TIT. Poor world, said I, what wilt thou And chase the trembling shades away. 75 do We saw Thee, and we blest the sight, We saw Thee by Thine own sweet Light. Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes, Ourselves become our own best sacrifice! 5 Happy those early days, when I Before I taught my tongue to wound 15 20 If thou canst get but thither, For none can thee secure Thy God, thy life, thy cure. THE WORLD 123 15 20 And all her train were hurled. The doting lover in his quaintest strain Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights, Wit's four delights, With gloves and knots, the silly snares of pleasure; Yet his dear treasure, All scattered lay, while he his eyes did The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe, Like a thick midnight-fog, moved there so slow, He did not stay nor go; Condemning thoughts, like sad eclipses, scowl Upon his soul, And clouds of crying witnesses without Pursued him with one shout; 20 Yet digged the mole, and lest his ways be found, The weaker sort, slight, trivial wares enslave, Who think them brave; And poor, despised Truth sat counting by Tell her that's young, Their victory. 45 And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share ANDREW MARVELL (1621-1678) AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND The forward youth that would appear Must now forsake his muses dear, Nor in the shadows sing His numbers languishing: 'Tis time to leave the books in dust, 5 And oil the unused armor's rust, Removing from the wall The corselet of the hall. And a few friends, and many books, both true, Both wise, and both delightful too! And since love ne'er will from me flee, A mistress moderately fair, And good as guardian angels are, Only beloved, and loving me. O fountains! when in you shall I 15 Within, Love's foes, his greatest foes, Myself, eased of unpeaceful thoughts, espy? |