LOVE'S VISIBILITY...LOOKING ON HIS MISTRESS. But you as easily might account, Till to the top of numbers you amount, As cast up my love's score. Ten thousand millions was the sum; Millions of endless millions are to come. I'm sure her beauties cannot greater grow; Why should my love do so? A real cause at first did move; But mine own fancy now drives on my love, With shadows from itself that flow. My love, as we in numbers see, By cyphers is increas'd eternally. So the new-made and untry'd spheres above Took their first turn from th' hand of Jove; But are, since that beginning, found By their own forms to move for ever round. All violent motions short do prove; But, by the length, 'tis plain to see That love's a motion natural to me. LOVE'S VISIBILITY. WITH much of pain, and all the art I knew, Have I endeavour'd hitherto To hide my love, and yet all will not do. By hiding it, to teach that skill to me. That something like it they have shown; But none who had it ever seem'd t'have none. Love's of a strangely open, simple kind, Can no arts or disguises find, But thinks none secs it 'cause itself is blind. The very eye betrays our inward smart : Love of himself left there a part, When through it he past into the heart. Or if by chance the face betray not it, But keep the secret wisely, yet, Like drunkenness, into the tongue 'twill get. LOOKING ON, AND DISCOURSING To look on Heaven with mighty gulphs between As her hard soul's aversion from my love. RESOLVED TO LOVE. I WONDER What the grave and wise Their mirth or anger move: 117 They understand not breath that words does want; Our sighs to them are insignificant. One of them saw me, th' other day, Touch the dear hand which I admire ; My soul was melting straight away, And dropt before the fire: This silly wise-man, who pretends to know, Ask'd why I look'd so pale, and trembled so? Another, from my mistress' door Saw me with eyes all wat'ry come; Nor could the hidden cause explore, But thought some smoke was in the room! Such ignorance from unwounded learning came He knew tears made by smoke, but not by flame. If learn'd in other things you be, And have in love no skill, For God's sake keep your arts from me, Study or action others may embrace; My love's my business, and my books her face These are but trifles, I confess, Which me, weak mortal! move; Nor is your busy seriousness Less trifling than my love: The wisest king, who from his sacred breast MY FATE. Go bid the needle his dear North forsake, To which with trembling reverence it does bend; Go bid the stones a journey upwards make; Go bid th'ambitious flame no more ascend: And, when these false to their old motions prove, Then shall I cease thee, thee alone, to love. The fast-link'd chain of everlasting Fate Does nothing tie more strong than me to you; My fixt love hangs not on your love or hate, But will be still the same, whate'er you do: You cannot kill my love with your disdain: Wound it you may, and make it live in pain. Me, mine example, let the Stoics use, Their sad and cruel doctrine to maintain; Let all predestinators me produce, Who struggle with eternal bonds in vain: This fire I'm born to-but 'tis she must tell, Whether 't be beams of Heaven or flames of Hell. You, who men's fortunes in their faces read, To find out mine, look not, alas! on me; Or, if stars show it, gaze not on the skies Is writ in Heaven; but oh, my heaven is there. What can men learn from stars they scarce can see? Two great lights rule the world, and her two me THE HEART-BREAKING. Ir gave a piteous groan, and so it broke ; In vain it something would have spoke: The love within too strong for't was, Like poison put into a Venice-glass. 1 I thought that this some remedy might prove; And now, alas! each little broken part Feels the whole pain of all my heart; Lives with that torment which the whole did kill. Even so rude armies, when the field they quit, THE USURPATION. THO 'adst to my soul no title or pretence; Till I had given myself to thee; In an elective monarchy. Part of my heart by gift did to thee fall; Nay more; thou mak'st me worship thee, Deserve some tears; but greedy thou (Insatiate maid!) wilt not allow That I one drop from thee should alienate: Nor wilt thou grant my sins a part, Though the sole cause of most of them thou art; Counting my tears thy tribute and thy due, Since first mine eyes I gave to you. Thou all my joys and all my hopes dost claim; As men in Hell are from diseases free, Alas, alas! I hope in vain My conquer'd soul from out thine hands to gain; Since all the natives there thou 'ast overthrown, And planted garrisons of thine own. MAIDENHEAD. THOU worst estate ev'n of the sex that's worst; Therefore by Nature made at first T attend the weakness of our birth! A thing God thought for mankind so unfit, Art always scorch'd with hot desires, And fear'st the day's discovering eye! No wonder 'tis at all that thou should'st be Such tedious and unpleasant company, Who liv'st so melancholily! Thou thing of subtile, slippery kind, Yet things well worth his toil he gains; [walls Thee, than a porter is his door. In vain to honour they pretend, Who guard themselves with ramparts and with Them only Fame the truly valjant calls, Who can an open breach defend. Of thy quick loss can be no doubt, Within so hated, and so lov'd without. IMPOSSIBILITIES. Oft Earth and Hell against them strive; And a good end at last does give : At last, just men and lovers always thrive. As stars (not powerful else) when they conjoin, Change, as they please, the world's estate; So thy heart in conjunction with mine Shall our own fortunes regulate; And to our stars themselves prescribe a fate. 'Twould grieve me much to find some bold row Through spite of our worst enemies, thy friends; As was the amorous youth's o'er Helle's sea: To let thy beams shine on me from afar ; SILENCE. CURSE on this tongue, that has my heart betray'd, Since 'tis a thing might dangerous grow, Since 'tis for me to lose my life more fit, That in my breast does reign; Though it should speechless lie. A river, ere it meet the sea, If any end or stop of it be found, We know the flood runs still, though under ground. THE DISSEMBLER. UNHURT, untouch'd, did I complain, And terrify'd all others with the pain: But now I feel the mighty evil; Ah! there's no fooling with the Devil! So, wanton men, whilst others they would fright, Themselves have met a real sprite. 1 thought, I'll swear, an handsome lye But now I suffer an arrest, Darts, and wounds, and fame, and heat, In things where fancy much does reign, I wrote to kindle and blow others' fire; THE INCONSTANT. I NEVER yet could see that face Love, thou 'rt a devil, if I may call thee one; Colour, or shape, good limbs, or face, In motion or in speech a grace; If all fail, yet 'tis woman-kind; And I'm so weak, the pistol need not be Double or treble charg'd to murder me. If tall, the name of Proper slays; If fair, she 's pleasant as the light; If low, her prettiness does please; If black, what lover loves not night? If yellow-hair'd, I love, lest it should be Th' excuse to others for not loving me. The fat, like plenty, fills my heart; The lean, with love makes me too so: If straight, her body's Cupid's dart To me; if crooked, 'tis his bow: Nay, age itself does me to rage incline, And strength to women gives, as well as wine. Just half as large as Charity My richly-landed Love's become; And, judg'd aright, is Constancy, Though it take up a larger room: Him, who loves always one, why should they call More constant than the man loves always all? Thus with unwearied wings I flee Through all Love's gardens and his fields; And, like the wise, industrious bee, No weed but honey to me yields! Honey still spent this diligence still supplies, Though I return not home with laden thighs. My soul at first indeed did prove Of pretty strength against a dart, Tll this habit got of love; But my consum'd and wasted neart, Once burnt to tinder with a strong desire, Since that, by every spark is set on fire. THE CONSTANT. GREAT and wise conqueror, who, where'er Thou com'st, dost fortify, and settle there! Who canst defend as well as get, Had thy charming strength been less, Close, narrow chain, yet soft and kind HER NAMЕ. WITH more than Jewish reverence as yet When will our love be nam'd, and we possess Nor, till the happy nuptial Muse be seen, Rest, mighty name! till then; for thou must be Thick as the flowers in meadows lie, Meanwhile I will not dare to make a name To represent thee by; Adam (God's nomenclator) could not frame WEEPING. SEE where she sits, and in what comely wise Drops tears more fair than others' eyes! Ah, charming maid! let not Ill-fortune see Nor know the beauty of thy tears; For she 'll still come to dress herself in thee. In every drop, methinks, her eye. Like a Narcissus does appear, Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze. Ne'er yet did I behold such glorious weather, As this sun-shine and rain together. Pray Heaven her forehead, that pure hill of snow, (For some such fountain we must find, To waters of so fair a kind) Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below! Ah, mighty Love! that it were inward heat Which made this precious limbeck sweat! But what, alas! ah, what does it avail, That she weeps tears so wondrous cold, DISCRETION. DISCREET! what means this word discreet? Houses, household-stuff, or land, (The low conveniences of Fate) Are Greek no lovers understand. The two first things it does remove Passion 's half blind, nor can endure One who in love were wise.' Will, without grief or pain, As well might martyrs, who do choose THE WAITING-MAID. THY Maid! ah! find some nobler theme That her dim lamp must disappear Before thy potent light. Three hours each morn in dressing thee Maliciously are spent; And make that beauty tyranny, That's else a civil government. Ask me not what my love shall do or be Twill last, I'm sure, and that is all we know. Not that my love will fly away, But still continue; as, they say, Sad troubled ghosts about their graves do stray. I cut my love into his gentle back, And in three days, behold! 'tis dead: My very written flames so violent be, They 've burnt and wither'd-up the tree. How should I live myself, whose heart is found Deeply graven every where With the large history of many a wound, Larger than thy trunk can bear? With art as strange as Homer in the nut, Love in my heart has volumes put. What a few words from thy rich stock did take As a strong poison with one drop does make Love (I see now) a kind of witchcraft is, Or characters could ne'er do this. Pardon, ye birds and nymphs, who lov'd this shade; And pardon me, thou gentle tree; I thought her name would thee have happy made, And blessed omens hop'd from thee: "Notes of my love, thrive here," said 1, "and grow; And with ye let my love do so." Alas, poor youth! thy love will never thrive ! Go, tie the dismal knot (why should'st thou live?) HER UNBELIEF. 'Tis a strange kind of ignorance this in you, That your bright beams, as those of comets do, That truly you my idol might appear, Whilst all the people smell and see Thou sitt'st, and dost not see, nor smell, nor hear, They see 't too well who at my fires repine; Nay, th' unconcern'd themselves do prove Quick-ey'd enough to spy my love; Nor does the cause in thy face clearlier shine, Than the effect appears in mine. Fair infidel! by what unjust decree Must I, who with such restless care Would make this truth to thee appear, Must I, who preach it, and pray for it, be Damn'd by thy incredulity? I, by thy unbelief, am guiltless slain: Oh, have but faith, and then, that you And raise me from the dead again! |