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Lookes not as lovely as when our delight
Else by the weeping magicke of my verse, First fashion's wings to adde a nimbler fight Thou hast reviv'd to triumph o're thy hearse. To lazie Time : who would, to have survai'J Dar varied pleasures, there have ever staid. And they were harmlesse. For obedience, If frailty yeelds to the wild lawes of sense, We shall but with a sugred venome meete :
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD P. No pleasure, if not innocent as sweet. And that's your choyce : who adde the title good The reverend man, by magicke of his prayer, To that of noble. For although the blood
Hath charm'd so, that I and your daughter are Of Marshall, Standley, and la Pole, doth flow, Contracted into one. The holy lights With happy Brandon's, in your veines; you owe Smild with a cheerfull lustre on our rites, Your vertue not to them. Man builds alone And every thing presag'd full happiness O'th' ground of honour : for desert's our owne, To mutual love : if you'le the omen blesse. Be that your ayme. I'le with Castara sit
Now grieve, my lord, 'tis perfected. Before l'th'shade, froin heat of businesse. While my wit Amicted seas sought refuge on the shore Is neither big with an ambitious ayme,
From the angry north wind; ere th' astonisht spring To build tall pyramids i'th'court of Fame. Heard in the ayre the feather'd people sing ; For after ages, or to win conceit
Ere time had motion, or the Sunne obtain'd O'th' present, and grow in opinion great.
His province o're the day, this was ordain'd. Rich in ourselves, we envy not the East
Nor think in her I courted wealth or blood, Her rockes of diamonds, or her gold the West. Or more uncertain hopes : for had I stood Arabia may be happy in the death
On th' highest ground of Fortune, the world knowne Of her reviving phenix : the breath
No greatnesse but what waited on my throne : Of cool Faronius, famous be the grove
And she had onely had that face and mind, Of Tempe: while we in each other's love. I, with my selfe, had th' Earth to her resign'a. For that let us be fam’d. And when of all In vertue there's an empire. And so sweete That Nature made us two, the funerall
The rule is when it doth with beauty meete, Leaves but a little dust, (which then as wed, As fellow consul, that of Heaven they Even after death, shall sleepe still in one bed.) Nor Earth partake, who would her disobey. The bride and bridegroome, on the solemne day, This captiv'd me. And ere I question'd why Shall with warme zeale approach our urne, to pay 1 ought to love Castara, through my eye Their vowes, that Heaven should blisse so far their This soft obedience stole into my heart. To show them the faire paths to our delights. (rites, Then found I Love might lend to th' quick-ey'd art
Of reason yet a parer sight: for he,
Tho' blind, taught her these Indies first to see, TO A TOMBE.
In whose possession I at length am blest,
And with my selfe at quiet, here I rest, TYRANT O're tyrants, thou who onely dost
As all things to my power subdu'd. To me Clip the lascivious beauty without Inst :
There's nought beyond this. The wbole world is she.
HIS MUSE SPEAKS TO HIM.
Thy vowes are heard, and thy Castara's name have
Is writ as faire i'th' register of Fame, Fresh in their cheeke, are strewd upon a grave.
As th' ancient beauties which translated are Thou tell'st the rich, their idoll is but earth.
By poets up to Heaven: each there a starre. The vajoely pleas'd, that syren-like their mirth
dud though imperiall Tiber boast alone Betrays to mischiefe, and that onely he
Ovid's Corinna, and to Am is knowne Dares welcome death, whose aimes at virtue be.
But Petrarch's Laura; while our famous Thames Which yet more zeale doth to Castara more.
Doth murmur Sydney's Stella to bei streames. What checks me, when the tombe perswades to Yet hast thou Severne left, and she can bring love!
As many quires of swans as they to sing
The only sovereign of those waters be.
Dead in love's firmament, no starre shall shine
So nobly faire, so purely chaste as thine.
TO VAINE HOPE.
Thou dream of madmen, ever changing gate, Some melanchely chamber of the earth,
Swell with thy wanton breath the gaudy saile (Por that like Time devours whom it gave breath) Of glorious fooles! Thou guid'st them who thes Thy beauties shall entombe, while all who ere Lov'd nobly, offer up their sorrowes there.
To rocks, to quick-sands, or some faithlesse port. But I, whose griefe no formal limits bound, Were I not mad, who, when secure at ease, Beholding the darke caverue of that ground, I might i'th'cabbin passe the raging seas, Will there immure my selfe. And thus I shall Would like a franticke ship-boy wildly baste Thy mourner be, and my owne funerall.
To climbe the giddy top of th' unsafe inast?
Ambition never to her bopes did faine
(Most beauteous soule) doth in his journey faile, A greatnesse, but I really obtaine
And blushing says, “ The subtlest art is fraile, In my Castara. Wer't not fondnesse then And but truth's counterfet.” Your flight doth Timbrace the shadowes of true blisse? And when
teach, My Paradise all flowers and fruits doth breed, Fair vertue bath an orbe beyond his reach. To rob a barren garden for a weed.
But I grow dull with sorrow. Unkinde Fate, To play the tyrant, and subvert the state
Of setled goodnesse! Who shall henceforth stand TO CASTARA.
A pure example to enforme the land
Of her loose riot? Who shall counterchecke HOW HAPPY, THOUGH IN AN OBSCURE PORTUNE.
The wanton pride of greatnesse, and direct WERE We by Fate throwne downe below our feare, Strayed honour in the true magnificke way? Could we be poore? Or question Nature's care Whose life shall shew what triumph 'tis t'obey, In our provision? She who doth afford
The loud commands of reason? And how sweet A feathered garment fit for every bird,
The nuptials are, when wealth and learning meet? And onely voyce enough texpresse delight: Who will with silent piety confute She who apparels lillies in their white,
Atheisticke sophistry, and by the fruite As if in that she'de teach man's duller sence, Approve religion's tree? Who'll teach his blood Wh' are highest, should be so in innocence: A virgin law, and dare be great and good ? She who in damask doth attire the rose,
Who will despise his stiles? and nobly weigh (And man t himselfe a mockery to propose, In judgment's ballance, that his honour'd clay 'Mong whom the humblest judges grow to sit) Hath no advantage by them? Who will live She who in purple cloathes the violet :
So innocently pious, as to give
And to warme passion a cold martyr dye?
What checks the living: know, I serve the dead.
The dead, who need no monumental vaults, Wuat can the freedome of our love enthral?
With his pale asbes to intombe his faults; Castara, were we dispossest of all
Whose sins beget no libels, whom the poore The gifts of Fortune: richer yet than she
For bencfit, for worth, the rich adore. Can inake her slaves, wee'd in each other be.
Who liv'd a solitary phonix, free Love in himself's a world. If we should have
From the commerce with mischiefe, joy'd to be A mansion but in some forsaken cave,
Still gazing heaven-ward, where his thoughts did Wee'd smooth misfortune, and ourselves think then
Ped with the sacred fire of zealous love, [move, Retir'd like princes from the noise of men,
Alone he flourisht, till the fatal houre To breath a while unflatter'd. Each wild beast,
Did summon him, when gathering from each flowre That should the silence of our cell infest,
Their vertuous odours, from his perfum'd nest With clamour, seeking prey: wee'd fancie were
He took his flight to everlasting rest. Nought but ao avaritious courtier.
There shine, great lord, and with propitious eyes Wealth's but opinion. Who thinks others more
Looke downe, and smile upon this sacrifice. Of treasures have, than we, is onely poore.
TO MY WORTHY COUSIN, MR. E. C.
IN PRAISE OF THE CITY LIFE, IN THE LONG VACATION. THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE EARL OF S.
I 1.1KE the green plush which your meadows weare, Brigat saint, thy pardon, if my sadder verse I praise your pregnant fields, which duly beare Appeare in sighing o're thy glorious hearse, Their wealthy burthen to th' industrious Bore. To envie Heaven. Pur fame itselfe now weares
Nor do I disallow, that who are poore Griefe's livery, and onely speaks in teares.
In minde and fortune, thither should retire: And pardon you, Castara, if a while
But hate that be, who's warme with holy fire Your memory I banish from my stile:
Of any knowledge, wd 'mong us may feast When I have paid his death the tribute die On nectar'd wit, should turne himselfe t'a beast, Of sorrow, I'le return to love and you.
And graze i'th' country. Why did Nature wrong Is there a name like Talbot, which a showre So much her paines, as to give you a tongue Can force from every eye? And hath even powre And fluent language, if converse you hold To alter Nature's course? How else should all With oxen in the stall, and sheepe i'th' fold ? Runne wilde with mourning, and distracted fall ? But now it's long vacation, you will say Th’illiterate vulgar, in a well-tun'd breath, The towne is empty, and who ever may Lament their losse, and learnedly chide death To th' pleasure of his country-hiome repaire, For its bold rape, while the sad poet's song
llies from th’infection of our London aire. Is yet unheard, as if griefe had no tongue. In this your errour. Now's the time alone Th’ amaz'd mariner having lost his way
To live here, when the city dame is gone In the tempestuous desart of the sea,
T” her house at Brandford; for beyond that she Lookes up, but finds no starres. They all conspire Imagines there's no land, but Barbary, To darke themselves, l enlighten this new fire. Where lies her husband's factor. When from hence The learn'd astronomer, with daring eye,
Rid is the country justice, whose non-sence Searching to tracke the spheares through which Corrupted had the language of the inne, you fie,
Where he and his horse litier'd : we beginne
ON THE DEATH OF
To live in silence, when the noyse o'th' bench Those tragicke raptures, which your name shall
To ruine what they fram'd : then your fame's life, The aire by this is purg'd, and the terme's strife When desp'rate Time lies gasping, shall expire, Thus Bed the city: we the civill life
Attended by the world i'th' general fire. Lead happily. When in the gen:le way
Fame lengthens thus her selfe: and I, to tread Of noble mirth, I bave the long liv'd day
Your steps to glory, search among the dead, Contracted to a moment: I retire
Where Vertue lies obscur'd, that as I give To my Castara, and mect such a fire
Life to her tombe, I spight of time may live. Of mutual love, that if the city were
Now I resolve, in triumph of my verse,
To bring great Talbot from that forren hearse,
Then to sing Herbert, who so glorious rose,
With the fourth Edward, that his faith doth shine
Yet in the faith of noblest Pembroke's line. Thou art return’d (great light) to that blest houre Sometimes my swelling spirits 1 prepare In which I first by marriage, sacred power,
To speak the mighty Percy, neerest heire,
In merits as in blood, to CHARLES the great : loyn'd with Castara hearts : and as the same
Then Darbie's worth and greatnesse to repeat,
Or Morley's honour, or Monteagle's fame, 'Twas such at first, it ne're could greater be.
Whose valour lives eternized in his name. But tell me, (glorious lampe) in thy survey
But while I think to sing these of my blood, Of things below thee, wbat did not decay
And my Castara's, Love's unruly food By age to weaknesse? I since that have seene
Breakes in, and beares away whatever stands
Built by my busie fancy on the sands.
UPON AN EMBRACE. 'Bout the husband oke the vine
Thus wreathes to kisse his leavy face: UNCHASTITY TO THE SEX OF WOMEN. Their streames thus rivers joyne,
And lose themselves in the embrace.
But trees want sence when they infold,
And waters, when they meet, are cold.
Thus turtles bill, and grone
Their loves into each other's eare:
Two flames thus buro in one, Goe, cure your feavers ; and you'le say
When their curl'd heads to Heaven they reare; The Dog-dayes scorch not all the yeare :
But birds want soule, though not desire, In copper mines no longer stay,
And flames material soone expire.
If not prophane, we'll say,
When angels close, their joyes are such;
For we no love obey
Is cold, sweares there's no warmth in fire ? Let's close, Castara, then, since thus 'Cause some make forfeit of their name,
We pattern angels, and they us.
Shall the sex free
TO THE HONOURABLE G. T.
Ler not thy grones force Eccho from her care, Thy vertue then would brighter shine,
Or interrupt her weeping o're that wave, When thy example should prevaile,
Which last Narcissus kist: let no darke grove
Be taught to whisper stories of thy love.
What tho' the wind be turn'd? Canst thou not saile "Tis majesty to rule alone.
By virtue of a cleane contrary gale,
To steere thee to some island in the West,
For wealth and pleasure that transcends thy East.
Though Astrodora, like a sullen starre,
Eclipse her selfe; i'th' sky of beauty are
AGAINST THEM WHO LAY
THE REWARD OF INNOCENT LOVE.
Nor yet doth this eclipse beare a portent,
Lucullus' surfets, were but types of this,
In story, did but the dull zany play,
For th' artificial lights so thicke were set,
I'th' heaven of friendship, are as firmly joyn'd Or deadly sinnes, l'le not dispute) were all
He layd his happy siege to Nortlinghen.
The mist of the perfuines was breath'd so thicke Yeelds me a constant warmth: Though first I came That linx himself, though his sight fam'd so To marriage happy islands: Seas to thee
Who'le judge them loyal subject without that:
Would have rebeld, their best freehold, their
lo drink his happy life and raigne. O day We saw and woo'd each other's eyes,
It was thy piety to flye; th' hadst beene My soule contracted then with thine,
Found accessory else to this fond sinra. And both burnt in one sacrifice,
But I forget to speake each stratagem By which our marriage grew divine.
By which the disbes enter'd, and in them
Each luscious iniracle, as if more bookes Let wilder youth, whose soule is sense,
Had written beene o'th' mystery of cuokes Propbane the temple of delight,
Than the philos'pher's stone, here we did see And purchase endlesse penitence,
All wonders in the kitchin alchimy: With the stolne pleasure of one night.
But Ile not leave you there, before you part
You shall have sometbing of another art. Time's ever ours, while we despise
A banquet raining down so fast, the good The sensuall idol of our clay,
Old patriarch would have thought a generall food. For though the Sunne doe set and rise, We joy one everlasting day.
Heaven open’d and from thence a mighty showre
Of amber com fits it sweete selfe did powre Whose light no jealous clouds obscure,
Vpon our heads; and suckets from our eye While each of us shine innocent,
Like thickend clouds did steale away the sky, The troubled stream is still impure,
Thai it was question'd whether Heaven were With vertue dies away content.
Black-fryers, and each starre a confectioner;
But I too long detaine you at a feast And though opinions often erre,
You hap'ly surfet of; now every guest Wee'le court the modest smile of fame,
Is reeld downe to his coach; I licence crave, For sinne's blacke danger circles her,
Sir, but to kisse your hands, and take my leave.
ARCHIBALD EARLE OF AR.
The serious few will live i'th' silent shade:
And not indauger by the wind
Or sunshine, the complexion of their mind:
Whose beauty weares so cleare a skin
That it decayes with the least taint of sin.
Vice growes by custome, nor dare we
Nor if advanc'd to higher place envyed.
Wherefore your lordship in your selfe Or cloathes could boast, but freely did admit. (Not lancht farre in the maine, nor nigh the shelfe I (who still sinne for company) was there
Of humbler fortune) lives at ease, (seas. And tasted of the glorious supper, where
Safe from the rocks o'th' shore, and stormes u'th', Meate was the least of wonder. Though the nest Your soule's a well built city, where O'th' Phoenix rifled seemd t' amaze the feast, There's such munition, that no war brecds feare: And th' ocean left so poore that it alone
No rebels wilde destractions move; Could since vaunt wretched herring and poore John. For you the beads bave crusht; Rage, Eavy, Love, YOL VI.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
And therefore you defiance bid
Of thy abode on Earth, yet every houre To open enmity, or mischiefe hid
Of thy brave youth by vertue's wondrous powre In fawning hate and supple pride,
Was lengthen'd to a yeare. Fach well-spent day Who are on every corner fortifide.
Keepes young the body, but the soule makes gray. Your youth not rudely led by rage
Such miracles workes goodnesse : and behind Of blooʻl, is now the story of your age,
Th’ast left to us such stories of thy minde Which without boast you may averre
Fit for example; that when them we read, 'Fore blackest danger, glory did prefer:
We envy Earth the treasure of the dead. Glory not purchast by the breath
Why doe the sinfull riot and survive Of sycophants, but by encountring death.
The feavers of their surfets? Why alive Yet wildnesse nor the feare of lawes
Is yet disorder'd greatnesse, and all they Did make you fight, but justice of the cause. Who the loose lawes of their wilde blood obey ! For but mad prodigals they are
Why lives the gamester, who doth blacke the night Of fortitude, who for it selfe love warre.
With cheats and imprecations? Why is light - When well made peace had clos'd the eyes
Looked on by those whose breath may poyson it: Of discord, sloath did not your vouth surprize. Who sold the vigour of their strength and wit Your life as well as powre, did awe
To buy diseases: and thou, who faire truth The bad, and to the good was the best law: And vertue didst adore, lost in thy youth? When most men vertue did pursue
But I'le not question fate. Heaven doth conveigh In hope by it to grow in fame like you.
Those first from the darke prison of their clay Nor when you did to court repaire,
Who are most fit for Heaven. Thou in warre Did you your manners alter with the ayre. Hadst ta’ne degrees, those dangers felt, which are You did your modesty retaine
The props on which peace safely doth subsist Your faithfull dealing, the same tongue and braine. And through the cannons blew and horrid mist Nor did all the soft flattery there
Hadst brought her light: And now wert so compleat Inchant you so, but still you truth could hcare. That naught but death did want to make thee And though your roofes were richly guilt,
great. The basis was on no ward's ruine built.
Thy death was timely then bright soule to thee Nor were your vassals made a prey,
And in thy fate thou suffer'dst not. 'Twas we And forc't to curse the coronation day.
Who dyed rob’d of thy life: in whose increase · And though no bravery was knowne
Of reall glory both in warre and peace, To out-shine yours, you onely spent your owne.
We all did share: and thou away we feare For 'twas the indulgence of Fate,
Didst with thee, the whole stocké of honour beare. To give y'a moderate minde, and bounteous state: Each then be his owne mourner. Wee'le to thes But I, my lord, who have no friend
Write hymnes, upon the world an elegie. Of fortune, must begin where you doe end.
'Tis dang'rous to approach the fire Of action; nor is't safe, farre to retire, Yet better lost i'th' multitude
Why should we feare to melt away in death;
May we but dye together. When beneath
In a coole vault we sleepe, the world will prove I'le therefore nigh some murm’ring brooke That wantons through my meddowes, with a booke, There, when o'th' wedding eve some beautious muid
Religious, and call it the shrine of love. With my Castara, or some friend,
Suspitious of the faith of man, hath paid My youth not guilty of ambition spend.
The tribute of ber vowes: o'th' sudden shee To my owne shade (if fate peripit) l'le whisper some soft musique of
Two violets sprouting from the tombe will see: wit. my
And cry out, “ Ye sweet emblems of their zeale And flatter so my selfe, l'le see
Who live below, sprang ye up to reveale
The story of our future joyes, liow we
The faithfull patterns of their love shall be;
If not; hang downe your heads opprest with dew, That each day shall be spent as 'twere my last.
And I will weepe and wither hence with you." How ere it's sweete lust to obey, Vertue thought rugged, is the safest way.