Home to himself, to hide it in his breast,
The bright ambrosial nest

Of love, of life, and everlasting rest.
Happy mistake!

That thus shall wake

Your wise soul never to be won

Now with a love below the sun.

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Your first choice fails-oh, when you choose again,
May it not be among the sons of men!

ALEXIAS.

THE COMPLAINT OF THE FORSAKEN WIFE OF SAINT ALEXIS.

THE FIRST ELEGY.

I, LATE the Roman youths' loved praise and pride,
Whom long none could obtain, though thousands tried,
Lo, here am left (alas!) for my lost mate

T'embrace my tears, and kiss an unkind fate.
Sure in my early woes stars were at strife,

And tried to make a widow e'er a wife.

Nor can I tell (and this new tears doth breed)

In what strange path my lord's fair footsteps bleed.
Oh, knew I where he wander'd, I should see
Some solace in my sorrow's certainty;

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I'd send my woes in words should weep for me.
(Who knows how powerful well-writ prayers would be?)
Sending's too slow a word, myself would fly:
Who knows my own heart's woes so well as I?
But how shall I steal hence? Alexis, thou,
Ah, thou thyself, alas! hast taught me how.

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Love too, that leads the way, would lend the wings 17
To bear me harmless through the hardest things:
And where Love lends the wing, and leads the way,
What dangers can there be dare say me nay?
If I be shipwreck'd, Love shall teach to swim;
If drown'd, sweet is the death endured for him;
The noted sea shall change his name with me;
I'mongst the blest stars a new name shall be;
And sure where lovers make their wat'ry graves,
The weeping mariner will augment the waves.
For who so hard, but passing by that way
Will take acquaintance of my woes, and say,
'Here't was the Roman maid found a hard fate
While through the world she sought her wand'ring mate;
Here perish'd she, poor heart; Heavens, be my vows 31
As true to me as she was to her spouse.

Oh live, so rare a love! live! and in thee

The too frail life of female constancy.

Farewell, and shine, fair soul; shine there above,

Firm in thy crown, as here fast in thy love.
There thy lost fugitive thou hast found at last;
Be happy, and for ever hold him fast.'

THE SECOND ELEGY.

Though all the joys I had fled hence with thee,
Unkind! yet are my tears still true to me;
I'm wedded o'er again since thou art gone,
Nor couldst thou, cruel, leave me quite alone.
Alexis' widow now is Sorrow's wife;
With him shall I weep out my weary life.
Welcome, my sad, sweet mate! Now have I got
At last a constant love that leaves me not.
Firm he, as thou art false, nor need my cries
Thus vex the earth and tear the skies.

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For him, alas! ne'er shall I need to be
Troublesome to the world, thus, as for thee:
For thee I talk to trees; with silent groves
Expostulate my woes and much wrong'd loves;
Hills and relentless rocks, or if there be
Things that in hardness more allude to thee,
To these I talk in tears, and tell my pain,
And answer too for them in tears again.
How oft have I wept out the weary sun!
My wat'ry hour-glass hath old Time outrun.
Oh, I am learned grown, poor Love and I
Have studied over all astrology.

I'm perfect in Heaven's state, with every star
My skilful grief is grown familiar.

Rise, fairest of those fires; whate'er thou be
Whose rosy beam shall point my sun to me;
Such as the sacred light that erst did bring
The Eastern princes to their infant king.
Oh rise, pure lamp, and lend thy golden ray,
That weary Love at last may find his way.

THE THIRD ELEGY.

Rich, churlish land, that hid'st so long in thee
My treasures; rich, alas, by robbing me.
Needs must my miseries owe that man a spite,
Whoe'er he be, was the first wand'ring knight.
Oh, had he ne'er been at that cruel cost,
Nature's virginity had ne'er been lost,
Seas had not been rebuked by saucy oars,

But lain lock'd up safe in their sacred shores;

Men had not spurn'd at mountains, nor made wars

ΤΟ

With rocks, nor bold hands struck the world's strong

bars;

Nor lost in too large bounds, our little Rome
Full sweetly with itself had dwelt at home.
My poor Alexis then, in peaceful life,

Had under some low roof loved his plain wife;
But now,
ah me! from where he has no foes
He flies, and into wilful exile goes.
Cruel! return, or tell the reason why
Thy dearest parents have deserved to die;
And I, what is my crime I cannot tell,
Unless it be a crime t' have loved too well.
If heats of holier love and high desire
Make big thy fair breast with immortal fire,
What needs my virgin lord fly thus from me,
Who only wish his virgin wife to be?

Witness, chaste Heavens! no happier vows I know
Than to a virgin grave untouch'd to go.
Love's truest knot by Venus is not tied;
Nor do embraces only make a bride.
The queen of angels (and men chaste as you)
Was maiden-wife, and maiden-mother too.
Cecilia, glory of her name and blood,

With happy gain her maiden vows made good.

The lusty bridegroom made approach-Young man,
Take heed' (said she) 'take heed, Valerian;
My bosom-guard, a spirit great and strong,
Stands arm'd to shield me from all wanton wrong.
My chastity is sacred; and my sleep

Wakeful, her dear vows undefiled to keep.
Pallas bears arms, forsooth, and should there be
No fortress built for true virginity?

No gaping Gorgon this, none like the rest

Of your learn'd lies: here you'll find no such jest.
I'm yours; oh! were my God, my Christ so too,
I'd know no name of love on earth but you.'

M

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He yields, and straight baptized, obtains the grace
To gaze on the fair soldier's glorious face.
Both mix'd at last their blood in one rich bed
Of rosy martyrdom, twice married.

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Oh! burn our Hymen bright in such high flame;
Thy torch, terrestrial Love, has here no name.
How sweet the mutual yoke of man and wife,
When holy fires maintain Love's heavenly life!
But I (so help me Heaven my hopes to see),
When thousands sought my love, loved none but thee.
Still, as their vain tears my firm vows did try,
'Alexis, he alone is mine' (said I).

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Half true, alas, half false, proves that poor

line,

Alexis is alone; but is not mine.

DESCRIPTION OF A RELIGIOUS HOUSE AND CONDITION OF LIFE.

(OUT OF BARCLAY.

No roofs of gold o'er riotous tables shining,
Whole days and suns devour'd with endless dining;
No sails of Tyrian silk proud pavements sweeping;
Nor ivory couches costlier slumbers keeping;
False lights of flaring gems; tumultuous joys;
Halls full of flatt'ring men and frisking boys;
Whate'er false shows of short and slipp'ry good
Mix the mad sons of men in mutual blood.
But walks and unshorn woods; and souls, just so
Unforced and genuine; but not shady though:
Our lodgings hard and homely as our fare,

That chaste and cheap, as the new clothes we wear;

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