HOPE

[BY A. COWLEY]

Hope, whose weak being ruin'd is

Alike, if it succeed, or if it miss!

Whom ill or good does equally confound,

And both the horns of Fate's dilemma wound.
Vain shadow; that dost vanish quite
Both at full noon, and perfect night!
The stars have not a possibility

Of blessing thee.

If things then from their end we happy call, 'Tis Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.

Hope, thou bold taster of delight!

Who instead of doing so, devour'st it quite.
Thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor
By clogging it with legacies before.

The joys which we entire should wed,

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Come deflow'r'd virgins to our bed.

Good fortunes without gain imported be,
Such mighty custom's paid to thee.

For joy, like wine kept close, does better taste;
If it take air before his spirits waste.

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Hope, Fortune's cheating lottery,

Where, for one prize, an hundred blanks there be.
Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thine aim so far,
That still, or short, or wide, thine arrows are;

Thin empty cloud which th' eye deceives
With shapes that our own fancy gives!

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A cloud, which gilt and painted now appears,
But must drop presently in tears:

When thy false beams o'er reason's light prevail, "By ignes fatui for North stars we sail.

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Brother of Fear, more gaily clad,

The merrier fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad!
Sire of Repentance! child of fond desire,
That blow'st the chymic and the lover's fire,
Still leading them insensibly on,

With the strong witchcraft of "anon!

By thee the one does changing Nature through
Her endless labyrinths pursue;

And th' other chases woman; while she goes

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More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows. 40

M. COWLEY.

M. CRASHAW'S ANSWER FOR HOPE

Dear Hope! Earth's dow'ry, and Heaven's debt! The entity of those that are not yet.

Subtlest, but surest being! thou by whom

Our nothing has a definition!

Substantial shade! whose sweet allay

Blends both the noons of Night and Day:
Fates cannot find out a capacity

Of hurting thee.

From thee their lean dilemma, with blunt horn,
Shrinks as the sick moon from the wholesome

morn.

J

5

IQ

Rich hope! Love's legacy, under lock

Of Faith!-still spending, and still growing stock!
Our crown-land lies above, yet each meal brings
A seemly portion for the sons of kings.

Nor will the virgin-joys we wed
Come less unbroken to our bed,

Because that from the bridal cheek of Bliss,
Thou steal'st us down a distant kiss.

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Hope's chaste stealth harms no more Joys maidenhead

Than spousal rites prejudge the marriage-bed.

Fair Hope! our earlier Heav'n! by thee

Young time is taster to Eternity :

Thy generous wine with age grows strong, not sour, Nor does it kill thy fruit, to smell thy flower.

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Thy golden growing head never hangs down,
Till in the lap of Love's full noon

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It falls; and dies! O no, it melts away
As does the dawn into the Day:

As lumps of sugar loose themselves, and twine
Their subtle essence with the soul of wine.

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Fortune? alas, above the World's low wars Hope walks and kicks the curl'd heads of conspiring

stars.

Her keel cuts not the waves where these winds stir, Fortune's whole lottery is one blank to her.

[Her shafts and she fly far above,

And forage in the fields of light and love.] Sweet Hope! kind cheat! fair fallacy! by thee We are not where nor what we be,

But what and where we would be. Thus art thou Our absent presence, and our fortune now.

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Faith's sister! nurse of fair desire!
Fear's antidote! a wise and well staid fire!
Temper 'twixt chill Despair, and torrid Joy!
Queen regent in young Love's minority!
Though the vext chymic vainly chases
His fugitive gold through all her faces;
Though Love's more fierce, more fruitless fires

assay

One face more fugitive than all they;

True Hope's a glorious hunter, and her chase
The God of Nature in the fields of grace.

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FROM STEPS TO THE TEMPLE.

UPON EASTER DAY

I

Rise, Heir of fresh Eternity,

From thy virgin tomb!

Rise, mighty Man of Wonders, and Thy World with

In Joy's white annals lives this hour

When Life was born;

ΙΟ

No cloud scowl on His radiant lids, no tempest

lour.

III

Life, by this Light's nativity,

All creatures have;

Death only by this Day's just doom is forced to die, 15 Nor is Death forced; for may he lie

Throned in Thy grave,

Death will on this condition be content to die.