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Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise
Thy face; yet through that mask I know those eyes,
Which, though they turn away sometimes,
They never will despise.
I sacrifice this island unto thee,
And all whom I loved there, and who lov'd me;
When I have put our seas ’twixt them and me,
Put thou thy seas betwixt my sins and thee.
As the trees sap doth seek the root below
In winter, in my winter now I go,
Where none but thee, the eternal root
Of true love, I may know.
Nor thou nor thy religion dost control,
The amorousness of an harmonious soul;
But thou would'st have that love thyself: as thou
Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now,
Thou lov'st not, till from loving more, thou free
My soul : who ever gives, takes liberty:
O, if thou car’st not whom I love,
Alas, thou lov'st not me.
Seal then this bill of my divorce to all,
On whom those fainter beams of love did fall;
Marry those loves, which in youth scattered be
On Fame, Wit, Hopes (false mistresses) to thee.
Churches are best for prayer, that have least light:
To see God only, I go out of sight:
And to scape stormy days, I choose
An everlasting night.
A Hymn to GOD THE FATHER.
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, And do run still : though still I do deplore ? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more.
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin ? and made my sin their door ? Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun A year, or two, but wallowed in, a score ? When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore ; And, having done that, thou hast done,
I fear no more.
Oh, let me not serve so, as those men serve
Whom honour's smokes at once fatten and starve ;
Poorly enrich'd with great men's words and looks ;
Nor so write my name in thy loving books,
As those idolatrous flatterers, which still
Their princes' styles, which many realms* fulfil
Whence they no tribute have, and where no sway.
Such services I offer as shall pay
Themselves; I hate dead names : Oh then let me
Favourite in ordinary, or no favourite be.
When my soul was in her own body sheath'd,
Nor yet by oaths betroth’d, nor kisses breath'd
Into my purgatory, faithless thee,
Thy heart seem'd wax, and steel thy constancy.
So, careless flowers strew'd on the waters face,
The curled whirlpools suck, smack, and embrace,
Yet drown them ; so, the tapers beamy eye
Amorously twinkling, beckons the giddy fly,
Yet burns his wings; and such the devil is,
Scarce visiting them, who are entirely his.
When I behold a stream, which, from the spring,
Doth with doubtful melodious murmuring,
Or in a speechless slumber, calmly ride
Her wedded channels bosom, and then chide
And bend her brows, and swell if any bough
Do but stoop down, or kiss her upmost brow :
Yet, if her often gnawing kisses win
The traitorous banks to gape, and let her in,
She rusheth violently, and doth divorce
Her from her native, and her long-kept course,
And roars, and braves it, and in gallant scorn,
In flattering eddies promising return,
She flouts the channel, who thenceforth is dry;
Then say I; that is she, and this am I.
Yet let not thy deep bitterness beget
Careless despair in me, for that will wet
My mind to scorn; and oh, love dull’d with pain
Was ne'er so wise, nor well arm'd as disdain.
Then with new eyes I shall survey thee, and spy
Death in thy cheeks, and darkness in thine eye ;
Though hope breed faith and love; thus taught I shall
As nations do from Rome, from thy love fall.
My hate shall outgrow thine, and utterly
I will renounce thy dalliance: and when I
Am the recusant, in that resolute state,
What hurts it me to be excommunicate ?
AN EPITHALAMION, OR MARRIAGE Song, ON THE LADY ELIZA
BETH AND COUNT PALATINE, BEING MARRIED ON ST. VALEN-
Hail Bishop Valentine, whose day this is,
All the air is thy Diocis ;
And all the chirping choristers
And other birds are thy parishioners,
Thou marryest every year
The lyric lark, and the grave whispering dove,
The sparrow that neglects his live for love,
The household bird, with the red stomacher;
Thou mak’st the black-bird speed as soon,
As doth the goldfinch, or the halcyon;
The husband cock looks out, and straight is sped,
And meets his wife, which brings her feather-bed.
This day more cheerfully then ever shine.
This day, which might enflame thyself, Old Valentine.
then over het feather body
Till now, thou warm’st with multiplying loves
Two larks, two sparrows, or two doves.
All that is nothing unto this,
For thou this day couplest two phoenixes ;
Thou makost a taper see
What the sun never saw, and what the ark
(Which was of fowls, and beasts, the cage, and park,)
Did not contain, one bed contains through thee,
Two phenixes, whose joined breasts
Are unto one another mutual nests,
Where motion kindles such fires, as shall give
Young phenixes, and yet the old shall live.
Whose love and courage never shall decline,
But make the whole year through, thy day, O Valentine.
Up then fair phoenix bride, frustrate the sun,
Thyself from thine affection
Tak’st warmth enough, and from thine eye
All lesser birds will take thier jollity.
Up, up, fair bride, and call,
Thy stars, from out their several boxes; take
Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make
Thyself a constellation of them all,
And by their blazing signify,
That a great princess falls, but doth not die ;
Be thou a new star, that to us portends
Ends of much wonder ; and be thou those ends,
Since thou dost this day in new glory shine,
May all men date records, from this thy Valentine.
Come forth, come forth, and as one glorious flame
Meeting another, grows the same,
So meet thy Frederic, and so
To an unseparable union go,
Falls not on such things as are infinite,
Nor things which are but one, can disunite.
You are twice inseparable, great, and one;