Yet send me back my heart and eyes, For some one That will none, Or prove as false as thou dost now. 20 24 A NOCTURNAL UPON S. LUCIE'S DAY, BEING THE SHORTEST DAY. 'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's, Lucie's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks. The sun is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light squibs, no constant rays; The world's whole sap is sunk : The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk, Study me then, you who shall lovers be At the next world, that is, at the next spring; In whom Love wrought new alchymy 10 For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, Of absence, darkness, death; things which are not. All others from all things draw all that's good, Of all, that's nothing. Oft' a flood Drown'd the whole world, us two: oft' did we grow To be two chaoses, when he did show Care to ought else; and often absences Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses. But I am by her death (which word wrongs her) Of the first nothing the elixir grown: Were I a man, that I were one I needs must know, I should prefer, If I were any beast, 30 Some ends, some means; yea plants, yeastones, detest, And love, all, all some properties invest. If I an ordinary nothing were, As shadow, a light and body must be here. But I am none; nor will my sun renew, At this time to the Goat is run To fetch new lust, and give it you, Enjoy your summer all, Since she enjoys her long night's festival: Let me prepare towards her, and let me call 40 45 WITCHCRAFT BY A PICTURE. I FIX mine eye on thine, and there Pity my Picture burning in thine eye, My Picture drown'd in a transparent tear, When I look lower, I espy. Hadst thou the wicked skill, By Pictures made and marr'd to kill, How many ways might'st thou perform thy will? But now I've drunk thy sweet salt tears, One Picture more, yet that will be, 10 Being in thine own heart, from all malice free, 14 THE BAIT. COME, live with me, and be my love, There will the river whisp'ring run, When thou wilt swim in that live bath, If thou to be so seen art loth By sun or moon, thou dark'nest both; Let others freeze with angling reeds, Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest For thee, thou need'st no such deceit, THE APPARITION. WHEN by thy scorn, O, Murd'ress! I am dead, And thou shalt think thee free Of all solicitation from me, Then shall my Ghost come to thy bed, And thee, feign'd Vestal, in worse arms shall see; And he, whose thou art, being tir'd before, And in a false sleep even from thee shrink. And then, poor aspin Wretch! neglected, thou, What I will say I will not tell thee now, Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent, Than by my threat'nings rest still innocent. 10 17 |