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242 OF THE QUEEN'S RETURN FROM THE LOW
COUNTRIES

HALLOW the threshold, crown the posts anew!
The day shall have its due.

Twist all our victories into one bright wreath,
On which let honour breathe:

Then throw it round the temples of our Queen!
"Tis she that must preserve those glories green.

When greater tempests than on sea before
Received her on the shore;

When she was shot at 'for the King's own good
By legions hired to blood;

How bravely did she do, how bravely bear!

And show'd, though they durst rage, she durst not fear.

Courage was cast about her like a dress

Of solemn comeliness:

A gather'd mind and an untroubled face

Did give her dangers grace:

Thus, arm'd with innocence, secure they move
Whose highest 'treason' is but highest love.

263

JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE

[1612-1650]

MY DEAR AND ONLY LOVE

My dear and only Love, I pray
That little world of thee
Be govern'd by no other sway
Than purest monarchy;
For if confusion have a part

(Which virtuous souls abhor),

244

And hold a synod in thine heart,
I'll never love thee more.

Like Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone;

My thoughts did evermore disdain

A rival on my throne.

He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,

That dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose it all.

And in the empire of thine heart,
Where I should solely be,

If others do pretend a part
Or dare to vie with me,
Or if Committees thou erect,
And go on such a score,
I'll laugh and sing at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.

But if thou wilt prove faithful then,
And constant of thy word,
I'll make thee glorious by my pen
And famous by my sword;

I'll serve thee in such noble ways
Was never heard before;

I'll crown and deck thee all with bays,
And love thee more and more.

RICHARD CRASHAW

[1613 (?)-1649]

WISHES FOR THE SUPPOSED MISTRESS

WHOE'ER she be,

That not impossible She

That shall command my heart and me;

Where'er she lie,

Lock'd up from mortal eye
In shady leaves of destiny:

Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth,

And teach her fair steps tread our earth;

Till that divine

Idea take a shrine

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:

-Meet you her, my Wishes,

Bespeak her to my blisses,

And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.

I wish her beauty

That owes not all its duty

To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie:

Something more than

Taffata or tissue can,

Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

A face that's blest

By its own beauty drest,

And can alone commend the rest:

A face made up

Out of no other shop

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.

Sydneian showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Whate'er delight

Can make day's forehead bright

Or give down to the wings of night.

Soft silken hours,

Open suns, shady bowers;

'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

Days, that need borrow

No part of their good morrow

From a fore-spent night of sorrow:

Days, that in spite

Of darkness, by the light

Of a clear mind are day all night.

Life, that dares send

A challenge to his end,

And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend.'

I wish her store

Of worth may leave her poor

Of wishes; and I wish- -no more.

-Now, if Time knows

That Her, whose radiant brows
Weave them a garland of my vows;

Her that dares be

What these lines wish to see:

I seek no further, it is She.

'Tis She, and here

Lo! I unclothe and clear
My wishes' cloudy character.

Such worth as this is

Shall fix my flying wishes,

And determine them to kisses.

Let her full glory,

My fancies, fly before ye;

Be ye my fictions:-but her story.

245

ON THE BOOK AND PICTURE OF THE
SERAPHICAL SAINT TERESA

Lay = "hese conquering leaves: live all the

Art walk tamuga al

Live here great tear

ges one triumphan: ze love, and die, an i IN WHIA II geld, and conquer rate were er it comes

a zrew of oves und martyrdoms.
no mars van in and wise souls be
vitresses of life of thee.
were thy art

red heart;
sight, that play
arge books of day,
reast face break in,
*me and sin;
bounty be

es ar spells of me.
**er of desires!

sires:
O the dove;
of love:
leal day,
ere arge than they;
Sence desire,

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