« EdellinenJatka »
Look in thy soul, and thou shalt beauties find,
E TERNAL virgin, goddess true,
I ove, e'en great Jove hath leisure
Nor her dishonour with thy passion base. A nd hears them oft with pleasure.
Enjoy the blessings you impart,
The peace, the milk, and honey, Make not her free will slave to vanity.
Humanity, and civil art,
A richer dow'r than money. And wherr thou think'st of ber eternity,
Think not that death against her nature is ;. Right glad am I that now I live,
If after you I should be born,
Being in the dark, where thou didst nothing see; A dmiring your sweet story.
To view the beams of thine 'own form divine,
I olly Spring doth enter;
Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's train: A ngry, aged Winter.
E very meadow flows with balm,
The glory of thy Maker's sacred name: H armonious birds sing such a psalm,
Reserve (sweet Spring) this nymph of ours,
In her shall last our state's fair spring,
A s long as Heav'n is lasting.
TO THE SPRING.
E MPRESS of flow'rs, tell where away
TO THE NIGHTINGALE. E v'ry night from ev'n to morn, Love's chorister amid the thorn Is now so sweet a singer, So sweet, as for her song I scorn A pollo's voice and finger. B at nightingale, sith you delight E ver to watch the starry night, Tell all the stars of Heaven, Hearen never had a star so bright, A s now to Earth is given. Royal Astrea makes our day Eternal with her beams, nor may Gross darkness overcome her; I now perceive why some do write, No country hath so short a night, As England hath in summer.
B eauty, Virtue, Majesty,
TO THE ROSE.
Eye of the garden, queen of flow'rs
TO THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER. E ach month hath praise in some degree ; L et May to others seem to be In sense the sweetest season ; September thou art best to me, And best doth please my reason. B ut neither for thy corn nor wine E xtol I those mild days of thine, Though corn and wine might praise thee, Heav'n gives thee bonour more divine, A nd higher fortunes raise thee. Renown'd art thou (sweet month) for this, E mong thy days her birth-day is, G race, Plenty, Peace, and Honour, In one fair hour with her were born, Now since they still her crown adora, A nd still attend upon her.
TO THE SUN. Eye of the world, fountain of light, L ife of day, and death of night, I humbly seek thy kindness : S weet, dazzle not my feeble sight, A nd strike me not with blindness. B ehold me mildly from that face, E'en where thou now dost run thy race, The sphere where now thou turnest; Having like Phaeton chang'd thy place, A nd yet hearts only burnest. R ed in her right cheek thou dost rise, E xalted after in her eyes, G reat glory there thou showest : In th’ other cheek when thou descendest, N ew redness unto it thou lendest, A nd so thy round thou goest.
OF THE SUN-BEAMS OF HER MIND E XCEEDING glorious is this star, 'L et us behold her beams afar In a side line reflected; Sight bears them not, when near they are, A nd in right lines directed. Behold her, in her virtue's beams, Extending sun-like to all realms; The Sun none views too nearly : H er well of goodness in these streams, A ppears right well avd clearly. R adiant virtues, if your light E nfeeble the best judgment's sight, Great splendour above measure Is in the mind, from whence you flow : No wit may have access to know, A pd view so bright a treasure.
TO HER PICTURE. E XTREME was his andacity, Little his skill that finish'd thee; I am asham'd and sorry, So dull her counterfeit should be, A nd she so full of glory.
OP HER WIT. E ve of that mind most quick and clear, Like Heaven's eye which from his sphere I nto all things pryeth, S ees through all things ev'ry where, A nd all their natures trieth.
But here are colours red and white,
B right image of an angel's wit,
OF HER WILL.
E ver well affeeted will,
OP HER MIND. E ARTH, now adieu, my ravish'd thought. Lifted to Heav'o sets thee at naught; I nfinite is my longing, Secrets of angels to be taught, A nd things to Heav'n belonging. Brought down from Heav'n of angels kind, E v'n now I do admire her mind, This is my contemplation, Her clear sweet spirit which is refin'd, A bove human creation. Rich sun-beam of th' eternal light, E xcellent soul, how shall I write ; Good angels make ine able; I cannot see but by yoаr eye, N or, but by your tongue, signify A thing so admirable.
B e thou our law, sweet will, and say,
OP HER MEMORY. EXCELLENT jewels would you see, Lovely ladies come with me, I will (for love I owe you) S how you as rich a treasury, A s east or west can show you. Behold, if you can judge of it, E r'n that great store-bouse of her wit, T hat beautiful large table, H er memory, wherein is writ A ll knowledge admirable. Read this fair book, and you shall learn E xquisite skill; if you discern, Gain Heav'n by this discerning; In such a memory divine, Nature did form the Muses nine, A nd Pallas, queen of learning.
OF THE PASSIONS OP HER HEART. E XAMINE not th' inscrutable heart, Light Muse of her, though she in part I mpart it to the subject; Search not, although from Heav'n thou art, A nd this an heav'nly object. B ut since she hath a heart, we know, E re some passions thence do flow, Though ever ruled with honour ; H er judgment reigns, they wait below, A nd fix their eyes upon her. Rectify'd so, they in their kind E ncrease each virtue of her mind, Govern'd with mild tranquillity ; In all the regions under Hear'n, No state doth bear itself so even, A nd with so sweet facility.
OF HER FANCY. E XQUISITE curiosity, Look on thyself with judging eye, I faught be faulty, leave it: So delicate a fantasy As this, will straight perceive it. Because her temper is so hne, Endow'd with harmonies divine; Therefore if discord strike it, H er trae proportions do repine, A nd sadly do mislike it.
HYMN XXI. OF THE INNUMERABLE VIRTUES OF HER XINA E RE thou proceed in these sweet pains Learn, Muse, how many drops it rains In cold and moist December; Sum up May flow'rs, and August's grains, A nd grapes of mild September. B ear the sea's sand in memory, Earth's grass, and the stars in the sky, The little moats which mounted, H ang iu the beams of Phoebus' eye, A nd never can be counted.
Right otherwise a pleasure sweet,
Recount these numbers numberless,
OF HER WISDOM.
OF THE ORGANS OF HER MIND. E Clips'o she is, and her bright rays Lie under veils, yet many ways I s her fair form revealed; She diversely herself conveys, A nd cannot be concealed. By instruments her pow'rs appear Exceedingly well tun'd and clear: T his lute is still in measure, Holds still in tune, e'en like a sphere, And yields the world sweet pleasure. Resolve me, Muse, how this thing is, E re a body like to this Gave Hear'n to earthly creature? I am but fond this doubt to make, No doubt the angels bodies take, A bove our common nature.
E AGLB-ey'd Wisdom, life's load-star,
Right princely virtue fit to reign,