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her, all things so worthless prove, Yet when I die, my last breath shall That nought on Earth can tow'rds her move, Grow bold, and plainly tell her all: Till 't be exalted by her love.
Like covetous men, who ne'er descry
Their dear-hid treasures till they die.
Ah, fairest maid! how will it cheer That must create, or else must be alone.
My ghost, to get from thee a tear! If there be man who thinks himself so high,
But take heed; for if me thou pitiest then, As to pretend equality,
Twenty to one but I shall live again. He deserves her less than I;
For he would cheat for his relief; And one would give, with lesser grief,
THE GIVEN HEART. Tan undeserving beggar than a thief.
I WONDER what those lovers mean, who say
They’ave given their hearts away:
Some good kind lover, tell me how :
For mine is but a torment to me now,
For what do they complain?
What courtesy can love do more,
"Twill tear and blow up all within,
ashes and torn parts My large ambition ; but 'tis dangerous still,
Of both our broken hearts; Lest I like the Pellæan prince should be,
Shall out of both one new one make, And weep for other worlds, having conquer'd thee: From her's th’allay, from mine the metal, taken When Love has taken all thou hast away, For of her heart he from the flames will find His strength by too mych riches will decay,
But little left behind :
Mine only will remain entire ;
Teach me to love! go teach thyself more wit; *Tis Nature's juggling trick to eheat the sight.
I chief professor am of it. W'admire it whilst unknown; but after, more
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews,
Teach boldness to the stews;
In tyrants' courts teach supple flattery;
Teach Jesuits, that have travell's far, to lie; Does over-gorge himself with his own prey ; Of very hopes a surfeit he'll sustain,
Teach fire to burn, and winds to blow,
Teach restless fountains how to flow,
Teach the dull Earth fixt to abide,
Teach women-kind inconstancy and pride:
But, proythee, teach not me to love.
May learn to love from me;
He who does boast that he has been The moderate flames which in them dwell; In every heart since Adani's sin; And either find some med'cine there, I'll lay my life, nay mistress, on't, that's more, Or cure themselves ev'n by despair ; I'll teach him things he never knew before; My love's so great, that it might prove
I'll teach him a receipt, to make Dangerous to tell her that I love.
Words that weep, and tears that speak; So tender is my wound, it must not bear
I'll teach him sighs, like those in death, Any salute, though of the kindest air.
At which the souls go out too with the breath: I wonld not have her know the pain,
Still the soul stays, yet still does from me run, The torments, for her I sustain;
As light and heat does with the Sun. Lest too much goodness make her throw "Tis I who Love's Columbus am; 'tis I Her love upon a fate too low,
Whô must new worlds in it desery ; Forbid it, Ileaven! my life should be
Rich worlds, that yield a treasure more Weigh'd with her least conveniency:
Than all that has been known before. No, let me perish rather with my grief, And yet like his, I fear, my fate must be, Than, to her disadvantage, find relief! To find them out for others, not for me
Me times to come, I know it, shall
Lust, the scorching dog-star, here
Rages with immoderate heat;
Whilst Pride, the rugged northern bear,
And where these are temperate known,
When once or twice you chanc'd to view
A rich, well-govern'd heart,
Like China, it admitted you
But to the frontier-part.
From Paradise shut for evermore,
What good is 't that an angel kept the door?
Wel fare the pride, and the disdain,
And vanities, with beauty join'd;
Let 'sour slight bonds, like Samson, tear; If any fair-one had been kind :
My dove, but once let loose, I doubt
THE HEART FLED AGAIN.
False, foolish Heart! didst thou nut say
Thạt thou would'st never leave me more
Behold! again 'tis fled away,
Fled as far from me as before.
I struve to bring it back again ;
I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain.
Ev'n so the gentle Tyrian dame, To woman-kind;
When neither grief nor love prevail, But, when you call us so,
Saw the dear object of her flame, It can at best but for a metaphor go.
Th' ingrateful Trojan, hoist his sail :
Aloud she call'd to him to stay ; Can you the shore inconstant call,
The wind bore him and her lost words away. Which still, as waves pass by, embraces all ; That had as lief the same waves always love,
The doleful Ariadne se, Did they not from him move?
On the wide shore forsaken stood : Or can you fault with pilots find
“ False Theseus whither dost thou go?”
Afar false Theseus cut the flood. For changing course, yet never blame the wing?
But Bacchus came to her relief; Since, drunk with vanity, you fell,
Bacchus himself's too weak to ease my grief. The things turn'd round to you that stedfast Ah! senseless Heart, to take no rest,
dwell ; And you yourself , who from us take your flight,
But travel thus eternally! Wonder to find us out of sight.
Thas to be froz'n in every breast ! So the same errour seizes you,
And to be scorch'd in every eye!
Wandering about like wretched Cain,
Well, since thou wilt not here remain,
I'll e'en to live without thee try;
My head shall take the greater pain, My prodigal's come home at last,
And all thy duties shall supply: With noble resolutions fill'd,
I can more easily live, I know, And fill'd with sorrow for the past :
Without thee, than without a mistress thou, No more will burn with love or wine; But quite has left his women and his swine.
WOMEN'S SUPERSTITION. Welcome, ah! welcome, my poor Heart ! Or I'm a very dunce, or woman-kind
Welcome! I little thought, I'll swear Is a most unintelligible thing : ('Tis now so long since we did part)
I can no sense nor no contexture find, Ever again to see thee here:
Nor their loose parts to method bring: Dear wanderer'! since from me you fled, I know not what the learn'd may see, How often have I heard that thou wert dead ! But they 're strange Hebrew things to me. Hast thou not found each woman's breast By customs and traditions they live,
(The lands where thou hast travelled) And foolish ceremunies of antique date; Either by savages possest,
We lovers, new and better doctrines give, Or wild, and uninhabited ?
Yet they continue obstinate: What joy could'st take, or what repose, Preach we, Love's prophets, what we will, In countries so unciviliz'd as those ?
Like Jews, they keep their old law still.
Before their mothers' gods they fondly fall,
THE RICH RIVAL. Vain idol-gods, that have no sense nor mind : Honour 's their Ashtaroth, and Pride their Baal, They say you're angry, and rant mightily, The thundering Baal of woman-kind;
Because I love the same as you : With twenty other devils more,
Alas ! you're very rich, 'tis true; Which they, as we do them, adore.
But, prythee, fool! what's that to love and me?
You ’ave land and money, let that serve; But then, like men both covetous and devout, And know you'ave more by that than you deserve. Their costly superstition loth t' omitAnd yet more loth to issue monies out,
When next I see my fair-one, she shall know At their own charge to furnish it
How worthless thou art of her bed; To these expensive deities
And, wretch! I'll strike thee dumb and dead, The hearts of men they sacrifice,
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole rhetoric shall be “Jointure" and "jewels," and " our friends
agree.” THE SOUL.
Pox o' your friends, that doat and domineer;
Lovers are better friends than they ;
Let's those in other things obey; Sone dull philosopher-when he hears me say The fates, and stars, and gods, must govern My soul is from me fled away,
here, Nor has of late inform'd my body here,
Vain names of blood ! in love let none
Advise with any blood, but with their own.
"Tis that which bids me this bright maid adore ;
No other thought has bad access ! Will cry, “ Absurd !” and ask me how I live ; Did she now beg, I'd love no less, And syllogisms against it give.
And, were she an empress, I should love no more ; A curse on all your vain philosophies,
Were she as just and true to me, Which on weak Nature's law depend,
Ah, simple soul! what would become of thec?
Hope! whose weak being ruin'd is,
Whom good or ill does equally confound,
Vain shadow! which does vanish quite,
Both at full noon and perfect night!
The stars have not a possibility
Of blessing thee; Tir'd with the rongh denials of my prayer,
If things then from their end we happy call, From that hard she whom I obey;
'Tis Hope is the most hopeless thing of all, I come, and find a nymph much gentler here, Hope ! thou bold taster of delight, That gives consent to all I say.
Who, whilst tbou should'st but taste, devour'st Ah, gentle nymph! who lik'st so well
it quite ! In hollow, solitary caves to dwell ;
Thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor, Her heart being such, into it go,
By clogging it with legacies before !
Come deflower'd virgins to our bed;
Such mighty custom's paid to thee. Hadst thou but eyes, as well as tongue and ear,
For joy, like wine, kept close does better taste; How much compassion would'st thou show! If it take air before, its spirits waste. Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,
Hope ! Fortune's cheating lottery! Was of less beauty, and less ravishing power. Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be; Alas ! I might as easily
Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far, Paint thee to her, as describe her to thee; That still or short or wide thine arrows are ! By repercussion beams engender fire ;
Thin, empty cloud, which th' eye deceives Shapes by reflection shapes beget;
With shapes that our own fancy gives ! The voice itself, when stopt, does back retire,
A cloud, which gilt and painted now appears, And a new voice is made by it.
But must drop presently in tears ! Thus things by opposition
When thy false beams o'er Reason's light prevail, The gainers grow; my barren love alone By ignes fatui for north-stars we sail. Does from her stony breast rebound,
Brother of Fear, more gayly clad ! Producing neither image, fire, nor sound. The merrier fool o'th' two, yet quite as mad:
Sire of Repentance! child of fond Desire ! What ill returns dost thou allow !
There was a time when thou wast cold and chil, By the strange witchcraft of “ anon!"
Nor hadst the power of doing ill;
Into my bosom did I take
This frozen and benumbed snake,
Not fearing from it any harm;
And the whole field 'twill overgrow;
Straight will it chuak up and devour
Each wholesome herb and beauteous flower! The only cheap and universal cure! [health!
Nay, unless something soon I do,
Thou manna, which from Heaven we eat, Declare, protest, and threat, in vain;
Since, by my own unforc'd consent,
And is so settled in the throne, Thou pleasant, honest flatterer! for none That 'twere rebellion now to claim mine own. Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone!
Hope ! thou first-fruits of happiness !
(All this as well as you I know) Who out of Fortune's reach dost stand,
Which I so hotly now pursue, And art a blessing still in hand !
(I know all this as well as you) Whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain,
But, whilst this cursed flesh I bear, We certain are to gain,
And all the weakness and the baseness there, Whether she her bargain break, or else fulfil;
Alas! alas! it will be always so, Thou only good, not worse for ending ill ! In vain, exceedingly in vain,
Brother of Faith! 'twixt whom and thee I rage sometimes, and bite my chain; The joys of Heaven and Earth divided be!
Yet to what purpose do I bite Though Faith be heir, and have the fixt estate,
With teeth which ne'er will break it quite! Thy portion yet in moveables is great,
For, if the chiefest Christian head
Was by this sturdy tyrant buffeted,
What wonder is it if weak I be slain?
Thine's the more hard and noble bliss :
As water fluid is, till it do grow
Solid and fixt by cold;
Frost only can it hold:
A woman's rigour and disclain
Does his swift course restrain.
Yet, when kind beams appear,
And loses itself there.
Kisses the ice away.
You may in vulgar loves find always this:
But my substantial love
No weathers can it move:
Though heat dissolve the ice again,
The crystal solid does remain.
Tuen like some wealthy island thou shalt lie, With idle thoughts and poetry!
And like the sea about it, I;
Thou, like fair Albion to the sailor's sight, Here black, there bronn, here tawny, and there Spreading her beauteous bosom all in white;
white; Like the kind Ocean I will be,
Thou flatterer! which comply'st with every sight! With loving arms for ever clasping thee.
Thou Babel, which confound'st the eye But I'll embrace thee gentlier far than so;
With unintelligible variety! As their fresh banks soft rivers do :
Who hast no certain what, nor where; Nor shall the proudest planet boast a power
But vary'st still, and dost thyself declare Of making my full love to ebb one hour;
Inconstant, as thy she-professors are. It never dry or low can prove,
Beauty ! Love's scene and masquerade, Whilst thy unwasted fountain feeds my love. So gay by well-plac'd lights and distance made; Such heat and vigour shall our kisses bear,
False coin, with which th’impostor cheats us still; As if like doves w' engender'd there:
The stamp and colour good, but metal ill ! No bound nor rule my pleasures shall endure,
Which light or base we find, when we In love there's none too much an epicure:
Weigh by enjoyment, and examine thee! Nought shall my hands or lips control;
For, though thy being be but show, I'll kiss thee through, I'll kiss thy very soul.
'Tis chiefly night which men to thee allow :
And chuse t'enjoy thee, when thou least art Thou. Yet nothing but the Night our'sports shall know;
Night, that's both blind and silent too! Beauty! thou active, passive ill! Alpheus found not a inore secret trace,
Which dy'st thyself as fast as thou dost kill ! His lov d Sicanian fountain to embrace,
Thou tulip, who thy'stock in paint dost waste, Creeping so far beneath the sea,
Nether for physic good, nor smell, nor taste. Than I will do t'enjoy and feast on thee.
Beauty! whose flames but meteors are,
Short-liv'd and low, though thou would'st seern. Men, out of wisdom; women, out of pride,
a star; The pleasant thefts of love do hide:
Who dar'st not thine own home descry,
When thou, alas ! dost in the fancy lie.
Beauty! whose conquests still are made
When Sickness storms, or Time besieges thee! SLEEP.
Thou unwholesome thaw to frozen age ! Ix vain, thou drowsy god! I thee invoke ;
Thou strong wine, which youth's fever dost enFor thou, who dost from fumes arise
rage! Thou, who man's soul dost overshade
Thou tyrant, which leav'st no man free! With a thick cloud by vapours made
Thou subtle thief, from whom nought safe can be ! Canst have no power to shut his eyes,
Thou murderer, which hast kill'd, and devil, which
would'st damn me!
As men in Greenland left beheld the Sun
From their horizon run,
And thought upon the sad half-year
Of cold and darkness they must suffer there : Thou, who dost men (as nights to colours do) So on my parting mistress did I look; Bring all to an equality!
With such swoln eyes my farewell took :
Ah, my fair star! said I ;
Ah, those blest lands to which bright Thou dost In that condition let me lie,
fly! Till Love does me the favour shew:
In vain the men of learning comfort me, Love equals all a better way than you.
And say I'm in a warm degree; Then never more shalt thou b'invok'd by me; Say what they please, I say and swear
Watchful as spirits and gods I'll prove: 'Tis beyond eighty at least, if you 're not here.
It is, it is; I tremble with the frost,
And know that I the day have lost;
And those wild things which men they call, Never will an agreement be;
I find to be but bears or foxes all." Thou scorn'st th' unhappy, and the happy,thee!
Return, return, gay planet of mine East,
Of all that shines thou much the best!
And, as thou now descend'st to sea,
More fair and fresh rise up from thence to me! BEXUtY! thou wild fantastic ape,
Thou, who in many a propriety, Who dost in every country change thy shape! So truly art the Sun to me,