Gambar halaman
PDF
ePub

How long a space fince first I lov'd it is!

To look into a glass I fear;

And am furpriz'd with wonder when I miss
Grey-hairs and wrinkles there.

Th' old Patriarchs' age, and not their happiness too,.
Why does hard Fate to us reftore?
Why does Love's fire thus to mankind renew,
What the Flood wash'd away before?

Sure thofe are happy people that complain
O' th' fhortness of the days of man:
Contract mine, Heaven! and bring them back again
To th' ordinary span.

If when your gift, long life, I difapprove,

I too ingrateful seem to be ;

Punish me justly, Heaven! make her to love,
And then 'twill be too fhort for me.

COUNSE E.

ENTLY, ah gently, madam, touch

GEN

The wound which you yourself have made;

That pain muft needs be very much,

Which makes me of your hand afraid.

Cordials of pity give me now,

For I too weak for purgings grow..

Do but awhile with patience ftay

(For counfel yet will do no good) "Till time, and reft, and Heaven, allay The violent burnings of my blood.; VOL. I..

S

For

For what effect from this can flow,
To chide men drunk, for being fo?

Perhaps the phyfick 's good you give,

But ne'er to me can useful prove;
Medicines may cure, but not revive;

And I'm not sick, but dead in love.
In Love's hell, not his world, am I;
At once I live, am dead, and die.
What new-found rhetorick is thine!

Ev'n thy diffuafions me perfuade,
And thy great power does clearest shine,
When thy commands are difobey'd.
In vain thou bid'ft me to forbear;
Obedience were rebellion here.

Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant

Against thine eyes t' affift my heart; But different far was his intent,

For ftrait the traitor took their part:

And by this new foe I'm bereft
Of all that little which was left.

The act, I muft confefs, was wife,
As a difhoneft act could be:
Well knew the tongue, alas! your eyes

Would be too strong for that and me;
And part o' th' triumph chose to get,
Rather than be a part of it.

RE

RESOLVED TO BE BELOVED

IS true, I 'ave lov'd already three or four,

[ocr errors]

And fhall three or four hundred more;
I'll love each fair-one that I fee,

Till I find one at last that shall love me.

That fhall my Canaan be, the fatal foil

:

That ends my wanderings and my toil
I'll settle there, and happy grow ;
The country does with milk and honey flow.
The needle trembles fo, and turns about,
Till it the northern point find out ;
But conftant then and fix'd does prove,
Fix'd, that his deareft pole ás foon may move.

Then may my

veffel torn and fhipwreck'd be,

If it put forth again to fea!

It never more abroad fhall roam,

Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies home.

But I must sweat in love, and labour yet,

Till I a competency get;

They 're flothful fools who leave a trade, Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made.

Variety I ask not; give me one

To live perpetually upon;

The perfon Love does to us fit, Like manna, has the taste of all in it,

[ocr errors]

THE

[blocks in formation]

F

OR Heaven's fake, what d' you mean to do ??
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;
Youth and warm hours let me not idly lofe,

The little time that Love does chufe:
If always here I must not stay,

Let me be gone whilst yet 'tis day;
Left I, faint and benighted, lose my way..
'Tis difmal, one fo long to love

In vain; till to love more as vain must prove ;
To hunt fo long on nimble prey, till we
Too weary to take others be:

Alas! 'tis folly to remain,

And waste our army thus in vain,
Before a city which will ne'er be ta'en.
At feveral hopes wifely to fly,
Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy ;,
'Tis more inconftant always to pursue

A thing that always flies from you;
For that at last may meet a bound,
But no end can to this be found,
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless round.

When it does hardness meet, and pride,
My love does then rebound t' another fide;
But, if it aught that's foft and yielding hit,,
It lodges there, and stays in it.
Whatever 'tis fhall first love me,
That it my heaven may truly be ;
I fhall be fure to give 't eternity.

THE

BY

[blocks in formation]

Y Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she ;
Why should she asham'd or angry be,
To be belov'd by me?

The Gods may give their altars o'er;
They 'll fmoak but seldom any more,
*If none but happy men muft them adore.

The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in vain,
To strike fometimes does not difdain

The humble furzes of the plain.

She being fo high, and I fo low,

Her power by this does greater fhow, Who at such distance gives fo fure a blow.

*Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove, That nought on earth can tow'rds her move, Till 't be exalted by her love.

Equal to her, alas ! there 's none;

She like a Deity is grown;

That muft create, or elfe must be alone.

If there be man who thinks himself fo high,

As to pretend equality,

He deferves her less than I ;

For he would cheat for his relief;

And one would give, with leffer grief, T'an undeferving beggar than a thief.

[blocks in formation]
« SebelumnyaLanjutkan »