Page images

But woe is me! too early I attended
A youthful suit ; it was to gain my grace ;
O! one by nature's outward so commended,
That maiden's eyes stuck over all his face ;
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place ;

And when in his fair parts she did abide,

She was new lodg'd, and newly deify'd.
His browny locks did hang in crooked curls,
And every light occasion of the wind
Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls.
What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find ;
Each eye that saw him did inchant the mind ;

For on his visage was in little drawn,

What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn. Small show of man was yet upon his chin ; His phenix down began but to appear, Like unshorn velvet, on that terinless skin, Whose bare out-bragg'd the web it seem'd to wear; Yet show'd his visage by that cost most dear :

And nice affections wavering, stood in doubt

It best 'twere as it was, or best without.
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,
Wren winds breathe sweet, unruly tho' they be.

His rudeness so, with his authoriz'd youth,

Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. Well could he ride, and often men would say, 'That horse his mettle from his rider takes ; Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he

inakes! And controversy hence a question takes,

Whether the horse by him became his deed,

Or he his, manag'd by th' well-doing steed?
But quickly on this side the verdict went;
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplish'a in himself, not in his case ;
All aids themselves made fairer by their place,



Can for additions yet their purpose trim,

Piec'd not his grace, but were all grac'd by him. So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kinds of arguments and questions deep, All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep, To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep.

He had the dialect and different skill,

Catching all passions in his craft of will. That he did in the general bosom reign Of young, of old, and sexes both inchanted, To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain In personal duty following where he haunted ; Consent's bewitched, ere he desire have granted ;

And dialogu'd for him what he would say,

Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey. Many there were that did his picture get, To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind ; Like fools that in th’imagination set The goodly objects, which abroad they find, Of lands and mansions theirs in thought assign'd ;

And labouring in more pleasures to bestow them,

Than the true gouty landlord, who doth owe them. So many have, that never touch'd his hand, Sweetly suppos'd them mistress of his heart : My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, And was my own fee simple, not in part, What with his art in youth, and youth in art,

Threw my affections in his charmed power,

Reserv'd the stalk, and gave him all my flower. Yet did I not, as some my equals did, Demand of him, nor being desir’d, yielded : Finding myself in honour so forbid, With safest distance I my honour shielded : Experience for me many bulwarks builded

Of proofs new bleeding, which remain’d the foil

Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.
But ah! however shunn'd by precedent
The destin'd ill, she must herself assay !
Or forc'd examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put thy by-past perils in her way!
Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay :

For when we rage, advice is often seen,

By blunting us, to make our wits more keen.
Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
That we must curb it upon others' proof :
To be forbid the sweets that seem so good,
For fear of harms, that preach in our behoof.
O appetite! from judgment stand aloof.

The one a palate hath, that needs will taste,
Tho' reason weep, and cry, it is my last.
For further I could say this man's untrue,
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling,
Heard where his plants in other orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling,
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling :

Thought characters and words merely but art,

And bastards of his foul adult'rate heart,
And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he 'gan besiege me : Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid ;
What's to you sworn, to none was ever said.

For feasts of love I have been call'd unto ;

Till now did ne'er invite, nor never vow : All my offences, that abroad you see, Are errors of the blood, none of the mind ; Love made them not, with acture they may be, Where neither party is nor true nor kind : They sought their shame, that so their shame did find.

And so much less of shame in me remains,

By how much of me their reproach contains.
Among the many that mine eyes have seen,
Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed,
Or my affection put to the smallest teen,
Or any of my leisures ever charmed :
Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed ;
Kept hearts in liveries, but my own was free,

And reign'd commanding in his monarchy.
Look here what tributes wounded fancy sent me,
Of pallid pearls and rubies red as blooc? ;
Figuring, that they their passions likewise lent me,
Of grief and blushes aptly understood ;
In bloodless white, and the encrimson'd mood,

Effects of terror, and dear modesty,

Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.
And lo! behold these talents of their hair,
With twisted metal amorously empleach'd,
I have receiv'd from many a several fair ;
Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech'd,
With the annexions of fair gems inrich'd ;

And deep-brain'd sonnets, that did amplify

Each stone's dear nature, worth and quality :
The diamond ! why 'twas beautiful and hard,
Whereto his invis'd properties did tend :
The deep green emerald, in whose fresh regard
Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend :
The heaven-hued saphyr, and the ophal blend

With objects manifold ; each several stone,

With wit well blazon'd, smil'd, or made some moan. Lo! all these trophies of affection hot, Of pensive and subdu'd desires, the tender ; Nature hath charg'd me, that I hoard them not, But yield them up where I myself must render : That is, to you my origin and ender.

For these of force must your oblations be,

Since I their altar, you enpatron me.
O ! then advance (of yours) that phraseless hand,
Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise ?
Take all these smiles unto your own command,
Hallow'd with sighs, shat burning lungs did raise ;
What me your minister for you obeys,

Works under you, and to your audit comes

Their distract parcels, in combined sums.
Lo! this device was sent me from a nun,
Or sister sanctify'd of holiest note,
Which late her noble suit in court did shun ;
Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote :
For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,

But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,
To spend her living in eternal love.

[2] By nobles, whose high descent is marked by the number of quarters in their coats of arms, MALONE.

But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave
The thing we have not, mast'ring not what strives?
Playing the place which did no form receive ;
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gives !
She that her fame so to herself contrives,

The scars of battle 'scapeth, by the flight,

And makes her absence valiant, not her might.
0! pardon me, in that my boast is true ;
The accident which brought me to her eye,
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly ;
Religious love put out religious eye :

Not to be tempted, would she be immured ;

And now to tempt, all liberty procured.
How mighty then are you, O hear me tell !
The broken bosoms that to me belong,
Have empty'd all their fountains in my well ;
And mine I pour your ocean all among:
I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong,

Must for your victory us all congest,

As compound love to physic your cold breast.
My parts had power to charm a sacred sun ;
Tho' disciplin'd, I dieted in grace,
Believ'd her eyes, when they t'assail begun,
All vows and consecrations giving place.
O most potential love ! vow, bond, nor space,

In thee hath neither string, knot, nor confine,

For thou art all, and all things else are thine. When thou impressest, what are precepts worth, Of stale example? When thou wilt enflame, How coldly those impediments stand forth Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame? Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst

And sweetness in the suffering pang it bears,

The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.
Now all these hearts that do on mine depend,
Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine,
And supplicant, their sighs to you extend,
To leave the battery that you make 'gainst mine.
Lending soft audience to my sweet design ;

And credent soul to that strong bonded oath,
That shall prefer and undertake my troth.

27* VOL. IX.

« PreviousContinue »