Heaven brightest saint kinde to my vowes made A DIALOGUE BETWEENE HOPE AND PEARE, Of all ambition courts, th' epitome.
(thee
PEARE.
CHECKE thy forward thoughts and know
Hymen onely joynes their hands;
Who with even paces goe,
VPON THOUOHT CASTARA MAY DYE.
Shee in gold, he rich in lands.
Ir 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 unely steere his course by her.
FEARE. 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
NOPE.
A Heaven, will banisb 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.
TIME TO THE MOMENTS, ON SIGHT OF
FEARE.
CASTARA.
Thousand hearts as victims stand,
You younger children of your father stay, At the altar of her eyes.
Swift Aying 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, 1 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,
TO CVPID,
Castara shall like me, grow old, and die.
VPON A DIMPLE IN CASTARA'S CHEEKE. NIMBle boy in thy warme flight,
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:
LOVED.
Fearing to create this one,
Pond Love himselfe hopes to disguise
Nature had her selfe undone. From view, if he but covered lies,
But if you when this you heare l'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 Could by his subtlest ray descry,
CVPID'S DEATH AND BURIALL IN It dotb like a rich minerall lye.
CASTARA'S CHEEKE.
Which if she with her flame refine,
I'de 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? VOL. VI.
O're which two bright tapers burne,
To give light to the beauteous vrne.
At the first Castara smil'd,
Thinking Cupid her beguil'd,
Onely counterfeiting death.
But when she perceiv'd his breath
Quite expir'd: the mournefull girle,
To entombe the boy in pearle,
Wept so long; till pittious Iove,
From the ashes of this Love,
Made ten thousand Cupids rise,
But confin'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.
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,
Love's noble charity is so discreete.
A DIALOGUE, BETWEENE ARAPHILL AND CASTARA,
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
From 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.
But loose man too prodigall
Is in the expence of vowes;
And thinks to him kingdomes fall
When the heart of woman bowes;
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,
A 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 finde his eyes.
Hymen's torch yeelds a dim 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.
INTENDING A JOURNEY INTO THE COUNTREY.
WHY baste you hence Castara? can the Earth,
A glorious mother, in her flowry 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 perhaps the field,
Not warm'd with thy approach, wants force to yeeld
Her tribute to the plough; O rather let.
Th' ingratefull Earth for ever be in debt
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.
VPON 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 here 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.
VPON A TREMBLING KISSE AT DEPARTURE.
TH' 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 my heart skip
Vp to my mouth, t'incounter with your lip,
Might rob me of it: and be judg'd in this,
T" have Iudas like betraid me with a kisse.
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.fi/books/content?id=2fQSAAAAIAAJ&hl=fi&output=html_text&pg=PA451&img=1&zoom=3&q=editions:HARVARD32044052938222&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U1aXAR0Mje2Q6zFYXErWH2WQCkCzA&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=464,287,496,454)
LOOKING BACKE AT HER DEPARTING.
Look backe Castara. From thy eye
Let yet more flaming arrowes flye:
To live is thus to burne and dye.
For what might glorious hope desire,
But that thy selfe, as 1 expire,
Should bring both death and funerall fire?
Distracted love, shall grieve to see
Such zeale in death: for feare lest he
Himselfe, should be consum'd in me.
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.
That them the vertue of my shrine
By miracle so long refine;
Till they prove innocent as mine.
VPON CASTARA'S ABSENCE.
T' is madnesse to give physicke to the dead;
Then leave me friends: Yet haply you'd here read
A lecture; but l'le not dissected he,
T'instruct your art by my anatomie.
But still you trust your sense, sweare you descry
No difference in me. All's deceit o'th' eye,
Some spirit hath a body fram'd in th' ayre,
Like mine, which he doth to delude you weare:
SWIFT in thy watry chariot, courteous Thames,
Hast by the happy errour of thy streames,
To kisse the banks of Marlow, which doth show
Faire Seymors', and beyond that never flow.
Then summon all thy swans, that who did give
Musicke to death, may henceforth sing, and live,
For my Castara. She can life restore,
Or quicken them who had no life before.
How should the poplar else the pine provoke,
The stately cedar challenge the rude oke
To dance at sight of her? They have no sense
From Nature given, but by her influence,
If Orpheus did those senslesse creatures move,
He was a prophet and fore sang my love.
THE EARLE OF SHREWES.
My Muse (great lord) when last you heard her sing
Did to your vncles vrne, her off'rings bring:
And if to fame I may give faith, your eares
Delighted in the musicke of her teares.
That was her debt to vertue. And when e're
She her bright head among the clouds shall reare,
And adde to th' wondring Heavens a new flame,
Shee'le celebrate the genius of your name.
Wilde with another race, inspir'd by love,
She charmes the myrtles of the Idalian grove.
And while she gives the Cyprian stormes a law,
Those wanton doves which Cythereia draw
Through th' am'rous ayre: admire what power
The ocean, and arrest them in their way. [doth sway
Should she to the cold northerne climates goe,
Force thy affrighted lillies there to grow,
Thy roses in those gelid fields t'appeare,
She absent, I have all their winter here.
Or if to th' torrid zone her way she bend,
Her the coole breathing of Favonius lend.
Thither command the birds to bring their quires,
That zone is temp'rate, I have all his fires.
Attend her, courteous Spring, though we should
Lose by it all the treasures of the yeere. [here
TO REASON,
VPON CASTARA'S ABSENCE.
WITH your caline precepts goe, and lay a storme
In some brest flegmaticke which would conforme
Her life to your cold lawes: in vaine y' engage
Your selfe on me, I will obey my rage.
Shee's gone, and I am lost. Some unknowne grove
I'le finde, where by the miracle of Love
I'le turne t'a fountaine, and divide the yeere,
By numbring every moment with a teare.
Where if Castara (to avoyd the beames [streames.
O'th' neigh'bring Sun) shall wandring meete my
And tasting hope her thirst alaid shall be,
Shee'le feele a sudden flame, and burne like me:
And thus distracted cry. "Tell me thou cleere,
But treach'rous fount, what lover's coffin'd here?"
ANSWERE TO CASTARA'S QUESTION. 'Tis I, Castara, who when thou wert gone, Did freeze into this melancholly stone, To weepe the minutes of thy absence. Where Can greefe have freer scope to mourne than here? The larke here practiseth a sweeter straine, Aurora's early blush to entertaine, And having too deepe tasted of these streames, He loves, and amorously courts her beames. The courteous turtle with a wandring zeale, Saw how to stone I did my selfe congeale, [move, And murm'ring askt what power this change did The language of my waters whispered, Love.
And thus transform'd l'le stand, till I shall see That heart so ston'd and frozen, thaw'd in thee.
VPON THE DISGUISING HIS AFFECTION.
Then e're in the large volume writ by Time,
PRONOUNCE me guilty of a blacker crime,
The sad historian reades, if not my art
Dissembles love, to veile an am'rous heart,
For when the zealous anger of my friend
Checkes my unusuall sadnesse: I pretend
To study vertue, which indeede I doe,
He must court vertue who aspires to you.
Or that some friend is dead, and then a teare,
A sigh or groane steales from me: for I feare
Lest death with love hath strooke my heart, and all
These sorrowes usher but its funerall. [mourner be,
Which should revive, should there you a
And force a nuptiall in an obsequie.
MY HONOURED KINSMAN MR. G. T.
THRICE bath the pale-fac'd empresse of the night,
Lent in her chaste increase her borrowed light,
To guide the vowing marriner: since mute
Talbot th'ast beene, too slothfull to salute
Thy exil'd servant.
Labour not t'excuse
This dull neglect: love never wants a Muse.
When thunder summons from eternall sleepe
Th' imprison'd ghosts and spreads o'th' frighted
A veile of darknesse; penitent to be
I may forget, yet still remember thee,
Next to my faire, under whose eye-lids move,
In nimble measures beauty, wit, and love.
Nor thinke Castara (though the sex be fraile,
And ever like uncertaine vessels saile
On th' ocean of their passions; while each wind,
Triumphs to see their more uncertaine mind,)
Can be induc't to alter. Every starre
May in its motion grow irregular;
The Sunne forget to yeeld his welcome flame
To th' teeming Earth, yet she remaine the same.
And in my armes (if poets may divine)
I once that world of beauty shall intwine.
And on her lips print,volumes of my love,
Without a froward checke, and sweetely move
Pth' labyrinth of delight. If not, I'le draw
Her picture on my heart, and gently thaw
With warmth of zeale, untill I Heaven entreat,
To give true life to th' ayery counterfeit.
A martyr in your flames: O let your love
Be great and firme as his: Then nought shall move
Your setled faiths, that both may grow together:
Or if by Fate divided, both may wither.
Harke! 'twas a groane. Ah how sad absence rends
His troubled thoughts! See, he from Marlow sends
His eyes to Seymors. Then chides th' envious trees,
And unkinde distance. Yet his fancie sees
And courts your beauty, joyes as he had cleav'd
Close to you, and then weepes because deceiv'd.
Be constant as y'are faire. For I fore-see
A glorious triumph waits o'th' victorie
Your love will purchase, showing us to prize
A true content. There onely Love hath eyes."
THE HOUSE IN WHICH CASTARA LIVED.
BLEST temple, haile, where the chast altar stands,
Which Nature built, but the exacter hands
Of vertue polisht. Though sad Fate deny
My prophane feete accesse, my vowes shall flye.
May those musitians, which divide the ayre
With their harmonious breath, their flight prepare,
For this glad place, and all their accents frame,
To teach the eccho my Castara's name.
The beautious troopes of Graces led by Love
In chaste attempts, possesse the neighb'ring grove,
Where may the spring dwell still. May every tree
Turne to a laurell, and propheticke be,
Which shall in its first oracle divine,
That courteous Fate decrees Castara mine.
IN PRAISE OF CASTARA'S DISCREETE LOVE.
SCORN'D in thy watry vrne Narcissus lye,
Thou shalt not force more tribute from my eye
Tincrease thy streames: or make me weep a
showre,
To adde fresh beauty to thee, now a flowre.
But should relenting Heaven restore thee sence,
To see such wisedome temper innocence,
In faire Castara's loves how shee discreet,
Makes cansion with a noble freedome meete,
At the same moment; thou'ld'st confesse fond boy,
Fooles onely thinke them vertuous. who are coy.
And wonder not that I, who have no choyce
Of speech, have praysing her so free a voyce:
Heaven her severest sentence doth repeale,
When to Castara I would speake my zeale.
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.fi/books/content?id=2fQSAAAAIAAJ&hl=fi&output=html_text&pg=PA453&img=1&zoom=3&q=editions:HARVARD32044052938222&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U2AmqZddCMWaHuclmhXQFEr4XqJ7w&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=19,1282,449,305)
IN HOPE TO SEE CASTARA WALKING.
BRIGHT dew which dost the field adorne
As th' Earth to welcome in the morne,
Would hang a jewell on each corne.
Did not the pittious night, whose eares
Have oft beene conscious of my feares,
Distil you from her eyes as teares?
Or that Castara for your zeale,
When she her beauties shall reveale,
Might you to dyamonds congeale?
If not your pity, yet how ere
Your care I praise, 'gainst she appeare,
To make the wealthy Indies here.
But see she comes. Bright lampe o'th' skie,
Put out thy light: the world shall spie
A fairer Sunne in either eye.
And liquid pearle, hang heavie now
On every grasse that it may bow
In veneration of her brów,
Yet if the wind should curious be.
And were I here should question thee,
Hee's full of whispers, speake not me.
But if the busie tell-tale day,
Our happy enterview betray;
Lest thou confesse too, melt away.
|