Integrity, friendship, and confidence,

(Cements of greatness) being vapour'd hence,
And narrow man being fill'd with little shares,
Courts, city, church, are all shops of small wares,
All having blown to sparks their noble fire,
And drawn their sound gold ingot into wire;
All trying, by a love of littleness,

To make abridgments and to draw to less,
Even that nothing which at first we were:
Since in these times your greatness doth appear,
And that we learn by it that man to get
Towards him that 's infinite must first be great:
Since in an age so ill, as none is fit

So much as to accuse, much less mend it,
(For who can judge or witness of those times
Where all alike are guilty of the crimes?)
Where he that would be good is thought by all
A monster, or at best phantastical:

Since now you durst be good, and that I do
Discern, by daring to contemplate you,
That there may be degrees of fair, great, good,
Thro' your light, largeness, virtue understood:
If in this sacrifice of mine be shown

Any small spark of these, call it your own;
And if things like these have been said by me
Of others, call not that idolatry;

For had God made man first, and man had seen

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The third day's fruits and flowers, and various green,

He might have said the best that he could say
Of those fair creatures which were made that day;
And when next day he had admir'd the birth'
Of sun, moon, stars, fairer than late-prais'd earth,
He might have said the best that he could say,
And not be chid for praising yesterday:

So tho' some things are not together true,
As that another's worthiest, and that you;
Yet to say so doth not condemn a man

If, when he spoke them, they were both true then. 50
How fair a proof of this in our soul grows?

We first have souls of growth and sense; and those,
When our last soul, our soul immortal, came,
Were swallow'd into it, and have no name:
Nor doth he injure those souls which doth cast
The power and praise of both them on the last:
No more do I wrong any if I adore

The same things now which I ador'd before,
The subject chang'd, and measure, The same thing
In a low constable and in the king

I reverence his power to work on me;

So did I humbly reverence each degree

Of fair, great, good; but more now I am come
From having found their walks to find their home:

And as I owe my first soul's thanks, that they
For my last soul did fit and mould my clay;
So am I debtor unto them whose worth
Enabled me to profit; and take forth

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This new great lesson, thus to study you,
Which none, not reading others first, could do.
Nor lack I light to read this book, tho' I
In a dark cave, yea, in a grave, do lie;
For as your fellow-angels, so you do
Illustrate them who come to study you.
The first whom we in histories do find
To have profest all arts was one born blind;
He lack'd those eyes beasts have as well as we,
Not those by which angels are seen and see;
So, tho' I'm born without those eyes to live,
Which Fortune, who hath none herself, doth give, 80
Which are fit means to see bright courts and you,
Yet may I see you thus as now I do;

I shall by that all goodness have discern'd,
And tho' I burn my library be learn'd.

SAPPHO TO PHILÆNIS.

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WHERE is that holy fire which verse is said'
To have? is that inchanting force decay'd?
Verse that draws Nature's works from Nature's law,
Thee, her best work, to her work cannot draw.

Have my tears quench'd my old poetic fire?
Why quench'd they not as well that of desire?
Thoughts, my mind's creatures, often are with thee,
But I, their maker, want their liberty;

Only thine image in my heart doth sit,

But that is wax, and fires environ it.

My fires have driven, thine have drawn it hence,
And I am robb'd of picture, heart, and sense.
Dwells with me still mine irksome memory,
Which both to keep and lose grieves equally.
That tells how fair thou art: thou art so fair
As gods, when gods to thee I do compare,
Are grac'd thereby, and to make blind men see
What things gods are, I say they're like to thee:
For if we justly call each silly man

A little world, what shall we call thee then?

Thou art not soft, and clear, and straight, and fair,
As down, as stars, cedars, and lilies, are;
But thy right hand, and cheek, and eye, only
Are like thy other hand, and cheek, and eye.
Such was my Phao a while, but shall be never!
As thou wast, art, and, oh! may'st thou be ever!
Here lovers swear in their idolatry

That I am such, but grief discolours me;

And yet I grieve the less, lest grief remove

My beauty, and make m' unworthy of thy love.
Plays some soft boy with thee? oh! there wants yet
A mutual feeling which should sweeten it.
His chin, a thorny hairy unevenness,

Doth threaten, and some daily change possess,
Thy body is a natural Paradise,

In whose self, unmanur'd, all pleasure lies,

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1.5

Nor needs perfection; why shouldst thou then
Admit the tillage of a harsh rough man? *

Men leave behind them that which their sin shows,
And are as thieves trac'd, which rob when it snows;
But of our dalliance no more signs there are
Than fishes leave in streams, or birds in air;
And between us all sweetness may be had;
All, all that Nature yields, or art can add.
My two lips, eyes, thighs, differ from thy two,
But so as thine from one another do:

And, oh! no more; the likeness being such,
Why should they not alike in all parts touch?
Hand to strange hand, lip to lip none denies;
Why should they breast to breast, or thighs to thighs ?
Likeness begets such strange self-flattery,

That touching myself all seems done to thee.
Myself I embrace, and mine own hands I kiss,
And amorously thank myself for this.

Me in my glass I call thee; but alas!

When I would kiss, tears din mine eyes and glass.
O! cure this loving madness, and restore
Me to me; thee my half, my all, my more

So may thy cheek's red outwear scarlet dye,

And their white whiteness of the Galaxy:
So may thy mighty amazing beauty move

Envy in all women, and in all men love;

And so be change and sickness far from thee,

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As thou, by coming near, keep'st them from me.

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