Obrazy na stronie
PDF

Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come
Into the self-same room
*T will tear and blow up all within,

Like a granado shot into' a magazine.

Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts
Of both our broken-hearts;
Shall out of both one new one make,
From hers th’ allay, from mine the metal, take,

For of her heart he from the flames will find
But little left behind:
Mine only will remain entire;

No dross was there, to perish in the fire.

THE PROPHET.

TEACH me to love! go teach thyself more wit:
I chief professor am of it.
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews,
Teach boldness to the stews;
In tyrants' courts teach supple flattery;
Teach Jesuits, that have travell'd far, to lye;
Teach fire to burn, and winds to blow,
, Teach restless fountains how to flow,
Teach the dull earth fixt to abide,
Teach woman-kind inconstancy and pride:
WOL. II. F

See if your diligence here will useful prove;
But, pr’ythee, teach not me to love.

The God of Love, if such a thing there be,
May learn to love from me;
He who does boast that he has been
In every heart since Adam's sin;
I'll lay my life, nay mistress on 't, that's more,
I'll teach him things he never knew before;
I'll teach him a receipt, to make
Words that weep, and tears that speak;
I'll teach him sighs, like those in death,
At which the souls go out too with the breath:
Still the soul stays, yet still does from me run,
As light and heat does with the sun.

"T is I who Love's Columbus am; 'tis I
Who must new worlds in it descry;
Rich worlds, that yield of treasure more
Than all that has been known before.
And yet like his, I fear, my fate must be,
To sind them out for others, not for me.
Me times to come, I know it, shall
Love's last and greatest prophet call;
But, ah what's that, if she refuse
To hear the wholesome doctrines of my Muse;
If to my share the prophet's fate must come—
Hereafter fame, here martyrdom

THE RESOLUTION,

THE devil take those foolish men
Who gave you first such powers!
We stood on even grounds till then;

If any odds, creation made it ours.

For shame, let these weak chains be broke; Let's our slight bonds, like Samson, tear; And nobly cast away that yoke,

Which we nor our forefathers e'er could bear.

French laws forbid the female reign;
Yet Love does them to slavery draw:
Alas! if we'll our rights maintain,

“T is all mankind must make a Salique law.

CALLED INCONSTANT.

HA! has you think you’ve kill'd my fame, By this not understood, yet common, name: A name that’s full and proper, when assign'd To woman-kind; But, when you call us so, It can at best but for a metaphor go.

Can you the shore inconstant call,
Which still, as waves pass by, embraces all;
That had as lief the same waves always love,

Did they not from him move

Or can you fault with pilots find
For changing course, yet never blame the wind

Since, drunk with vanity, you fell, The things turn round to you that steadfast dwell; And you yourself, who from us take your flight,

Wonder to find us out of sight.

So the same error seizes you,
As men in motion think the trees move too.

THE WELCOME,

GO, let the fatted calf be kill'd;
My prodigal's come home at last,

With noble resolutions fill’d,
And fill'd with sorrow for the past:
No more will burn with love or wine;

But quite has left his women and his swine.

Welcome, ah! welcome, my poor heart!
Welcome ! I little thought, I’ll swear

("Tis now so long since we did part),
Ever again to see thee here:

Dear wanderer! since from me you fled, How often have I heard that thou wert dead!

Hast thou not found each woman's breast
(The lands where thou hast travelled)

Either by savages possest,
Or wild and uninhabited P
What joy couldst take, or what repose,

In countries so unciviliz'd as those 2

Lust, the scorching dog-star, here
Rages with immoderate heat;

Whilst pride, the rugged Northern bear,
In others makes the cold too great:
And, where these are temperate known,

The soil's all barren sand or rocky stone.

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

Well fare the pride, and the disdain,
And vanities, with beauty join’d ;
I ne'er had seen this heart again,
If any fair-one had been kind:
My dove, but once let loose, I doubt
Would ne'er return, had not the flood been out.

« PoprzedniaDalej »