Leave me a while alone; grief's tide grows low, “ You few thin boards, how in so scanted room And ebbš, when private tears the eye-banks over So quiet such great enemies contain ye? flow.

All joy, all grief lies in this narrow tomb:

You contraries, how thus in peace remain ye, She quickly rose, and ready now to go,

That one small cabin so should entertain ye : “Remember measure in your griefs complaining; But joy is dead, and here entomb'd doth lie, His last, his dying words command you so :” While grief is come to moan his dead lor'd enemy. So left her, and Eliza sole remaining, Now every grief more boldly entertaining,

“ How many virtues in this little space They flock about her round, so one was gone,

(This little little space) lie buried ever! And twenty fresh arriv'd. 'Lone grief is least alone. In him they liv'd and with them every grace ;

In him they liv'd, and dy'd, and rise will never. Thus as she sat with fix'd and settled eye,

Fond men! go now, in virtue's steps persever ; Thousand fond thoughts their wand'ring shapes Go sweat, and toil; thus you inglorious lie :

depainted. Now seem'd she mounted to the crystal sky,

In this old frozen age virtue itself can die. And one with him, and with him fellow-sainted ;

“ Those petty northern stars do never fall, Straight pull'd from Heav'n : and then again she Erer unınov'd it moves, and ever shall :

The unwash'd Bear the ocean ware despises ; fainted :

[brought, Thus while their numerous thoughts each fancy

The Sun, which oft his head in night disguises, The mind all idle sat: much thinking lost her

So often as he falls, so often rises;

And stealing backward by some hidden way,[day. thought.

With self same light begins and ends the year and And fancy, finding now the dulled sight

“ The flowers, which in the absence of the Sun Idle with business, to her soul presented

Sleep in their winter-houses all disarm'd, (While th' heavy mind obscur'd his sbaded light) And backward to their mother's womb do run; Her woful body from her head absented; [mented, soon as the Earth by Taurus' horns is warm’d,

And sudden starting, with that thought tor Muster their colour'd troops ; and freshly arm’d, A thing impossible too true she found : (sound. Spreading their braving colours to the skie, The head was gone, and yet the headless body Winter and winter's spite, bold little elves, defy. Nor yet awake she cries; “ Ah! this is wrong, But virtue's heav'nly and more glorious light, To part what Nature's hand so near hath tied ; Though seeming ever sure, yet oft dismounteth; Stay, oh my head, and take thy trunk along :" And sinking low, sleeps in eternal night, But then her mind (recall’d) her errour spied ; Nor ever more his broken sphere remounteth:

And sigh'd to see how true the fancy lied, Her sweetest flower, which other flowers surWhich made the eye his instrument to see

mounteth That true, which being true itself must nothing be. As far as roses nettles, soonest fadeth ; [bladeth. ** Vile trunk" (says she) " thy head is ever gone;

Down falls her glorious leaf, and never more it Vile heedless trunk, why art thou not engraved ?

“And as that dainty flower, the maiden rose,
One wast thou once with him, now art thou none, Her swelling bosom to the Sun discloses ;
Or if thou art, or wert, how art thou saved ? Soon as her lover hot and fiery grows,

And livest still, when he to death is slaveil ? Straight all her sweets unto his heat exposes,
But, (ah)!) when well I think, 1 plainly see,

Then soon disrob'd her sweet and beauty loses; "That death to him was life, and life is death to me.

While hurtful weeds, hemlocks, and nettles stinking

[sinking. “ Vile trunk, if yet he live, ah ! then again Soon from the earth ascend, late to their graves are Why seek'st thou not with him to be combined ? * All so the virtuous bed in blooming falls, But, oh! since he in Heav'n doth living reign,

Whilé vice long fourishing late sees her ending : Death wer't to him in such knots to be twined; Virtue once dead no gentle spring recals; And life to me with him to be confined :

Dat vice springs of itself, and soon ascending, So while I better think, I eas'ly see [to me.

Long views the day, late to his night descending. My life to him were death, his death were life Vain men, that in this life set up your rest, " Then die with him, vile trunk, and dying live;" Which to the ill is long, and short unto the best! Or rather with him live, his life applying, “ And as a dream,'where th' idle fancy plays, Where thou shalt never die, nor ever grieve: One thinks that fortune high his head advances ; But ah, though death thou feel'st within thee Another spends in woe bis weary days; lying,

[dying : A third seems sport in love, and courtly dances ; Thou ne'er art dead, though still in sorrow A fourth to find some glitt'ring treasure chances ; Most wretched soul, which hast thy seat and Soon as they wake, they see their thoughts were being,

[agreeing?

vain. Where life with death is one, and death with life And either quite forget, or laugh their idle brain : " He lives and joys; death life to him hath bred : “ Such is the world, and such life's quick-spent Why is he living then in earth enwolnbed?

play:

[ing But I, a walking corse, in life am dead :

This base, and scorn'd; that great, in high esteemTis I, my friends, 'tis I must be entombed ; This poor, and patched seems; that rich, and gay, Whose joy with grief, whose life with death's This sick, that sound ; yet all is but a seeming, benumbed ?

So like, that waking oft we fear we're dreaming; Thou, coffin, art not his, nor be is thine ; [shrine. And think we wake oft, when we dreaming play. Mine art thou': thou the dead, and not the living's Dreams are as living nights ; life as a dreaming day..

* Go then, vain life; for I will trust no more [ne : Fell once again; so to her bed they bore ber: Thy flattering dreams; death, to thy resting take while friends (nó friends) hard love to life and Thou sleep without all dreams, life's quiet shore,

grief restore her. When wilt thou come? when wilt thou overtake me ?

“Unfriendly friends," saith she," why do ye strive Enough I now have liv'd ; loth'd life forsake me: To bar wish'd Death from his so just ingression ? Thou good men's endless light, thou ill men's Your pity kills me; 'tis my death to live, feast;

And life to die : it is as great oppression That at the best art bad, and worst art to the best.” To force out death, as life from due possession.

'Tis much more great: better that quickly spills Thus as in tears she drowns her swollen eyes, A lothed life, than he that with long torture kills.” A sudden noise recalls them; backward bending Her weary head, there all in black she spies And then, as if her guiltless bed offended : Six mournful bearers, the sad herse attending, Thou traitrous bed, when first thou didst reTheir feet and hands to that last duty lending:

ceive ne, All silent stood she, trembling, pale, and wan; Not single to thy rest I then ascended : The first grief left his stage, anew his part began. Double I came, why should I single leave thee? And now the coffin in their arms they take,

Why of my better part dost thou bereave me? While she with weight of grief sat still amazed;

Two press'd thee first: why should but one de-' As do sear leaves in March, so did she quake,

part?

[part !" And with intented eyes upon them gazed:

Restore, thou trait'rous bed, restore that better But when from ground the doleful herse they

Thus while one grief another's place inherits, raised, Down on the bier half dead she careless fell;

And one yet hardly spent, a new complained : While tears did talk apace, and sighs her sorrows And sleep too long from so wish'd seat restrained,

Grief's leaden vapour dulls the heavy spirits, tell.

Now of her eyes un'wares possession gained ; At last, “ Fond men,” said she, “ you are deceiv'd; And that she might him better welcome give, It is not he, 'tis I must be interred:

Her lord he new presents, and makes him fresla Not he, but I of life and soul beri av'd;

to live. He lives in Heav'n, among the saints referred :

This trunk, this headless body, must be buried.” She thinks he lives, and with her goes along; But while by force some hold her, up they rear And oft she kiss'd his cheek, and oft embrac'd ; him,

[him. And sweetly ask'd him where he staid so long, And weeping at her tears, away they softly bear While he again her in his arms enlaced ; But then impatient grief all passion proves,

Till strong delight her dream and joy defaced ;

But then she willing sleeps ; sleep glad receives She prays and weeps ; with tears she doth entreat But when this only fellow-passion moves, [them, and she as glad of sleep, that with such shapes de

[ceives ber. She storms and raves, and now as fast doth threat them;

(them; Sleep, widow'd eyes, and cease so fierce lamenting; And as she only could, with words doth beat Sleep, grieved heart, and now a little rest thee: " Ah, cruel men ! ah, men most cruel, stay !

Sleep, sighing words, stop all your discontenting ; It is my heart, my life, my soul, you bear away!" Sleep, beaten breast ; no blows shall now molest

thee : And now no sooner was he out of sight, As if she would make good what she had spoken, Sleep, happy lips; in mutual kisses nest ye: Finst from her heart's deep centre deep she sigh'd, Sleep, weary Muse, and do not now disease her: Then (as if heart, and life, and soul, were broken) Fancy, do thou with dreams and his sweet preDuwa dead she fell; and oucu again awoken,

sence please her.

her;

THE

POEMS

OF

FRANCIS BEAUMONT.