[From “ the Academy of Compliments," edit. 1671.)

Come, Chloris, hie we to the bower,
To sport us ere the day be done!


flower Will ope to thee as to the sun,

Such is thy power,

And if a flower but chance to die

With my sigh's blast or mine eyes' rain, Thou canst revive it with thine eye,

And with thy breath make sweet again.

The wanton suckling, and the vine,

Will strive for th' honour, who first may With their green arms encircle thine,

To keep the burning sun away.

[From " Windsor Drollery," London, 1672.]

CUPID once was weary grown With women's errands- laid him down On a refreshing rosy bed The same sweet covert harboured A bee; and as she always had A quarrel with love's idle lad, Stings the soft boy: pain and strong fears Straight melts him into cries and tears. As wings and feet would let each other, Home he hastens to his mother; Then on her knees he hangs his head, And cries, “ O mother, I am dead! “ An ugly snake, they call a bee, “ (O see it swell) hath murder'd me.” Venus with smiles replied, “O sir, 6 Does a bee's sting make all this stir? “ Think what pains then attend those darts “ Wherewith thou still art wounding hearts: E'en let it smart, may chance that then 6. Thou'lt learn more pity towards men."

[In Wither Redivivus, in a small new-year's-gift,"

4to. 1689, and there called a copy from verses long since made."]

[From 11 stanzas.)

OPINION rules the human state,

And domineers in every land ;
Shall sea or mountain separate
Whom God hath join'd in nature's band ?

Dwell they far, or dwell they near,
They're all my father's children dear.

Lend me the bright wings of the morn,

That I from hence may take my flight
From Cancer unto Capricorn,
Far swifter than the lanp of night:

Where'er my winged soul doth fly
All's fair and lovely in mine eye..

Features and colours of the hair,

These all do meet in harmony;
The black, the brown, the red, the fair,
All tinctures of variety:

In single simple love alone
These various colours are but one.

l'th' phlegmatic I sweetness find,

The melancholy, grave and wise ;
The sanguine, merry to my mind,
From choler, flames of love arise :

In single simple love alone
All these complexions are but one.

The nightingale doth never say

(Though he be king of melody)
Unto the cuckoo or the jay,
Why sing you not so sweet as I?

Each tunes his harp in love alone,
These various notes are all but one.

With open arms let me embrace

The Heathen, Christian, Turk, or Jew,
The lovely and deförmed face,
The sober and the jovial crew.

In single simple love alone
All forms and features are but one.


[In Stephens's “ Oxford Miscellanies,” 1685, 8vo.]

[From 8 stanzas.]

Reason, thou vain impertinence,

Deluding hypocrite, begone!
And go and plague your men of sense,
But let


love and me alone!

In vain some dreaming thinking fool

Would make thee o'er our senses reign, And all our noble passions rule,

And constitute this creature man.

In vain some dotard may pretend

Thou art our torch to happiness To happiness—which poor mankind

As little know as Paradise.

At best, thou'rt but a glimmering light,

Which serves not to direct our way; But, like the moon, confounds our sight,

And only shews it is not day.

« ElőzőTovább »