ABRAHAM COWLEY (1618-1667)
Foolish Prater, what do'st thou So early at my window do
With thy tuneless serenade?
Well 't had been had Tereus made
Thee as dumb as Philomel:
There his knife had done but well. In thy undiscovered nest
Thou dost all the winter rest,
And dreamest o'er thy summer joys, Free from the stormy season's noise: 10 Free from th' ill thou 'st done to me; Who disturbs, or seeks out thee? Had'st thou all the charming notes Of the wood's poetic throats, All thy art could never pay What thou'st ta'en from me away; Cruel bird, thou'st ta'en away A dream out of my arms to-day, A dream that ne'er must equaled be By all that waking eyes may see. Thou this damage to repair, Nothing half so sweet or fair, Nothing half so good can'st bring, Though men
TO HIS COY MISTRESS
Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, Lady, were no crime, We would sit down and think which way To walk and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart. For, Lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust:
Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy aught But a white, celestial thought; When yet I had not walked above A mile or two from my first love, And looking back, at that short space, Could see a glimpse of his bright face; When on some gilded cloud or flower My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity;
Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful sound, Or had the black art to dispense,
A several sin to every sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress Bright shoots of everlastingness.
O, how I long to travel back, And tread again that ancient track, That I might once more reach that plain, Where first I left my glorious train; From whence the enlightened spirit sees That shady city of palm trees.
But ah! my soul with too much stay Is drunk, and staggers in the way! Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move; And when this dust falls to the urn, In that state I came, return.
I saw Eternity the other night,
DEPARTED FRIENDS
They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit lingering here; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear.
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, 5 Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest,
After the sun's remove.
I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days: 10 My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.
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