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TO A WANTON.
It's azur'd like the skie: when she doth bow
In vaine, faire sorceresse, thy eyes speake charmes,
TO CASTARA. Doe not their prophane orgies heare, Who but to wealth no altars reare. The soule's oft poys'ned through the eare. Castara, rather seeke to dwell l'th' silence of a private cell, Rich discontent's a glorious Hell." Yet Aindlip doth not want extent Of roome (though not magnificent) To give free welcome to content. There shalt thou see the earely Spring, That wealthy stocke of Nature bring, Of which the Sybils bookes did sing. From fruitlesse palmes shall honey flow, And barren Winter harvest show, While lillies in his bosome grow, No North winde shall the corne infest, But the soft spirit of the East, Our sent with perfum'd banquets feast. A Satyre here and there shall trip, , In hope to purchase leave to sip Sweete nectar froin a Fairie's lip. The Nimphs with quivers shall adorne Their active sides and rouse the morne With the shrill musicke of their horne. Wakened with which, and viewing thee, Faire Daphne her faire selfe shall free, Prom the chaste prison of a tree: And with Narcissus (to thy face Who humbly will ascribe all grace) Shall once againe pursue the chase. So they whose wisdome did discusse Of these as fictions: shall in us Finde, they were more than fabulous.
THE HONOURABLE MY MUCH HONOURED
FRIEND, R. B. ESQUIRE'. While you dare trust the loudest tongue of fame, The zeale you beare your mistresse to proclaim To th' talking world: I in the silenst grove, Scarce to my selfe dare whisper that I love.. Thce titles Brud'nell, riches thee adorne, And vigorous youth to vice not headlong borne By th’ tide of custome: which I value more Than what blind superstitious fooles adore, Who greatnesse in the chaire of blisse enthrone, Greatnesse we borrow, vertue is our owne. In thy attempt be prosperous and when ere Thou shalt prefix the houre; may Hymen weare His brightest robe; where some fam'd Persian shall Worke by the wonder of her needle all The nuptiall joyes; which (if we poets be True prophets) bounteous Heaven designes for 1 envie not, but glory in thy fate,
(thee. While in the narrow limits of my state I bound my hopes, which if Castara daigne Once to entitle hers; the wealthiest graine My earth, untild shall beare; my trees shall grone Vnder their fruitfull burtben, and at one And the same season, Nature forth shall bring Riches of Autumne, pleasures of the Spring. But digge and thou shalt finde a purer mine Than th’ Indians boast : taste of this generous vine, And her blood sweeter will than nectar prove, Such miracles wait on a noble love. But should she scorne my sute, I'le tread that path Which none but some sad Fairy beaten hath. Then force wrong'd Philomel, hearing my mone, To sigh my greater griefes, forget her owne.
SOFTLY SINGING TO HER SELFE.
Sing forth, sweete cherubin, (for we have choice
And thus there will be left no bird to sing ·
INQUIRING WHY I LOVED ITER.
Why doth the stubborne iron prove So gentle to th' magnetique stone ?
1 Robert Brudenell, afterwards srond eart of Cardigan,
Hou know you that the orbs doe move; The dages, hast nimbly; and white as they me, With musicke wo? since heard of none !
Each of them with their predecessors vie, And I will answer why I love.
Which yeelde most pleasure; you to them dispence,
What Time lost with his cradle, innocence. 'Tis not thy vertues, each a starre
So I (if fancie not delade my sight,). Which in thy soules bright spheare doe shine,
See often the paie monarch of the night, Shooting their beauties from a farre,
Diaria, 'mong her nimphs. For every quire To make each gazers heart like thine;
Of vulgar starres who lend their reaker fire Our vertues ofven meteors are.
To conquer the night's chiloesse, with their queene, "Tis not thy face, I cannot spie,
In barmelesse revels tread the happy greene. When poets weepe sorne virgin's death,
But I who am proscrib'd by tyrant Love, That Cupid wantons in her eye,
Seeke out a silent exile in some grove, Or perfumes vapour from her breath,
Where bought except a solitary spring, And 'mongst the dead thou once must lie.
Was ever heard, to which the Nimphs did sing
Narcissus' obsquies: Por onely there Nor ia't thy birth. For I was ne're
Is musique apt to catch an am'rous eare: So vaine as in that to delight:
Castara! oh my heart! how great a flame Which, ballance it, no weight doth beare, Did even shoot into me with her name? Nor yet is object to the sight,
Castara hath betray'd me to a żeale But onely Gils the vulgar care.
Which thus distracts my hopes. Flints may conceale Nor yet thy fortunes: since I know
In their cold veynes a fire. But I whose heart They, in their motion like the sen,
By love's dissolv'd, ne're practis'd that cold art. Ebbe from the good, to the impious flow :
But truce thou warring passion, for I'le now And so in fattery betray,
Maddam to you addresse this solemne vow. That raising they but overthrow.
Ry vertue and your selfe (best friends) I finde
lo the interiour province of your minde And yet these attributes might prove
Such government: that if great men obey Fuell enough t'enflame desire;
Th'example of your order, they will sway But there was something from above,
Without reproofe; for onely you unité Shot without reason's guide, this fire.
Honour with sweetenesse, vertue with delights I know, yet know not, why I love.
LOOKING UPON HIM.
PROWNE OR SMILE.
LEARNED shade of 'Tycho Brache, who to us, I'th' eye, or brest or any part,
The stars propheticke language didst impart, So thou, Castara, spare my heart.
And even in life their mysteries discusse:
Castara hath o'rethrowne thy strongest art.
When custome struggles from her beaten path,
Then accidents must needs uncertaine be, Might both recover heat, and light.
For if Castara smile; though winter hath The rugged Scythian gently move,
Lock't up the rivers: summer's warme in me. I'th' whispering shadow of some grove,
And Flora by the miracle reviv'd, That's consecrate to sportive love.
Doth even at her owne beauty wondring stand, December see the primrose grow,
But should she frowne, the northerne wind arrir'd, The rivers in soft murmurs Aow,
In midst of summer, leads his frozen band : And from his head shake off his snow.
Which doth to yce my youthfull blood congeale;
Yet in the midst of yce, still fames my zeale. And crooked age might feele againe Those heates, of which youth did complaine, While fresh blood swels each withered veyne. For the bright lustre of thy eyes,
IN CASTARA, Which but to warme them would suffice,
Y& glorious wits, who finde than Parian stone,
Purchast 'gainst conquer'd time, go court loud
He wins it, who but sings Castara's name? (fame, THE COUNTESSE OF AR.
Aspiring soules, who grow but in a spring,
Forc't by the warmth of some indulgent king: Wisa'd with delight, (yet such as still doth beare
Know if Castara smile: I dwell in it, Chast vertue's stamp) those children of the yeere, And vie for glory with the favourit.
Ye sonnes of avarice, who but to share • Margaret daughter of William Douglas, earl Vincertaine treasure with a certaine care, of Morton,' wife of Archibald, cigbth earl of Teinpt death in th' horrid ocean: I, when ere Argyle.
I but approach her, find the Indies there.
Heaven brightest saint kinde to my vowes made A DIALOGUE BETWEENE HOPE AND PEARE.
Hymen onely joynes their hands;
Who with even paces goe,
Shee in gold, he rich in lands.
Shuns the smoke of such desire,
loynes with love, and burnes the same.
They who o're her actions sway:
Would have her in th' ocean saile,
Parents' lawes must beare no weight
But it roome hath for content.
Thousand hearts as victims stand,
At the altar of her eyes. Swift fying moments (which divide the day
And will partiall she command,
Onely thine for sacrifice?
Thousand victims must returne;
VPON A DIMPLE IN CASTARA'S CHEEKE.
What cold tyrant dimm'd thy sight?
Thou wouldst sigh thy selfe to ayre:
Fearing to create this one, Fond Love himselfe hopes to disguise
Nature had her selfe undone. From view, if he but covered lies,
But if you when this you heare I'th' veile of my transparent eyes.
Fall downe murdered through your eare, Though in a smile himselfe he hide,
Begge of love that you may have
In her cheeke a dimpled grave.
Lilly, rose, and violet,
Shall the perfum'd hearse beset I must confesse (deare friend) my flame,
While a beauteous sheet of lawne, Whose boasts Castara so doth tame,
O're the wanton corps is drawne: That not thy faith, shall know her name.
And all lovers use this breath;
“ Here lies Cupid blest in death." 'Twere prophanation of my zeale, If but abroad one whisper steale, They love betray who him reveale. In a darke cave which never eye
V PON Could by his subtlest ray descry,
CVPID'S DEATH AND BURIALL IN It doth like a rich minerall lye.
Cupid's dead. Who would not dye,
To be interr'd so peere her eye? And then it like pure gold should shine.
Who would feare the sword, to have
Such an alabaster grave ?
O're which two bright tapers burne,
Frailty to your armes may yeeld;
Malice well may practise art,
warme frost, a frozen fire. She within her selfe is great, Who is slave to no desire.
Let youth act, and age advise,
Wealth slaves man; but for their ore,
But truth sayes no joyes are sweete,
Glory narrow soules combines:
For she with want would have her bounty meet,
A DIALOGUE, BETWEENE ARAPHILL AND CASTARA,
INTENDING A JOURNEY INTO THE COUNTREY.
Dost not thou Castara read
Sences act each other's part,
So the sence of learning heares
No y’are pittious as y're faire.
Wuy baste you hence Castara? can the Earth,
Nor feare the publike good. Thy eyes can give
But loose man too prodigall
VPOX CASTARA'S DEPARTURE. I am engag'd to sorrow, and my heart Feeles a distracted rage. Though you depart
And leave me to my feares; let love in spite
For but a walking tombe, what can he be;
Else Heaven by miracle makes me survive
COMPLAINING HER ABSENCE IN THE COUNTRY.
Might rob me of it: and be judg’d in this,
The lesser people of the ayre conspire
With him my fate agrees. Not viewing thee
Swift in thy watry chariot, courteous Thames,
Hast by the happy errour of thy streames,
To kisse the banks of Marlow, which doth show
l'aire Seymors', and beyond that never flow. Let yet more tlaming arrowes flye:
Then summon all thy swans, that who did give To live is thus to burne and dye.
Musicke to death, may henceforth sing, and live,
For my Castara. She can life restore, For what might glorious hope desire,
Or quicken them who had no life before. But that thy selfe, as I expire,
How should the poplar else the pine provoke, Should bring both death and funerall fire? The stately cedar challenge the rude oke
To dance at sight of her? They have no sense Distracted love, shall grieve to sre
Froni Nature given, but by her infuence, Such zeale in death: for feare lest he
If Orpheus did those senslesse creatures more, Himselfe, should be consum'd in me.
He was a prophet and fore sang my love.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE EARLE OF SIREWES.
My Muse (great lord) when last you heard her sing That them the vertue of my shrine
Did to your vncles vrne, her off'rings bring : By miracle so long refine;
And if to fame I may give faith, your eares
Delighted in the niusicke of her teares.
Shee'le celebrate the genius of your name.
Wilde with another race, inspir'd by love,
Those wanton doves which Cythereia draw T' instruct your art by my anatomie.
Through th' am'rous ayre. admire what
power But still you trust your sense, sweare you descry The ocean, and arrest tiiem in their way. [doth sway No difference in me. All's deceit o'th' eye, Some spirit hath a body fram'd in th' ayre,
3 By a subsequent poem, this appears to have Like mine, which he doth to delude you weare: been the house where Castara lived,