What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice

Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

J. Milton

C

TO CYRIACK SKINNER

Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws,
Which others at their bar so often wrench;

To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,

And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
J. Milton

CI

A HYMN IN PRAISE OF NEPTUNE

Of Neptune's empire let us sing,

At whose command the waves obey;
To whom the rivers tribute pay,
Down the high mountains sliding;
To whom the scaly nation yields
Homage for the crystal fields

Wherein they dwell;

And every sea-god pays a gem
Yearly out of his watery cell,
To deck great Neptune's diadem.
The Tritons dancing in a ring,
Before his palace gates do make
The water with their echoes quake,
Like the great thunder sounding :

The sea-nymphs chaunt their accents shrill,
And the Syrens taught to kill

With their sweet voice,

Make every echoing rock reply,

Unto their gentle murmuring noise,

The praise of Neptune's empery.

T. Campion

CII

HYMN TO DIANA

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,

Seated in thy silver chair

State in wonted manner keep :
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made

Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart

And thy crystal-shining quiver;

Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever :
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright!

B. Jonson

G

CIII

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 best

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.

Sidneian 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.

R. Crashaw

CIV

THE GREAT ADVENTURER

Over the mountains

And over the waves,

Under the fountains

And under the graves;

Under floods that are deepest,

Which Neptune obey;

Over rocks that are steepest

Love will find out the way.

Where there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie;
Where there is no space

For receipt of a fly;

Where the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay ;

If love come, he will enter
And soon find out his way.

You may esteem him
A child for his might;
Or you may deem him

A coward from his flight;

But if she whom love doth honour

Be conceal'd from the day,

Set a thousand guards upon her,

Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him
By having him confined ;'
And some do suppose him,
Poor thing, to be blind;

But if ne'er so close ye wall him,
Do the best that you may,
Blind love, if so ye call him,
Will find out his way.