« السابقةمتابعة »
Beauty at first moves wonder and delight;
'Tis Nature's juggling trick to cheat the sight.
W'admire it whilst unknown; but after, more
Admire ourselves for liking it before.
Love, like a greedy hawk, if we give way,
Does over-gorge himself with his own prey;
Of very hopes a surfeit he'll sustain,
Unless by fears he cast them up again:
His spirit and sweetness dangers keep alone;
If once he lose his sting, he grows a drone.
SOME others may with safety tell
The moderate flames which in tnem dwell;
And either find some med'cine there,
Or cure themselves ev'n by despair;
My love's so great, that it might prove
Dangerous to tell her that I love.
So tender is my wound, it must not bear
Any salute, though of the kindest air,
Yet when I die, my last breath shall Grow bold, and plainly tell her all: Like covetous men, who ne'er descry Their dear-hid treasures till they die. Ah, fairest maid! how will it cheer My ghost, to get from thee a tear! But take heed; for if me thou pitiest then, Twenty to one but I shall live again.
For what do they complain?
What courtesy can Love do more,
Than to join hearts that parted were before?
Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come
Into the self-same room;
'Twill tear and blow up all within,
Like a granado shot into a magazine.
No; thou'rt a fool, I'll swear, if e'er thou grant; If so it be one place both hearts contain,
Much of my veneration thou must want,
When once thy kindness puts my ignorance out;
For a learn'd age is always least devout.
Keep still thy distance; for at once to me
Goddess and woman too thou canst not be:
Thou'rt queen of all that sees thee, and as such
Must neither tyrannize nor yield too much;
Such freedoms give as may admit command,
But keep the forts and magazines in hand.
Thou 'rt yet a whole world to me, and dost fill
My large ambition; but 'tis dangerous still,
Lest I like the Pellæan prince should be,
And weep for other worlds, having conquer'd thee:
When Love has taken all thou hast away,
His strength by too much riches will decay,
Thou in my fancy dost much higher stand,
Than women can be plac'd by Nature's hand
And I must needs, I'm sure, a loser be,
To change thee, as thou'rt there, for very thee.
Thy sweetness is so much within me plac'd,
That, should'st thou nectar give, 'twould spoil the
I would not have her know the pain,
The torments, for her I sustain;
Lest too much goodness make her throw
Her love upon a fate too low.
Forbid it, Heaven! my life should be
Weigh'd with her least conveniency:
No, let me perish rather with my grief,
Than, to her disadvantage, find relief!
THE GIVEN HEART.
WONDER what those lovers mean, who say They 'ave given their hearts away: Some good kind lover, tell me how: For mine is but a torment to me now.
Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts
Of both our broken hearts;
Shall out of both one new one make,
From her's th' allay, from mine the metal, tako,
For of her heart he from the flames will find
But little left behind:
Mine only will remain entire ;
No dross was there, to perish in the fire.
TEACH me to love! go teach thyself more wit;
I chief professor am of it.
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews,
Teach boldness to the stews;
In tyrants' courts teach supple flattery;
Teach Jesuits, that have travell'd far, to lie;
Teach fire to burn, and winds to blow,
Teach restless fountains how to flow,
Teach the dull Earth fixt to abide,
Teach women-kind inconstancy and pride:
See if your diligence here will useful prove;
But, pr'ythee, teach not me to love.
The god of love, if such a thing there be,
May learn to love from me;
He who does boast that he has been
In every heart since Adam's sin;
I'll lay my life, nay mistress, on't, that's more,
I'll teach him things he never knew before;
I'll teach him a receipt, to make
Words that weep, and tears that speak;
I'll teach him sighs, like those in death,
At which the souls go out too with the breath:
Still the soul stays, yet still does from me run,
As light and heat does with the Sun.
'Tis I who Love's Columbus am; 'tis I
Who must new worlds in it descry;
Rich worlds, that yield a treasure more
Than all that has been known before.
And yet like his, I fear, my fate must be,
To find them out for others, not for me.
Go, let the fatted calf be kill'd;
My prodigal's come home at last,
With noble resolutions fill'd,
And fill'd with sorrow for the past:
No more will burn with love or wine;
But quite has left his women and his swine.
Welcome, ah! welcome, my poor Heart!
Welcome! I little thought, I'll swear ('Tis now so long since we did part)
Ever again to see thee here:
Dear wanderer! since from me you fled, How often have I heard that thou wert dead! Hast thou not found each woman's breast (The lands where thou hast travelled) Either by savages possest,
Or wild, and uninhabited?
What joy could'st take, or what repose, In countries so unciviliz'd as those?
Lust, the scorching dog-star, here
Rages with immoderate heat;
Whilst Pride, the rugged northern bear,
In others makes the cold too great:
And where these are temperate known, The soil 's all barren sand or rocky stone. When once or twice you chanc'd to view A rich, well-govern'd heart,
Like China, it admitted you
But to the frontier-part.
From Paradise shut for evermore,
What good is 't that an angel kept the door?
Well fare the pride, and the disdain,
And vanities, with beauty join'd;
I ne'er had seen this heart again,
If any fair-one had been kind:
My dove, but once let loose, I doubt
Would ne'er return, had not the lood been out.
THE HEART FLED AGAIN. FALSE, foolish Heart! didst thou not say That thou would'st never leave me more? Behold! again 'tis fled away,
Fled as far from me as before.
I strove to bring it back again;
I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain.
Ev'n so the gentle Tyrian dame,
When neither grief nor love prevail,
Saw the dear object of her flame,
Th' ingrateful Trojan, hoist his sail :
Aloud she call'd to him to stay;
The wind bore him and her lost words away.
The doleful Ariadne so,
On the wide shore forsaken stood:
"False Theseus whither dost thou go?"
Afar false Theseus cut the flood.
But Bacchus came to her relief;
Bacchus himself 's too weak to ease my grief.
Ah! senseless Heart, to take no rest,
But travel thus eternally!
Thus to be froz'n in every breast!
And to be scorch'd in every eye!
Wandering about like wretched Cain,
Thrust-out, ill-us'd, by all, but by none slain!
Well, since thou wilt not here remain,
I'll e'en to live without thee try;
My head shall take the greater pain,
And all thy duties shall supply:
I can more easily live, I know,
Without thee, than without a mistress thou.
OR I'm a very dunce, or woman-kind
Is a most unintelligible thing:
I.can no sense nor no contexture find,
Nor their loose parts to method bring:
I know not what the learn'd may see,
But they're strange Hebrew things to me.
By customs and traditions they live,
And foolish ceremonies of antique date;
We lovers, new and better doctrines give,
Yet they continue obstinate:
Preach we, Love's prophets, what we will, Like Jews, they keep their old law still,
Will cry, "Absurd!" and ask me how I live;
And syllogisms against it give.
A curse on all your vain philosophies,
Which on weak Nature's law depend,
And know not how to comprehend
Love and religion, those great mysteries!
Her body is my soul; laugh not at this,
For by my life I swear it is.
'Tis that preserves my being and my breath; From that proceeds all that I do,
Nay all my thoughts and speeches too; And separation from it is my death.
THE RICH RIVAL.
say you're angry, and rant mightily,
Because I love the same as you :
Alas! you're very rich, 'tis true;
But, pr'ythee, fool! what's that to love and me?
You 'ave land and money, let that serve;
And know you'ave more by that than you deserve.
When next I see my fair-one, she shall know
How worthless thou art of her bed;
And, wretch! I'll strike thee dumb and dead,
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole rhetoric shall be
"Jointure" and "jewels," and "
Poxo' your friends, that doat and domineer;
Lovers are better friends than they ;
Let's those in other things obey;
The fates, and stars, and gods, must govern
Vain names of blood! in love let none
Advise with any blood, but with their own.
'Tis that which bids me this bright maid adore;
No other thought has had access!
Did she now beg, I'd love no less,
And, were she an empress, I should love no more;
Were she as just and true to me,
Ah, simple soul! what would become of thee?
TIR'D with the rough denials of my prayer,
From that hard she whom I obey;
I come, and find a nymph much gentler here,
That gives consent to all I say.
Ah, gentle nymph! who lik'st so well
In hollow, solitary caves to dwell;
Her heart being such, into it go,
And do but once from thence answer me so !
Complaisant nymph! who dost thus kindly
In griefs whose cause thou dost not know;
Hadst thou but eyes, as well as tongue and ear,
How much compassion would'st thou show!
Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,
Was of less beauty, and less ravishing power.
Alas! I might as easily
Paint thee to her, as describe her to thee.
By repercussion beams engender fire;
Shapes by reflection shapes beget;
The voice itself, when stopt, does back retire,
And a new voice is made by it.
Thus things by opposition
The gainers grow; my barren love alone
Does from her stony breast rebound,
Producing neither image, fire, nor sound.
Sire of Repentance! child of fond Desire!
That blow'st the chymics', and the lovers', fire,
Leading them still insensibly' on
By the strange witchcraft of "anon!"
By thee the one does changing Nature, through
Her endless labyrinths, pursue;
And th' other chases woman, whilst she goes
More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows.
HOPE! of all ills that men endure,
The only cheap and universal cure! [health!
Thou captive's freedom, and thou sick man's
Thou loser's victory, and thou beggar's wealth!
Thou manna, which from Heaven we eat,
To every taste a several meat!
Thou strong retreat! thou sure-entail'd estate,
Which nought has power to alienate!
Thou pleasant, honest flatterer! for none
Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone!
Hope! thou first-fruits of happiness! Thou gentle dawning of a bright success! Thou good preparative, without which our joy Does work too strong, and, whilst it cures, destroy!
Who out of Fortune's reach dost stand, And art a blessing still in hand! Whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain, We certain are to gain,
Whether she her bargain break, or else fulfil; Thou only good, not worse for ending ill!
Brother of Faith! 'twixt whom and thee The joys of Heaven and Earth divided be! Though Faith be heir, and have the fixt estate, Thy portion yet in moveables is great.
Happiness itself's all one
In thee, or in possession!
Only the future's thine, the present his!
Thine's the more hard and noble bliss:
Best apprehender of our joys! which hast
So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast!
Hope! thou sad lovers' only friend!
Thou Way, that may'st dispute it with the End!
For love, I fear, a fruit that does delight
The taste itself less than the smell and sight,
Fruition more deceitful is
What ill returns dost thou allow!
I fed thee then, and thou dost starve me now.
There was a time when thou wast cold and chill,
Nor hadst the power of doing ill;
Into my bosom did I take
This frozen and benumbed snake,
Not fearing from it any harm;
But now it stings that breast which made it warm.
What cursed weed's this Love! but one grain sow,
And the whole field 'twill overgrow;
Straight will it choak up and devour
Each wholesome herb and beauteous flower! Nay, unless something soon I do, 'Twill kill, I fear, my very laurel too.
But now all's gone-I now, alas! complain,
Declare, protest, and threat, in vain;
Since, by my own unforc'd consent,
The traitor has my government,
And is so settled in the throne,
That 'twere rebellion now to claim mine own,
I KNOW 'tis sordid, and 'tis low,
(All this as well as you I know)
Which I so hotly now pursue,
(I know all this as well as you)
But, whilst this cursed flesh I bear, And all the weakness and the baseness there, Alas! alas! it will be always so.
In vain, exceedingly in vain,
I rage sometimes, and bite my chain; Yet to what purpose do I bite With teeth which ne'er will break it quite! For, if the chiefest Christian head Was by this sturdy tyrant buffeted, What wonder is it if weak I be slain ?
As water fluid is, till it do grow Solid and fixt by cold;
So in warm seasons Love does loosely flow;
Frost only can it hold:
A woman's rigour and disdain
Does his swift course restrain.
Though constant and consistent now it be,
Yet, when kind beams appear,
It melts, and glides apace into the sea,
And loses itself there.
So the Sun's amorous play
Kisses the ice away.
You may in vulgar loves find always this;
But my substantial love
Of a more firm and perfect nature is ;
No weathers can it move:
Though heat dissolve the ice again,
The crystal solid does remain.
THEN like some wealthy island thou shalt lie, And like the sea about it, I;
Thou, like fair Albion to the sailor's sight,
Spreading her beauteous bosom all in white;
Like the kind Ocean I will be,
With loving arms for ever clasping thee.
But I'll embrace thee gentlier far than so;
As their fresh banks soft rivers do:
Nor shall the proudest planet boast a power
Of making my full love to ebb one hour;
It never dry or low can prove,
Whilst thy unwasted fountain feeds my love.
Such heat and vigour shall our kisses bear,
As if like doves w' engender'd there:
No bound nor rule my pleasures shall endure,
In love there's none too much an epicure:
Nought shall my hands or lips control; I'll kiss thee through, I'll kiss thy very soul. Yet nothing but the Night our sports shall know; Night, that's both blind and silent too! Alpheus found not a more secret trace, His lov'd Sicanian fountain to embrace,
Creeping so far beneath the sea, Than I will do t'enjoy and feast on thee. Men, out of wisdom; women, out of pride, The pleasant thefts of love do hide : That may secure thee; but thou 'ast yet from me A more infallible security;
For there's no danger I should tell The joys which are to me unspeakable.
In vain, thou drowsy god! I thee invoke ;
For thou, who dost from fumes arise-
Thou, who man's soul dost overshade
With a thick cloud by vapours made-
Canst have no power to shut his eyes,
Or passage of his spirits to choke,
Whose flame's so pure that it sends up no smoke.
Yet how do tears but from such vapours rise?
Tears, that bewinter all my year?
The fate of Egypt I sustain,
And never feel the dew of rain,
From clouds which in the head appear;
But all my too much moisture owe
To overflowings of the heart below.
As men in Greenland left beheld the Sun
From their horizon run,
And thought upon the sad half-year
Of cold and darkness they must suffer there
So on my parting mistress did I look;
With such swoln eyes my farewell took :
Ah, my fair star! said I;
Ah, those blest lands to which bright Thou dost
In vain the men of learning comfort me,
And say I'm in a warm degree;
Say what they please, I say and swear 'Tis beyond eighty at least, if you 're not here.
It is, it is; I tremble with the frost,
And know that I the day have lost; And those wild things which men they call, I find to be but bears or foxes all. Return, return, gay planet of mine East,
Of all that shines thou much the best! And, as thou now descend'st to sea, More fair and fresh rise up from thence to me Thou, who in many a propriety, So truly art the Sun to me,