ULYSSES But natures of the noblest frame These toils and dangers please; And they take comfort in the same As much as you in ease; And with the thought of actions past Are recreated still : When Pleasure leaves a touch at last To show that it was ill. SIREN That doth Opinion only cause No widows wail for our delights, ULYSSES But yet the state of things require And these great spirits of high desire For oft we see a wicked peace To be well changed for war. 35 95 WISHES TO HIS SUPPOSED MISTRESS SIREN Well, well, Ulysses, then I see I shall not have thee here: For beauty hath created been S. Daniel. XCIX WISHES TO HIS SUPPOSED MISTRESS WHOE'ER She be That not impossible She That shall command my heart and me ; In shady leaves of destiny; Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate step forth And teach her fair steps to our earth ; Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine; Meet you her, my Wishes, And be ye call'd my absent kisses. I wish her Beauty, That owes not all its duty To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie : Something more than Taffata or tissue can, Or rampant feather, or rich fan. A Face, that's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone command the rest: A Face made up Out of no other shop Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. A Cheek, where youth And blood, with pen of truth, Write what the reader sweetly rueth. A Cheek where grows More than a morning rose, Which to no box his being owes. Lips, where all day A lover's kiss may play, Yet carry nothing thence away. Eyes, that displace The neighbour diamond, and outface That sunshine by their own sweet grace. WISHES TO HIS SUPPOSED MISTRESS 97 Tresses, that wear Jewels but to declare How much themselves more precious are: Whose native ray Can tame the wanton day Of gems that in their bright shades play. Each ruby there, Or pearl that dare appear, Be its own blush, be its own tear. A well tamed Heart, For whose more noble smart Love may be long choosing a dart. Sydneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers. Soft silken hours, Open suns, shady bowers, 'Bove all, nothing within that lowers. Whate'er delight Can make Day's forehead bright, Or give down to the wings of night. Days that need borrow No part of their good morrow, From a fore-spent night of sorrow : Days that, in spite Of darkness, by the light Of a clear mind are day all night. G |