POEMS.

VOL. I.

A

[SEPARATE TITLE TO THE POEMS, 1646–8–58.1]

Poems, &c., written by Sir John Suckling. Printed by his owne copy. The Lyrick Poems were set in Musick by Mr Henry Lawes, Gent., of the Kings Chappell, and one of His Majesties Private Musick.

A chronological or other systematic arrangement of Suckling's lyric and miscellaneous pieces should have been attempted; but, on examination, the process appeared to be one of peculiar difficulty, without being, on the whole, perhaps, of very great importance. The chief part have no note of time.

1 The variations are only orthographical.

AWAKE, great sir, the sun shines here,

Gives all your subjects a New-Year,

Only we stay till you appear;

For thus by us your power is understood;

He may make fair days, you must make them good. Awake, awake,

And take

Such presents as poor men can make,

They can add little unto bliss

Who cannot wish.

2.

May no ill vapour cloud the sky,
Bold storms invade the sovereignty,
But gales of joy, so fresh, so high,

That you may think Heaven sent to try this year
What sail, or burthen, a king's mind could bear.
Awake, awake, &c.

3.

May all the discords in your state
(Like those in music we create),
Be governed at so wise a rate,

That what would of itself sound harsh, or fright,
May be so tempered that it may delight.
Awake, awake, &c.

4.

What conquerors from battles find, Or lovers when their doves are kind, Take up henceforth our master's mind, Make such strange rapes upon the place, 't may be— No longer joy there, but an ecstasy.

Awake, awake, &c.

5.

May every pleasure and delight,
That has, or does, your sense invite,
Double this year, save those o'th' night;
Awake, awake,

And take

Such presents as poor men can make,
They can add little unto bliss
Who cannot wish.

Loving and Beloved.

I.

THERE never yet was honest man

That ever drove the trade of love ;

It is impossible, nor can

Integrity our ends promove;

For kings and lovers are alike in this,
That their chief art in reign dissembling is.

2.

Here we are loved, and there we love :
Good nature now and passion strive
Which of the two should be above,
And laws unto the other give.

So we false fire with art sometimes discover,
And the true fire with the same art do cover.

3.

What rack can fancy find so high?

Here we must court, and here engage;
Though in the other place we die.

O, 'tis torture all, and cosenage!

And which the harder is I cannot tell,

To hide true love, or make false love look well.