VALEDICTION, FORBIDDING MOURNING

Dull sublunary lovers' love,

Whose soul is sense, cannot admit
Absence; for that it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.

But we, by a love so far refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,

Careless, eyes, lips and hands to miss,

-Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet

A breach, but an expansion,

Like gold to airy thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixt foot, makes no show
To move, but doth if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,

It leans and hearkens after it,

And grows erect as that comes home

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circles just,
And makes me end where I begun.

209

J. Donne.

CCXXXVII

THE GREAT ADVENTURE

As careful merchants do expecting stand,
After long time and merry gales of wind,
Upon the place where their brave ship must land:
So wait I for the vessel of my mind.

Upon a great adventure it is bound,

Whose safe return will valued be at more Than all the wealthy prizes which have crown'd The golden wishes of an age before.

Out of the East jewels of worth she brings;
Th' unvalued diamond of her sparkling eye
Wants in the treasures of all Europe's kings;

And were it mine, they nor their crowns should buy.

The sapphires ringèd on her panting breast
Run as rich veins of ore about the mould,
And are in sickness with a pale possess❜d,
So true, for them I should disvalue gold.

The melting rubies on her cherry lip

Are of such power to hold, that as one day
Cupid flew thirsty by, he stoop'd to sip,
And fasten'd there could never get away.

1 Is lacking.

AN ECSTASY

The sweets of Candy are no sweets to me
When hers I taste; nor the perfumes of price,
Robb'd from the happy shrubs of Arabye,

As her sweet breath so powerful to entice.

O hasten then! and if thou be not gone

Unto that wishèd traffic through the main,
My powerful sighs shall quickly drive thee on,
And then begin to draw thee back again.

If in the mean rude waves have it oppress'd
It shall suffice I ventured at the best.

211

Wm. Browne.

CCXXXVIII

AN ECSTASY

E'EN like two little bank-dividing brooks,

That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, And having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks, Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, Where in a greater current they conjoin: So I my Best-belovèd's am; so He is mine.

E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E'en so we joined; we both became entire;

No need for either to renew a suit,

For I was flax, and He was flames of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more than twine;
my
Best-beloved's am; so He is mine.

So I

If all those glittering Monarchs, that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender in exchange their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all :
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world's but theirs; but my Beloved's mine.
F. Quarles.

CCXXXIX

THE TRIUMPH

SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love,

Wherein my Lady rideth!

Each that draws is a swan or a dove,

And well the car Love guideth.

As she goes, all hearts do duty
Unto her beauty;

And enamour'd do wish, so they might

But enjoy such a sight,

That they still were to run by her side,
Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.

Do but look on her eyes, they do light

All that Love's world compriseth!

Do but look on her hair, it is bright

As Love's star when it riseth!

Do but mark-her forehead's smoother

Than words that soothe her;

BRIDAL SONG

And from her arch'd brows, such a grace
Sheds itself through the face,

As alone there triumphs to the life

All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife.

Have you seen but a bright lily grow

Before rude hands have touch'd it?

Have marked but the fall of the snow

you

Before the soil hath smutch'd it?

Have you felt the wool of the beaver,
Or swan's down ever?

Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier,
Or the nard in the fire?

Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she!

CCXL

213

B. Jonson.

BRIDAL SONG

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone,

Not royal in their smells alone,

But in their hue;

Maiden pinks, of odour faint,

Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,

And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, firstborn child of Ver;
Merry springtime's harbinger,
With her bells dim;