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Disdain not a divided heart;

Whose cherishing flames themselves divido Though all be hers, you shall have part:

Through every room, where they deride Love is not ty'd to rules of art.

The night, and cold abroad; whilst they,

Like suns within, keep endless day. For as my soul first to her few,

Those cheerful beams send forth their light, Yet stay'd with me; so now 't is true

To all that wander in the night, It dwells with her, though fled to you.

And seem to beckon from aloof

The weary pilgrim to thy roof; Then entertain this wand'ring guest,

Where, if refresh'd, he will away, And if not love, allow it rest;

He's fairly welcome; or, if stay, It left not, but mistook, the nest.

Far more, which he shall hearty find,

Both from the master and the hind. Nor think my love or your fair eyes

The stranger's welcome each man there Cheaper, 'cause from the sympathies

Stainpid on his cheerful brow doth wear; You hold with her, these flames arise.

Nor doth this welcome, or his cheer,

Grow less, 'cause he stays longer bere. To lead or brass, or some such bad

There 's none observes, much less repines, Metal, a prince's stamp may add

How often this man sups or dines. That value which it never had:

Thou hast no porter at the door

T examine or keep back the poor ; But to the pure refined ore,

Nor locks nor bolts; thy gates have been The stamps of kings imparts no more

Made only to let strangers in ; Worth, than the metal held before.

Untaught to shut, they do not fear

To stand wide open all the year; Only the image gives the rate

Careless who enters, for they know To subjects; in a foreign state

Thou never didst deserve a foe; ’l'is priz'd as much for its own weight:

And as for thieves, thy bounty's such,

They cannot steal, thou giv'st so much.
So though all other hearts resign
To your pare worth, yet you have mine,
Only because you are her coin.


Tuis silken wreath, which circles in mine arm, TO SAXHAM.

Is but an emblem of that mystic charm,

Wherewith the magic of your beauties biods Though frost and snow lock'd from mine eyes

My captive sonl, and round about it wiods That beauty which without door lies,

Petters of lasting love: this hath entwin'd The gardens, orchards, walks, that so

My flesh alone, that hath impal'd my mind: I might not all thy pleasures know;

Time may wear out these soft, weak bands; but those Yet, Saxbam, thou, within thy gate,

Strong chains of brass fate shall not discompose. Art of thyself so delicate,

This only relic may preserve my wrist, So full of native sweets, that bless

But my whole frame doth by that pow'r subsist: Thy roof with inward happiness ;

To that my prayers and sacrifice, to this As neither from, nor to thy store,

I only pay a superstitious kiss : Winter takes aught, or spring adds more.

This but the idol, that 's the deity; The cold and frozen air had starv'd

Religion there is due, here cerimony. Much poor, if not by thee preserv’d;

That I receive by faith, this but in trust; Whosc prayers have made thy table blest

Here I may tender duty, there I must : With plenty, far above the rest.

This order as a layman I may bear, The season hardly did afford

But I become Love's priest when that I wear. Coarse cates unto thy neighbour's board,

This moves like air, that as the centre stands; Yet thou hadst dainties, as the sky

That knot your virtue ty'd, this but your hands: Had only been thy volary';

That nature fram'd, but this was made by art; Or else the birds, fearing the snow

This makes my arm your prisoner, that my heart.
Might to another deluge grow,
The pheasant, partridge, and the lark,
Flew to thy house, as to the ark.

The willing ox of himself came
Home to the slaughter, with the lamb,

And every beast did thither bring
Himself to be an offering.

BY MASTER JO. CROFTS. The scaly herd more pleasure took,

Bath'd in thy dish, than in the brook.

Ere you pass this threshold, stay,
Water, earth, air, did all conspire
To pay their tributes to thy fire;

And give your creature leave to pay
Thosc pious rites which unto you,

As to our houshold gods are due.
A great bird-cage, in which the birds have room
to fly up and down.

'' These verses were presented to his mistress



Instead of sacrifice, each breast

On thy neglected altars, if thou bless
Is like a faming altar drest

No better this thy zealous votaress?
With zealous fires; which, from pure hearts, Haste then, O maiden goddess, to her aid;
Love mix'd with loyalty imparts.

Let on thy quiver her pale cheek be laid,
Incense nor gold have we, yet bring

And rock her fainting body in thine arms; As rich and sweet an offering;

Then let the god of music with still charms And such as doth both these express,

Her restless eyes in peaceful slumbers close, Which is, our humble thankfulness:

And with soft strains sweeten her calm repose. By which is paid the all we owe

Cupid, descend, and, whilst Apollo sings, To gods above, or men below.

Fanning the cool air with thy panting wings, The slaughter'd beast, whose flesh should feed Ever supply her with refreshing wind. The hungry flames, we, for pure need,

Let thy fair mother with her tresses biud Dress for your supper; and the gore,

Her labouring temples, with whose balmy sweat Which should be dash'd on every door,

She shall perfume her hairy coronet, We change into the lusty blood

Whose precious drops shall, upon every fold, Of youthful viues, of which a flood

Hang like rich pearls about a wreath of gold: Shall sprightly run through all your veins, Her looser locks, as they unbraided lie, First to your health, then your fair trains. Shall spread themselves into a canopy, We shall want nothing but good fare

Under whose shadow let her rest secure To show your welcome, and our care ;

From chilling cold, or burning calenture; Sach rarities that come from far,

Unless she freeze with ice of chaste desires, From poor men's houses banish'd are;

Only holy Hymen kindle nuptial fires. Yet we 'll express, in homely cheer,

And when at last Death comes to pierce her heart, How glad we are to see you here.

Convey into his hand thy golden dart.
We'll have whate'er the season yields,
Out of the neighbouring woods and fields;
For all the dainties of your board
Will only be what those afford;
And, having supp'd, we may percbance
Present you with a country dance.

Thus much your servants, that bear sway

Here in your absence, bade me say; Fax. And beg, besides, you 'd hither bring Only the mercy of a king,

Those that can give, open their hands this day; And not the greatness; since they have

'Those that cannot, yet hold them up to pray; A thousand faults must pardon crave;

That health may crown the seasons of this year, But nothing that is fit to wait

And mirth dance round the circle; that no tear Upon the glory of your state.

(Unless of joy) may with its briny dew Yet your gracious favour will,

Discolour on your cheek the rosy hue; They hope, as heretofore, shine still

That no access of years presume t'abate On their endeavours; for they swore,

Your beauty's ever flourishing estate :
Should Jove descend, they could no more.

Such cheap and vulgar wishes I could lay,
As trivial offerings at your feet this day;
But that it were apostacy in me
To seud a prayer to any deity

But your divine self, who have power to give

Those blessings unto others, such as live

Like me, by the sole influence of your eyes,
Must she then languish, and we sorrow thus, Whose fair aspects govern our destinies.
And no kind god help her, nor pity us?

Such incense, vows, and holy rites, as were
Is justice fled from Heaven? can that permit To the involved serpent of the year
A foul deformed ravisher to sit

Paid by Egyptian priests, lay I before Upon ber virgin cheek, and pull from thence

Lucinda's sacred shrine; whilst I adore The rose-buds in their maiden excellence?

Her beauteous eyes, and her pure altars dress To spread cold paleness on her lips, and chase

With gums and spice of humble thankfulness. The frighted rubies from their native place?

So may my goddess from her Heaven inspire To lick up with his searching flames a flood

My frozen bosom with a Delphic fire; Of dissolv'd coral, flowing in her blood;

And then the world shall, by that glorious flame, And with the damps of his infectious breath, Behold the blaze of thy inmortal name! Print on her brow moist characters of death? Must the clear light,'gainst course of nature, cease In her fair eyes, and yet the flames increase ?

1 The Egyptians, in their hieroglyphics, repreMust fevers shake this goodly tree, and all

sented the year by a serpent rolled in a circular That ripen'd fruit from the fair branches fall,

form, biting his tail, which they afterwards worWhich princes have desired to taste? Must she shipped ; to which the poet here alludes. This Who hath preserv'd her spotless chastity

was the famous serpent which Claudian describes : From all solicitation, now at last By agues and diseases be embrac'd ?

Perpetuumque; virens squamis, caudamque: re-
Porbid it, holy Dian! else who shall

Pay vows, or let one grain of incense fall Ore vorans, tacito religens exordia morsu.

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TO ONE WHO, WHEN I PRAISED MY MISTRESS'S SICKNESS, the minister of Death, doth lay

So strong a siege against our brittle clay,

As, whilst it doth our weak forts singly wia,
WONDER not though I am blind,

It hopes at length to take all mankind in.
For you must be

First, it begins upon the womb to wait,
Dark in your eyes, or in your mind;

And doth the unborn child there uncreate;
If, wheu you see

Then rocks the cradle where the infant lies,
Her face, you prove not blind like me:

Where, ere it fully be alive, it dies.
If the pow'rful beams that fly

It never leaves fond youth, until it bave
From her eye,

Found or an early, or a later grave.
And those amorous sweets that lie

By thousand subtle slights from heedless man Scatter'd in each neighbouring part,

It cuts the short allowance of a span; Find a passage to your heart,

And where both sober life and art combine Then you 'll confess your mortal sight

To keep it out, age makes them both resign. Too weak for such a glorious light:

Thus, by degrees, it only gaio'd of late For if her graces you discover,

The weak, the aged, or intemperate; You grow like me a dazzled lover;

But now the tyrant hath found out a way But if those beauties you not spy,

By which the sober, strong, and young, decay; Then are you blinder far than l.

Ent'ring his royal limbs, that is our head,
Through us, his mystic limbs, the pain is spread.
That man that doth not feel his part, hath none
In any part of his dominion;
If he hold land, that earth is forfeited,

And he unfit on any ground to tread.

This grief is felt at court, where it doth move

Through every joint, like the true soul of love. TO MY MISTRESS, I BURNING IN LOVE. All those fair stars that do attend on bim,

Whence they derive their light, wax pale and dim: I BURN, and cruel you, in vain,

That ruddy morning-beam of majesty, Hope to quench me with disdain;

Which should the Sun's eclipsed ligbt supply, If from your eyes those sparkles came

Is overcast with mists, and in the lieu That have kindled all this flame,

Of cheerful rays, sends us down drops of dew. What boots it me, though now you shrowd

That curious form made of an earth refin'd, Those fierce comets in a cloud,

At whose blest birth the gentle planets shin'd Since all the flames that I have felt,

With fair aspects, and sent a glorious flame
Could your snow yet never melt?

To animate so beautiful a frame;
Nor can your snow (though you should take That darling of the gods and men doth wear
Alps into your bosom) slake

A cloud on 's brow, and in his eye a tear:
The heat of my enamour'd heart;

And all the rest (save when his dread command But with wonder learn love's art.

Doth bid them move) like lifeless statues stand. No seas of ice can cool desire;

So full of grief, so generally worn, Equal james must quench love's fire:

Shows a good king is sick, and good men mourn. Then think not that my heat can die, Till you burn as well as I.





Now she burns as well as I,
Yet my heat can never die;
She burns that never knew desire,
She that was ice, she that was fire.
She, whose cold heart chaste thoughts did arın
So, as love's could never warm
The frozen bosom where it dwelt;
She burns, and all her beauties melt:
She burns, and cries, “ Love's fires are mild;
Fevers are gods, but he's a child."
Love, let her know the difference
'Twixt the heat of soul and sense ;
Touch her with thy flames divine,
So shalt thou quench her fire and mine.

Come, Celia, fix thine eyes on mine,

And through those crystals, our souls fitting,
Shall a pure wreath of eye-beams twine,

Our loving hearts together knitting.
Let eaglets the bright Sun survey,
Though the blind mole discern not day.
When clear Aurora leaves her mate,

The light of her grey eyes despising,
Yet all the world doth celebrate

With sacrifice her fair uprising.
Let eaglets, &c.

1 Charles I.

A dragon kept the golden fruit,

Mark how these statues like men move, Yet he those dainties never tasted ;

Whilst men with wonder statues prove! As others pin'd in the pursuit,

The stiff rock bends to worship her, So he himself with plenty wasted.

That idol turns idolater.
Let eaglets, &c.

Now see how all the new inspir'd
Images with love are fir'd!
Hark how the tender marble groans,

And all the late transformed stones

Court the fair nymph with many a tear,

Which she (more stony than they were) THE WILLING PRISONER TO HIS MISTRESS. Beholds with unrelenting mind;

Whilst they, amaz'd to see combin'd Le fools great Cupid's yoke disdain,

Such matchless beauty with disdain, Loring their own wild freedom better;

Are all turn'd into stones again Whilst proud of my triumphant chain,

I sit and court my beauteous fetter. Her murdering glances, snaring hairs,

And her bewitching smiles so please me, As he brings ruin, that repairs

The sweet afflictions that disease me.

Hide not those panting balls of snow
With envious veils from my beholding;

You that think Love can convey,
Unlock those lips, their pearly row

No other way In a sweet smile of love unfolding.

But through the eyes, into the heart

His fatal dart, And let those eyes, whose motion wheels

Close up those casements, and but hear The restless fate of every lover,

This Syren sing, Sarvey the pains my sick heart feels,

And on the wing
And wounds themselves have made, discover. Of her sweet voice it shall appear

That Love can enter at the ear:
Then unveil your eyes, behold

The curious mould

Where that voice dwells; and as we know,

When the cocks crow, THAT FLEW INTO MY MISTRESS'S EYE.

We freely may When this fly liv'd, she us'd to play

Gaze on the day; In the sunshine all the day;

So may you, when the music's done,
Till coming near my Celia's sight,

Awake, and see the rising Sun.
She found a new and unknown light,
So full of glory, as it made
The noon-day Sun a gloomy shade;
Then this amorous fly became
My rival, and did court my flame.

She did from hand to bosom skip,
And from her breath, her cheek, and lip,

Suck'd all the incense and the spice,
And grew a bird of paradise :

Seek not to know my love, for she At last into her eye she flew,

Hath vow'd her constant faith to me; There scorch'd in flames and drown'd in dew,

Her mild aspects are mine, and thou Like Phaeton from the Sun's sphere,

Shalt only find a stormy brow: She fell, and with her dropp'd a tear;

For, if her beauty stir desire Of wbich a pearl was straight compos'd,

In me, her kisses quench the fire; Wherein her ashes lie enclos'd.

Or, I can to Love's fountain go, Thus she receiv'd from Celia's eye,

Or dwell upon her ills of snow :
Funeral fame, tomb obsequy.

But when thou burn'st, she shall not spare
One gentle breath to cool the air;

Thou shalt not climb those alps, nor spy

Where the sweet springs of Venus lie.

Search hidden nature, and there find

A treasure to enrich thy mind;

Discover arts not yet revealid, Hark how my Celia, with the choice

But let my mistress live conceal'd; Music of her hand and voice

Though men by knowledge wiser grow, Stills the loud wind; and makes the wild

Yet here 'tis wisdom not to know. Incensed boar and panther mild !

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When on the altar of my hand

(Bedew'd with many a kiss, and tear) Thy new-revolted heart did stand

An humble martyr, thou didst swear

Thus, (and the god of love did hear) “By those bright glances of thine eye, Unless thou pity me, I die."

Mark how the bashful morn in vain

Courts the amorous marigold
With sighing blasts and weeping rain ;

Yet she refuses to unfold :
But when the planet of the day
Approacheth with his powerful ray,
Then she spreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin leaves
So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy;

If thy tears and sighs discover Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy

The just reward of a bold lover : But when with moving accents thou Shalt constant faith and service row, Thy Celia shall receive those charms With open ears, and with unfolded arms.

When Brst those perjur'd lips of thine,

Bepal'd with blasting sighs, did seal Their violated faith on mine,

From the soft bosom that did heal

Thee, thou my melting heart didst steal; My soul, inflam'd with thy false breath, Poison’d with kisses, suck'd in death.

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Hence, vain intruder! 'hast away,

Wash not with unhallowed brine

The footsteps of my Celia's shrine;
Nor on her purer altars lay
Thy empty words, accents that may

Some looser dame to love incline :

She must have offerings more divine; Such pearly drops, as youthful May Scatters before the rising day;

Such smooth soft language, as each line Might stroake an angry god, or stay

Jove's thunder, make the hearers pine With envy: do this, thou shalt be Servant to her, rival with me.

"A modern poet seems to have availed himself of this beautiful passage, and made a very happy use of it. See the Fables of Flora, Fab. I.We may observe here, that many, very many of the most beautiful passages which are found in the poems of this age, have been borrored from the neglected bards of the 16th and 17th centuries.

? That the reader may not be surprised at our author's having entitled this piece a Pastoral Dialogue, in which we do not find even the most distant allusion drawn from pastoral life; it may be necessary to inform him, that it was a prerailing custom in our author's time, to style almast every poetical dialogue of which love was the subject, pastoral. Most of the wits of Charles's court left propriety to be studied by the following age.

1 An ancient phrase for pacify.

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