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His rudeness so with his authoriz'd youth
So on the tip of his subduing tongue
That he did in the general bosom reign
His qualities were beauteous as his form, For maiden-tongu'd he was, and thereof free; Yet, if men mov'd him, was he such a storm As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,
'But, ah! who ever shunn'd by precedent
When winds breathe sweet, unruly though The destin'd ill she must herself assay?
Or forc'd examples, 'gainst her own content,
'Many there were that did his picture get,
The goodly objects which abroad they find
And labouring in more pleasures to bestow
Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them.
Well could he ride, and often men would say "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,
So many have, that never touch'd his hand,
Yet did I not, as some my equals did,
Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.
And controversy hence a question takes,
✦ But quickly on this side the verdict went :
Came for additions; yet their purpos'd trim
'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
What rounds, what bounds, what course, what That we must curb it upon others' proof;
'For further I could say "This man 's untrue,"
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling;
Of grief and blushes, aptly understood
"Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me,
"How mighty then you are, O! hear me tell:
Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood;
"Lo! all these trophies of affections hot,
For these, of force, must your oblations be,
"O pardon me, in that my boast is true;
"My parts had power to charm a sacred nun,
And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears,
"Now all these hearts that do on mine depend
This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, Whose sights till then were levell'd on my face; Each cheek a river running from a fount With brinish current downward flow'd apace. O! how the channel to the stream gave grace! Who glaz'd with crystal gate the glowing roses That flame through water which their hue e
"O! then, advance of yours that phraseless hand,
Whose white weighs down the airy scale of
Take all these similes to your own command,
O father! what a hell of witchcraft lies
That not a heart which in his level came In the small orb of one particular tear,
Could 'scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, But with the inundation of the eyes
Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; What rocky heart to water will not wear? And, veil'd in them, did win whom he would What breast so cold that is not warmed here?
maim : O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, Against the thing he sought he would exclaim ; Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury,
He preach'd pure maid, and prais'd cold chastity. 'For, lo ! his passion, but an art of craft, Even there resolv'd my reason into tears ; • Thus merely with the garment of a Grace There my white stole of chastity I daff'd, The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd ; Shook off my sober guards and civil fears ; That the unexperient gave the tempter place, Appear to him, as he to me appears,
Which like a cherubin above them hover'd. All melting ; though our drops this difference Who, young and simple, would not be so lover'd ! bore,
Ay me! I fell ; and yet do question make His poison'd me, and mine did him restore. What I should do again for such a sake. * In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
"O! that infected moisture of his eye, Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, O! that false fire which in his cheek so glow'd, Of burning blushes, or of weeping water, 0! that forc'd thunder from his heart did fiv, Or swounding paleness; and he takes and leaves, O! that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow'd, In either's aptness, as it best deceives,
O! all that borrow'd motion seeming ow'd, To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, Would yet again betray the fore-betray'd, Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows: And new pervert a reconciled maid.'
THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.
For being both to me, both to each friend, When my love swears that she is made of truth, I guess one angel in another's hell.
The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, I do believe her, though I know she lies,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out. That she might think me some untutor'a
youth, Unskilful in the world's false forgeries. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, Although I know my years be past the best, 'Gainst whom the world could not hold arguI smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
ment, Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest. Persuade my heart to this false perjury? But wherefore says my love that she is young ? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. And wherefore say not I that I am old ? A woman I forswore ; but I will prove, 0! love's best habit is a soothing tongue, Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee : And age, in love, loves not to have years told. My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. me,
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is; Since that our faults in love thus smother'd Then thou, fair son, that on this earth dost be.
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise Which like two spirits do suggest me still ; To break an oath, to win a paradise ? The better angel is a man, right fair, The worser spirit a woman, colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook And would corrupt a saint to be a devil, With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green, Wooing his purity with her fair pride :
Did court the lad with many a lovely look, And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Such looks as none could look but beauty's Suspect I may, but not directly tell;
She told him stories to delight his ear;
Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd, She show'd him favours to allure his eye; Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearTo win his heart, she touch'd him here and ing! there :
How many tales to please me bath she coin'd, Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! But whether unripe years did want conceit, Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, Or he refus'd to take her figur'd proffer,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
jestings. But smile and jest at every gentle offer :
straw with fire Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and She burn'd with love, as
flameth; toward : He rose and ran away; ah! fool too froward. She burn'd out love, as soon as straw out
She fram'd the love, and yet she foild the V.
framing : If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. love?
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether! O! never faith could hold, if not to beauty
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. vow'd: Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll con
stant prove; Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like If music and sweet poetry agree, osiers bow'd.
As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and
me, eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art can
Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other. comprehend.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall Upon the lute doth ravish human sense ; suffice;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such Well learned is that tongue that well can thee As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound commend; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes ; wonder ;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd Which is to me soine praise, that I thy parts
Whenas himself to singing he betakes. admire:
One god is god of both, as poets feign ; Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, the voice his
One knight loves both, and both in thee dreadful thunder,
remain. Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet
fire. Celestial as thou art, 0! do not love that fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,
wrong, To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, tongue.
For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild ;
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds; Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, She, silly queen, with more than love's good will, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for Forbade the boy he should not pass those shade,
grounds : When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth A longing tarriance for Adonis made
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, Under an osier growing by a brook,
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! A brook where Adon us'd to cool his spleen: See, in my thigh,' quoth she, “here was the sore.' Hot was the day ; she hotter that did look She showed hers; he saw more wounds than For his approach, that often there had been.
one, Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And blushing fled, and left her all alone. And stood stark naked on the brook's green
brim : The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye, Yet not so wistly as this queen on him:
Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon He, spring her, bonnc'd in, whereas he stood:
vaded, 0 Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood !' Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded ;
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle ;
And falls, through wind, before the fall shouli
be. Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty : 1 lily pale, with damask dve to grace her, I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have ;
pe fairer, nor none falser to deface her. For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her
She told the youngling how god Mars did try Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:
She bade good night that kept my rest away;
Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.
Even thus,' quoth she, the war like god embrac'd me,'
And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
As if the boy should use like loving charms.
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together:
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
So beauty blemish'd once's for ever lost,
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
Lord! how mine eyes throw gazes to the east ; My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,
For why, she sigh'd and bade me come to
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to