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LOVING ONE FIRST BECAUSE SHE COULD LOVE NO
But as, when the Pellæan conqueror dy'd, The Thunderer, who, without the female bed,
As useless to despairing lovers grown,
As lambent flames to men i'th' frigid zone.
The Sun does his pure fires on Earth bestow
With nuptial warmth, to bring-forth things bec Her body is so gently bright,
low; Clear and transparent to the sight,
Such is Love's noblest and divinest heat, (Clear as fair crystal to the view,
That warms like his, and does, like his, beget.
Lust you call this; a name to yours more just,
Pygmalion, loving what none can enjoy,
More lustful was, than the hot youth of Troy.
THE VAIN LOVE.
BODY, AFTERWARDS LOVING HER WITH DESIRE,
What new-found witchcraft was in thee,
With thine own cold to kindle me? Which sighs and crouds to her's so near? Strange art! like him that should devise 'Tis all on flame, and does, like fire,
To make a burning-glass of ice : To that, as to its Heaven, aspire !
When Winter so, the plants would harm, The wounds are many in 't and deep;
Her snow itself does keep them warm. Still does it bleed, and still does weep!
Fool that I was! who, having found Whose-ever wretched heart it be,
A rich and sunny diamond, I cannot choose but grieve to see:
Admir'd the hardness of the stone, What pity in my breast does reign!
But not the light with which it shone, Methinks I feel too all its pain.
Your brave and haughty scorn of all So torn, and so defac'd, it lies,
Was stately and monarchical ;
A dull and slavish virtue seer'd;
Thou 'dst lost what I most lov'd in thee;
For who would serve one, whom he sees Beat by the waves, let fall a tear,
That he can conquer if he please?
It far'd with me, as if a slave
With what a gay majestic pride
His conqueror through the streets does ride,
Which makes up such a comely show.
But without hopes or fears did burn;
My covetous passion did approve
My love a kind of dream was grown,
But lovers and the damn'd, endure.
Are proud as that I luv'd bufure.
What lover can like me complain,
If my Understanding do
Seek any knowledge but of you ;
If she to the will do shew
Aught desirable but you ;
Or, if that would not rebel, If mine eyes do e'er declare
Should she another doctrine tell; They've seen a second thing that's fair;
If my Will do not resign Or ears, that they have music found,
All her liberty to thine; Besides thy voice, in any sound;
If she would not follow thee,
Though Fate and thou should'st disagree ;
Such as shall force thee to believe)
My Soul be not entirely thine;
May thy dear body ne'er be mine!
And all the passions else that be, If all things that in Nature are
In vain I boast of liberty, Either soft, or sweet, or fair,
In vain this state a freedom call; Be not in thee so' epitomis'd,
Since I have Love, and Love is all: That nought material's not compris'd;
Sot that I am, who think it fit to brag May I as worthless seem to thee,
That I have no disease besides the plague ! As all, but thou, appears to me!
So in a zeal the sons of Israel If I ever anger know,
Sometimes upon their idols fell, Till some wrong be done to you;
And they depos'd the powers of Hell; If gods or kings my envy move,
Baal and Astarte down they threw, Without their crowns crown'd by thy love;
And Acharon and Moloch too : If ever I a hope admit,
All this imperfect piety did no good,
Whilst yet, alas! the calf of Bethel stood.
Fondly I boast, that I have drest my vine
With painful art, and that the wine That tastes of any thing but thee;
Is of a taste rich and divine; If any sorrow touch my mind,
Since Love, by mixing poison there, Whilst you are well, and not unkind ;
Has made it worse than vinegar. If I a minute's space debate,
Love ev'n the taste of nectar changes so, Whether I shall curse and hate
That gods chuse rather water here below. The things beneath thy hatred fall,
Fear, Anger, Hope, all passions else that be, Though all the world, myself and all;
Drive this one tyrant out of me, And for love, if ever I
And practise all your tyranny ! Approach to it again so nigh,
The change of ills some good will do: As to allow a toleration
Th’ oppressed wretched Indians so, To the least glimmering inclination ;
Being slaves by the great Spanish monarck If thou alone dost not control
made, All those tyrants of my soul,
Call in the States of Holland to their aid.
'Tis mighty wise that you would now be thought, If my busy Imagination,
With your grave rules from musty morals brought; Do not thee in all things fashion ;
Through whieh some streaks too of divin'ty ran, So that all fair species be
Partly of monk and partly puritan; Mieroglyphic marks of thee;
With tedious repetitions too you ’are ta'en If when she her sports does keep
Often the name of Vanity in vain. (The lower soul being all asleep)
Things which, I take it, friend, you'd ne'er recite, She play one dream, with all her art,
Should she I love but say t' you, “ Come at Where thou hast not the longest part;
night.” If aught get place in my remembrance, The wisest king refus'd all pleasures quite, Without some badge of thy resemblance, Till Wisdom from above did him enlight; So that thy parts become to me
But, when that gif, his ignorance did remove, A kind of art of memory;
Pleasures be chose, and plac'd them all in love. And, if by event the counsels may be seen,
And, since love ne'er will from me flee, This Wisdom 'twas that brought the southern A mistress moderately fair, queen :
And good as guardian-angels are,
Only belov'd, and loving me!
Oh, fountains ! when in you shall I
Myself, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, espy? She came for that, which more befits all wives,
Oh fields ! oh woods ! when, when shall I be made The art of giving, not of saving, lives.
The happy tenant of your shade ?
Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood;
Has coin'd and stamp'd for good.
Pride and ambition here
Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; BENEATH this gloomy shade,
Here pought but winds can hurtful murmurs By Nature only for my sorrows made,
And nought but Echo flatter.
The gods, when they descended, hither
From Heaven did always chuse their way; So Lust, of old, the Deluge punished.
And therefore we may boldly say, “ Ah, wretched youth !” said I ;
That 'tis the way too thither. “ Ah, wretched youth!” twice did I sadly cry; * Ah, wretched youth !” the fields and foods
How happy here should I,
And one dear she, live, and embracing die ! reply.
She, who is all the world, and can exclude
In deserts solitude.
I should have then this only fear“ Never,” alas! that dreadful name
Lest men, when they my pleasures see, Which fuels the eternal flame :
Should hither throng to live like me, “Never" my time to come must waste;
And so make a city here. « In pain” torments the present and the past. “ In vain, in vain," said I;
MY DIET. “ In vain, in vain !” twice did I sadly cry; “ In vain, in vain !" the fields and floods reply.
Now, by my Love, the greatest oath that is
None loves you half so well as I: No more shall fields and floods do so ;
I do not ask your love for this; For I to shades more dark and silent go :
But for Heaven's sake beliere me, or I die. All this world's noise appears to me
No servant e'er but did deserve
His master should believe that he does serre; No comfort to my wounded sight,
And I'll ask no more wages, though I starve. In the Sun's busy and impertinent light. Then down I laid my head,
'Tis no luxurious diet this, and sure Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
I shall not by 't too lusty prove; And my freed soul to a strange somewhere fled.
Yet shall it willingly endure,
If’t can but keep together life and love. “ Ah, sottish soul !” said I,
Being your prisoner and your slave, When back to its cage again I saw it fly;
I do not feasts and banquets look to haves " Fool, to resume her broken chain,
A little bread and water 's all I crave.
On a sigh of pity I a year can live;
One tear will keep me twenty, at least; Once dead, how can it be,
Fifty, a gentle look will give; Death should a thing so pleasant seem to thee,
An hundred years on one kind word I'll feaste That thou should’st come to live it o’er again if you an inclination have for me;
A thousand more will added be, in me?"
And all beyond is vast eternity!
Does of all meats the soonest cloy;
And they, methinks, descive my pity,
Of this great hive, the city.
Ah, yet, ere I descend to th' grave,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
Of sleep thou robb’st my nights ;
And I, with wild idolatry,
Like an ill conscience, torture us?
And still thy shape does me pursue, As if, not you me, but I had murder'd you. From books I strive some remedy to take,
But thy rame all the letters make;
For I, as Midas did of old,
Attempt in vain from thee to fly?
The Divine Presence there too is,
At once, with double course in the same sphere, He runs the day, and walks the
year. When Sol does to myself refer, 'Tis then my life, and does but slowly move;
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly flies, and then is lore. Love's my diurnal course, divided right,
'Twixt hope and foar-my day and night.
ALLOVER LOVE. 'Tis well, 'tis well with them, say I, Whose short-liv'd passions with themselves can
For none can be unhappy, who,
Midst all his ills, a time does know (Though ne'er so long) when he shall not be so.
Whatever parts of me remain.
For 'twas not only in my heart,
But, like a god, by powerful art 'Twas all in all, and all in every part.
My affection no more perish can Than the first matter that compounds a man.
Hereafter, if one dust of me
Mix'd with another's substance be, 'Twill leaven that whole lump with love of thee.
Let Nature, if she please, disperse My atoms over all the universe ;
At the last they easily shall
· Themselves know, and together call ; For thy love, like a mark, is stamp'd on all.
Nor be by glittering ills betray'd ;
The price of beauty fall’n so low !
What dangers ought'st thou not to dread, When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune led? The foolish Indian, that sells
His precious gold for beads and bells, Does a more wise and gainful traffic hold,
Than thou, who sell's thyself for gold.
What gains in such a bargain are?
Can gold, alas ! with thee compare ?
The Sun, that makes it, 's not so fair; The Sun, which can nor make nor ever sce
A thing so beautiful as thee,
In all the journeys he does pass, Though the sea serv'd him for a looking-glass.
Bold was the wretch that cheapen'd thee ;
Since Magus, none so bold as he : Thou 'rt so divine a thing, that thee to buy
Is to be counted simony ;
Too dear he'll find his sordid price Has forfeited that and the benefice.
If it be lawful thee to buy,
There's none can pay that rate but I; Nothing on Earth a fitting price can be,
But what on Earth's most like to thee;
And that my heart does only bear; For there thyself, thy very self is there.
So much thyself does in me live,
That, when it for thyself I give,
Whose stamp and value equal is ;
‘LOVE AND LIFE. Now, sure, within this twelvemonth past, l'ave lov'd at least some twenty years or more:
Th' account of love runs much more fast
Than that with which our life does score: So, though my life be short, yet I may prove
The great Methusalem of love.
Not that love's bours or minutes are Shorter than those our being's measur'd by :
But they're more close compacted far,
And so in lesser room do lie : Thin airy things extend themselves in space,
Things solid take up little place.
Yet love, alas ! and life in me,
At once how can there in it be
A double, different motion ? .
At once does slow and swiftly run :
Swiftly his daily journey he goes,
And does three hundred rounds enclose
THE LONG LIFE. Love from Time's wings hath stol'n the feathers,
He has, and put them to his own;
And very minutes hours are grown.
Belong not now at all to me:
Each winter's day St. Barnaby.
To look into a glass I fear;
Gray hairs and wrinkles there.
Th’ old Patriarchs' age, and not their happi- | The needle trembles so, and turns about, ness too,
Till it the northern point find out ; Why does hard Fate to us restore ?
But constant then and fix'd does prove, Why does Love's fire thus to mankind renew, Fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move. What the flood wash'd away before?
Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, Sure those are happy people that complain
If it put forth again to sea ! O' th’ shortness of the days of man:
It never more abroad shall roam, Contract mine, Heaven! and bring them back Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies again
home. To th' ordinary span.
But I must sweat in love, and labour yet, If when your gift, long life, I disapprove,
Till I a competency get ; I too ingrateful seem to be;
They're slothful fools who leave a trade, "Punish me justly, Heaven ; make her to love, Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. And then 'twill be too short for me.
Variety I ask not ; give me one
To live perpetually upon.
The person, Love does to us fit,
Like manna, has the taste of all in it.
The wound which you yourself have made ;
or Heaven's sake, what d' you mean to do? For I too weak for purgings grow.
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;
Youth and warm hours let me not idly lose, Do but awhile with patience stay
The little time that Love does chase, (For counsel yet will do no good)
If always here I must not stay, Till time, and rest, and Heaven, allay
Let me be gone whilst yet 'tis day;
Lest I, faint and benighted, lose my way.
'Tis dismal, one so long to love
In vain ; till to love more as vain must prové Perhaps the physic's good you give,
To hunt so But ne'er to me can useful prove;
ong on nimble prey, till we
Too weary to take others be;
Alas ! 'tis folly to remain,
And waste our army thus in vain,
Before a city which will ne'er be ta’en. At once I live, am dead, and die.
At several hopes wisely to fly, What new-found rhetoric is thine !
Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy ; Ev'n thy dissuasions me persuade,
'Tis more inconstant always to pursue And thy great power does clearest shine,
A thing that always flies from you ; When thy commands are disobey'd.
For that at last may meet a bound, In vain thou bid'st me to forbear;
But no end can to this be found, Obedience were rebellion here.
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless round. Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant
When it dues hardness meet, and pride,
My love does then rebound t' another side;
But, if it aught that's soft and yielding hit,
It lodges there, and stays in it. And by this new foe I'm bereft
Whatever 'tis shall first love me, Of all that little which was left.
That it my Heaven may truly be,
I shall be sure to give 't eternity.
B Heaven, P'll tell her boldly that 'tis she ;
To be belor'd by ine?
The gods may give their altars o'er, 'Tis true, l'ave lov'd already three or four, They'll smoak but seldom any more,
And shall three or four hundred more; If none but happy men must them adore,
The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in rain,
To strike sometimes does not disdain That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil
The humble furzes of the plain. That ends my wanderings and my toil :
She being so high, and I so low,
Her power by this does greater show,