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Debtors thus, with like design,
When they never mean to pay, That they may the law decline,
To some friend make all away.
Not the silver doves that fly,
Yok'd in Cytherca's car; Not the wings that lift so high,
And convey her son so far;
Are so lovely, sweet, and fair,
Or do more ennoble love; Are so choicely match'd a pair,
Or with more consent do move.
AMORET, the Milky Way,
Fram'd of many nameless stars ! The smooth stream, where none can say,
He this drop to that prefers ! Amoret, my lovely foe!
Tell me where thy strength does lie? Where the power that charms us so?
In thy soul, or in thy eye? By that snowy neck alone,
Or thy grace in motion seen,
Yet thy waist is straight, and clean,
DEATH OF MY LADY RICH. May those already curs'd Essexian plains, Where hasty death and pining sickness reigns, Prove all a desert! and none there make stay, But savage beasts, or men as wild as they ! There the fair light, which all our island grac'd, Like Hero's taper in the window plac'd, Such fate from the malignant air did find, As that exposed to the boisterous wind.
Ah, cruel Heaven! to snatch so soon away Her, for whose life, had we had time to pray, With thousand vows,and tears,we should have sought That sad decree's suspension to have wrought. But we, alas !, no whisper of her pain Heard, till 'twas sin to wish her here again. That horrid word, at once, like lightning spread, Strook all our ears—the Lady Rich is dead! Heart-rending news! and dreadful to those few, Who her resemble, and her steps pursue: That Death should licence have to rage among The fair, the wise, the virtuous, and the young!
ThePaphian queen 9 from that fierce battle borne, With goared hand, and veil so rudely torn, Like terrour did among th' immortals breed; Taught by her wound, that goddesses may bleed.
All stand amazed ! but beyond the rest Th'heroic dame 19, whose happy womb she blest, Mov'd with just grief, expostulates with Heaven; Urging the promise to th' obsequious given, Of longer life; for ne'er was pious soul More apt t'obey, more worthy to control. A skilful eye at once might read the race Of Caledonian monarchs in her face, And sweet humility: her look and mind At once were lofty, and at once were kind. There dwelt the scom of vice, and pity too, For those that did what she disdain'd to do: So gentle and severe, that what was bad, At once her hatred, and her pardon had. Gracious to all; but where her love was due, So fast, so faithful, loyal, and so true, That a bold hand as soon might hope to force The rolling lights of heaven, as change her course.
Some happy angel, that beholds her there, Instruct us to record what she was here! And when this cloud of sorrow's over-blown, Through the wide world we'll make her graces
known. So fresh the wound is, and the grief so vast, That all our art, and power of speech, is waste. Here passion sways, but there the muse shall raise Etemal monuments of louder praise.
There our delight, complying with her fame, Shall have occasion to recite thy name, Pair Sacharissa !--and now only fair! To sacred friendship we'll an altar rear, (Such as the Romans did erect of old) Where, on a marble pillar, shall be told The lovely passion each to other bare, With the resemblance of that matchless pair. Narcissus, to the thing for which he pin’d, Was not more like, than your's to ber fair mind, Save that she grac'd the several parts of life, A spotless virgin, and a faultless wife; 9 Venus. 10 Christian countess of Devonshire
A LA MALADE.
Au, lovely Amoret, the care
Hence, to this pining sickness (meant
With such a grace you entertain,
And as pale sickness does invade Your frailer part, the breaches made In that fair lodging, still more clear Make the bright guest, your soul, appear. So nymphs, o'er pathless mountains borne, Their light robes by the brambles torn Prom their fair limbs, exposing new And unknown beauties to the view Of following gods, increase their flame, And haste, to catch the flying game
Such was the sweet converse 'twixt her and you, Nature these cates with such a lavish hand
Pours out among them, that our coarser land How false is Hope, and how regardless Fate, Tastes of that bounty, and does cloth return, That such a love should have so short a date ! Which not for warmth, but ornament, is worn: Lately I saw her sighing part from thee:
For the kind Spring, which but salutes us here, (Alas, that such the last farewell should be!) Inhabits there, and courts them all the year: So look’s Astræa, her remove design'd,
Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live ; On those distressed friends she left behind.
At once they promise, what at once they give. Consent in virtue knit your hearts so fast,
So sweet the air, so moderate the clime, That still the knot, in spite of death, does last : None sickly lives, or dies before his time. Por, as your tears, and sorrow-wounded soul, Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncurst, Prove well, that on your part this bond is whole: To show how all things were created first. So, all we know of what they do above,
The tardy plants, in our cold orchards plac'd, Is, that they happy are, and that they love. Reserve their fruit for the next age's taste: Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave,
There, a small grain, in some few months, will be Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have: A firm, a lofty, and a spacious tree. Well-chosen love is never taught to die,
The palma-christi, and the fair papà,
Now but a seed (preventing Nature's law)
And as their trees, in our dull region set,
But faintly grow, and no perfection get ;
While the supporter of the poet's style,
Phoebus, on them eternally does smile.
Invoke the muses, and improve my vein! BATTLE OF THE SUMMER-ISLANDS. No passion there in my free breast should move,
None but the sweet, and best of passions, love. CANTO I.
There will I sing, if gentle Love be by, What fruits they have, and how Heaven smiles
That tunes my lute, and winds the string so high, Upon those late-discover'd isles.
With the sweet sound of Sacharissa's name, Ard me, Bellona! while the dreadful fight, I'll make the listening savages grow tame. Betwixt a nation, and two whales, I write:
But while I do these pleasing dreams indite, Seas stain'd with gore I sing, adventurous toil ! I am diverted from the promis'd fight. And how these monsters did disarm an isle. Bermuda, wall’d with rocks, who does not know?
CANTO II. That happy island! where huge lemons grow,
Of their alarm, and how their foes And orange-trees, which golden fruit do bear;
Discover'd were, this canto shows. Th' Hesperian garden boasts of none so fair : Though rocks so high about this island rise, Where shining pearl, coral, and many a pound, That well they may the numerous Turk despise; On the rich shore, of ambergris is found.
Yet is no human fate exempt from fear; The lofty cedar, which to heaven aspires,
Which shakes their hearts, while through the isle The prince of trees! is fuel for their fires :
A lasting noise, as horrid and as loud (they hear The smoke, by which their loaded spits do turn, As thunder makes, before it breaks the cloud. For incense might on sacred altars burn:
Three days they dread this murmur, ere they know Their private roofs on odorous timber borne, From what blind cause th' unwonted sound may Such as might palaces for kings adorn.
At length two monsters of unequal size, [grow The sweet palmitoes a new Bacchus yield, Hard by the shore, a fisherman espies ; With leaves as ample as the broadest shield : Two mighty whales ! which swelling seas had tost, Under the shadow of whose friendly boughs And left them prisoners on the rocky coast. They sit, carousing where their liquor grows... One, as a mountain vast ; and with her came® Figs there unplanted through the fields do grow, A cub, not much inferior to his dam. Such as fierce Cato did the Romans show;
Here, in a pool among the rocks engag'd, With the rare fruit inviting them to spoil
They roar'd, like lions caught in toils, and raz'd. Carthage, the mistress of so rich a soil.
The man knew what they were, who heretofore The naked rocks are not unfruitful there,
Had seen the like lie murther'd on the shore: But, at some constant seasons, every year,
By the wild fury of some tempest cast, Their barren tops with luscious food abonnd ; The fate of ships, and shipwreck'd men, to taste. And with the eggs of various fowls are crown'd. As careless dames, whom wine and sleep betray Tobacco is the worst of things, which they
To frantic dreains, their infants overlay : To English landlords, as their tribute, pay. So there sometimes the raging ocean fails, Such is the mould, that the blest tenant feeds And her own brood exposes; when the whales, On precious fruits, and pays his rent in weeds. Against sharp rocks, like reeling vessels, quash'd, With candy'd plantains, and the juicy pine, Though huge as mountains, are in pieces dash'd : On choicest melons, and sweet grapes, they dine: Along the shore their dreadful limbs lie scatter'd ; And with potatoes fat their wantou swine. Like hillswith earthquakes shaken, tom, and shatter'd.
Hearts, sure, of brass they had, who tempted first Before her swims, and quits the hostile lake; Rude seas, that spare not what themselves have A prisoner there, but for his mother's sake. nurst.
She, by the rocks compell’d to stay behind, The welcome news, through all the nation spread, Is by the vastness of her bulk confin'd. To sudden joy, and hope, converts their dread : They shout for joy! and now on her alone What lately was their public terrour, they Their fury falls, and all their darts are thrown. Behold with glad eyes as a certain prey :
Their lances spent, one, bolder than the rest, Dispose already of th' untaken spoil ;
With his broad sword provok'd the sluggish beast; And, as the purchase of their future toil,
Her oily side devours both blade and heft: These share the bones, and they divide the oil. And there his steel the bold Bermudan left. So was the huntsman by the bear opprest,
Courage the rest from his example take, Whose hide he sold—before he caught the beast! And now they change the colour of the lake:
They man their boats, and all the young men Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side, With whatsoever may the monsters harm; [arm As if they would prevent the tardy tide, Pikes, halberts, spits, and darts that wound so far; And raise the flood to that propitious height, The tools of peace, and instruments of war. As might convey her from this fatal streight: Now was the time for vigorous lads to show She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw What love, or honour, could invite them to: To Heaven, that Heaven men's cruelties might know. A goodly theatre! where rocks are round
Their fixed javelins in her sides she wears, With reverend age, and lovely lasses, crown'd. And on ber back a grove of pikes appears : Such was the lake which held this dreadful pair, You would have thought, had you the monster seen Within the bounds of noble Warwick's share : Thus drest, she had another island been. Warwick's bold earl! than which no title bears Roaring she tears the air with such a noise, A greater sound among our British peers.
As well resembled the conspiring voice And worthy he the memory to renew,
Of routed armies, when the field is won; The fate and honour, to that title due;
To reach the ears of ber escaped son. Whose brave adventures have transfer'd his name, He, though a league removed from the foe, And through the new world spread his growing Hastes to her aid : the pious Trojan 'so, fame.
(gain'd, | Neglecting for Creüsa's life his own, But how they fought, and what their valour Repeats the danger of the burning town. Sball in another canto be contain'd.
The men amazed blush'd to see the seed
Of monsters, human piety exceed.
Well proves this kindness what the Grecian sang,
That Love's bright mother from the ocean sprung. And how the fishes sack'd the isle.
Their courage droops, and hopeless now they wish
For composition with th' unconquer'd fish : The boat, which on the first assault did go,
So she their weapons would restore, again Strook with a harping-ir'n the younger foe : Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main. W'ho, when he felt his side so rudely goar'd, But how instructed in each other's mind ? Lord, as the sea that nourish'd him, he roard, Or what commerce can men with monsters find ? As a broad bream to please some curious taste, Nor daring to approach their wounded foe, While yet alive, in boiling water cast,
Whom her courageous son protected so; Vex'd with unwonted heat, he flings about
They charge their musquets, and with hot desire The scorching brass, and hurls the liquor out: Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire: So, with the barbed javelin stung, he raves, Standing aloof, with lead they bruise the scales, And scourges with his tail the suffering waves. And tear the flesh, of the incensed wbales. Like Spenser's Talus with his iron fail,
But no success their fierce endeavours found, He threatens ruin with his ponderous tail;
Nor this way could they give one fatal wound. Dissolving at one stroke the batter'd boat,
Now to their fort they are about to send, And down the men fall drenched in the moat: For the loud engines, which their isle defend : With every fierce encounter they are forc'd But what those pieces, fram'd to batter wails, To quit their boats, and fare like men unhors'd. Would have effected on those mighty whales,
The bigger whale like some huge carack lay, Great Neptune will not have us know; who sends
Peace, babbling muse !
Now would the men with half their hoped prey And I no less her anger dread,
OF LOVE... TO PHYLLIS... TO MY LORD OF FALKLAND. 49 While some fierce lion does embrace
Beauty like a shadow flies, His breathless corpse, and lick his face:
And our youth before us dies. Wrapp'd up in silent fear he lies,
Or, would youth and beauty stay,
Love hath wings, and will away.
Gods, that never change their state,
Vary oft their love and hate.
Phyllis! to this truth we owe Itself discharges on our foes;
All the love betwixt us two: And sorrow too finds some relief
Let not you and I inquire, In tears, which wait upon our grief:
What has been our past desire; So every passion, but fond love,
On what shepherd you have smil'd, Unto its own redress does move :
Or what nymphs I have beguild: But that alone the wretch inclines
Leave it to the planets too, To what prevents his own designs ;
What we shall hereafter do: Makes him lament, and sigh, and weep,
For the joys we now may prove,
Take advice of present love.
TO MY LORD OF FALKLAND.
Brave Holland leads, and with him Falkland goes, The gay, the frolic, and the loud.
Who hears this told, and does not strait suppose Who first the generous steed opprest;
We send the Graces and the Muses forth, Not kneeling did salate the beast;
To civilize and to instruct the North ? But with high courage, life, and force,
Not that these ornaments make swords less sharp: Approaching, tam'd th' unruly horse.
Apollo bears as well his bow as harp; Unwisely we the wiser East
And though he be the patron of that spring, Pity, supposing them opprest,
Where in calm peace the sacred virgins sing, With tyrants' force, whose law is will,
He courage had to guard th' invaded throne By which they govern, spoil, and kill :
Of Jove, and cast the ambitious giants down. Fach nymph, but moderately fair,
Ah, noble friend! with what impatience all Commands with no less rigour here.
That know thy worth, and know how prodigal Should some brave Turk, that walks among Of thy great soul thou art, (longing to twist His twenty lasses, bright and young,
Bays with that ivy, which so early kiss'd And beckons to the willing dame,
Thy youthful temples) with what horrour we Preferr'd to quench his present flame,
Think on the blind events of war and thee! Behold as many gallants here,
To Fate exposing that all-knowing breast With modest guise, and silent fear,
Among the throng, as cheaply as the rest; All to one female idol bend,
Where oaks and brambles (if the copse be burn'd) While her high pride does scarce descend
Confounded lie, to the same ashes turn'd. To mark their follies, he would swear,
Some happy wind over the ocean blow That these her guard of eunuchs were;
This tempest yet, which frights our island so! And that a more majestic queen,
Guarded with ships, and all the sea our own, Or humbler slaves, he had not seen,
From Heaven this mischief on our heads is thrown, All this with indignation spoke,
In a late dream, the Genius of this land, In vain I struggled with the yoke
Amaz'd, I saw, like the fair Hebrew 2 stand ; Of mighty lore: that conquering look,
When first she felt the twins begin to jar, When next beheld, like lightning strook
And found her womb the seat of civil war. My blasted soul, and made me bow
Inclin'd to whose relief, and with presage Lower than those I pity'd now.
Of better fortune for the present age, So the tall stag, upon the brink
Heaven sends, quoth I, this discord for our good; Of some smooth stream, about to drink,
To warm, perhaps, but not to waste our blood: Surveying there his armed head,
To rajse our drooping spirits, grown the scorn With shame remembers that he fled
Of our proud neighbours; who ere long shall mourn The scorned dogs, resolves to try
(Though now they joy in our expected haris) The combat next : but, if their cry
We had occasion to resume our arms. Invades again his trembling ear,
A lion, so with self-provoking smart, He strait resumes his wonted care;
(His rebel tail scourging his nobler part) Leaves the untasted spring behind,
Calls up his courage; then begins to roar, And, wing'd with fear, outflies the wind,
And charge his foes, who thought him mad before,
TO PHYLLIS. Phyllis! why should we delay Pleasures shorter than the day? Could we (which we never can!) Stretch our lives beyond their span,
POR DRINKING OF HEALTHS. Let brutes and vegetals, that cannot think, So far as drought and nature urges, drink:
A more indulgent mistress guides our sp'rits, Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes: She would our care, as well as thirst, redress, So Nero once, with harp in hand, survey'd And with divinity rewards excess.
His flaming Rome, and as it buru'd he play'd.
TO A LADY
SINGING A SONG OF HIS COMPOSING.
Chloris, yourself vou so excel, Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought, 'To give our friends a title to our blood :
That, like a spirit, with this spell Who, naming me, doth warm his courage so, Of my own teaching, I am caught. Shows for my sake u hat his bold hand would do.
That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die,
Espy'd a feather of his own,
Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
llad Echo with so sweet a grace For if with thee I longer stay,
Nareissus' loud complaints return'd, Thv eres prevail upon me so,
Not for reflection of his face, I shall prove blind, and lose my way.
But of his voice, the boy had burn'd. Fame of thy beauty, and thy youth,
Among the rest, me hither brought : Finding this faine fall short of truth, Made me stay longer than I thought.
OF MRS. ARDEN. For I'm engag'd, by word and oath,
Benold, and listen, while the fair A servant to another's will:
Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air, Yet, for thy love, I'd forfeit both,
And, with her own breath, fans the fire Could I be sure to keep it still.
Which her bright eyes do first inspire.
What reason can that love control, But what assurance can I take?
Which more than one way courts the soul? When thou, foreknowing this abuse,
So, when a flash of lightning falls For some more worthy lover's sake,
On our abodes, the danger calls May'st leave me with so just excuse.
For human aid, which hopes the flame
To conquer, though from Heaven it came: For thou may'st say, 'twas not thy fault,
But, if the winds with that conspire, That thou didst thus inconstant prove;
Men strive not, but deplore the fire. Being by my example taught,
To break thy oath, to mend thy love. No, Chloris, no: I will return,
And raise thy story to that height, That strangers shall at distance burn, And she distrust me reprobate.
MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS. Then shall my love this doubt displace,
Design or Chance make others wive, And gain such trust, that I may come
But Nature did this match contrive: And banquet sometimes on thy face,
Eve might as well have Adam fled,
As she deny'd her little bed
Thrice happy is that humble pair,
Beneath the level of all care!
Of sad distrust and jealousy:
As if the world held none but them. What art is this, that, with so little pains,
To him the fairest nymphs do show
Does to his Galatea seem:
Creating for ourselves us two,
As Love has me for only you!
PLAYING ON THE LUTE.