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4 ] [DAIPHANTUS] The Passions of Love. 401

Most like a lion raised from slumbering ease,
He cast his looks, fall grimly them among.
At length, he firmly knit what might appease
His brow; looked stedfastly and long

At one, till all their eyes with his eyes met alike
On fair VITULLIA, who his heart did strike.

VITULLIA fair, yet brown; as mixed together
As Art and Nature strove which was the purest.
So sweet her smilings were, a grace to either!
That heaven's glory in that face seemed truest.

Venus, excepted when the god her wooed,
Was ne'er so fair! so tempting, yet so good!

Wonder not, mortals, though the Poets feign !
The Muses' graces were in this She's favour :
Nor wonder, though she strove his tongue to gain !
For I lose mine, in thinking of his labour.

Well may he love," I write," and all Wits praise her, She's so all humble, Learning cannot raise her!”

DAIPHANTUS oft sighed: “Oh!” oft said “Fair!"
Then looks and sighs, and then cries wonderful ;
Thus did he long, and truly 'twas not rare :
The object was ! which made his mind so dull.

Pray pardon him ! for better to cry“Oh!”
Than feel that Passion which caused him sigh so.

Now, all were silent, not alone this Lover,
Till came ISMENIO, brother to this Saint,
Whose haste made sweat, his tongue he could not prove her,
For this against him, that his heart was faint:

Thus all amazed, none knowing any cause,
ISMENIO breathless, here had time to pause.

26

ENG. GAR. VII.

402 [DAIPHANTUS] The Passions of Love. [4.ee

At length, ISMENIO, who had wit and skill,
Questioned the reason of this strong effect :
At last related, haste outwent his will,
He told them, “He was sent, them to direct,

Where hunting sports, their eyes should better please!”
Who first went forth, DAIPHANTUS most did ease.

They gone, DAIPHANTUS to his standish highs!
Thinks, in his writs VITULLIA's beauties were :
But what he wrote, his Muse not justifies,
Bids him take time! “Love badly writes in fear!

Her worthy praise, if he would truly write,
Her kisses' nectar must the same indite."

Art, and sweet Nature ! Let your influence drop
From me like rain ! Yes, yes, in golden showers !
(Whose end is Virtue, let him never stop !)
But fall on her, like dew on sprinkling flowers !

That both together meeting, may beget
An Orpheus! two gems in a soil richly set !"

Thus ravished, then distracted, as was deemed,
Not taught to write of Love in this extreme;
In love, in fear; yea, trembling (as it seemed),
If praising her, he should not keep the mean !

Thus vexed, he wept ! His tears intreated pity,
But Love unconstant, tunes a woful ditty.

Now kneels to VENUS. Faithfulness protested
To this, none else! This was his only Saint !
Vowed e'er his service, or to be arrested
To Venus' censure! Thus he left to faint.

His love brought Wit, and Wit engendered Spirit;
True Love and Wit thus learned him to indite.

16] [D AIPIANTUS] The Passions of Love. 403

As the mild lamb runs forth from shepherd's fold,
By ravenous wolves is caught and made a prey :
So is my Sense, by which Love taketh hold,
Tormented more than any tongue can say.

The difference is, they tortured so, do die !
I feed the torment breeds my misery.

“Consumed by her I live, such is her glory!
Despised of her I love, I more adore her!
I'll ne'er write ought, but of her virtue's story!
Beauty unblasted is the eye's rich storer,

If I should die, O who would ring love's knell ?”
Faint not, DAIPHANTUS! Wise men love not so well!

“ Like heaven's artist, the astronomer,
Gazing on stars, oft to the earth doth fall :
So I, DAIPHANTUS, now Lover's Harbinger,
Am quite condemned to Love's funeral !

Who falls by women, by them oft doth rise;
Ladies have lips to kiss, as well as eyes!”

But tush, thou fool! thou lov'st all thou seest.
Who once thou lovest, thou should'st change her never!
Constant in love, DAIPHANTUS, see thou beest!
It thou hope comfort, Love but once, and ever!

Fortune! O be so good to let me find
A lady living, of this constant mind!”

“O, I would wear her in my heart's heart-gore !
And place her on the continent of stars !
Think heaven and earth, like her had not one more !
Would fight for her till all my face were scars !

But if that women be such fickle Shees;
Men may be like them in infirmities !”

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404 [DAIPHANTUS] The Passions of Love.

A. Sc.

1604.

O no, DAIPHANTUS! Women are not so
'Tis but their shadows, pictures merely painted !
Then turn poor lover! “O heaven! not to my woe!
Then to VITULLIA !” With that word, he fainted.

Yet she that wounds, did heal. Like her, no heaven.
Odds in a man, a woman can make even !

O my VITULLIA! Let me write that down!
O sweet VITULLIA ! Nature' made thee sweet!
O kind VITULLIA ! Truth hath the surest ground !
I'll weep or laugh, so that our hearts may meet !

Love is not always merry, nor still weeping:
A drop of each, Love's joys are sweets in sleeping.

“Her name, in golden letters, on my breast I'll 'grave!
Around my temples, in a garland wear!
My Art shall be, her favour for to have !
My Learning still her honour high to rear!

My lips shall close but to her sacred name!
My tongue be silent but to spread her fame!

"In woods, groves, hills, Vitullia's name shall ring!
In meadows, orchards, gardens, sweetest and fair !
I'll learn the birds her name alone to sing !
All quires shall chant it in a heavenly air !

The Day shall be her Usher! Night, her Page!
Heaven, her Palace ! and this Earth, her Stage!

Virgin's pure chasteness, in her eyes shall be !
Women, true love, from her true mind shall learn!
Widows, their mourning in her face shall see !
Children, their duty in her speech discern!

And all of them in love with each, but I:
Who fear her love, will make me fear to die!

16:] [DAIPHANTUS] The Passions of Love. 405

“My Orisons are still to please this creature!
My Valour sleeps but when She is defended !
My Wits still jaded but when I praise her feature !
My Life is hers; in her begun and ended !

() happy day wherein I wear not willow!
Thrice blessed night, wherein her breast's my pillow!

“I'll serve her, as the Mistress of all Pleasure !
I'll love her, as the Goddess of my soul !
I'll keep her, as the Jewel of all treasure !
I'll live with her, yet out of Love's control!

That all may know, I will not from her part,
I'll double lock her in my lips and heart !

If e'er I sigh, it shall be for her pity!
If e'er I mourn, her funeral draws near!
If e'er I sing, her virtue is the ditty !
If e'er I smile, her beauty is the sphere !

All that I do, is that I may admire her!
All that I wish, is that I still desire her!"

But peace, DAIPHANTUS! Music is only sweet,
When without discord. A consort makes a heaven.
The ear is ravished when true voices meet.
Odds, but in music, never makes things even.

In voices' difference breeds a pleasant ditty,
In Love, a difference brings a scornful pity.

Whose was the tongue, EURIALÆ defended ?
Whose was the wit, URANIA did praise ?
Whose were the lips, ARTESIA's voice commended ?
Whose was the heart loved all ? all crowned with bays ?

“Sure 'twas myself! What did I? 0 I tremble !
Yet I'll not weep! Wise men may love dissemble.

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