Sivut kuvina


It's azur'd like the skie: when she doth bow
T'invoke Castara, Heav'n perfumes her row.
The trees, the water, and the powers adore
The deity of her sex, and through each pore
Breath forth her glories. But unquiet love
To make thy passions so uncourtly prove,
As if all eares should heare her praise alone.
Now listen thou; Endymion sings his owne.

In vaine, faire sorceresse, thy eyes speake charmes,
In vaine thou mak'st loose circles with thy armes.
I'me 'bove thy spels. No magicke him can move,
In whom Castara hath inspir'd her love.
As she, keepe thou strict cent'nell o're thy eare,
Lest it the whispers of soft courtiers heare;
Reade not his raptures, whose invention must
Write journey worke, both of his patron's lust
And his owne plush: let no admirer feast
His eye o'th' naked banquet of thy brest.
If this faire president, nor yet my want
Of love, to answer thine, make thec recant
Thy sore'ries; pity shall to justice turne,
And judge thee witch, in thy own dames to burne.


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.


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.




Sing forth, sweete cherubin, (for we have choice
Of reasons in thy beauty and thy voyce,
To name thee so, and scarce appeare prophane)
Sing forth, that while the orbs celestial straine
To eccho thy sweete note, our bumane eares
May then receive the musicke of the spheares.
But yet take heede, lest if the swans of Thames,
That adde harmonious pleasure to the streames,
O'th' sudden heare thy well-divided breath,
Should listen, and in silence welcome death:
And ravisht nightingales, striving too high
To reach thee, in the emulation dye.

And thus there will be left no bird to sing ·
Farewell to th’ waters, welcome to the spring,


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.



TRANSPIX me with that Aaming dart,

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.
The cold Cymerian by that bright
Warme wound i'th' darknesse of his night,

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,

May burne me to a sacrifice.

Y& glorious wits, who finde than Parian stone,
A nobler quarry to build trophies on,

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.

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Heaven brightest saint kinde to my vowes made A DIALOGUE BETWEENE HOPE AND PEARE.
Of all ambition courts, th' epitome.


CHECKE thy forward thoughts and know

Hymen onely joynes their hands;

Who with even paces goe,

Shee in gold, he rich in lands.
IP she should dye, (as well suspect we may,
A body so compact should ne're decay)
Her brighter soule would in the Moone inspire But Castara's purer fire,
More chastity, in dimmer starres more fire. When it meets a noble flame;
You twins of Læda (as your parents are

Shuns the smoke of such desire,
In their wild lusts) may grow irregular

loynes with love, and burnes the same.
Now in your motion: for the marriner
Henceforth shall onely steere his course by her.
And when the zeale of after time shall spie Yet obedience must prevaile,
Her uncorrupt i'th' happy marble lie;

They who o're her actions sway:
The roses in her cheekes unwithered,

Would have her in th' ocean saile,
'Twill turne to love, and dote upon the dead. And contemne thy narrow sea.
For he who did to her in life dispence

A Heaven, will banish all corruption thence.

Parents' lawes must beare no weight
When they happinesse prevent,
And our sea is not so streight,

But it roome hath for content.

Thousand hearts as victims stand,
You younger children of your father stay,

At the altar of her eyes. Swift fying moments (which divide the day

And will partiall she command,
And with your number measure out the yeare

Onely thine for sacrifice?
In various seasons) stay and wonder here.
For since my cradle, I so bright a grace
Ne're saw, as you see in Castara's face;

Thousand victims must returne;
Whom Nature to revenge some youthfull crime Shee the purest will designe:
Would never frame, till age had weakened Time. Choose Castara which shall burne,
Else spight of fate, in some faire forme of clay Choose the purest, that is mine.
My youth I'de' bodied, throwne my sythe away,
And broke my glasse. But since that cannot be,
l'le punish Nature for her injurie.
On nimble moments in your journey flie,

Castara shall like me, grow old, and die.

NIMBLE boy in thy warme Alight,

What cold tyrant dimm'd thy sight?
TO A FRIEND INQUIRING HER NAME, WHOM HE Hadst thou eyes to see my faire,

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.
Or in a sigh, though art so tride
In all his arts, hee'le be descride.

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.

Which if she with her flame refine,
I'dę force it from that obscure mine,

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 ?


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O're which two bright tapers burne,
To give light to the beauteous vrne.
At the first Casiara smild,
Thinking Cupid her beguild,
Onely counterfeiting death.
But when she perceivd his breath
Quite expir’d: the mournefull girle,
To entombe the boy in pearle,
Wept so long; till pittious love,
From the ashes of this Love,
Made ten thousand Cupids rise,
But contin'd them to her eyes :
Where they yet, to show they lacke
No due sorrow, still weare blacke.
But the blacks so glorious are
Which they mourne in, that the faire
Quires of starres, look pale and fret,
Seeing themselves out shin'd by jet.

Frailty to your armes may yeeld;
Who resists you wins the field.

Triumph not to see me bleede,
Let the bore chafed from his den,
On the wounds of mankinde feede,
Your softe sexe should pitty men.

Malice well may practise art,
Love hath a transparent heart,

Yet is love all one deceit,

warme frost, a frozen fire. She within her selfe is great, Who is slave to no desire.

Let youth act, and age advise,
And then Love may tinde his eyes.

Hymen's torch yeelds a dimn light,
When ambition joynes our hands,
A proud day, but mournefull night,
She sustaines, who marries lands.

Wealth slaves man; but for their ore,
Th’ Indians had beene free, though poore.

And yet wealth the fuell is
Which maintaines the nuptiall fire,
And in honour there's a blisse,
Th' are immortall who aspire.

But truth sayes no joyes are sweete,
But where hearts united meete.

Roses breath not such a sent,
To perfume the neighb'ring groves;
As when you affirme content,
In no spheare of glory moves.

Glory narrow soules combines:
Noble hearts Love onely joynes.

Fly on thy swiftest wing, ambitious Fame,
And speake to the cold North Castara's name:
Which very breath will, like the East wind, bring,
The temp'rate warmth, and musicke of the spring.
Then from the articke to th' antarticke pole,
Haste nimbly and inspire a gentler soule,
By naming her, i'th' torrid South; that he
May milde as Zephyrus' coole whispers be.
Nor let the West where Heaven already joynes
The vastest empire, and the wealthiest mines,
Nor th' East in pleasures wanton, her condemne,
For not distributing her gifts on them.

For she with want would have her bounty meet,
Lore's noble charity is so discreete.





Dost not thou Castara read
Am'rous volumes in my eyes?
Doth not every motion plead
What I'de shew, and yet disguise?

Sences act each other's part,
Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart.

I saw love as lightning breake
Froin thy eyes, and was content
Oft to heare thy silence speake.
Silent love is eloquent.

So the sence of learning heares
The dumbe musicke of the spheares.

Then there's mercy in your kinde,
Listning to an unfain'd love.
Or strives he to tame the wind,
Who would your compassion move?

No y’are pittious as y're faire.
Heaven relents, o'ercome by prayer.

Wuy baste you hence Castara? can the Earth,
Å glorious mother, in her forry birth,
Show lillies like thy brow? Can she disclose
In emulation of thy cheeke, a rose,
Sweete as thy blush; upon thy selfe then set
Iust value, and scorne it thy counterfet.
The spring's still with thee; but perbaps the field,
Not wari'd with thy approach, wants force to yeeld
Her tribute to the plough; () rather let
Th'ingratefull Earth for ever be in debl
To th' hope of sweating Industry, than we (thee.
Should starve with cold, who have no heat but

Nor feare the publike good. Thy eyes can give
A life to all, who can deserve to live.


But loose man too prodigall
Is in the expence of vowes ;
And thinks to him kingdonjes fall
When the heart of woman bowes;

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
Of absence, our divided soules unite.
But you must goe. The melancholy doves
Draw Venus' chariot hence: the sportive Loves
Which wont to wanton bere hence with you flye,
And like false friends forsake me when I dye.

For but a walking tombe, what can he be;
Whose best of life is forc't to part with thee?

Else Heaven by miracle makes me survive
My selfe, to keepe in me poore love alive.
But I am dead, yet let none question where
My best part rests, and with a sigh or teare,
Prophane the pompe, when they my corps interre,
My soule imparadis'd, for 'tis with her.



Ta’ Arabian wind, whose breathing gently blows
Purple to th' violet, blushes to the rose,
Did never yeeld an odour rich as this,
Why are you theu so thrifty of a kisse,
Authoriz'd even by custome? Why doth feare
So tremble on your lip, my lip being neare?
Thinke you I parting with so sad a zeale,
Will act so blacke a mischiefe, as to steale
Thy roses thence? And they, by this device,
Transplanted: somewhere else force Paradice?
Or else you feare, lest you, should iny heart skip
l'p to my mouth, t'incounter with your lip,

Might rob me of it: and be judg’d in this,
T have ludas like betraid me with a kisse.

The lesser people of the ayre conspire
To keepe thee from me. Philomel with higher
And sweeter notes, wooes thee to weepe her rape,
Which would appease the gods, and change her

The early larke, preferring 'fore soft rest
Obsequious duty, leaves his downy nest,
And Joth to thee harmonious tribute pay;
Expecting from thy eyes the breake of day.
From which the owle is frighted, and doth rove
(As never having felt the warmth of love)
In uncouth vaults, and the chill shades of night,
Not biding the bright lustre of thy sight.

With him my fate agrees. Not viewing thee
I'me lost in mists, at best, but meteors see.


Swift in thy watry chariot, courteous Thames,

Hast by the happy errour of thy streames,

To kisse the banks of Marlow, which doth show
Looke backe Castara.
From thy cye

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.
And gathering up my ashes, weepe,
That in his teares he then may steepe:
And thus embalm’d, as reliques, keepe.

Thither let lovers pilgrims turne,
And the loose flames in which they burne,

Give up as offerings to my vrne.

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
Till they prove innocent as mine.

Delighted in the niusicke of her teares.
That was her debt to vertue. And when e're
She ber bricht head among the clouds shall reare,
And adue to th' wondring Heavens a new fame,

Shee'le celebrate the genius of your name.

Wilde with another race, inspir'd by love,
T 18 madnesse to give physicke to the dead; She charmes the myrtles of the Idalian grove.
'Then leave me friends: Yet haply you'd here read And while she gives the Cyprian stormes a law,
A lecture; but I'le not dissected be,

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,

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