yet, that I die.

CHANGE DEFENDED.
LEAVE, Chloris, leave, prithee no more
With want of love, or lightness charge me :
'Cause thy looks captiv'd me before,
May not another's now enlarge me?
He, whose misguided zeal hath long
Paid homage to some star's pale light,
Better inform'd, may without wrong,

Leave that, t'adore the queen of night.
Then if my heart, which long serv'd thee,
Will to Carintha now incline;
Why term'd inconstant should it be,
For bowing 'fore a richer shrine?
Censure that lover's such, whose will
Inferior objects can intice;
Who changes for the better still,
Makes that a virtue, you call vice.

THE MICROCOSM.

MAN of himself's a little world, but join'd With woman, woman for that end design'd, (Hear cruel fair one whilst I this rehearse!) He makes up then a complete universe.

Man, like this sublunary world, is born The sport of two cross planets, love, and scorn: Woman the other world resembles well, In whose looks Heav'n is, in whose breast is Hell.

THE DEFEAT.

'GAINST Celinda's marble breast
All bis arrows having spent,
And in vain each arrow sent,
Impotent, unarmed Love,
In a shady myrtle grove,

Laid him down to rest.

Soon as laid, asleep he fell :

And a snake in (as he slept)

To his empty quiver crept.

When fair Chloris, whose soft heart
Love had wounded (and its smart
Lovers best can tell.)

This advantage having spy'd;
Of his quiver, and his bow
Thought to rob her sleeping foe
Softly going then about

To have seiz'd upon them; out
Straight the snake did glide;
With whose hisses frighted, she,
(Nimbly starting back again)
Thus did to her self complain :
"Never, cruel archer! never
(Full, or empty) does thy quiver
Want a sting for me."

AMORE SECRETO.

CONTENT thy self fond heart! nor more
Let thy close flames be seen;
If thou with covert zeal adore
Thy saint enshrin'd within,

Thou hast thy feast, as well as they
That unto love keep open holy-day.
In his religion, all are free

To serve him as they may.
In public some, and some there be
Their vows in private pay.

Love, that does to all humours bend,
Admits of several ways unto one end.

Yet wilt thou not repining cease!

Still dost thou murmurs vent? Stubborn, rebellious zealot, peace! Nor sign of discontent

So much as in one sigh afford;

For to the wise in love, each sigh's a word.

A MAID IN LOVE WITH A YOUTH BLIND
OF ONE EYE.

THOUGH a sable cloud benight
One of thy fair twins of light,
Yet the other brighter seems,

As 't had robb'd its brother's beams;
Or both lights to one were run,
Of two stars, now made one sun.
Cunning archer! who knows yet
But thou wink'st my heart to hit!
Close the other too, and all
Thee the god of love will call.

THE BROKEN FAITH.

LATELY by clear Thames's side,
Fair Lycoris I espi'd

With the pen of her white band
These words printing on the sand:
"None Lycoris doth approve
But Mirtillo for her love."

Ah false nymph! those words were fit

In sand only to be writ:

For the quickly rising streams
Of oblivion, and the Thames,

In a little moment's stay

From the shore wash'd clean away What thy hand had there impress'd, And Mirtillo from thy breast.

Who proud of such a victory,
At once triumphs o'er love, and me.

But more, alas! I cannot speak;
Sighs so my sadder accents break.
Farewell, kind flood' now take thy way,
And, like my thoughts, still restless, stray:
If we retarded have thy course,

Hold! with these tears thy speed inforce.

A SHEPHERD INVITING A NYMPH TO
HIS COTTAGE.

DEAR! on yon mountain stands my humble cot,
'Gainst Sun and wind by spreading oaks secur'd;
And with a fence of quickset round immur'd,
That of a cabin make 't a shady grot.

My garden's there: o'er which, the spring hath spread
A flow'ry robe; where thou may'st gather posies
Of gilliflowers, pinks, jessamines, and roses,
Sweets for thy bosom, garlands for thy head.
Down from that rock's side runs a purling brook,
In whose unsullied face,

[look.

(Though thine needs no new grace.) Thou may'st, as thou think'st best, compose thy And there thine own fair object made, Try which (judg'd by the river) may be said The greater fire,

That which my breast feels, or thy eyes inspire.

VIRTUE IMPROV'D BY SUFFERING.

[shade

'Tis but the body that blind fortune's spite
Can chain to Earth; the nobler soul doth slight
Her servile bonds, and takes to Heaven her flight
So through dark clouds Heaven lightens (whilst the
Is as a foil to its bright splendour made)
And stars with greater lustre night invade.
So sparkle flints when struck; so metals find
Hardness from hammering, and the closer bind ;
So flames increase the more supprest by wind.
And as the grindstone to unpolish'd steel
Gives edge, and lustre: so my mind I feel
Whetted, and glaz'd by Fortune's turning wheel.

TO MR. STANLEY,

ON HIS UNIMITABLE POEMS.

THE Stagirite, who poesy defines

An imitation, had he read thy lines,

And the rich fancy known, he would have then
Recall'd the learned errour of his pen,
And have confest, in his convicted state,
Nought those could equal, this would imitate;

TO THE RIVER.

CLEAR brook! which by thy self art chas'd,

And from thy self dost fly as fast,

Stay here a little; and in brief
Hear the sad story of my grief;
Then, hasting to the sea, declare
Her waves not half so bitter are.

Tell her how Sylvia (she who late
Was the sole regent of my fate)
Hath yielded up her sweetest breath,
In the best time of life, to death;

Nor any stand, but its own height, take wing.
And but that we should seem so to misprise
The influence of Chariessa's eyes,

We should not think love did these flames inspire,
Rather, that thou taught'st love this noble fire:
And, by a generous way thy hopes t' improve,
Show'dst her before thou didst, how thou could's
And the old, common method didst invert, [love;
First made her mistress of thy brain, then heart:
Some phant'sies growth may from their subjects
take,

Thine doth not subjects find, but subjects make;

Whose numerons strains we vainly strive to praise, 'Less we could ours, high as thy phant'sy, raise. Large praise we might give some, with small expense Of wit, ery Excellent! how praise excellence? The painter's fate is ours; his hand may grace, Or take a bad, scarce hit a beauteous face.

Nor can our art a fitting value set
Upon thy noble courtesy of wit;

Which to so many tongues doth lend that store
Of pleasing sweetness, which they lack'd before.
Th' Hiberian, Roman, and the fluent Greek,
The nimble French, and the smooth 'Tuscan, seek
For several graces from thy pen alone,
Which that affords to all these tongues, in one.
Whose foreign wealth transferr'd, improv'd by thine,
Doth with a fair increase of lustre shine
Like gems new set upon some richer foil,
Or roses planted in a better soil.

If 'bove all laurels then thy merits rise,
What can this sprig (which, while 'tis offer'd, dies)
Add to the wreath that does adorn thy brows?
No bays will suit with that, but thy own boughs.

ON HIS TRANSLATION OF ORONTA.

FLAMES rescu'd fair Oronta from the pow'r
Of an insulting Thracian conqueror.
The fame of which brave action, Preti's rhime
Freed from the greater tyranny of time:
Yet in that freedom she less glories than
In being thus made captive by thy pen.

TO MR. JAMES SHIRLEY,

ON HIS WAY OF GRAMMAR EXPLAINED IN ENGLISH

VERSE.

GRAMMAR, which taught the poet first to write,
Is by the poet now taught to delight;
And poesy, which once unto the school
Ow'd its instructions, now to that's a rule.
Thy grateful pen to science does impart
Civility, and requites art with art.

Yet not like some, who think they hardly shou'd
Be thought to understand, if understood,
Dost thou the minds of weaker tiros vex,
Or, as perplex'd with th' art, the art perplex;

But whate'er seem'd therein obscure, mak'st clear;
Brief, what prolix; smooth, what did rough appear;
That so the art to learners now is seen
As in a flat, which hill and wood did screen.
How should they err, their journey's end in view,
Their way so pleasing, and their guide so true!

Rest then secure of fame; nor think thy worth
Can by a private hand be well set forth.
Attempts, which to the public profit raise,
Expect, nor merit less than public praise.

IN IDEM, AD EUNDEM.

SHIRLEIE, Angliacûm cui olim celeberrime vatum ! Drama labor nomenque fuit; tibi nunc novus ecquis

Surgit honos? qualisve alio subit infula nexu Tempora?-Nunc video: Magnos accinctus in usus, Carmine facundo tractas Præcepta severæ Grammatices, Latiæque canis Primordia linguæ ;

Ut meliùs teneros blandâ dulcedine captos
Afficeres animos, & dura elementa colenti,
Atque rudi nimium, eloquio, placitura Juventa
Efficeres: labor, en multum meriturus honesta
Laudis! non aliter (tua sed magè mellea lingua)
Tentavit Nestor juvenilia fingera corda,
Heroum teneras tam grato carmine mentes
Thessalici haud rexit moderator semifer antri.
Grammatica exultet; vibretque Heliconia serta,
Laude novâ florens: dulci nunc munere fandi
Provocet & Musas: Decus hoc Shirleie dedisti.

SACRA.

TO THE ETERNAL WISDOM :

UPON THE DISTRACTION OF THE TIMES.

O THOU Eternal Mind! whose wisdom sees,
And rules our changes by unchang'd decrees,
As with delight on thy grave works we look,
Say, art thou too with our light follies took?
For when thy bounteous hand, in liberal showers
Each way diffus'd, thy various blessings pours;
We catch at them with strife as vain to sight,
As children, when for nuts they scrambling fight.
This snatching at a sceptre, breaks it, he,
That broken does ere he can grasp it, see.
The poor world seeming like a ball, that lights
Betwixt the hands of powerful opposites:
Which, while they cantonise in their bold pride,
They but an immaterial point divide.

O whilst for wealthy spoils these fight, let me,
Though poor, enjoy a happy peace with thee!

DRAW ME, AND I WILL FOLLOW THEE. THROUGH devious paths without thee, Lord! I run, And soon, without thee, will my race be done. Happy was Magdalen, who, like a bride, Herself to thee by her fair tresses ti'd. So she thy presence never did decline, Thou her dear captive wert, and she was thine. Behold another Magdalen in me!

Then stay with me, or draw me after thee.

IF A MAN SHOULD GIVE ALL THE SUBSTANCE OF HIS
HOUSE FOR LOVE, HE WOULD VALUE IT AS NO-
THING. CANT. 8.

LOVE I'd of Heaven have bought, when he, (this who
Would think?) both purchase was, and seller too.
I offer'd gold; but gold he did not prize.

I offer'd gems; but gems he did despise.

I offer'd all; all he refus'd yet: why,

"If all won't take, take what is left," said I.

At this he smil'd, and said: "In vain divine Love's price thou beat'st; give nothing, and she's thine."

AND THEY LAID HIM IN A MANGER. HAPPY crib that wert alone, To my God, bed, cradle, throne, Whilst thy glorious vileness I View with divine phant'sy's eye;

Sordid filth seems all the cost,

State, and splendour, crowns do boast.
See! Heaven's sacred Majesty
Humbled beneath poverty.
Swaddled up in homely rags,
On a bed of straw and flags.

He whose hands the Heavens display'd,
And the world's foundations laid,
From the world's almost exil'd,
Of all ornaments despoil'd.
Perfumes bathe him not, new born,
Persian mantles not adorn:
Nor do the rich roofs look bright
With the jasper's orient light.
Where, O royal infant! be
Th' ensigns of thy majesty?
Thy Sire's equalizing state,
And thy sceptre, that rules fate?
Where's thy angel guarded throne,

Whence thy laws thou didst make known?
Laws which Heaven, Earth, Hell obey'd;
These, ah! these, aside he laid;
Would the emblem be, of pride
By humility outvy'd!

ON THE INNOCENTS SLAIN BY HEROD.

Go, blessed innocents! and freely pour
Your souls forth in a purple shower.
And, for that little earth each shall lay down,
Purchase a heavenly crown.

Nor of original pollution fear

The stains should to your bloods adhere; For yours now shed, ere long shall in a flood Be wash'd of better blood,

CHRISTO SMARRITO.

SIGHING, her sad heart fraught with fears, Whilst from her eyes gush streams of tears, Seeking again how to retrieve

Her little wand'ring fugitive,

Each where with weary steps doth rove,
The virgin Mother of lost Love.
Like a sad turtle, up and down
She mourning runs through all the town;
With searching eyes she pries about
In every creek; within, without.
Sticks at each place, looks o'er and o'er ;
Searches, where she had search'd before:
Old Joseph following with sad face,
A heavy heart, and halting pace.

Thrice had the day been born i' th' East,
As oft been buried in the West,
Since the dear comfort of her eyes
She miss'd; yet still her search she plies,
Each where she seeks, with anxious care,
To find him out, yet knows not where.
When the third morn she saw arose,
And yet no beam of hope disclose :
Looking to Heaven, in these sad words
She vent to her full grief affords :
"O my dear God! Son of my womb!
My joy, my love, my life, for whom
These tears I shed, on thee I call,
But, oh! thou answer'st not at all.
For thee I search, but cannot find thee:
Say (dear !) what new embraces bind thee?

What heart, enamour'd on thy eyes,
Enjoys what Heaven to me denies ?
"Daughters of Sion! you which stray
With nimble feet upon the way,

I beg of you, (if you can tell)

To show me where my Love doth dwell:
Whose beauty with celestial rays
The light of Paradise displays.
Perhaps to you he is unknown;
Ah! if you wish to hear him shown,

I'll tell y' him: Snow her whiteness seeks,
Vermilion blushes from his cheeks:
His eye a light more chaste discloses
Than amorous doves, his lips than roses.
Amber and gold shine in his hair,
(If gold or amber may compare
With that) a beauty so divine,

No tongue, pen, phaut'sy, can design.

"Why break'st thou not (my soul) this chain Of flesh? why lett'st thou that restrain Thy nimble flight into his arms,

Whose only look with gladness charms?
But (alas!) in vain I speak to thee,
Poor soul! already fled from me;
To seek out him, in whose lov'd breast
Thy life, as mine in thee, doth rest."

Blest Virgin! who, in tears half-drown'd,
Griev'st that thy son cannot be found,
The time will come when men shall hear thee
Complain that he is too, too near thee.
When in the midst of hostile bands,
With pierced feet and nailed hands,
Advanc'd upon a cursed tree
His naked body thou shalt see,
As void of coverture as friends,
But what kind Heaven in pity lends,
Thy soul will then abhor the light,
And think no grief worse than his sight.

But, lo! as thus she search'd and wept,
By chance she to the temple stept,
Where her dear son, with joyful eyes,
Set 'mongst the Rabbins she espies,
And as the light of some kind star
To a distressed mariner,

So his dear sight to her appears,
Toss'd in this tempest of her fears.

But O! what tongue can now impart
The joy of her revived heart?
The welcome, spoke in mutual blisses
Of sweet embraces, sweeter kisses!
Muse, since too high for thy weak wing
It is, contemplate what thou canst not sing.