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Who Lina weddeth, shall most happy be;
Though maiden none be she,
A girl or boy beneath her waist confind:
And though bright Ceres' locks be never shorn,
He shall be sure this year to lack no corn.
Why Love doth naked go?
He wond'ring heard, it made him so rejoice,
And since from lip and lap hers cannot stray.
WRETCH'D Niobe I am;
Let wretches read my case,
Not such who with a tear ne'er wet their face.
And sons as many, which one fatal day,
Grief turn'd me stone, stone too doth me entomb;
Which if thou dost mistrust,
Of this hard rock but ope the finty womb,
And here thou shalt find marble, and no dust.
CHANGE OF LOVE.
Once did I weep and groan,
But now, thanks to disdain !
I live reliev'd of pain.
For sighs I singing go,
I burn not as before-no, no, no, no !
How dost thou thus me burn?
But rather, plaintful case!
of ice art marble made, to my disgrace.
O miracle of love, not heard till now !
Cold ice doth burn, and hard by fire doth grow.
TIME makes great states decay,
Time draws deep furrows in the fairest face,
Time wisdom, force, renown, doth take away; Than phenix burning in his spicy nest.
Time doth consume the years,
I shall not fear thus, though she stray alone,
I shall not think her heart feels upcouth fire;
Her thoughts with mine will hold an equal line,
I shall be hers, and she shall all be mine.
EURYMEDON'S PRAISE OF MIRA. And now with Stygian mists
Gem of the mountains, glory of our plains !
Rare miracle of nature, and of love!
Sweet Atlas, who all beauty's Heavens sustains, Now seems to bring Deucalion's days agaiu : No, beauty's Heaven, where all her wonders more; I see thee quake: come, let us home repair ;
The Sun, from east to west who all doth see, Come, hide thee in mine arms,
On this low globe sees nothing like to thee.
One phenix only liv'd ere thou wast born,
Two phenixes be now, love's queens are two, THYRSIS IN DISPRAISE OF BEAUTY.
Four Graces, Muses ten, all made by you. That which so much the doating world doth prize, For those perfections which the bounteous Heaven Fond ladies' only care, and sole delight,
To divers worlds in divers times assign'd, Soon-fading beauty, which of hues doth rise,
With thousands more, to thee at once were given, Is but an abject let of Nature's might; Most woful wretch, whom shining hair and eyes
Thy body fair, more fair they made the mind : Lead to Love's dungeon, traitor'd by a sight,
And, that thy like no age should more behold, Most woful! for be might with greater ease
When thou wast fram’d, they after break the mould. Hell's portals enter and pale Death appease. Sweet are the blushes on thy face wbich shine,
Sweet are the flames which sparkle from thine eye, As in delicious meads beneath the flow'rs,
Sweet are his torments who for thee doth pine, And the most wholesome herbs that May can show, Most sweet his death for thee who sweetly dies; In crystal curls the speckled serpent low'rs; For, if he die, he dies not by annoy, As in the apple, which most fair doth grow, But too much sweetness and abundant joy. The rotteu worm is clos'd, which it devours;
Wbat are my slender lays to show thy worth! As in gilt cups, with Gnossian wine which flow, Oft poison pompously doth hide its sours;
How can base words a thing so high make know? So lewdness, falsehood, mischief them advance,
So wooden globes bright stars to us set forth, Clad with the pleasant rays of beauty's glance.
So in a crystal is Sun's beauty shown:
More of thy praises if my Muse should write, Good thence is chas'd where beauty doth appear;
More love and pity must the same indite.
AT THE DEPARTURE OF IDMOX.
Fair Dian, from the height
Hide now from me thy light;
And, pitying my case,
Spread with a'scarf of clouds thy blushing face. For sweet, in spite of care, themselves will waste,
Come with your doleful songs, When they long kept the appetite do move:
Night's sable birds, which plain when others sleep; So, in the sweetness of his nectar, Love
Come, solemnize my wrongs, The foul confects, and seasons of his feast:
And concert to me keep, Sour is far better, which we sweet may make,
Sith Heaven, Earth, Hell, are set to cause me seep. Than sweet, which sweeter sweetness will not take. This grief yet I could bear,
If now by absence I were only pin'd; Foul may my lady be; and may her nose,
But, ah! worse evil I fear; A Tenerif, give umbrage to her chin;
Men absent prove unkind, May her gay mouth, which she no time may close, And change, unconstant like the Moon, their mind. So wide be, that the Moon may turn therein: If thought had so much pow'r May eyes and teeth be made conform to those ; Of thy departure, that it could me slay; Eyes set by chance and white, teeth black and thin: How will that ugly hour May all that seen is, and is hid from sight, My feeble sense dismay, Like unto these rare parts be framed right. “Farewel, sweet heart," when I shall bear thee say!
Dear life! sith thou must go,
TO HIS AMOROUS THOUGHT.
Sweet wanton thought, who art of beauty born, Which, until I thee see,
And who on beauty feed'st, and sweet desire,
Like taper fly, still circling, and still turn
Those ivory hands, those threads of golden wire,
Thou still surroundest, yet dar’st not aspire ;
Sure thou dost well that place not to come near,
Nor see the majesty of that fair court; “ AND wilt thou then, Alexis mine, depart,
For if thou saw'st what wonders there resort,
The pure intelligence that moves that sphere,
Back never wouldst thou turn, nor thence remove.
Since fairest things thus soonest have their end,
And as on bodies shadows do attend,
Soon all our bliss is follow'd with annoy:
Yet she's not dead, she lives where she did love;
Her meinory on Earth, her soul above.
ON THE DEATH OF HER SPARROW.
Ah! if ye ask, my friends, why this salt show'r
My blubber'd eyes upon this paper ponr?
Gone is my sparrow! he whom I did train,
And turn'd so toward, by a cat is slain :
No more with trembling wings shall he attend WITH opening shells in seas, on heavenly dew His watchful mistress. Would my life could end ! A shining oyster lusciously doth feed;
No more shall I him hear chirp pretty lays;
Have I not cause to loath my tedious days?
He raged to set the Grecian fleet on fire.
But ah, alas! a cat this prey espies,
Or otherwise had of that fiend had reason.
And stout Camilla fell by Aruns vain;
So that false horse, which Pallas rais'd 'gainst Troy, “ The angry wiuds not aye
King Priam and that city did destroy. Do cuff the roaring deep;
Thou, now whose heart is big with this frail glory,
Shalt not live long to tell thy honour's story.
If any knowledge resteth after death
In ghosts of birds, when they have left to breathe,
The vengeance falling on the cattish race.
For never cat nor catling I shall find,
But mew shall they in Pluto's palace blind.
Do dint the air, turn hitherwards your flight;
To my sad tears comply these notes of yours,
Unto bis idol bring an harv'st of flow'rs; The greatest gift that from their lofty thrones Let him accept from us, as most divine The all-governing pow'rs to man can give,
Sabæan incense, milk, food, sweetest wine; Is, that he never breathe; or, breathing once, And on a stone let us these words engrave: A suckling end his days, and leave to live;
“Pilgrim the body of a sparrow brave For then he neither knows the woe nor joy
In a fierce glutt'nous cat's womb clos'd remains, Of life, nor fears the Stygian lake's annoy. Whose ghost now graceth the Elysian plaius."
I'll not die martyr for a mortal thing ;
'Tis 'nough to be confessor for a king. PORTRAIT OF THE COUNTESS OF PERTH. Will this you give contentment, honest men?
I've written rebels-pox upon the pen!
When with brave art the curious painter drew
Since the kirk hath found out a negative faith.
IV. While he but flow'rs, and she doth minds subdue?
In parliament one voted for the king; Or would he else to virtue's glorious light Her constant course make known? or is 't that he The crowd did murmur he might for it smart;
His voice again being heard, was no such thing; Doth parallel her bliss with Clitra's plight ?
For that which was mistaken was a fart.
Bold Scots, at Barnnockburn ye kill'd your king, MADRIGAL
Then did in parliament approve the fact;
And would ye Charles to such a nonplus bring, If light be not beguild,
To authorize rebellion by an act? And eyes right play their part,
Well what ye crave who knows but granted may be! This flow'r is not of art, but fairest Nature's child; But, if he do 't, cause swaddle bim for a baby. And though, when Titan's from our world exil'd, She doth not look, her leaves, his loss to moan, To wonder Earth finds now more suns than one.
SWADDLED is the baby, and almost two years
(His swaddling time) did neither cry nor stir;
And sleep'd, though barked at by every cur: I.
Yea, had not wak’d, if Lesly, that hoarse nurse,
Had not him hardly rock'd-old wives him curse! The Scottish kirk the English church do name; The English church the Scots a kirk do call; Kirk and not church, church and not kirk, O shame!
VII. Your kappa turn in chi, or perish all.
The king nor band nor host had him to follow, Assemblies meet, post bishops to the court :
Of all his subjects; they were given to thee, If these two nations fight, 'tis strangers' sport.
Lesly. Who is the greatest? By Apollo,
Couldst thou pull lords, as we do bishops, doen,
Small distance were between thee and a crowd. AGAINST the king, sir, now why would you fight? Forsooth, because he dubb'd me not a knight. And ye, my lords, why arm ye 'gainst king Charles?
VIII. Because of lords he would not make us earls.
When lately Pym descended into Hell, Earls, why do ye lead forth these warlike bands?
Ere he the cups of Lethe did carouse, Because we will not quit the church's lands.
What place that was, he called loud to tell; Most holy churchmen, what is your intent?
To whom a devil-“ This is the Lower House." The king our stipends largely did augment. Commons to tumult thus why are you driven? Priests us persuade it is the way to Heaven.
IX. Are these just cause of war; good people, grant?
THE STATUE OF ALCIDES. Ho! Plunder! thou ne'er swore our covenant.
FLORA, upon a time, Give me a thousand covenants; I'll subscrive Naked Alcides' statue did behold; Them all, and more, if more ye can contrive And with delight admired each ain'rous limb; Of rage and malice; and let every one
Only one fault, she said, could be of 't told:
For, by right symmetry,
The club hung by his thigh.
“ Fair nymph, in ancient days, your *** by far And captives carried to the capital.
Were not so bogely vast as now they are,”
OF A LION.
OF AN ANTI-COVENANTER, OR MALIGNANT.
Would you know these royal knaves,
Of freemen would turn us slaves; Great lies they vent, say we for God do fight,
Who our union do defame Less lies, who guess the king does nothing right;
With rebellion's wicked name? Great lies and less lies all our aims descry;
Read these verses, and ye 'll spring 'em
Then on gibbets straight cause hing 'em.
In these times so passing holy,
They their substance will not give,
Libertines that we may live. AT THE KING'S ENTRY INTO THE TOWN OF LINLITHGOW;
Hold those subjects too, too wanton,
Under an old king dare canton.
Scorn our acts and laws as fables;
Of our battles talk but meekly, Who art a lion, to hear a lion's speech.
With four sermons pleas'd are weekly ;
Swear king Charles is neither papist,
But that in his chamber-pray'rs,
Which are pour'd ʼmidst sighs and tears,
To avert God's fearful wrath,
Persuade they would the multitude,
This king too holy is and good.
They avouch we'll weep and groan
When hundred kings we serve for one;
That each shire but blood affords,
To serve th' ambition of young lords ;
Whose debts ere now bad been redoubled,
If the state had not been troubled.
They swear that for religion's sake
That the beginning of these pleas, The girl that seeing cried, now void of pain, Sprang from the ill-sped A B Cs, “ Ah! mother, you have ridden on the mane!” For servants that it is not well
Against their masters to rebel.
That that devotion is but slight,
Doth force men first to swear, then fight.
That monies should men's daughters marry,
At last who will snatch all away.
And, as times turn worse and worse,
Catechise us by the purse.
That debts are paid with bold stern looks;
That Justice dumb and sullen frowns,
To see in croslets hang'd her gowns;
That preachers' ordinary theme Who 'plains he came to Hell without a cause. Is 'gainst monarchy to declaim.