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For Bryan he was tall and strong,
Right blythesome rollid his een ; Sweet was his voice whene'er he song:
He scant had twenty seen.
But who the countless charms can draw,
That graced his mistress true? Such charms the old world seldom saw,
Nor oft, I ween, the new :
Her raven hair plays round her neck
Like tendrils of the vine;
Her eyes like diamonds shine.
Soon as his well-known ship she spied,
She cast her weeds away;
All in her best array.
In sea-green silk so neatly clad
She there impatient stood;
Repel the foaming flood.
Her bands a handkerchief display'd,
Which he at parting gave;
And manlier beat the wave.
Her fair companions one and all
Rejoicing crowd the strand; For now lier lover swam in call,
And almost touch'd the land.
Then through the white surf did she haste,
To clasp her lovely swain ;
His heart's blood dyed the main;
Streaming with purple gore;
And, ah! was seen no more.
Fetch water from the spring :
And soon her knell they ring.
Ye fair, fresh flowrets strew;
Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow;
Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof!
That innocence is tempest proof;
A private closet is to me:
And innocence my liberty;
1, whilst I wish'd to be retird,
Into this private room was turn'd, As if their wisdoms had conspir'd
The salamander should be burn'd: Or like those sophists that would drown a fish, I am constrain'd to suffer what I wish.
The cynic loves his poverty ;
The pelican her wilderness;
Naked on frozen Caucasus :
These manacles upon my arm
I as my mistress' favours wear; And, for to keep my ancles warm,
I bave some iron shackles there : These walls are but my garrison;
this cell, Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel.
I'm in the cabinet lock'd up,
Like some high-prized margarite, Or, like the great mogul or pope,
Am cloister'd up from public sight: Retiredness is a piece of majesty, And thus, proud soltay, I'm as great as thee. Here sin for want of food must starve,
Where tempting objects are not seen ; And these strong walls do oply serve
To keep vice out, and keep me in: Malice of late's grown charitable, sure ; I'm not committed, but am kept secure.
So he that struck at Jason's life,
Thinking & have made his purpose sure,
Did only wonnd him to a cure.
When once my prince affliction hath,
Prosperity doth treason seem;
I can learn patience from him :
What though I cannot see my king,
Neither in person or in coin; Yet contemplation is a thing
That renders what I have not mine : My king from me what adamant can part, Whom I do wear engraven on my heart!
Have you not seen the nightingale,
A prisoner like, coop'd in a cage?
In that her narrow hermitage !
I am that bird, whom they combine
Thus to deprive of liberty;
Yet, maugre bate, my sont is free:
My soul is free as ambient air,
Although my baser part's immu’d, Whilst loyal thoughts do still repair
T'accompany my solitude: Although rebellion do my body bind, My king alone can captivate my mind,
Sir R. L'Estrange.
THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD.
Preserve thy sighs, unthrifty girl!
To purify the air ;
On bracelets of thy hair.
The trumpet makes the echo hoarse,
And wakes the louder drum; Expense of grief gains no remorse ;
When sorrow should be dumb.
For I must go where lazy Peace
Will hide her drowsy bead;
The number of the dead.
But first I'll chide thy cruel theft:
Can I in war delight,
Can have no heart to fight?
Ordain'd a thief should pay,
What he had stol'n away.