lllilliijll 31822 oioeglilo I f Bill' t^t^ Souve -G,Jon>-, born 1709, died 1779, 136 Atteebcrt, Fean CIS, born 1G62, died 1731-2, 121 Attox, SIR RoBEBT, bom 1570, died 1038, 59 BAEBArLD, AxxA Lj£TITIa, bom 1743, died 18_'5, .... Ill Beacmoxt, siE JoH>-, bom 1582, died 1628, 70 BEArMO>-T, Fe.o'CIS, bom 1585, died 1G15, 67 Behx, Aphaea, bora 1630, died 1686, 109 Booth, Baetox, bom 1681, died 1733, 128 Beetox, Nicholas, bom 1555, died about 1624, .... 42 BEOiiE, Alexaxdee, bom 1620, died 1666, 103 Bkook, (Fulk Geetille,) loed, bom 1554, died 1638, ... 40 Beovtxe, William, bora 1500, died 1645, 79 BucKiXGHAii, DrEE OF, bom 1G27, died 1668, 107 Bl-lteel, Jonx, bom about 1620, died 1GC9 105 CAiiPlOX, THOiiAS, bom 1577, died 1640, 58 Caeew, Thomas, bom 1577, died 1664, 64 Carey, Hexey, died 1743, 132 Chapmax, Geoege, bom 1557, died 1634, 4-3 Coxgeeve, William, born 1072, died 1728, 124 Coxstable, Hexey, bom 1554, died 1.5'.i2, 41 IIabixotox, Wn.i.LVM, bom ](jD«, 27 Lax SDOWNE, LORD, bom IC/JT, died 17;J5 VJi Lodge, Thomas, bom about 1.'>G(», died lOi'J 4G Lovelace, Rich.u{d, bom 1018, died 1658, 100 Ltttletox, loed, bom l"0i>-9, died 177-?, Vio SLutLOM'E, CnEisTOPUEE, bora lot>2, died 1j92, .... 28 3Li.KST0x, Joux, bom 15CG, died 1641, 5j ilxT, Thomas, bom about IJjG, died ltj52 87 MiDDLETOX, Tuomas, bom about ljft5, died about H'.iT, ... 54 MiLTOX,Joiix, bom 1008, died 1674 07 OxFOED, (Edwakd Tere,) EAEL OF, bora about IVM, died IGW, . 22 Pkmbroke, EAEL OF, bora alK)utl,>sn, died lO'W, .... 63 Paexel, TuOMAS, bom 1079, died 1717, 127 rETEEBOROiGir, E.4BL OF, bora 10>8, died 17;?5, .... 119 Teioe, 3LiTTHE\v, bom WU, died 1721, 121 riOCHFOBD,(GEOEGE BOLETX,) viscOLXT, bom I-Xio, died lo36, . 15 Ru-EiGH, SIB Waltee, bom 1.552, died 1018, 29 Raxdolph, TiiOMAS, bora lOa-., died 10i4, 01 RociiESTEE, EAEL OF, bomli'»47, died lOsO 116 Say, Sajhel, bom 167.3, ilied 174'>, 125 Sedley, sie Charles, bom about H>?.), died 17il8, . . . .115 Shakspeee, Willloi, bora 1504, died 1016, 51 Sidx'ey, SIE Philip, bora 1554, died 1586, 38 Smith, "William, bora about 1571, 60 Spexser, EDMrxD,lx)ra about l.VV?,dieJ7, . 19 TuOMSON, J.viiES, bom 1700, died 1748, 130 Thompson, William, born about 1712, 13r Waller, Edmund, bora lC(tt, died 1CS7 94 Watson, TU0M.4S, bom 15C0, died about 1591, 45 Wn.^LKTON, (Anne,) MARCHIONESS OF, died 1685, .... 118 Williams, sir C. H., bom 1709, died 17.39 139 Wither, George, bom 1588, died 1667, 77 WoTTON, sir Henry, bom 1568, died 1639, 37 Wyat, sir Thomas, bom 15ft3, died 1541 17 INTRODUCTION. Some remarks on the English amatory poets, \vhile they will best explain the principles by which it has been directed, seem naturally introductory of the selection now submitted to the public. To the laws of chivalry', which demanded that a knight should be qualified to sing the praises of her for whom he aspired to contend, is probably to be ascribed the partiality for amatorial composition so observable in our early bards. Their songs, however, occupied with descriptive eulogium, or an ostentatious display of the attractions and qualifications of their mistresses, seldom breathe that fervor of heart, that seductive tenderness, which, as it constitutes the highest charm of such effusions, is indispensably required in the poetical addresses of the present times. [N ruonrcTiON. During the reism of Henry the eighth, by whose example the current of fashion became diverted in favor of gallantry, Petrarch was accordingly studied, and not unsuccessfully imitated, by Surrey and Wyat. Suckling, deviating notwithstanding from the general practice, though with questionable merit, gave a novel turn to familiar feelings : and, if he failed to gratify the votaries of sensibility, he at least amused the ■ admirers of humor and ingenuity. Perhaps it is to be I suspected that he was not innocent of designing to i ridicule the serious productions of his cotemporaries Queen Elizabeth, while she fettered the originality of description, by expecting adulatory allusions to herself, nevertheless encouraged the prevailing predi- lection for love verses. Harrington, Sidney, Raleigh, Spenser, Daniel, Drayton, Shakspere, Donne, Jonson, assiduously courted, under her auspices, the smiles of the softer muse. Cowley, in a succeeding age. affirms that -poets are scarcely thought freemen of their company without paying some duties, or obliging INTRODUCTION. themselves to be true to love.' He might have added, however, that it was not every freeman who was qualitied to take up his livery. Neither the pedantry of James the first, nor the turbulence experienced under his unfortunate succes- sor in the throne, appear to have silenced the strains dedicated by genius to beauty. Drummond, Carew, Waller, Habington, Lovelace, Herrick, and Cowley, exhibit the progressive improvement of this species of literary homage, and, perhaps, the perfection of the style in which it should be conveyed. But is not sufficient merely to have enumerated such writers as Spenser. Daniel, Drummond, Carew, Waller, and Habington. Among these poets who successively advanced the refinement of our language, and ameliorated our taste, it will be found that Daniel, possessing the pathetic delicacy of Spenser, anticipated the melodious simplicity of Drummond. On the merits of Drum- mond, whose sonnets are so extensively read, and so generally admired, it were superfluous to enlarge. INTRODUCTION. Nothing is more capricious than the customary- distribution of fame. After the perusal of Spenser, Daniel, and Drummond, by whom he was preceded, and an attentive consideration of the pretensions of Carew and Habington, with whom he was cotempo- rary, who can avoid expressing some surprise at the predominating reputations enjoyed by Waller? — a poet, whatever estimable qualities he otherwise possessed, who must be pronounced essentially defi- cient in the chief constituents of amatory excellence; whose compliments were often hyperbolical and unnatural, whose passion was destitute of tenderness, and whose wit was sometimes disgraced by indelicacy. To Carew, however censurable for moral discrepan- cies, the praise of unaffected th inking, of a considerable portion of originality, and of fascinating numbers, is not to be denied. Habington is among the last of those poets in whose writings pleasure is wholly divested of licentiousness, and where the imagination is sublimed by the heart. The disoluteness of manners introduced by the restoration was not unproductive of concomitant INTRODUCTION. effects on the minds of men of talent. Under the ruins of the old monarchy seems to have been buried the spirit of chivalric feeling : the wits of the court of Charles the second evince neither the vigor nor pathos of those who ornamented a former reign ; with few exceptions all is elegant trifling, or disgusting voluptuousness. It is an immutable truth, nor can it be too often reiterated, that whatever contaminates the morals has a tendency to impoverish the mental resources. Partly owing to the prevalence of political disqui- sition, and partly to the fluctuations of fashion, the encouragement before extended toward amatory writing seems rapidly to have declined subsequently to the revolution. It is not only that such publications as the ' Astrophel and Stella ' of Sidney, the ' Castara' of Habington, or the ' Lucasta' of Lovelace, no longer diversify the annals of literature, but personal attach- ment almost ceased to inspire the impulse of poetic enthusiasm ; our principal poets, as Pope in his ' Eloise,' frequently adopting either the epistolary or didactic form, for the expressing of amatory emotion. INTRODUCTION. Without derogation from the applause due to intervening poets, it is principally during the last sixty- years, but particularly in the present age, that Love can be considered as having regained, with augmented splendor, her empire over Poetry. It is gratifying to bear this honorable testimony to existing merit ; and to know, at the same time, that the opinion of the individual will be ratified at the tribunal of the public. LOVE GIFT GEORGE BOLEYX, A'ISCOLXr EOCHFOBD. TO HIS LUTE. My Lute, awake ! perform the last Labor that thou and I shall waste ^ And end that I have now begun. And when this song is sung and past, My Lute be still : for I have done. As to be heard where care is none, As lead to grave in marble stone : ]\[y song may pierce her heart as soon : Should we then sigh, or sing, or moan No, no, my Lute ! for I have done. The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves continually, As she my suit and affection ; So that I am past remedy : Whereby, ray Lute and I have done. 16 Proud of the spoil that thou hast got, Of simple hearts, through Love's shot, By whom, unkind, thou hast them won : Think not he hath his bow forgot, Although my Lute and I have done. Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain. That mak'st but game on earnest pain ; Think not alone, under the sun, L^nquit to cause thy Lover's pain, Although my Lute and I have done. May chanced thee lie wither'd, old, In winter nights that are so cold, Plaining in vain unto the moon : Thy wishes then dare not be told : Care then who list, for I have done ! And, then, may chance thee to repent The time that thou hast lost and spent, To cause thy Lover's sigh and swoon ; Then, shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want as I have done. Now, cease my Lute ! this is my last Labour that thou and I shall waste ; And ended is that we begun ; Now is this song both sung and past; My Lute, be still ! for I have done. LOVEGIFT. 17 SIR THOMAS WYAT. Your looks so often cast, Your eyes so friendly roll'd, Your sight fixed so fast, Ahvays one to behold 5 Though hide it fain ye would, It plainly doth declare, Who hath your heart in hold, And where good-will ye bear. Fain would ye find a cloke Your burning fire to hide, Yet both the flame and smoke Breaks out on every side. Ye cannot Love so guide, That it no issue win : Abroad needs must it glide, That burns so hot within. ]My heart I gave thee not to do it pain, But to preserve, lo ! it to thee was taken ; I served thee not that I should be forsaken, But that I should receive reward again : 18 ALOVEGIFT. I was content thy servant to remain, And not to be repaid on this fiishion. Now, since in thee there is no other reason, Displease thee not if that I do retrain, Unsatiate of my woe and thy desire ; Assured by craft for to excuse thy fault. But since it pleaseth thee to feign default. Farewell, I say, departing from the fire. For he that doth believe bearing in hand, Ploweth in the water, and soweth in the sand. Ik amorous faith, or if an heart imfeign'd : If sweet langour, a great lovely desire ; If honest will, kindled in gentle fire ; If long error in a blind maze chain'd ; If in my visage each thought distain'd ; Or if my sparkling voice, lower or higher, Which fear and shame so woefully doth tire ; If pale colour, which Love, alas! hath stain'd If to have other than myself more dear; If wailing or sighing continually, With sorrowful anger feeding busily; If burned far off. and if freezin? near, — Are cause that I by love myself destroy. Yours is the fault, and mine the great annoy. I, O \- E G I F T . 19 HENRY HOWARD, EAP.L OF SUP.EEV. A PRAISE OF HIS LOVE, WHEREIN HE REPROVETH THEM THAT COMPARE THEIR LADIES WITH HIS. Give place, ye lovers, here before, That spent your bostes and bragges in vain ; 3Iy ladies bewty passeth more The best of yours, I dare well sayen, Than doth the sun the candle li^ht, Or brightest day the darkest night. And thereto hath a troth as just As had Penelope the faire ; For what she sayth, ye may it trust As by it writing sealled were : And virtues hath she many moe Than I with pen have skill to showe, I could leherse, if that I would, The whole effect of Nature's plaint, When she had lost the perfite mould, The like to whom she could not paint; With wringyng hands how did she cry, And what she said, I know it, I, 20 A L O V E G I F T . I knowe she swore with raging mimle, Her kingdome only set apart, There was no losse, by law of kinde, That could have gone so near her hart : And this was chiefly all her paine. She could not make the like againe. Sith Nature thus gave her the praise To be the chiefest worke she wrought; In faith, me thinke, some better wayes On your behalfe might well be sought, Than to compare (as you have done) To matche the candle with the sunne. DESCRIPTION AND PRAISE OF HIS LOVE, GERALDINE. From Tuscane came my ladies worthy race; Faire Florence was sometime their ancient seate ; The western yle, whose plcsant shore doth face Wild Cambers cliffs, did gyve her lively heate : Fostred she was with milke of Irish brest ; Her sire an erle : her dame of princes blood : From tender yeres in Britain she doth rest With kinges childe, where she tasteth costly food. Hunsdon did first present her to mine eyn ; Bright is her he we, and Gerakline she hight : Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine : Windsor, alas ! doth chase me from her sight. Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above : Happy is he that can obtaine her love ! 21 JOHN HARPxIXGTOX, THE ELDER. VERSES MADE ON ISABELLA MARKHaME. WHEN I FIRSTE THOUGHT HER FAYER AS SHE STOOD AT THE princess's WINDOWE IN GOODLYE ATTYRE, AND TALKEDE TO DYVERS IN THE COURTE-Y'ARD. Whence comes my love. hearte, disclose! 'Twas from cheeks that shame the rose; From lips that spoyle the rubies prayse ; From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze. "Whence comes my woe, as freely owne ; Ah, me ! 't was from a hearte like stone. The blushyng cheek speakes modest mynde, The lips befitting wordes most kynde ; The eye doth tempte to love's desyre, And seems to say, 't is Cupid's fire : Yet all so faire but speake my moane, Syth noughte dothe saye the hearte of stone. Why thus, my love, so kindely speake Sweet eye, sweet l}Tppe. sweet blushyng cheeke, Yet not a hearte to save my paine ? O Venus ! take thy giftes again ; Make nought so faire to cause our moane. Or make a hearte that's lyke your owne. LOVE GIFT EDWARD VERE, EARL OK OXKOI'.D. THE BIRTH OF DESIRE. When wert thou born, Desire ? ' In pomp and pride of May.' By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot ? ' By good Conceit, men say.' Tell me who was thy nurse '? ' Fresh Youth in sugared joy.' What was thy meat and daily food ? ' Sore sighs and great annoy.' AVhat hadst thou, then, to drink ? ' Unfeigned lovers' tears.' What cradle were you rocked in? ' In Hope devoid of fears.' What brought you, then, asleep ? ' Sweet speech that men liked best.' And where is now your dwelling place ? ' In gentle hearts I rest.' Doth company displease ? ' It doth in many a one.' Where would Desire, then, chuse to be ? ' He likes to be alone.' LOVE GIFT 23 What foedeth most your sight ? ' To gaze on favor still.' AVho find you most to be your foe ? ' Disdain of ray good will.' Will ever age or death Bring you unto decay 1 ' No, no ; Desire both lives and dies Ten thousand times a day.' GEORGE GASCOIGNE. A STRANGE PASSION OF A LOA'ER. Amid my hale I bathe in blisse j I swimme in heaven, I sinke in hell 5 I find amendes for every misse, And yet my mone no tongue can tell: I live and love, what would you more i As never lover lived bclbre. I laugh sometime with little lust, So jest I oft and feele no joy; Mine ease is buildod all on trust, And yet mistruste breedes mine annoy: I live and lacke, I lacke and have; I have and misse the thing I crave. 24 A I. O V E G 1 F T . These things seerne strangle, yet are they trew; Believe me, sweet, my stale is such : One pleasure which I would eschew Both slakes my greefe and biecdes my grutch : So doth one paine, whiche I would shun, Renew my joyes where greefe begun. Then, like the larke that past the night In heavy sleepe, with cares opprest ; Yet, when she spies the pleasant light, She sends sweete notes from out her brest : So sing I now, because I thinke How joyes approach when sorrows shrinke. And as faire Philomene againe Can watch and sing when others sleepe, And taketh pleasure in her paine, To wray the woe that mikes her w^eepe So sing I now for to bewray The lothesome life I leade alway. The which to thee (deare wench) I write. That know'st my mirth, but not my mone : I pray God grante thee deepe delight, To live in joys when I am gone. I cannot live, it will not bee; I die to thinke to parte with thee. L O \' E GIFT THE CONSTANCIE OF A LOVER. That selfe same tong^ue -which first did thee intreate, To lynk'e thy lyking with my lucky love; That trusty tongue must nowe these wordes repeate, Hove thee stilly my fancy cannot move. That dreadlesse hart which durst attempt the thought To win thy will with mine for to consent, Maintains that vow which love in me first wrought, Hove thee still, and never shall repent. That happy hand which hardily did touch Thy tender body to my deepe delight, Shall serve with sword to prove my passion such ^s loves thee still, much more than it can write. Thus love I still with tongue, hand, hart, and all, And, when I change, let vengeance on me fall. HENRY WILLOBY. The flowring hearbes, the pleasant spring That deckes the fieldes with vernal hew, The harmlesse birdes that sweetly sing, My hidden griefes do still renew : The joyes that others long to see Is it that most tormentelh me. 26 A L O V E G I F T . I greatly doubt, though March be past, Where I shall see that wished May, That can recure that balel'ull blast, Whose cold despaire wrought my decay: My hopelesse clouds that never cleere, Presage great sorrows very neere. I once did mirth and musicke love. Which both as now I greatly hate : What uncouth sprite my heart doth move To loath the thing I loved so late ? My greatest ease, in deepest mone. Is when I walke mvselle alone : Where, thinking on my hopelesse hap. My trickling teares like rivers flow; Yet Fancy lulls me in her lap, And telles me lyfe from death shall grow : Thus flattering hope makes me believe My griefe in tyme shall feele relieve. Good fortune helpes the venturing wight That hard attempts dares undertake, But they that shun the doubtful fight, As coward drudges, doth forsake : Come what there will, I meane to try. For, winne or lose, I can but dye. 27 FRANCIS KINDLEMARSH, OR KYNWEL- 3IERSH. A VERTUOUS GENTLEWOMAN IN PRAISE OF HER LOVE. I AM a virgin faire and free, and freely do rejoyce ; I sweetly warble susrred notes from silver voice ; For which delightful joyes yet thanke I courteous love, By whose almightie power such sweet delights I prove. I walke in pleasant fieldes adorned with lively greene, I view the fragrant flowers most lovely to be scene ; The purple columbine, the cowslippe, and the lillie, The violet sweete, the daisie, and yellow daffodillie ; The woodbine in the edge, the red rose and the white, And each fine flower else that rendereth sweet delight ; Amongst the which I chuse all those of seemliest grace, In thought resembling them to my deare lover's face. His lovely face I mean, whose golden flowring giftes His ever living fame to loftie skye upliftes : Whom loving me I love onley for vertue's sake, Whom vertuoufcly to love all onely care I take. Of all which fresh faire flowers, that flower which doth appeare In mv conceit most like to him I holde so deere, I gather it, I kisse it, and eke devise with it Such kind of lovely speech as is for lovers fit. 28 ALOVEGIFT. And then of all my flowers I make a garland fine, With which my golden-wire haires together I do twine ; And set it on my head, so taking that delight That I would take, had I my lover still in sight. For as in goodly flowers mine eyes great pleasure finde, So are my lover's gifts most pleasant to my minde. Upon which vertuous giftes I make more repast Than they that for love sportes the sweetest joyes do taste. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, and hills, and fields, AVoods, or stecpy mountains yield. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses. And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidering all with leaves of myrtle : 29 A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold : A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs ; — And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight, each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. THE nymph's reply TO THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERd's INVITATION. If all the world and Love were young, And truth on every shepherd's tongue. These pretty pleasures might me move. To live with thee and be thy love. Time drives the flock from field to fold. When rivers rage and rocks grow cold ; And Philomel becometh dumb. And Age complains of cares to come. 30 A T. O V E G I F T . The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckonins: yields ; A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is Fancy's spring, but Sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, In folly ripe — in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs; All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love. But could youth last, and love still breed ; Had joys no date, nor age no need ; Then these delights my mind might move, To live with thee and be thy love. THE SILE.NT LOVER. Passions are likened best to floods and streames ; The shallow murmur, but the deepe are dumb. So, when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come : They that are rich in words must needs discover. That they are poor in that which makes a lover. A LOVE GIFT. Wion^ not. sweet mistresse of my heart, The merit of true passion, With thinking that he feels no smart Who sues for no compassion ! Since, if my plaints were not t' approve The conquest of thy beautie, It comes not from defect of love, But fear to exceed my dutie. For, knowing that I sue to sen'e A sainte of such perfection, As all desire but none deserve A place in her affection, I rather choose to want reliefs Than venture the revealing: Where glory recommends the griefe, Despaire disdains the healing ! Thus those desires that boil so high In any mortal lover, WTien reason cannot make them die, Discretion them must cover. Yet when Discretion doth bereave The plaintes that I should utter, Then yciur discretion may perceive That Silence is a suitor. 31 32 ALOVEGIFT. Silence in love bewrays more woe Than words, though ne'er so witty; A beggar that is dumb, you know, May challenge double pity! Then wrong not, dearest to my heart ! ]\Iy love for secret passion; He smarteth most that hides his smart, And sues for no compassion. HIS LOVE ADMITS NO RIVAL. Shall I, like a hermit, dwell On a rock, or in a cell. Calling home the smallest part That is missing of my heart, To bestow it where I may Meet a rival every day ? If she undervalue me. What care I how fair she be ? Were her tresses angel gold, If a stranger may be bold, Unrebuked, unafraid, To convert them to a braid, And with little more ado, Work them into bracelets too ! If the mine be grown so free. What care I how rich it be ? A L O V E G I F T . 33 Were her hand as rich a prize As her hairs or precious eyes, If she lay them out to take Kisses, for good manners' sake ; And let every lover skip, From her hand unto her lip ; If she seem not chaste to me, What care I how chaste she be ^ No; she must be perfect snow, In effect as well as show; Warming but as snow-balls do, Not like fire, by burning too : But when she by change has got To her heart a second lot ; Then, if others share with me, Farewell her, whatever she be ! What thing is Love, which nought can countervail ? Nought save itself, even such a thing is love. And worldly wealth in worth as far doth fail, As lowest earth doth yield to heaven above. Divine is Love, and scorneth worldly pelf, And can be bought with nothing but with self. 34 EDMUND SPENSER. THE BRIDK. Lo ! \VHEUE she comes along Avilh portly pace, Like Pha^be from her chamber of the east, Arisinij forth to run her mighty race, Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best. So well it her beseems, that ye would ween Some angel she had been. Her long, loose yellow locks, like golden wire. Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween, Do like a golden mantle her attire; And being crowned with a garland green, Seem like some maiden queen. Her modest eyes, abashed to behold So many gazers as on her do stare. Upon the lowly ground affixed are ; Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, But blush to hear her praises sung so loud, So far from being proud. Natheless do ye still loud her praises sing. That all the woods may answer, and your echo rinj Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see So fair a creature in your town before ? So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, Adorn'd with Beauty's grace, and Virtue's store? A L O V E G I F T . 35 Her goodly eyes like sapphires shining bright, Her forehead ivory white; Iler cheeks hke apples which the sun hath rudded, Her lips like cherries, charming men to bite, Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded, Her paps like lillies budded, Her snowy neck like to a marble tower; And all her body like a palace fair, Ascending up with many a stately stair To Honors seat and Chastity's sweet bower. Why stand ye still, ye virgins, in amaze, Upon her so to gaze, Whilst ye forget your former lay to sing, To which the woods did answer, and your echo ring. But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, The inward beauty of her lively sprite. Garnished with heavenly gifts of high degree, ]Much more, then, would ye wonder at that sight, And stand astonish'd, like to those which read Medusa's amazeful head. There dwells sweet Love and constant Chastity. Unspotted Faith, and comely Womanhood, Regard of Honour, and mild Modesty. There Virtue reigns as queen in royal throne, And giveth laws alone. The which the base affections do obey, And yield their services unto her will ; Ne thought of things uncomely ever may Thereto approach, to tempt her mind to ill. 36 Had ye once seen these, her celestial treasures, And unrevealed pleasures, Then would ye wonder, and her praises sing, That all the woods should answer, and your echo rini Open the temple gates unto my love ; Open them wide, that she may enter in ; And all the posts adorn as doth behove, And all the pillars deck with garlands trim. For to receive this saint with honour due. That Cometh in to you. With trembling steps, and humble reverence, She Cometh in, before th' Almighty's view. Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience, When so ye come into those holy places To humble your proud faces. Bring her up to th' high altar, that she may The sacred ceremonies there partake. The which do endless matrimony make : And let the roaring organs loudly play The praises of the Lord in lively notes : The whilst; with hollow throats, The choristers the joyous anthem sing, That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring Fayre is my love, when her fayre golden haires With the loose wynd ye waving chance to marke. A L O V E G T F T . 37 Fayre when the rose in her red cheekes appcares ; Or in her eyes the fyre of love does sparkei Fayre^ when her breast, like a rich laden barke, With pretious merchandize she forth doth lay : Fayre, when that cloud of pryde, which oft doth mark Her goodly light, with smiles she drives away. But fayrest she, when so she doth display The gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight ; Through which her words so wise do make their way To bear the message of her gentle spright ; The rest be works of nature's wonderment, But this the work of hart's astonishment. Fresh Spring, the herald of Love's mighty king, In whose coat-armour richly are displayed All sorts of flowers, the which on earth do spring, In goodly colours gloriously arrayed ; Go to my love, where she is careless laid. In winter's bower yet not well awake ; Tell her the joyous time will not be stay'd, Unless she do him by the forelock take. Bid her, therefore, herself soon ready make, To wait on Love among his lovely crew : "S^Tiere every one that misseth then her make, Shall be by him amerced with penance due. Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime. For none can call again the passed time. 39 A L O V E G 1 F T 1 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Faint amorist! what, dost thou think To (aste love's honey, and not drink One dram of gall 1 or to devour A world of sweet, and taste no sour? Dost thou ever think to enter Th' Elysian Fields, that darst not venture In Charon's barge ? A lover's mind ]\Iust use to sail with every wind. He that loves, and fears to try, Learns his mistress to deny. Doth she chide thee? 'tis to shew it That thy coldness makes her do it. Is she silent ? is she mute ? Silence fully grants thy suit. Doth she pout and leave the room? Then she goes to bid thee come. Is she sick ? why then be sure, She invites thee to the cure. Doth she cross thy suit with ' No ?' Tush ! she loves to hear the woo. Doth she call the faith of men In question ? nay, she loves thee then, And if e'er she makes a blot. She 's lost if that thou hitfst her not. 39 He that, after ten denials, Dares attempt no further trials, Hath no warrant to acquire The dainties of his chaste desire. O KISS ! which do'st those ruddy gems impart, Or gems or fruits of new found Paradise, Breathing all bliss, and sweetness to the heart: Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise : O kiss! which souls, ev'n souls together ties. By links of Love, and only Nature''s art: Now fain would I paint thee to all men's eyes, Or of thy gifts, at least, shade out some part ! But she forbids : with blushing words, she says, She builds her fame on higher-seated praise- But my heart burns, I cannot silent be ! Then since, dear Life ! you fain would have me peace; And I, mad with delight, want wit to cease ; Stop you my mouth, with still, still kissing me. 40 ALOVEGIFT. SIR FULK GREVILLE, LORD I! HOOK. I, WITH Avhose colours Myia drest her head, I, that wore posies of her own hand-making ; I, that mine own name in the chimnies read, By Myra finely wrought e'er I was waking ; Must I look on — in hope time-coming may, With change, bring back my turn again to play? I, that on Sunday at the church-style found A garland sweet, with true-love knots in flowers ; Which I to wear about mine arm was bound, That each of us might know that all was our's : Must I now lead an idle life in wishes, And follow Cupid for his loaves and fishes 7 I, that did wear the ring her Mother left ; I, for whose love she gloried to be blamed ; I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft ; I, who did make her blush when I was named ; Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked. Watching with sighs till dead love be awaked 1 I, that when drowsy Argus fell asleep, Like Jealousy o'erwatched with Desire, Was even warned modesty to keep, While her breath, speaking, kindled nature's fire ; Must I look on a-cold, while others warm them ? Do Vulcan's brothers in such fine nets arm them? 41 Was it for this, that I might Myra see Washing the water with her beauties white ? Yet could she never write her love to me ! Thinks wit of change, while thoughts are in delight ? JVIad girls may safely love, as they may leave : No man can print a kiss, lines may deceive. TxOBERT GREEN. FAIR SAMELA. Like to Diana in her summer weed, Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, Goes fair Samela. Whiter than be flocks that straggling feed, When washed by Arethusa faint they lie, Is fair Samela. As fair Aurora, in her morning ^ay, Decked with the ruddy glitter of her love, Is fair Samela. Like lovely Thetis on a calmed day, When as her briirhtness Neptune's fancies move, Shines fair Samela, Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams. 42 ALOVBGIFT NICHOLAS BRETON. A SOLEMN CONCEIT. Doth Lovft live in Beauty's eyesi Why; then, are they so unloving ? Patience in her passion proving There his sorrow chiefly lies. Lives belief in lovers' hearts^ "Why, then, are they unbelieving? Hourly so the spirit grieving "With a thousand jealous smarts. Is there pleasure in love's passion? Why, then, is it so unpleasing. Heart and spirit both diseasing, Where the wits are out of fashion ? No : Love sees in Beauty's eyes He hath only lost his seeing, Where, in Sorrow's only being All his comfort wholly dies: Fain within the heart of love, Fearful of the thing it hath, Treading of a trembling path, Doth but jealousy approve. A L O V E G I F T . 43 In Love's passion, then, what pleasure, Which is but a lunacy, Where grief, fear, and jealousy, Plague the senses out of measure ? Farewell, then, unkindly fancy, In thy courses all too cruel : Woe the price of such a jewel As turns reason to a frenzy ! GEORGE CHAPMAN. love's panegyrics. ■Tis nature's second sun. Causing a spring of virtues where he shines. And as without the Sun, the world's Great Eye, All colours, beauties, both of art and nature, Are given in vain to man ; so without Love, All beauties bred in women are in vain, All virtues born in men lie buried : For love informs them as the sun doth colours, And as the Sun, reflecting his warm beams Against the earth, begets all fruit and flowers, So Love, fair shining in the inward man. Brings forth in him the honorable fruits Of valour, wit, virtue, and haughty thoughts, Brave resolution, and divine discourse. 44 A L O V E G I F T SONG OF LOVE AND BEAtTTY. Bright Panthcea borne to Pan, Of the noblest race of man, Her while hand to Eros giving With a kiss, join'd heaven to earth, And begot so fair a birth As yet never grac'd the living : A twin that all worlds did adorn, For so were Love and Beauty born. Both so lov'd they did contend "Which the other should transcend Doing either grace and kindness : Love from Beanly did remove Lightness, calFd her stain in love, Beauty took from love his blindness. Love sparks made flames in Beauty's eye. And Beauty blew up Love as high. Virtue then commixt her fire, To which Beauty did aspire; Innocence a crown conferring; Mine and thine were then unused, All things common, nought abused, Freely earth her fruitage bearing. Nought then was car'd for that could fade- And thus the golden world was made. L O V E G I F T . 45 THOMAS WATSON. LOVE UNREQUITED. When 3Iaye is in his prime, and the youthful spring Doth cloathe the tree with leaves, the ground with flowers, And time of year reviveth ev'ry thing, And lovely Nature smiles, and nothing lowers ; Then Philomela most doth strain her breast With night complaints, and sits in little rest. This bird's estate I may compare with mine. To whom fond Love doth worke such wrongs by day, That in the night my heart must needs repine, And storm with sighs to ease me as I may; Whilst others are becalmed, or lye them still, Or sayle secure with wind and tide at will. And as all those that heare this bird complaine, Conceive in all her tunes a sweet delight. Without remorse or pitying her paine; So she for whom I waite both daye and night, Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint : A just reward for serving such a saint. LOVE GIFT THOMAS LODGE. Rosalind's madrigal. LovK in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. "VVithine mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast. And yet he robs me of my rest, — Ah ! wanton, will ye ! And if I sleep, then pierceth he With pretty slight, And makes his pillow of my knee The live-long night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; He music plays if I but sing; He lends me every lovely thing: Yet, cruel he, my heart doth sting; Ah, wanton! — will ye ! Else I with roses every day Will whip ye hence. And bind ye when ye long to play, For your offence. A L O V E G I F T . 47 I'll shut my eyes to keep ye in ; I "11 make you fast it for your sin ; I'll count your power not worth a pin : — Alas ! what hereby shall I win If he gainsay me ? What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Because a god. Then sit thou safely on my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be ; Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee, O Cupid ! so thou pity me, — Spare not, but play thee. SAMUEL DAXIEL. Now EACH creature joys the other, Passing happy days and hours 5 One bird reports unto another, In the fall of silver showers; "Whilst the earth, our common mother, Hath her bosom deck'd with tlowers. Whilst the £:reatest torch of heaven With bright rays warms Flora's lap. 48 ALOVEGIFT. flaking nights and days both even, Cheering plants with fresher sap ; My field of flowers, quite bereaven. Wants refresh of better hap. Echo, daughter of the air, Babbling guest of rocks and hills, Knows the name of my fierce fair, And sounds the accents of my ills : Each thing pities my despair. Whilst that she her lover kills. Whilst that she, O cruel maid! Doth me and my love despise. My life's flourish is decay'd That depended on her eyes : But her will must be obey'd. And well he ends for love who dies. Love is a sickness full of woes. All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows; Most barren with best using : Why so ? INIore we enjoy it, more it dies ; If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries, Hey, oh ! A L O V E Cf I F T . 49 Love is a torment of the mind, A tempest everlasting; And Jove hath made it of a kind Not well, nor full nor fasting: Why so ? More we enjoy it, more it dies ; If not enjoy"d, it sighing cries, Hey, ho ! MICHAEL DRAYTON. Calm winds, blow you fair; Rock her, thou sweet gentle air: Oh ! the morn is noon, The evening comes too soon To part my love and me ! The roses and thy lips do meet, Oh ! that life were half so sweet ! Who would respect his breath That might die such a death 1 All the bushes that be near With sweet nightingales beset, Hush, sweet, and be still, Let them sing their fill, There's none our joys to let. 50 ALOVEGIFT. Love, banish'd Heaven, on earth was held in scorn Wand'ring abroad in need and beggary ; And wanting friends, though of a goddess born, Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by : I, like a man devout and charitable, Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring Guest ; With sighs and tears still furnishing his table. With what might make the miserable blest. But this Ungrateful, for my good desert, Intic'd my thoughts against me to conspire, Who gave consent to steal away my heart; And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire. Well, well my friends ! when beggars grow thus bold No marvel, then, though charity grow cold ! Since there 's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done ; you get no more of me : And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart. That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever: cancel all our vows ; And, when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen, in either of our brows, 51 That we one jot of former love retain ! Now, at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, "When, his pulse failing. Passion speechless lies : When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death ; And Innocence is closing up her eyes : Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life, thou might'st him yd recover! WILLIAM SHAKSPERE. Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Or, like a fairy trip upon the green, Or, like a nymph, with long dishevelPd hair, Dance on the sand, and yet no footing seen : Love is a spirit all compact of fire, Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie ; These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me ; Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky, From morn to night, even where I list to sport me : Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou should'st think it heavy unto thee ? LOVE GIFT CANZONET. On a (lay (alack the day !) LovCj whose month is ever May, Spieil a blossom, passing fair, Playing in the wanton air : Through the velvet leaves, the wind, All unseen, 'gan passage find ; That the lover, sick to death, "Wished himself the heaven's-breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow Air, would I might triumph so! But, alack, my hand is sworn, Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : A'^ow, alack, for youth unmeet; Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn to thee ; Thou for whom Jove would swear, Juno but an Ethiop were ; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love. Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends, with the remover to remove: A T. O V E GIFT. 53 O no ! It is an ever fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken -, It is the star to ever\- wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out, e'en to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, and no man ever lov'd. From you have I been absent in the spring, Vvlien proud pied April, dress'd in all his trim. Had put a spirit of youth in every thing. That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet, nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer-story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew. Nor did I wonder at the lilies white. Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose: They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd in winter still, and you away. As with your shadow I with these did play. 54 ALOVEGIFT, The forward violet thus did I chide : — Sweet thief, whence did thou steal thy sweetest smells, If not from my love's hreath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells, In my love"s veins thou hast too grossly dyed. The lily I condemned for thy hand. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, One blushing shame, another white despair; A third, not red nor white, had stol'n from both, And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath ; But for his theft, in pride of all his growth, A vengeful canker eat him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stolen from thee. THOMAS MIDDLETON. He that truly loves, Burns out the day in idle fantasies ; And when the lamb, bleating, doth bid good night Unto the closing day, then tears begin To keep quick time unto the owl, whose voice Shrieks like the bell-man in the lover's ear. Love"s eye the jewel of sleep, oh, seldom wears ; The early lark is waken'd from her bed. Being only by love's pains disquieted ; But, singing in the morning's car, she weeps, Being deep in love, at lovers' broken sleeps ; But say, a golden slumber chance to tie. With silken strings, the cover of love's eye, Then dreams, magician-like, mocking present Pleasures, whose fading, leaves more discontent. JOHN MARSTON. LOVE EIEEXAL. If love be holy, if that mystery Of co-united hearts be sacrament ; If the unbounded Goodness hath infus'd A sacred ardour of a mutual love Into our species: if those amorous joys, Those sweets of life, those comforts even in death, Spring from a cause above our reason's reach ^ If that clear flame deduce its heat from Heaven, 'Tis, like its cause, eternal; always one. As is the instiller of divinest love, Unchang'd by time, immortal, maugre death. 56 ALOVEGIFT. HENRY CONSTABLE. SONG TO DIAPIIENIA. Diaphen's like the clafTy-down-dilly, White as the sun, fair as the lily, Heigho! how I do love thee! I do love thee as my lambs Are beloved of their dams ; How blest were I if thou would'st prove me ! Diaphenia, like the spreading roses, That in thy sweets all sweets encloses, Fair sweet how I do love thee ! I do love thee as each flower Loves the sun's life-giving power : For dead, thy breath to life might move me ! Diaphenia. like to all things bless'd "When all thy praises are expressed, Dear joy, how I do love thee! As the birds do love the spring, Or the bees their careful king: — Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me! L O V E G I F T . 57 SIR HENRY WOTTON. ON HIS IMISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHE>IIA, You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ! You common people of the skies ! What are you when the sun shall rise ? You curious chanters of the wood, That warble forth dame Nature's lays, Thinking your voices understood By your weak accents ! what 's your praise "When Philomel her voice shall raise ? You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known, Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ! What are you when the rose is blown ? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind; By virtue first, then choice, a queen ! Tell me if she were not design'd Th' eclipse and glory of her kind 1 5S A L O V E C; I F T THOMAS CAMPION. OF HIS mistress' FACE. And would you see my mistress' face ? It is a flo\v"iy garden place, Where knots of beauty have such grace, That all is work, and no where space. It is a sweet delicious morn, Where day is breeding, never born; It is a meadow yet unshorn. Which thousand flowers do adorn. It is the heaven's bright reflex, Weak to dazzle and to vex ; It is the Idtea of her sex, Envy of whom doth world perplex. It is a face of death that smiles, Pleasing though it kills the whiles; Where Death and Love, in pretty wiles, Each other mutually beguiles, It is fair Beauty's freshest youth: It is the feignVl Elisium's truth ; The spring that wintered hearts renew'th, And this is that my soul pursu'th. ALOVEGIFT. 59 SIR ROBERT AYTON. THE FLIRT, I DO confess thou 'rt smooth and fair, And I might have gone near to love thee, Had I not found the slightest prayer That lip could move had power to move thee ; But I can let thee now alone As worthy to be loved by none. I do confess thou 'rt sweet ; yet find Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, Thy favours are but like the wind, Which kisseth every thing it meets ; And since thou can'st with more than one, Thou 'rt worthy to be lov'd by none. The morning rose, that untouched stands, Arm'd with her briars, how sweetly swells ! But pluck'd and strain'd. through ruder hands, Her sweet no longer with her dwells. But scent and beauty both are gone. And leaves fall from her, one by one. Such fate e"er long, will the betide. When thou hast handled been awhile ; Like sear-flowers to be thrown aside. And I will sigh when some will smile; To see thy love for more than one, Hath brought thee to be loved by none.' GO ALOVEGIFT. WILLIAM SMITH. Thy beauty subject of my son^ I make, fairest fair, on whom depends my life ! Refuse not then the task I undertake To please thy rage, and to appease my strife ; But with one smile remunerate my toil; None other guerdon I of thee desire ; Give not my lowly muse, new-hatch'd the foil, But warmth, that she may at the length aspire Unto the temples of thy star-bright eyes, Upon whose round orbs perfect beauty sits ; From whence such glorious crystal beams arise, As best my Chloris' seemly face befits : Which eyes, which beauty, whichbright crystal beam. Which face of thine, hath made my love extreme. BEN JONSON. O DO not wanton with those eyes, Lest I be sick with seeing! Nor cast them down ; but let them rise, Lest shame destroy their being. ALOVEGJFT. Gl O be not angry with those fires, For then their threats will kill nne! Nor look too kind on my desires, For then my hopes will spill me. O do not steep them in thy tears, For so will sorrow slay me : Nor spread them, as distract with fears ; IMine own enough betray me ! THE SWEET NEGLECT. Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfum'd ; Lady it is to be presum'd — Though art's hid causes are not found — All is not sweet, all is not sound ! Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free ! Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; That strike mine eyes but not my heart. 62 A T. O V E G I F T For love's sake, kiss me once again ! I long, and should not beg in vain : Here's none to spy, or see ; Why do you doubt, or stay ? I'll taste as lightly as the Bee, That doth but touch his flower, and flies away. Once more, and (faith) I will be gone; Can he that loves, ask less than one 1 Nay you may err in this, And all your bounty wrong: This could be call'd but half a kiss. What we "re but once to do, we should do long. I will but mend the last ; and tell Where, how it would have relish'd well ; Join lip to lip and try Each to suck other's breath ; And, whilst our tongues perplexed lie, Let who will think us dead, or wish our death ! MADKIGAL, Do BUT look on her eyes, they do light All that Love's world compriseth ; Do but look on her hair, it is bright As Love's star when it riselh ; A L O V E G I F T . 03 Do but mark her forehead, smoother Than words that soothe her ! And from her arch'd brow such a grace Sheds itself through the face, As alone there triumphs to the life, All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife. Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touch'd it ? Have you mark'd but the fall of the snow, Before the soil hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of the beaver 1 Or the swan's down, ever / Or have smelt 'o the bud o' the briar 1 Or the nard i' the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee, Oh ! so white ! oh ! so soft ! oh ! so sweet is she ! TO CELIA, Drtxk to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine ! Or leave a kisse but in the cup. And I "le not looke for wine. The thirst that from the soule doth rise, Doth aske a drinke divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. 64 ALOVEGIFT. I sent thee, late, a rosie wreath, Not so much honouring thee, As giving it a hope that there It could not withered bee. But thou thereon did'st only breath, And senfst it backe to mee : Since when it growes, and smells, I sweare, Not of itselfe, but thee. THOMAS CARKW. Ask me no more — where Jove bestow; When June is past, the fading rose 1 For in your beauties' orient deep. These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more — whither do stray The golden atoms of the Day; For, in pure love, Heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more — whither doth haste The Nightingale, when May is past ; For in your sweet-dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note. A L O V E G I F T . Go Ask me no more — where those Stars light, That downwards fall in dead of night ; For in your eyes they sit, and there Fixed become, as in their sphere. Ask me no more — if east or west, The FhcEnix builds her spicy nest; For unto you, at last, she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies ! TO CELIA. No MORE shall meads be deck\l with flowers. Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers, Nor greenest buds on branches spring, Nor warbling birds delight to sing, Nor April Violets paint the grove; If I forsake my Celiacs love ! The fish shall in the ocean burn : And fountains sweet shall bitter turn; The humble oak no flood shall know. When floods shall highest hills overflow ; Black Lethe shall oblivion leave ; If e'er my Celia 1 deceive ! Love shall his bow and shafts lay by, And Venus' Doves want wings to fly ; The sun refuse to shew his light; And day shall then be turn'd to night, 66 A L O ^' E G I F T . And in that night no star appear; If once I leave my Celia dear. Love shall no more inhabit earth. Nor lovers more shall love for worth ; Nor joy above in heaven dwell, Nor pain torment poor souls in hell ; Grim death no more shall horrid prove, K e'er I leave bright Celia's love. DISDAI?i KETURNED. He that loves a rosie cheek, Or a coral lip admires. Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and stedfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires. Hearts with equal love combin'd Kindle never-dying fires. Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips or eyes. No teai-s, Celia, now shall win My resolv'd heart to return ; I have search'd thy soul within, And find nought but pride and scorn; ALOVEGIFT. 67 I have learnM thy arts, and now Can disdain as much as thou. Some Pow'r in my revenge, convey That love to her I cast away. BEAOIONT AND FLETCHER. Now THE lusty spring is seen; Golden yellow, gaudy blue, Daintily invite the view, Every where, on every green. Roses blushing as they blow, And enticing men to pull; Lilies whiter than the snow, Woodbines of sweet honey full : All love's emblems, and all cry, ' Ladies, if not pluck'd, we die.' Yet, the lusty spring hath staid ; Blushing red, and purest white, Daintily to love invite Every woman, every maid. Cherries kissing as they grow, And inviting men to taste ; Apples even ripe below, Winding gently to the waist : All love's emblems, and all cry, ' Ladies, if not pluck'd, we die.' G8 A L O V E G 1 K T Can you love for love, and make that the reward? The old man shall not love his heaps of gold With a more doting superstition, Than I'll love you ; the young man, his delights ; The merchant, when he ploughs the angry sea up, And sees the mountain-billows falling on him, As if all elements, and all their angers. Were turn'd into one vow'd destruction, Shall not with greater joy embrace his safety. We '11 live together like two wanton vines. Circling our souls and loves in one another ; We '11 spring together, and we '11 bear one fruit ; One joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn, One age go with us, and one hour of death Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us happy. Wherefore sits My Pha-be shadow'd in a sable cloud ! Those pearly drops which thou lett'st fall like beads, Numbering on them thy vestal orisons, Alas ! are spent in vain ; I love thee still. In midst of all these showers thou sweetlier scent'st, Like a green meadow on an April day, In which the sun and west wind play together, Striving to catch and dridk its pearly drops. L O V E G I F T . 69 WILLIAM HERBERT, EAUL OF I'EMBROKE, LOVE IN THE COUNTRY. Dear, leave thy home and come with me, That scorn the world for love of thee ; Here we will live, within this park, A court of joy and pleasure's ark. Here we will hunt, here we will range; Constant in love, our sports we '11 change j Of hearts, if any change we make, I will have thine, thou mine shalt take. Here we will walk upon the lawns, And see the tripping of the fawns : And all the deer shall wait on thee, — Thou shalt command both them and me. The leaves a whisp'ring noise shall make, Their musick-notes the birds shall wake ; And while thou art in quiet sleep. Through the green wood shall silence keep. And while my herds about thee feed, Love's lessons in thy face 111 read, And feed upon thy lovely look. For beauty hath no fairer book. 70 ALOVEGIFT. It 's not the weather, nor the air, It is thyself, that is so fair; Nor (loth it rain when heaven lowers, But when you frown, then fall the showers. One sun alone moves in the sky, — Two suns thou hast. o«e in each eye; Only by day that sun gives light, — "Where thine doth rise there is no night. Fair starry twins, scorn not to shine Upon my lambs, upon my kine ; My grass doth grow, my corn and vv-heat, My fruit, my vines, thrive by their heat. Thou shalt have wool, thou shalt have silk, Thou shalt have honey, wine, and milk ; Thou shalt have all, for all is due "Wliere thoughts are free and love is true. SIR JOHN BEAUMONT. The bleakest rock upon the loneliest heath Feels, in its barrenness, some touch of spring, And, in the April dew, or beam of May, Its moss and lichen freshens and revives: And thus the heart, most seard to human pleasure, Melts at the tear, joys at the smile of woman. L O V E G I F T . 71 A DESCRIPnoX OF LOVE. Love is a region, full of fires, And burning with extreme desires, An object seeks, of which possest The wheels are fixed, the motions rest, The flames in ashes lie opprest; This meteor, striving high to rise, (The fuel spent) falls down and dies. Much sweeter, and more pure delights Are drawn from fair alluring sights, \Mien ravisht minds attempt to praise Commanding eyes, like heavenly rays; "WTiose force the gentle heart obeys: Than where the end of this pretence Descends to base inferior sense. ' Why then should lovers (most will say) Expect so much th' enjoying day?^ Love is like youth, he thirsts for age, He scorns to be his mother's page : But when proceeding time assuage The former heat, he will complain. And wish those pleasant hours again. We know that Hope and Love are twins ! Hope gone, fruition now begins; But what is this ? Unconstant, frail. Is nothing sure, but sure to fail: A LOVE GIFT, Which, if we lose it, we l>e>vail ! And when we have it, still we bear The worst of passions, daily fear. When Love thus in his centre ends, Desire and Hope, his inward friends, Are shaken off: while Doubt and Grief, The weakest givers of relief, Stand in his council as the chief: And now he to this period brought, From Love, becomes some other thought. These lines I write not to remove United souls from serious love : The best attempts by mortals made, Reflect on thing:s which quickly fade ! Yet never will I men persuade To leave affections, where may shine Impressions of the Love divine. WILLL\M DRUMMOND. Trust not, sweet Soul ! those curled waves of gold, With gentle tides that on your temples flow ! Nor temples spread with flakes of virgin snow ! Nor snow of cheeks, with tyrian grain enrolFd : ALOVEGIFT. /J Trust not those shining lights, which wrought my woe When first I did their azure rays behold ! Nor voice, whose sounds more strange effects do show Than of the thracian harper have been told. Look to this dying lily, fading rose ! Dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beams Made all the neighbouring herbs and grass rejoice ! And think how little is 'twixt life's extremes ! The cruel tyrant, that did kill those flow'rs, Shall once, ah me ! not spare that Spring of your's. SACRED Blush! enpurpling cheeks' pure skies With crimson w ings, which spread thee like the morn ! bashful Look ! sent from those shining eyes, Which, though slid down on earth, doth heaven adorn ! Tongue ! in which most luscious nectar lies, That can at once both bless and make forlorn ! Dear coral Lip ! which beauty beautifies : That trembling stood, before her words were bom ! And ye, her Words ! words no — but golden chains Which did enslave my ears, ensnare my soul ; Wise image of her mind, mind that contains A power all power of senses to control : So sweetly you from love dissuade do me, That I love more, if more my love can be. 74 ALOVEGIFT Alt- other Beauties, howsoe'er they shine ! In hairs more bright than is the goWen ore. Or cheeks niore fair than fairest eglantine, Or hands like her that comes the sun before ! Match'd with that heavenly hue and shape of thine, With those dear stars which my weak thoughts adore, Look but as shadows — or if they be more, It is in this, that they are like to thine ! Who sees those eyes, their force that doth not prove ? Who gazeth on the dimple of that chin. And finds not Venus' son entrench'd therein, Or hath not sense, or knows not what is love. To see thee, had Narcissus had the grace, He would have died with wondering on thy face ! THE KISS. Thk kiss, with so much strife. Which I late got, sweet Heart ! Was it a sign of death, or was it life ? Of life it could not be. For I by it did sigh my soul in thee : Nor was it death, death doth no joy impart. Thou silent stand'st. — Ah ! what didst thou bequeath A dying life to me, or living death ? 75 ALL CHANGETH. ' The angry winds not aye Do cufF the roaring deep ; And though heai-ens often weep, Yet do they smile for joy, when comes dismay: Frosts do not ever kill the pleasant flow'rs ; And love hath sweets, when gone are all the sours.' This said a Shepherd, closing in his arms His Dear ; who blushed to feel love's new alarms ! JOHN FORD. THE shepherd's SORROW FOR HIS PHCEEe's DISDAIN. Oh ! woods, unto your walks my body hies. To loose the trayterous bonds of tyring love ; Where trees, where herbs, where flowers, Their native moisture poures. From forth their tender stalks to helpe mine eyes : Yet their united teares may nothing move. When I behold the fair adorned tree. Which lightning's force and winter's frosts resist : Then Daphne's ill betide, And Phoebe's lawless pride, Enforce me say even such my sorrows be. For selfe disdaine in Pha-be's heart consists. 76 ALOVEGIFT. If I behold the flowers by morning teares, Looke lovely sweet, ah! then forlorne I crie, Sweet showers, for Memnon shed, All flowers by you are fed ; Whereas my piteous plant that still appears, Yields vigour to her scornes and makes me die. "When I regard the pretty glee-full bird. With tear-full (yet delightfull) notes complaine, I yield a terror with my teares ! And whilst her musicke woundes my eares, Alas ! say I, when will my notes afford Such like remorse who still beweepe my paine ! When I behold upon the leafeless bough The haplesse bird lament her love's depart, I draw her tiding nigh, And sitting down I sigh ! And sighing say, alas ! that birds avow A settling faith, yet Phtt'be scorns my smart. Thus, wearie in my walke, and woefuU too, I spend the day forespent with daily griefe ! Each object of distresse My sorrow doth expresse, I doate on that which doth my heart undoe, And honour her that scorns to yield reliefe. L O T E G I F r . 77 GEORGE WITHER. FROM 'fair virtue.' Hail thou fairest of all creatures Upon whom the sun doth shine ; Model of all rarest features, And perfections most divine. Thrice all hail ! and blessed be Those that love and honour thee. This, thy picture; therefore shew I Naked unto every eye, Yet no feare of rival know I, Neither touch of jealousie ; For, the more make love to thee, I the more shall pleased be. I am no Italian lover, That will mew thee in a jayle ; But, thy beautie I discover, English-like, without a vail: If thou mayst be won away, Win and wear thee he that may. Yet, in this thou mayst believe me : (So indifferent tho' I seem) Death with tortures would not grieve me, 78 ALOVEGIFT. More than loss of thy esteem ; For, if virtue me forsake, All, a scorn of me will make. Then, as I on thee relying Doe no changing feare in thee ; So, by my defects supplying, From all changing, keep thou me. That, unmatched we may prove, Thou, for beautie ; I, for love. A SONNET rPON A STOLEN KISS. Now GENTLE sleep hath closed up those eyes, Which, waking, kept my boldest thoughts in awe ; And free access, unto that sweet lip, lies, From whence I long the rosie breath to draw. Methinks no wrong it were, if I should steal From those two melting rubies, one poor kiss; None sees the theft that would the thief reveal, Nor rob I her of ought which she can miss : Nay, should I twenty kisses take away, There would be little sign I had done .so; Why then should I this robbery delay? O ! she may wake, and therewith angry grow ! Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one. And twenty hundred thousand more for loan. LOVKGIFT. 79 \VILLIA:M BROWNE. Shall T tell you whom I love? Harken then a while to me, And if such a woman move As I now shall versify; Be assured, 't is she, or none, That I love, and love alone. Nature did her so much right, As she scorns the help of art. In as many virtues diijht As e'er yet embraced a heart. So much good so truly tried, Some for less were deilied. Wit she hath, without desire To make known how much she hath ; And her anger flames no higher Than may fitly sweeten wrath. Full of pity as may be Though perhaps not so to me. Reason masters every sense, And her virtues grace her birth : 80 A L O V E G I F T . Lovely as all excellence, Modest in her most of mirth : Likelihood enough to prove Only worth could kindle love. Such she is: and if you know Such a one as I have sung ; Be she brown, or fair, or so, That she be but some while young; Be assured, 'tis she, or none, That I love, and love alone. Gentt.e nymphs, be not refusing. Love's neglect is time's abusing. They and beauty are but lent you ; Take the one, and keep the other: Love keeps fresh what age doth smother, Beauty gone, you will repent you. 'Twill be said, when ye have proved, Never swains more truly loved : O, then fly all nice behaviour! Pity fain would (as her duty) Be attending still on Beauty, Let her not be out of favour. L O V E G I F T . SI LOVERS PARTING. Look as a lover, with a lingering kiss, About to part with the best half that's his; Fain would he stay, but that he fears to do it, And curseth time for so fast hastening to it ! Now takes his leave, and yet begins anew To make less vows than are esteemed true ; Then says he must be gone, and then doth find Something he should have spoke that's out of mind; And whilst he stands to look for it in her eyes, Their sad sweet glance so tie his faculties, To think from what he parts, that he is now As far from leaving her, or knowing how, As when he came; begins his former strain. To kiss, to vow, and take his leave again : Then turns, comes back, sighs, pants, and yet doth go. Apt to retire, and loathe to leave her so ; — So part I. THE SIREN S SONG. SxEERE hither, steere, your winged pines, All beaten mariners, Here lie Love's undiscovered mines, A prey to passengers ; 82 ALOVEGIFT, Perfumes far sweeter than the best Which makes tlie pha'iiix' urn and nest, Fear not youre ships, Nor any to oppose you, save our lips, But come on shore "Where no joy dies till love hath gotten more. For swelling waves, our panting breasts. Where never stormes arise, Exchange; and be awhile our guests: For starres gaze on our eyes. The compass, love shall hourly sing, And as he goes about the ring, We will not misse To tell each point he nameth with a kisse. NATHANIEL FIELD. THE WAKING BEAUTY. Rise, lady! mistress rise! The night hath tedious been. No sleep hath fallen into my eyes, Nor slumbers made me sin : Is not she a saint then, say, Thought of whom keeps sin away ? 83 Rise, miidam, rise! and give me light, Whom darkness still will cover, And ignorance, darker than night, Till thou smile on thy lover; All want day till thy beauty rise — For the gray morn breaks from thine eyes. ROBERT HERRICK. THE ROSARY. One ask'd me where the roses grew% 1 bade him not go seek ; But forthwith bade my Julia shew A bud in either cheek. Some ask'd me where the rubies grow ! And nothing I did say, But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia. Some ask how pearls did grow, and where: Then spoke I to my girl To part her lips, and shew them there, The quarrelets of pearl. 84 ALOVEGIFT. THE CAPTIVE BEE. As Julia once a slumbering lay, It chanc'd a Bee did fly that way, After a dew, or dew-like shower, To tipple freely in a flower. For some rich flower, he took the lip Of Julia, and began to sip ; But when he felt he suck'd from thence Honey, and in the quintessence. He drank so much he scarce could stir, So Julia took the Pilferer. And thus surpris'd, as filchers use, He thus began himself t' excuse: Sweet Lady-Flower^ I never brought Hither the least one thieving thought; But taking those rare lips of yours For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flowers, I thought I might there take a taste, "Where so much syrup ran at waste. Besides, know this, I never sting The flower that gives me nourishing; But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay For honey that I bear away. This said, he laid his little scrip Of honey 'fore her Ladyship : And told her, as some tears did fall. That that he took, and that was all. At which she smil'd, and bade him go ALOVEGIFT. 85 And take his bag: but thus much know, When next he canae a pilfering so, He should fronn her full lips derive, Honey enough to fill his hive. TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME. Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, The higher he 's a getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he 's to setting. That age is best which is the first. When youth and blood are warmer ; But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may go marry; For having lost but once your prime. You may for ever tarry. L O T E GIFT HYMN TO VENUS. Goddess ! I do love a Girl Ruby-lipt, and tooth'd with pearl ! If so be I may but prove Lucky in this ]\!aid I love ; I will promise there shall be Myrtles offered up to Thee. DOCTOR HENRY KING. Dry those fair, those crystal eyes, Which like growing- fountains rise To drown their banks ! Grief's sullen brooks Would better flow in furrow'd looks: Thy lovely face was never meant To be the store of discontent. Then clear those waterish stars again, Which else portend a lasting rain ; Lest the clouds which settle there Prolong my winter all the year, And thy example others make In love with sorrow, for thy sake. LOVEGIFT. 87 THOMAS MAY. Dear ! do not your fair beauty wrong, In thinking still you are too young! The rose and lilies in your cheek Flourish, and no more ripeness seek. Your cherry lip, red, soft, and sweet, Proclaims such fruit for taste most meet: Then lose no time ! — for Love has wings. And flies away from aged things. WILLIAM HABINGTOX. PARTING. I AM engag'd to sorrow: and my heart Feels a distracted rage. Though you depart, And leave me to my fears : let love, in spite j Of absence, our divided souls unite : But you must go ! The melancholy Doves I Draw Venus' chariot hence; the sportive Loves, | Which wont to wanton here, hence with you fly; And like false friends, forsake me when I die. For but a walking tomb, what can he be Whose best of life is forced to part with thee ? LOVE GIFT. What should we fear, Castara? The cool air, That's fallen in love, and wantons in thy hair, Will not betray our whispers. Should I steal A nectar'd kiss, the wind dares not reveal The pleasure I possess ; the wind conspires To our blest interview, and in our fires Bathes like a Salamander ; and doth sip Like Bacchus from the grape, life from thy lip ! Nor think of night's approach. The world's great Eye, Though breaking Nature's law, will us supply With his still flaming lamp ; and, to obey Our chaste desires, fix here perpetual day ! But should he set, what rebel Night dares rise, To be subdu'd in th' victory of thy eyes 1 TO THE dew; in HOPE TO SEE CASTARA WALKING. Bright Dew! which dost the field adorn, As th' Earth, to welcome in the morn, Would hang a jewel on each corn : Did not the piteous Night, whose ears Have oft been conscious of my fears, Distil you from her eyes, as tears 1 Or that Castara, for your zeal, When she her beauties shall reveal, Might you to diamonds congeal 1 L O V K GIFT 89 If not your pity, yet howe'er Your care I praise; 'gainst she appear, To make the wealthy Indies here. But see, she comes ! Bright lamp o' th' sky Put out thy light ; the world shall spy A fairer sun in either eye ! And liquid pearl hang heavy now On every grass, that it may bow In veneration of her brow ! Yet if the wind should curious be, And where /here'? should question thee: He 's full of whispers, speak not me ! But if the busy tell-tale Day Our happy interview betray; Lest thou confess too, melt away ! TO CASTARA. We saw and woo'd each other's eyes ; My soul contracted then with thine. And both burnt in one sacrifice. By which our marriage grew divine. Let wilder youth, whose soul is sense, Profane the temple of delight. And purchase endless penitence With the stoFn pleasure of one night. 90 A L O V E G I F T . Time 's ever ours, while we despise The sensual idol of our clay: For though the Sun do set and rise, We joy one everlasting day; Whose light no jealous clouds obscure, While each of us shine innocent, The troubled stream is still impure: With virtue flies away content. And though opinion often err. We'll court the modest smile of fame; For sin's black danger circles her, Who hath infection in her name. Thus when to one dark silent room Death shall our loving coffins thrust, Fame will build columns on our tomb, And add a perfume to our dust ! SIR WILLIA.M DAVENANT. The lark now leaves his wafry nest. And climbing, shakes his dewy wings; He takes his window for the east ; And to implore your light, he sings. Awake, awake, the morn will never rise. Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. LOVE GIFT 91 The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes ; But still the lover wonders what they are, Who look for day before his mistress wakes. Awake, awake, break through your vails of lawn ! Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn. THOMAS RANDOLPH. ON HIS MISTRESS. I HAVE a Mistress, for perfections rare In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair! Like tapers, on the altar, shine her eyes; Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice ; And wheresoe'er my fancy would begin, Still her perfection lets religion in ! I touch her, like my beads, with devout care; And come unto my courtship, as my prayer : We sit, and talk; and kiss away the hours. As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers. We wear no flesh: but one another greet, As blessed souls in separation meet. Were it possible that my ambitious sin Durst commit rapes upon a cherubin ; I might have lustful thought to her, of all Earth's heavenly quire the most angelical! 92 AL.0TE6IFT. Looking: into my breast, her form I find, That, like my guardian angel, keeps my mind From rude attempts ; and when affections stir, I calm all passions with one thought of her. Thus they whose reasons love, and not their sense, The Spirits love : thus one intelligence Reflects upon his like ; and by chaste loves. In the same sphere this and that Angel moves. Beasts love like men ; if men in lust delight, And call that love which is but appetite ! When essence meets with essence, and souls join In mutual knots, that's the true nuptial twine. Such, Lady! is my love; and such is true: All other love is to your sex, not you. TO A LADY ADMIRING HERSELF IN A LOOKING-GLASS. Fair Lady, when you see the grace Of beauty in your looking-glass — A stately forehead, smooth and high, And full of princely majesty; A sparkling eye, no gem so fair, "Whose lustre dims the cy])rian star; A glorious cheek, divinely sweet, Wheiein both roses kindly meet; A cherry lip that would entice Even gods to kiss, at any price; ALOTKGIFT. 93 You think no beauty is so rare, That with your shadow might compare, That your reflection is alone The thing that men must doat upon. Madam, alas ! your glass doth lie ; And you are much deceiv'd, for I A beauty know of richer grace. Sweet! be not angry — 'tis your face. Hence then, learn more mild to be, And leave to lay your blame on me ! If me your real substance move, "VSTien you so much your shadow love. Wise nature would not let your eye Look on her own bright majesty, Which had you once but gaz'd upon, You could except yourself love none : What then you cannot love, let me — That face I can, you cannot see ! ' Now, you have what you love (you 11 say), What then is left for me, I pray 1 ' ^ly face, sweet heart ! if it please thee ; That which you can, I cannot see. So either love shall gain his due. Your s, Sweet ! in me, and mine in you ! 94 LOVE GIFT EDMUND WALLER. ON A GIRDLl That which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind : No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this has done. It was my heavens extremest sphere, The pale that held that lovely deer; My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass ! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that 's fair: Give me but what this ribbon bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round. L O V E G I F T . 95 THE ROSE. Go. LOVELY rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, WTien I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that 's young. And shuns to have her ^aces spied, That hadst thou sprung In desarts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth. Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush to be admired. Then, die : that she The common fate of all things rare jNIay read in thee ; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair. 96 ALOVEGIFT SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE. THE ROSE. Thou blushing rose, within whose virgin leaves The wanton wind to sport himself presumes, Whilst from their rifled wardrobe he receives For his wings pui-ple, for his breath perfumes ; Blown in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon. What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee ? Thou 'rt wondrous frolic, being to die so soon, And passing proud a little colour makes thee. If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives, Know then, the thing that swells thee is thy bane ; For that same beauty doth in bloody leaves The sentence of thy early death contain. Some clown's coarse lungs will poison thy sweet flower. If by the careless plough thou shalt be torn ; And many Herods lie in wait each hour To murder thee as soon as thou art born. Nay, force thy bud to blow, their tyrant breath Anticipating life, to hasten death. ALOVEGIFT. 97 JOHN MILTON. TO THE NIGHTINGALE. O NIGHTINGALE, that On yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve. when all the woods are still! Thou with fresh hope the lovers heart dost fill, While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes, that close the eye of Day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love : if Jove's will Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh; As thou, from year to year, hast sung too late For my relief yet hadst no reason why. Wliether the ^Nluse or Love call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I. LADY fair! whose honourd name is borne By that soft vale, where Rhine so loves to stray. And sees the tall arch crown his watery way! Sure happy he, though much the Muse's scorn, Too dull to die beneath thy beauty's ray, Who never felt that spirit's charmed sway 98 ALOVEGIFT. Which gentle smiles and gentle deeds adorn ; Though in those smiles are all love's arrows worn^ Each radiant virtue though those deeds display f Sure happy he, who that sweet voice should hear Mould the soft speech, or swell the tuneful strain, And, conscious that his humble vows were vain, Shut fond attention from his closed ear ; Who, piteous of himself, should timely part, Ere love had held long empire in his heart ! HENRY GLAPTHORNE. Unclose those eye-lids, and outshine The brightness of the breaking day ! The light they cover is divine, Why should it fade so soon away ? Stars vanish so, and day appears ; The suns so drown'd i' th' morning tears. Oh 1 let not sadness cloud this beauty, Which if you lose, you '11 ne'er recover! It is not love's but sorrow's duly. To die so soon for a dead lover. Banish, oh ! banish grief, and then Our joys will bring our hopes again. L O V E G 1 F T . 09 SIR JOHN SUCKLING. When, dearest ! I but think of thee, ZMethinks all things that lovely be Are present, and my soul delighted; For beauties that from worth arise, Are. like the grace of deities, Still present with us, though unsighted. Thus, whilst I sit and sigh the day, "With all his borrow'd lights away, Till night's black wings do overtake me ; Thinking on thee, thy beauties then, As sudden lights do sleepy men, So they by their bright rays awake me. Thus absence dies ; and dying, proves No absence can subsist with loves That do partake of fair perfection : Since in the darkest night they miy, By love's quick motion, find a way To see each other by reflection. The waving sea can with each flood Bathe some high promont'. that has stood Far from the main up in the river: Oh ! think not, then, but love can do As much ; for that's an ocean too, Which flows not every day, but ever ! 100 A LOVE Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale ? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail ? Prithee why so pale ? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute ? Will, when speaking well can't win her. Saying nothing do 't ? Prithee, why so mute ? Quit, quit for shame ; this will not move This cannot take her ; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her. The devil take her ! RICHARD LOVELACE. TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON. Hovers within my gates. And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates ; A LOVE GIFT. 101 WTien I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye, — The birds, that wanton in the air, Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round, With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses bound, Our hearts with loyal flames ; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, — Fishes, that tipple in the deep, Know no such liberty. When, like committed linnets, I With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty, And glories of my king; When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be, — Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Elnow no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make. Nor iron bars a cage ; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage. If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free, — Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty. 102 A LOVE GIFT. ABRAHAM COWLEY. THE CHANGE. Love in her sunny eyes does basking j)Iay; Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair ; Love does on both her lips for ever stay, And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there : Li all her outward parts Love 's always seen : But, oh ! he never went within. Within Love 's foes, his greatest foes^ abide, IVIalice, Inconstancy, and Pride : So the earth's face trees, herbs, and flowers, do dress. With other beauties numberless ; But at the centre darkness is, and hell ; There wicked spirits, and their damned, dwell. With me, alas ! quite contrary it fares ; Darkness and death lie in my weeping eyes, Despair and paleness, in my face appears, And grief, and fear. Love's greatest enemies ; But, like the Persian tyrant. Love within Keeps his proud court, and ne'er is seen. Oh ! take my heart, and by that means you '11 prove Within too stored enough of love : Give me but yours, I'll by that change so thrive. That love in all my parts shall live. So powerful is this change, it render can My outside Woman, and your inside Man. LOVE G t F T . 103 ALEXANDER BROME. THE EE.SOLVE. Te-lt. me not of a face that's fair, Nor lip and cheek that 's red, Nor of the tresses of her hair, Nor curls in order laid ; Nor of a rare seraphic voice. That like an angel sings ; Though if I vi-ere to take my choice, I would have all these things. But if that thou wilt have me love, And it must be a she 5 Tlie only argument can move Is, thai she will love me. The glories of your ladies he But metaphors of things, And but resemble what we see Each common object brings. Roses out-red their lips and cheeks. Lilies their whiteness stain: What fool is he that substance seeks. And may the shadow gain I Then if thou 'It have me love a lass, Let it be one that's kind. Else I 'm a servant to the glass That 's with Canary lined- 104 A LOVE GIFT THE ATTEMPT. "Why should I blush and be dismay 'd, To tell you I adore you ? Since love 's a power that can't be-stay'd. But must by all be once obey'd, And you as well as those before you. Your beauty hath enchain'd my mind, O let me not then cruel find, You which are fair, and therefore should be kind. Fair as the light, pure as the ray, That in the grey-ey'd morning Leaps forth and propagates a day, Those glories which in others stray, Meet all in you for your adorning. Since nature built that goodly frame, And virtue has inspir'd the same, Let love draw yours to meet ray raging flame. Joy of my soul, the only thing, That 's my delight and glory, From you alone my love doth spring, If one love may another bring, "Twill crown our happy story. Those fires I bum with all are pure And noble, yet too strong t' endure; 'Twas you did wound, — 'twas you that ought to cure. LOVE G I r T . 105 JOHN BULTEEL. Chloris, "t will be for cither's rest Truly to know each others breast. I'll make the obscurest part of mine Transparent as I would have thine : If you will deal but so with me. We soon shall part, or soon agree. Know then, though you were twice as fair, K it could be as now you are. And though the graces of your mind With a resembling lustre shined ; Yet, if you loved me not. you 'd see I "d value those as you do me. Though I a thousand times had sworn My passion should transcend your scorn : And that your bright triumphant eyes Create a flame that never dies ; Yet, if to me you proved untrue, Those oaths should prove as false to you. 106 A LOVE GIFT THOMAS STANLEY. SPEAKING AND KISSING. The air which thy smooth voice doth break, Into my soul like lightning flies; My life retires whilst thou dost speak, And thy soft breath its room supplies. Lost in this pleasing extacy, I join my trembling lips to thine. And back receive that life from thee Which I so gladly did resign. Forbear, Platonic fools, t' inquire What numbers do the soul compose; No harmony can life inspire. But that which from these accents flows. CELIA SINGING. Roses in breathing forth their scent, Or stars their borrow'd ornament: Nymphs in their wat'ry sphere that move. Or angels in their orbs above ; The winged chariot of the light, Or the slow silent wheels of night; A LOVE GIFT. 107 The shade which from the swifter sun Doth in swifter motion run, Or souls that their eternal rest do keep, Make far less noise than Celia's breath in sleep. But if the angel which inspires This subtle flame with active fires, Should mould this breath to words, and those Into a harmony dispose ; The music of this heavenly sphere Would steal each soul in at the ear, And into plants and stones infuse A life that cherubim would chuse. And with new powers invert the laws of fate, Kill those that live, and dead thinsrs animate. GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKIXGHAM. Come, let us now resolve at last To live and love in quiet ; We '11 tie the knot so very fast, That time shall ne'er untie it. 108 A LOVE GIFT The truest joys they seldom prove, WTio free from quarrels live ; 'Tis the most tender part of love, Each other to forgive. When least I seem'd concern'd, I took No pleasure nor no rest; And when I feign'd an angry look, Alas ! I lov'd you Lest. Say but the same to me ; you '11 find How blest will be our fate ! Oh, to be happy, to be kind, Sure never is too late. CHARLES COTTON. Prythee, why so angry, sweet? 'Tis in vain To dissemble a disdain : That frown i' th' infancy I'll meet, And kiss it to a smile again. A LOVE GIFT. 109 In that pretty anger is Such a grace, As Love's fancy would embrace, As to new crimes my youth entice, So that disguise becomes that face. "WTien thy rosy cheek thus checks ^ly offence, I could sin with a pretence : Thro' that sweet chiding blush there breaks So fair, so bright an innocence. Thus your very frowns entrap My desire, And inflame me to admire Those eyes, drest in an angry shape, Should kindle as with amorous lire. APHARA BEHX. What mean those amorous curls of jet ? For what heart-ravish'd maid Dost thou thy hair in order set, Thy wanton tresses braid ? And thy vast store of beauties open lay, That the deluded fancy leads astray. 110 A I. O V E GIFT. For pity hide thy starry eyes. Whose languishments destroy ; And look not on the slave that dies With an excess of joy. Defend thy coral lips, thy amher breath ; To taste these sweets, alas! is certain death. Forbear, fond charming Youth, forbear, Thy words of melting love : Thy eyes thy language well may spare, One dart enough can move. And she that hears thy voice, and sees thy eyes, With too much pleasure, too much softness dies. Cease, cease, with sighs to warm my soul, Or press me with thy hand : Who can the kindling fire controul, The tender force withstand ? Thy sighs and touches like wing'd lightning fly, And are the God of Love's artillery. JOHN DRYDEN. Ask not the cause why sullen Spring So long delays her flowers to rear ? Why warbling birds forget to sing. And winter storms invert the year? Chloris is gone ; and fate provides To make it Spring where she resides. A L O V E G I F T . Ill Chloris is gone. — The cruel Fair, She cast not back a pitying eye, But left her Lover in despair ; To sigh, to languish, and to die. Ah, how can those fair eyes endure To give the wounds they cannot cure ! Great God of Love ! why hast thou made A face that can all hearts command, That all religions can invade, And change the laws of eveiy land ? Where thou hadst plac'd such power before, Thou should St have made her mercy more. "VSTien Chloris to the temple comes, Adoring crowds before her fall; She can restore the dead from tombs, And every life but mine recall : I only am by Love design'd To be the victim for mankind ! Ah, how sweet it is to love! Ah, how gay is young Desire ! And what pleasing pains we prove "VVhen we first approach Love's fire ! Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are. 112 A LOVE GIFT. Sighs which are from lovers blown Do but gently heave the heart : E'en the tears they shed alone Cure like trickling balm their smart. Lovers, when they lose their breath, Bleed away in easy death. Love and Time with reverence use ! Treat them like a parting friend : Nor the golden gifts refuse Which in youth sincere they send: For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before. Love, like spring-tides full and high. Swells in every youthful vein: But each tide does less supply. Till they quite shrink in again : If a flow in age appear, 'Tis but rain, and runs not clear. GEORGE ETHEREGE. SONG. Ladies, though to your conquering eyes Love owes his chiefest victories, And borrows those bright arms from you, With which he does the world subdue ; A LOVE GIFT. 113 Yet you yourselves are not above The empire nor the griefs of love. Then rack not lovers with disdain, Lest love on you revenge their pain : You are not free, because you 're fair, The boy did not his mother spare : Though beauty be a killing dart, It is no armour for the heart. CHARLES SACKVILLE, EAEL OK DORSET. Phtllis. for shame ! let us improve, A thousand different ways. Those few short moments snatch'd by love From many tedious days. If you want courage to despise The censure of the grave, Though Love 's a tyrant in your eyes, Your heart is but a slave. My love is full of noble pride j Nor can it e'er submit, To let that fop Discretion, ride In triumph over it. 114 AlrOVEGIfT. False friends I Iiave as well as you, "Wlio daily counsel me Fame and ambition to pursue, And leave off loving thee. But when the least regard I show To fools who thus advise, May 1 be dull enough to grow Most miserably wise ! May the ambitious ever find Success in crowds and noise, While gentle love doth fill my mind With silent real joys ! Let knaves and fools grow rich and great And the world think them wise : Whilst I lie dying at her feet, And all the world despise ! Let conquering kings new triumphs raise, And melt in court delights : Her eyes can give much brighter days ! Her arms, much softer nights! LOVE GIFT. 115 SIR CHARLES SEDLEY. INDIFFERENCE EXCUSED. Love, when "t is true, needs not the aid Of sigh, nor oaths, to make it known: And. to convince the cruel'st maid, Lovers should use their love alone. Into their verj'- looks "t will steal, And he that most would hide his flame Does in that case his pain reveal : Silence itself can love proclaim. This, my Aurelia, made me shun The paths that common lovers tread. WTiose guilty passions are begun. Not in their heart, but in their head. I could not sigh, and with cross'd arms Accuse your rigour, and my fate : Nor tax your beauty with such charms As men adore, and women hate. But careless lov'd, and without art, Knowing my love you must have spied ; And thinking it a foolish part To set to show what none can hide. IIG ALOVEGIFT. DISINTERESTED LOVE. Phtllis, men say that all my vows Are to thy fortune paid ; Alas ! my heart he little knows WTio thinks my love a trade. Were I, of all these woods, the lord, One berry from thy hand More real pleasure would afford, Than all my large commands. My humble love has learnt to live On what the nicest maid. Without a conscious blush, may give Beneath the myrtle shade. JOHN WILMOT, KAKL OF KOCUESTEE. ON HIS MISTRESS. My dear Mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave me, When with love's resistless dart. And her eyes she did enslave me : A LOVE GIFT. 117 But her constancy's so weak, She's so wild and apt to wander, That my jealous heart would break, Should we live one day asunder. Melting joys about her move. Killing pleasures, wounding blisses 5 She can dress her eyes in love. And her lips can warm with kisses. Angels listen if she speak, ^ She's my delight, all mankind's wonder: But my jealous heart would break, Should we live one day asunder. All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone : Like transitory dreams given o'er, Those images are kept in store By memory alone. The time that is to come is not; How can it then be mine ? The present moment 's all my lot, And that as fast as it is got, Phillis, is only thine. 118 A LOVE GIFT. Then talk not of inconstancy, False hearts and broken vows ; If I, by miracle, can be This live-lon;5 minute true to thee, 'T is all that heaven allows. ANNE, MARCHIONESS OF WHARTON. How HARDLY I conceaFd my tears. How oft did I complain. When many tedious days my fears Told me I lov'd in vain I But now my joys as wild are grown. And hard to be conceal'd ; Sorrow may make a silent moan, But joy will be reveal'd. I tell it to the bleating flocks, To every stream and tree, And bless the hollow-murmuring rocks For echoing back to me. Thus you may see with how much joy We want, we wish, believe : 'Tis hard such passion to destroy But easy to deceive ! L O V E r, I F T . 119 CHARLES MORDANT, EAl'-I. OF i'ETECKOEOroir. I SATD to my heart, between sleeping and waking, ' Thou wild thing, that always art leaping or aching, What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what nation, By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-patation ? " Thus accused, the wild thing gave this sober reply : — ' See, the heart without motion, though Celia pass by ! Not the beauty she has, not the wit that she borrows, Give the eye any joys, or the heart any sorrows. ' When our Sappho appears — she, whose wit so refined I am forced to applaud with the rest of mankind — Whatever she says is with spirit and fire ; Every word I attend, but I only admire. ' Prudentia as vainly would put in her claim, Ever gazing on heaven, though man is her aim : 'Tis love, not devotion, that turns up her eyes — Those stars of this world are too good for the skies. ' But Chloe so lively, so easy, so fair, Her wit so genteel, without art, without care. When she comes in my way — the motion, the pain, The leapings, the achings, return all again.' 120 A LOVE GIFT. O wonderful creature ! a woman of reason ! Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season ; When so easy to guess who this angel should be, Would one think JMrs. Howard ne'er dreamt it was she ? JOHN CUTTS, BAEOX GOWKAX Only tell her that I love, Leave the rest to Her and Fate ! Some kind planet, from above. May perhaps her pity move : Lovers on their stars must wait : Only tell her, that I love ! Why J oh, why should I despair 1 Mercy's pictur'd in her eye : If she once vouchsafe to hear. Welcome hope, and welcome fear, She's too good to let nie die : Why, oh, why should I despair 1 1-21 FRANCIS ATTERBURY. ON A FAN, Flavia the least and slightest toy Can with resistless art employ ! This Fan in meaner hands would prove An engine of small force in love : Yet she with graceful air and mien, Not to be told, or safely seen, Directs its wanton motions so That it wounds more than Cupid's bow ; Gives coolness to the matchless dame, To every other breast — z. flame! MATTHEW PRIOR. While from our looks, fair nymph, you guess The secret passions of the mind; My heavy eyes, you say, confess A heart to love and grief inclin'd. 122 A LOVE GIFT. There needs, alas ! but little art To have this fatal secret found ; With the same ease you threw the dart 'Tis certain you can show the wound. How can I see you, and not love, While you as opening east are fair? While cold as northern blasts you prove, How can I love, and not despair 1 The wretch, in double fetters bound, Your potent mercy may release : Soon, if my love but once were crown'd. Fair Prophetess! my grief would cease. In vain you tell your parting Lover, You wish fair winds may waft him over: Alas ! "what winds can happy prove. That bear me far from what I love 1 Alas ! what dangers on the main Can equal those that I sustain. From slighted vows and cold disdain? Be gentle, and in pity choose To wish the wildest tempest loose: That, thrown again upon the coast Where first my shipwreck'd heart was lost, A LOVE GIFT. 123 I may once more repeat my pain ; Once more in dying notes complain Of slighted vows, and cold disdain ! GEORGE GRANVILLE, LORD LANSDOW: No WARNING of th' approaching flame. Swiftly, like sudden death, it came ; Like travellers by lightning kilFd ; I burn'd the moment I beheld. In whom so many charms are plac'd, Is with a mind as nobly gracYl ; The case, so sJiining to behold. Is fiird with richest gems and gold. To what my eyes admir'd before, I add a thousand graces more ; And fancy blows into a flame The spark that from her beauty came. The object thus improv'd by thought. By my own image I am caught ! Pygmalion so, with fatal art, Polish'd the form that stung his heart. 124 ALOVEGIFT WILLIAM CONGREYE. See, see, she Avakes, Sabrina wakes! And now the sun begins to rise; Less glorious is the morn that breaks From his bright beams, than her fair eyes. With light united, day they give; But different fates ere night fulfil : How many by his warmth will live ! How many will her coldness kill ! Cruel Amynta! can you see A heart thus torn, which you betray'd? Love of himself ne'er vanquish'd me, But through your eyes the conquest made. In ambush there the traitor lay, Where I was led by faithless smiles ; No wretches are so lost as they Whom much security beguiles ! A L O V E G I F T . 125 SAMUEL SAY. TO VALENTINE, 0.\ THE RETURN OF SPRING. Hail, best of Bishops, and of Saints the best By flaming Love distinguished from the rest; By love, the life in heaven, and business of the blest. Love made the world ! 'T was love alone could draw The disagreeing seeds to Nature's law ; Heaven saw the effects of Love, and bless'd them when it saw. Hence, mighty Saint, thy power deriv'd from Love, Thy great commission reaches all above; And earth and sea beneath, and all that live and move. Thou call'st the flowers ! they feel the glad com- mand : On sunny banks in smiling rows they stand. Broke from their mother's womb, and dress'd by Nature's hand. By thee the birds salute the welcome Spring, Inspir'd by thee and Love, in pairs they sing: With music and with joy the woods and vallies ring. l'2i) A L O V E G 1 F T . Fierce tigers yield to thee ! To hear thy voice, The gentle hind and rugged bears rejoice; And fishes scud the waves, to meet their happy choice. See, see, the cheerful morn ! how bright it shines ! With larger steps the Sun his course reclines, As conscious of thy day, as favouring thy designs : All wed below, and he above would wed ; The youthful earth has drest her fragrant bed, And promises her shades to shroud her radiant head. At his approach the storms and winter fly; The joyful bride her snowy vest lays by. Nor does, untimely coy, her naked form deny. Ah! could thy power so warm Lucretia's heart, And make the winter there and cold depart ; How wouldst thou bless a wretch, and ease his raging smart ! Couldst thou but make her soul consent with mine, And with her heart her answering hands to join ! For thee should Phcebus sing, and all the tuneful Nine. While I in annual songs thy name would raise. Thy day should stand above the rest of days. All lovers bless the Saint ! and crown my head with bays ! LOVE GIFT. 127 THOMAS PARNELL. When thy beauty appears In its graces and airs, All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky, At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by ray fears, So strangely you dazzle my eye ! But when without art Your kind thoughts you impart. When your love runs in blushes through every vein ; When it darts in your eyes, when it pants in your heart, Then I know you're a woman again. ' There 's a passion and pride In our se3^(she replied), And thus (might I gratify both) I would do : Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But still be a woman to you.' 128 A LOVE GIFT BARTON BOOTH. SWEET ARE THE CHARMS OF HER 1 LOVE. Sweet are the charms of her I love, More fragrant than the damask rose, Soft as the down of turtle-dove, Gentle as air when Zephyr blows, Refreshing as descending rains To sun-burnt climes, and thirsty plains. True as the needle to the pole. Or as the dial to the sun ; Constant as gilding waters roll. Whose swelling tides obey the moon ; From every other charmer free, My life and love shall follow thee. The lamb the flowery thyme devours. The dam the tender kid pursues ; Sweet Philomel, in shady bowers Of verdant spring, her note renews ; All follow what they most admire, As I pursue my soul's desire. A LOVE GIFT. l^d Nature must change her beauteous face, And vary as the seasons rise ; As winter to the spring gives place, Summer th' approach of autumn flies : No change in love the seasons bring. Love only knows perpetual spring. Devouring Time, with stealing pace, Makes lofty oaks and cedars bow ; And marble towers, and gates of brass, In his rude march he levels low : But time, destroying far and wide. Love from the soul can ne'er divide. Death only with his cruel dart, The gentle godhead can remove; And drive him from the bleeding heart To mingle with the bless'd above, Where, known to all his kindred train, He finds a lasting rest from pain. Love, and his sister fair, the soul. Twin-born, from heaven together canxe : Love will the universe control. When dying seasons lose their name ; Divine abodes shall own his power When time and death shall be no more. 130 A LOVE GIFT. AARON HILL. Oh ! forbear to bid me slight her, Soul and senses take her part ; Could my death itself delight her, Life should leap to leave my heart. Strong, though soft, a lover's chain ; CharmVl with woe, and pleas'd with pain. Though the tender flame were dying. Love would light it at her eyes ; Or, her tuneful voice applying, Through my ear my soul surprise. Deaf, I see the fate I shun ; Blind, I hear I am undone. JAMES THOMSON. For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to Love, And when we meet a mutual heart, Come in between, and bid us parti A L O V E G I F T . 131 Bid US sigh on from day to day, And \vish, and wish the soul away; Till youth and genial years are flown, And all the love of life is gone ? But busy, busy still art thou, To bind the loveless, joyless vow, The heart from pleasure to delude, To join the gentle to the rude. For once, O Fortune ! hear my prayer, And I absolve thy future care ; All other blessings I resign. Make but the dear Amanda mine. Unless with my Amanda bless'd. In vain I twine the woodbine bower: Unless to deck her sweeter breast, In vain I rear the breathing flower. Awaken'd by the genial year, In vain the birds around me sing; In vain the freshning fields appear: — "Without my love there is no Spring. 132 A LOVE GIFT HENRY CAREY. To BE gazing on those charms, To be folded in those arms, To unite my lips with those Whence eternal sweetness flows. To be lov'd by one so fair; Is to be blest beyond compare ! On that bosom to recline WTiile that hand is lock'd in mine ; In those eyes myself to view. Gazing still and still on you : To be lov'd by one so fair, Is to be bless"d beyond compare ! ROBERT DODSLEY. Come, my fairest ! learn of me, Learn to give and take the bliss ! Come ! my Love, here's none but we : I '11 instruct thee how to Idss. A r. O V E G I F T . 133 Why turn fom me that dear face ? Why that blush and downcast eye ? Come, come, meet my fond embrace, And the mutual rapture try. Throw thy lovely twining arms Round my neck and round my waist; And, whilst I devour thy charms, Let me closely be embrac'd : Then when soft ideas rise, And the gay desires grow strong, Let them sparkle in thy eyes, Let them murmur from thy tongue. To my breast with rapture cling! Look with transport on my face ! Kiss me, press me ! every thing, To endear the fond embrace. Every tender name of love, Li soft whispers let me hear; And let speaking nature prove Every ecstasy sincere. Whilst on thy dear bosom toying, Coplia ! who can speak my bliss 1 Who the raptures I 'm enjoying. When thy balmy lips I kiss I 134 A LOVE GIFT. Every look with love inspires me, Every touch my bosom wai-ms, Every melting murmur fires me, Every joy is in thy arms. Those dear eyes how soft they languish ! Feel my heart with rapture beat ! Pleasure turns almost to anguish, When the transport is so sweet. Look not so divinely on me, Coelia ! I shall die with bliss : Yet, yet turn those eyes upon me ! Who 'd not die a death like this 1 SOAME JENYNS. CHLOE HUNTING. Whilst thousands court fair Chloe's love, She fears the dangerous joy, But, Cynthia-like, frequents the grove, As lovely and as coy. With the same speed she seeks the hind, Or hunts the flying hare ; She leaves pursuing swains behind, To languish and despair. A LOVE GIFT. 135 Oh, strange caprice in thy dear breast. Whence first this whim began ; To follow thus each worthless beast, And shun their sovereign, man! Consider, fair, what 't is you do, How thus they both must die-, Not surer they, when you pursue. Than we, whene'er you fly. GEORGE, LORD LYTTLETON. TO LUCY. When I think on your truth, I doubt you no more, I blame all the fears I gave way to before : I say to my heart, 'be at rest, and believe That whom once she has chosen she never will leave.' But, ah ! when I think of each ravishing grace That plays in the smiles of that heavenly face, IMy heart beats again ; I again apprehend Some fortunate rival in every friend. These painful suspicions you cannot remove; Since you neither can lessen your charms, nor my love: But doubts caus'd by passion you never can blame : For they are not ill-founded, or you feel the same. 136 ALOVEGIFT PRAYER TO VENUS, IN HER TEMPLE AT STOWE. Fair Venus, whose delightful shrine surveys Its front reflected in the silver lake, These humble oiferings, which thy servant pays, Fresh flowers and myrtle-wreaths propitious take If less my love exceeds all other love, Than Lucy's charms all other charms excel, Far from my breast each soothing hope remove: And there let sad despair for ever dwell. But if my soul is fill'd with her alone, No other wish or other object knows ; Oh! make her, Goddess, make her all my own. And give my trembling heart secure repose. No watchful spies I ask, to guard her charms ; No walls of brass, no steel-defended door: Place her but once within my circling arms, Love's surest fort, and I will doubt no more ! JOHN ARMSTRONG. LOVE RESISTLESS. Almighty Love! oh inexhausted source Of universal joy ! flrst principle Of all creating nature ! harmony By which her mighty movements all are rul'd A LOVE GIFT. 137 Soft tyrant of each element : whose sway- Resistless through the wilds of air is felt. Through earth, and the deep empire of the main ! Thy willing slaves, we own thy gentle power, In us supreme, with kind endearments rais'd, Above the merely sensual touch of brutes. By thy soft charm the savage breast is tam"d, The genius rais'd. Thy heavenly warmth inspires "VVhate'er is noble, generous, or humane, Or elegant ; whate'er adorns the mind, Graces and sweetens life : and without thee Nothing or gay or amiable appears. WILLIAM THO.AIPSOX. THE lover's night. Lull'd in the arms of him she lov'd, lanthe sighed the kindest things ; Her fond surrender he approv'd With smiles ; and thus, enamour'd, sings. ' How sweet are lovers vows by night, Lap'd in a honey-suckle grove ! WTien Venus sheds her gentle light, And soothes the yielding soul to love. 138 A LOVE GIFT. ' Soft as the silent-footed dews That steal upon the star-light hours; Warm as a love-sick poet's muse ; And fragrant as the breath of flow'rs. ' To hear our vows the moon grows pale, And pants Endymion's warmth to prove ; While emulous, the Nightingale Thick-warbling trills her lay of love. ' The silver-sounding shining spheres That animate the glowing skies, Nor charm so much, as thou, my ears, Nor bless so much, as thou, my eyes. ' Thus let me clasp thee to my heart. Thus sink in softness on thy breast ! No cares shall haunt us, danger part, For ever loving, ever blest. ' Censorious envy dares not blame The passion which thy truth inspires; Ye stars, bear witness that my flame Is chaste as your eternal fires !' Love saw them (hid among the boughs,) And heard him sing their mutual bliss ! 'Enjoy,' cried he, ' lanthe's vows; But, oh ! I envy thee her kiss.' A LOVE GIFT. 139 SIR C. H. WILLIA.AIS. IMITATION OF MARTIAL. Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses, For sweeter sure girl never gave ; But why, in the midst of my blisses. Do you ask me how many I 'd have ? I'm not to be stinted in pleasure, Then prithee, my charmer, be kind ; For whilst I love thee above measure, To numbers I'll ne'er be confin'd. Count the bees that on Hybla are playing, Count the flow'rs that enamel its fields ; Count the flocks that on Tempe are straying. Or the grain that rich Sicily yields : Go number the stars in the heaven. Count how many sands on the shore : When so many kisses you 've given, I still shall be craving for more. To a heart full of love, let me hold thee : To a heart which, dear Chloe, is thine ! With my arms I '11 for ever enfold thee. And twist round thy limbs like a vine. What joy can be greater than this is \ — My life on thy lips shall be spent ! But the wretch that can number his kisses, With few will be ever content. 140 A LOVE GIFT. WILLIAM FALCONER. A ny:mph of eveiy charm possess'd That native virtue gives, Within my bosom all-confess'd, In bright idea lives. For her my trembling numbers play Along the pathless deep, While, sadly social with my lay, The winds in concert weep. If beauty's sacred influence charms The rage of adverse fate, Say, why the pleasing soft alarms Such cruel pangs create ? Since all her thoughts, by sense refin'd, Unartful truth express, Say, wherefore sense and truth are join'd To give my soul distress ? If when her blooming lips I press, Which vernal fragrance fills, Through all my veins the sweet excess In trembling motion thrills ; Say, whence this secret anguish grows. Congenial with my joy? And why the touch, where pleasure glows, Should vital peace destroy ? A LOVE GIFT. 141 If when my Fair in melting song Awakes the vocal lay, Not all your notes, ye Phocian throng, Such pleasing sounds convey; Thus wrapt all o'er with fondest love, WTiy heaves this broken sigh 1 For then my blood forgets to move : I gaze, adore, and die. Accept, my charming ]Maid, the strain Which you alone inspire ; To thee the dying strings complain, That quiver on my lyre. O ! give this bleeding bosom ease. That knows no joys but thee ; Teach me thy happy art to please, Or deign to love like me ! ANNA L.ETITIA EARBAULD. SOXG. Whe.n first upon your tender cheek I saw the morn of beauty break With mild and cheering beam, I bow'd before your infant shrine. The earliest sighs you had were mine, And you my darling theme. 142 A LOVE GIFT. I saw you in that opening morn For beauty's boundless empire born, And first confess'd your sway; And ere your thoughts, devoid of art, Could learn the value of a heart, I gave my heart away. I watch'd the dawn of every grace, And gaz'd upon that angel face. While yet 't was safe to gaze ; And fondly bless'd each rising charm, Nor thought such innocence could harm The peace of future days. But now despotic o'er the plains The awful noon of beauty reigns, And kneeling crowds adore ; These charms arise too fiercely bright, Danger and death attend the sight, And I must hope no more. Thus to the rising God of day Their early vows the Persians pay, And bless the spreading fire ; Whose glowing chariot mounting soon Pours on their heads the burning noon ; They sicken and expire. LOVE GIFT. 143 WILLIAM CRAWFURD. TWEEDSIDE. What beauties does Flora disclose ! How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed ! Yet Mary's still sweeter than those, Both nature and fancy exceed. Nor daisy, nor sweet-blushing rose, Not all the gay flowers of the field, Not Tweed gliding gently through those, Such beauty and pleasure does yield. The warblers are heard in the grove, The linnet, the lark, and the thrush. The blackbird, and sweet-cooing dove, With music enchant every bush. Come let us go forth to the mead. Let us see how the primroses spring ; We '11 lodge in some village on Tweed, And love while the feather'd folks sing. How does my love pass the long day ? Does 3Iary not tend a few sheep ? Do they never carelessly stray, While happily she lies asleep ? Tweed's murmurs should lull her to rest; Kind nature indulging my bliss, To relieve the soft pains of my breast, I "d steal an ambrosial kiss. 144 A LOVE GIFT. 'T is she does the virgins excel, No beauty with her may compare : Love's graces around her do dwell ; She 's fairest where thousands are fair, Say charmer where do thy flocks stray, Oh tell me at noon where they feed ; Shall I seek them on smooth-winding Tay, Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed ? < -f^ ^^!^^-^l I I =-c^.o<^«iiiii:i 'fi^Mr^'^^cnm^' axv