Thus with unwearied wings I flee

Through all love's gardens and his fields; And, like the wise, industrious bee,

No weed but honey to me yields ! Honey still spent this diligence still supplies, Though I return not home with laden thighs. My soul at first indeed did

Of pretty strength against a dart,
Till I this habit got of love;

my consumed and wasted heart, Once burnt to tinder with a strong desire, Since that, by every spark is set on fire.


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GREAT and wise conqueror, who, where'er Thou comest, dost fortify, and settle there!

Who canst defend as well as get,
And never hadst one quarter beat up yet;

Now thou art in, thou ne'er wilt part

With one inch of my vanquish'd heart; For, since thou took'st it by assault from me, 'Tis garrison'd so strong with thoughts of thee,

It fears no beauteous enemy.

Had thy charming strength been less, I’ad served ere this an hundred mistresses:

I'm better thus, nor would compound
To leave my prison to be a vagabond :

A prison in which I still would be,
Though every door stood ope to me.

In spite both of thy coldness and thy pride,
All love is marriage on thy lover's side,

For only death can them divide.

Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind
As that which spirits above to good does bind,

Gentle and sweet Necessity,
Which does not force, but guide, our liberty !

Your love on me were spent in vain,


love still could but remain Just as it is; but what, alas! can be Added to that which hath infinity

Both in extent and quality.


When, ye

With more than Jewish reverence as yet
Do I the sacred name conceal;

kind stars, ah when will it be fit
This gentle mystery to reveal ?
When will our love be named, and we possess
That christening as a badge of happiness.
So bold as yet no verse of mine has been,

To wear that gem on any line;
Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse be seen,

Shall any stanza with it shine,
Rest, mighty name! till then; for thou must be
Laid down by her, ere taken up by me,
Then all the fields and woods shall with it ring;

Then Echo's burthen it shall be ;
Then all the birds in several notes shall sing,

And all the rivers murmur, thee;
Then every wind the sound shall upwards bear,
And softly whisper't to some angel's ear,

Then shall thy name through all my verse be spread,

Thick as the flowers in meadows lie,
And, when in future times they shall be read

(As sure, I think, they will not die)
If any critic doubt that they be mine,
Men by that stamp shall quickly know the coin.
Meanwhile I will not dare to make a name

To represent thee by;
Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame

One that enough should signify:
Astrea or Celia as unfit would

prove For thee, as 'tis to call the Deity Jove.

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SEE where she sits, and in what comely wise

Drops tears more fair than others' eyes.
Ah, charming maid! let not ill-fortune see

The' attire thy sorrow wears,

Nor know the beauty of thy tears ;
For she'll still come to dress herself in thee,
As stars reflect on waters, so I

spy. In every drop, methinks, her eye. The baby, which lives there, and always plays

In that illustrious sphere,

Like a Narcissus does appear,
Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gáze.
Ne'er yet did I behold so glorious weather,

As this sunshine and rain together.
Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of snow,

(For some such fountain we must find,

To waters of so fair a kind) Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! VOL. II,




Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat

Which made this precious limbec sweet! But what, alas! ah, what does it avail,

That she weeps tears so wondrous cold.

As scarce the ass's hoof can hold,
So cold, that I admire they fall not hail.



DISCREET! what means this word discreet ?

A curse on all discretion !
This barbarous term you will not meet

In all Love's lexicon.

Jointure, portion, gold, estate,

Houses, household-stuff, or land (The low conveniencies of Fate),

Are Greek no lovers understand.

Believe me, beauteous one! when love

Enters into a breast,
The two first things it does remove

Are friends and interest.

Passion's half blind, nor can endure

The careful, scrupulous eyes ; Or else I could not love, I'm

sure, One who in love were wise.

Men in such tempests toss'd about,

Will, without grief or pain,
Cast all their goods and riches out,

Themselves their port to gain.

As well might martyrs, who do choose

That sacred death to take, Mourn for the clothes which they must lose,

When they're bound naked to the stake.


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THY Maid! ah! find some nobler theme

Whereon thy doubts to place;
Nor by a low suspect blaspheme

The glories of thy face.
Alas! she makes thee shine so fair,

So exquisitely bright,
That her dim lamp must disappear

Before thy potent light.
Three hours each morn in dressing thee

Maliciously are spent;
And make that beauty tyranny,

That's else a civil government.
The' adorning thee with so much art

Is but a barbarous skill;
'Tis like the poisoning of a dart

Too apt before to kill.
The ministering angels none can see;

'Tis not their beauty' or face,
For which by men they worshipp'd be;

But their high office and their place,
Thou art

Goddess, my

Saint she;

pray to her, only to pray to thee.


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