DISDAIN RETURNED.
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires,
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts, with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires ;
Where these art not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.
No tears, Celia, now shall win,
My resolved heart to return ;
I have searched thy soul within
And find nought but pride and scorn; I have learned thy arts, and now
Can disdain as much as thou!
You that think love can convey
No other way,
But through the eyes, into the heart,
His fatal dart,
Close up those casements and but hear
This siren sing,
And on the wing
Of her sweet voice it shall appear
That love can enter at the ear.
Then unveil your eyes, behold
The curious mould
Where that voice dwells, and as we know,
When the cocks crow,
We freely may
Gaze on the day,
So may you, when the music's done,
Awake and see the rising sun.
THE LADY TO HER INCONSTANT SERVANT.
When on the altar of my hand,
Bedewed with many a kiss and tear,
Thy now revolted heart did stand
An humble martyr, thou didst swear
Thus, and the God of Love did hear :-
By those bright glances of thine eye,
Unless thou pity me, I die!
When first those perjured lips of thine,
Bepaled with blasting sighs, did seal
Their violated faith on mine,
From the soft bosom that did heal
Thee, thou my melting heart didst steal ;
My soul, enflamed with thy false breath,
Poisoned with kisses, sucked in death.
Yet I nor hand nor lip will move
Revenge or mercy to procure
From the offended god of love;
My curse is fatal, and my pure
Love shall beyond thy scorn endure;
If I implore the gods, they'll find
Thee too ungrateful, me too kind.
A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.
Shepherd. Nymph. Chorus.
Shep. This mossy bank they pressed.
Did canopy the happy pair
All night from the damp air.
Here let us sit, and sing the words they spoke,
Till the day, breaking, their embraces broke.
Shep. See, Love, the blushes of the morn appear,
And now she hangs her pearly store,
Robbed from the eastern shore,
In the cowslip's bell and roses rare ;
Sweet, I must stay no longer here!
Nym. Those streaks of doubtful light usher not day,
But show my sun must set; no morn
Shall shine till thou return;
The yellow planets and the grey
Dawn shall attend thee on thy way.
Shep. If thine eyes gild my paths, they may forbear
Their useless shine. Nym. My tears will quite
Extinguish their faint light.
Shep. Those drops will make their beams more clear,
Love's flames will shine in every tear.
Cho. They kissed and wept, and from their lips and eyes,
In a mixed dew, of briny sweet
Their joys and sorrows meet;
But she cries out. Nym. Shepherd, arise,
The sun betrays us else to spies.
Shep. The winged hours fly fast whilst we embrace,
But when we want their help to meet,
They move with leaden feet.
Nym. Then let us pinion time, and chase
The day forever from this place.
Shep. Hark! Nym. Ay me! stay! Shep. Forever: Nym. No! arise!
We must be gone! Shep. My nest of spice!
Nym. My soul! Shep. My Paradise!
Cho. Neither could say farewell, but through their eyes
Grief interrupted speech with tears' supplies.
Meanwhile the bubbling stream shall court the shore,
The enamoured chirping wood-choir shall adore
In varied tunes the deity of Love,
The gentle blasts of western winds shall move
The trembling leaves, and through their close boughs breathe
Still music, while we rest ourselves beneath
Their dancing shade, till a soft murmur, sent
From souls entranced in amorous languishment,
Rouse us, and shoot into our veins fresh fire,
Till we in their sweet extasy expire.
Daphne hath broke her bark, and that swift foot,
Which th' angry gods had fastened with a root
To the fixed earth, doth now unfettered run
To meet the embraces of the youthful Sun;
She hangs upon him, like his Delphic lyre,
Her kisses blow the old, and breathe new fire;
Full of her god, she sings inspired lays,
Sweet odes of love, such as deserve the bays
Which she herself was. Next her, Laura lies
In Petrarch's learned arms, drying those eyes,
That did in such sweet smooth-paced numbers flow
As made the world enamoured of his woe.
These, and ten thousand beauties more, that died
Slave to the tyrant, now, enlarged, deride
His cancelled laws, and, for their time misspent,
Pay into Love's exchequer double rent.
EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLERS.
The Lady Mary Villers lies
Under this stone; with weeping eyes
The parents that first gave her birth,
And their sad friends, laid her in earth.
If any of them, reader, were
Known unto thee, shed a tear;
Or if thyself possess a gem
As dear to thee as this to them,
Though a stranger to this place,
Bewail in theirs thy own hard case,
For thou, perhaps, at thy return
May'st find thy darling in an urn.
Would you know what's soft? I dare
Not bring you to the down, or air,
Nor to stars to show what's bright,
Nor to snow to teach you white;
Nor, if you would music hear,
Call the orbs to take your ear;
Nor, to please your sense, bring forth
Bruisëd nard, or what's more worth;
Or on food were your thoughts placed,
Bring you nectar for a taste;
Would you have all these in one,
Name my mistress, and 'tis done!
No more shall meads be decked with flowers,
Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers,
Nor greenest buds on branches spring,
Nor warbling birds delight to sing,
Nor April violets paint the grove,
If I forsake my Celia's love.
The fish shall in the ocean burn,
And fountains sweet shall bitter turn,
The humble oak no flood shall know
When floods shall highest hills o'erflow,
Black Lethe shall oblivion leave,
If e'er my Celia I deceive.
Love shall his bow and shaft lay by,
And Venus' doves want wings to fly,
The Sun refuse to show his light,
And day shall then be turned to night,
And in that night no star appear,
If once I leave my Celia dear.
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