GOOD COUNSEL TO A YOUNG MAID.
WHEN you the sun-burnt pilgrim see,
Fainting with thirst, haste to the springs;
Mark how at first with bended knee
He courts the chrystal nymphs, and flings
His body to the earth, where he
Prostrate adores the flowing deity.
But when his sweaty face is drench'd
In her cool waves, when from her sweet
Bosom his burning thirst is quench'd;
Then mark how with disdainful feet
He kicks her banks, and from the place
That thus refresh'd him, moves with sullen pace.
So shalt thou be despis'd, fair maid,
When by the sated lover tasted;
What first he did with tears invade,
Shall afterwards with scorn be wasted;
When all the virgin springs grow dry,
When no stream shall be left, but in thine eye.*
THOUGH frost and snow lock'd from mine eyes
That beauty which without door lies,
The gardens, orchards, walks, that so
I might not all thy pleasures know;
*This little poem is entirely worthy of Carew's sense and ele.
Yet, Saxham, thou, within thy gate,
Art of thyself so delicate,
So full of native sweets, that bless
Thy roof with inward happiness;
As neither from, nor to thy store,
Winter takes aught, or spring adds more.
The cold and frozen air had starv'd
Much poor, if not by thee preserv'd;
Whose prayers have made thy table blest
With plenty, far above the rest.
The season hardly did afford
Coarse cates unto thy neighbour's board,
Yet thou hadst dainties, as the sky
Had only been thy volary;*
Or else the birds, fearing the snow
Might to another deluge grow,
The pheasant, partridge, and the lark,
Flew to thy house, as to the ark.
The willing ox of himself came
Home to the slaughter, with the lamb,
And every beast did thither bring
Himself to be an offering.
The scaly herd more pleasure took,
Bath'd in thy dish, than in the brook.
Water, earth, air, did all conspire
To pay their tributes to thy fire;
Whose cherishing flames themselves divide
Through every room, where they deride
The night, and cold abroad; whilst they,
Like suns within, keep endless day.
Those cheerful beams send forth their light,
To all that wander in the night,
A great bird-cage, in which the birds have room to fly up and down.
And seem to beckon from aloof
The weary pilgrim to thy roof;
Where, if refresh'd, he will away,
He's fairly welcome; or, if stay,
Far more, which he shall hearty find,
Both from the master and the hind.
The stranger's welcome each man there
Stamp'd on his cheerful brow doth wear;
Nor doth this welcome, or his cheer,
Grow less, 'cause he stays longer here.
There's none observes, much less repines,
How often this man sups or dines.
Thou hast no porter at the door
T'examine or keep back the poor;
Nor locks nor bolts; thy gates have been
Made only to let strangers in;
Untaught to shut, they do not fear
To stand wide open all the year;
Careless who enters, for they know
Thou never didst deserve a foe;
And as for thieves, thy bounty's such,
They cannot steal, thou giv'st so much.
THE WILLING PRISONER TO HIS MISTRESS.
LET fools great Cupid's yoke disdain,
Loving their own wild freedom better;
Whilst proud of my triumphant chain,
I sit and court my beauteous fetter.
Her murdering glances, snaring hairs,
And her bewitching smiles so please me,
As he brings ruin, that repairs
The sweet afflictions that disease me.
Hide not those panting balls of snow
With envious veils from my beholding;
Unlock those lips, their pearly row
In a sweet smile of love unfolding.
And let those eyes, whose motion wheels
The restless fate of every lover,
Survey the pains my sick heart feels,
And wounds themselves have made, discover.
HENCE, vain intruder! haste away,
Wash not with unhallowed brine
The footsteps of my Celia's shrine;
Nor on her purer altars lay
Thy empty words, accents that may
Some looser dame to love incline:
She must have offerings more divine;
Such pearly drops, as youthful May
Scatters before the rising day;
Such smooth soft language, as each line
Might stroaket an angry god, or stay
Jove's thunder, make the hearers pine
With envy do this, thou shalt be
Servant to her, rival with me.
An ancient phrase for pacify.
MARK how the bashful morn in vain
Courts the amorous marigold
With sighing blasts and weeping rain;
Yet she refuses to unfold:
But when the planet of the day
Approacheth with his powerful ray,
Then she spreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin leaves.*
So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy;
If thy tears and sighs discover
Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy
The just reward of a bold lover:
But when with moving accents thou
Shalt constant faith and service vow,
Thy Celia shall receive those charms
With open ears, and with unfolded arms.
THIS mossy bank they prest. NYм. that aged oak Did canopy the happy pair
All night from the damp air.
* A modern poet seems to have availed himself of this beautiful passage, and made a very happy use of it. See the Fables of Flora, Fab. I.-We may observe here, that many, very many of the most beautiful passages which are found in the poems of this age, have been borrowed from the neglected bards of the 16th and 17th cen turies.
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