Desire nor reason hath nor rest,

And, blind, doth seldom choose the best :
Desire attained is not desire,

But as the cinders of the fire.

As ships in ports desired are drowned,
As fruit, once ripe, then falls to ground,
As flies that seek for flames are brought
To cinders by the flames they sought;
So fond desire when it attains,

The life expires, the woe remains.

And yet some poets fain would prove
Affection to be perfect love;
And that desire is of that kind,
No less a passion of the mind;
As if wild beasts and men did seek
To like, to love, to choose alike.

W. R.

1

XVI.

THE LIE.1

(Certainly before 1608; possibly before 1596.)

O, Soul, the body's guest,

Upon a thankless arrant:

Fear not to touch the best;

The truth shall be thy warrant :

Signed "Wa: Raleigh" in MS. Chetham, 8012, p. 103, and headed "Sir Walter Wrawly his lye" in a MS. of Mr. Collier's; see his " Bibl. Cat.," vol. ii. p. 224. Also ascribed

Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

Say to the court, it glows

And shines like rotten wood;
Say to the church, it shows

What's good, and doth no good:
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others' action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction:
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition,

That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate:
And if they once reply,

Then give them all the lie.

to Raleigh by name in a contemporary answer in the Chetham MS. p. 107, and by implication in some other early replies; see appendix to the Introduction, A. No. IV. It was inserted by Birch in 1751 among Raleigh's "Minor Works," vol. ii. p. 396, as" The Farewell." Many other old copies are anonymous; e. g. in Davison's "Poetical Rhapsody," 16081621 (p. 100); in MS. Tann., 306, fol. 188; in Harl. MS. 6910, fol. 141, verso, and in Harl. MS. 2296, fol. 135. Some of these texts contain both additions and mutilations; and spurious copies are found among the poems of Sylvester, p. 652, editions 1633 and 1641, and of Lord Pembroke, p. 104, edition 1660.

Tell them that brave it most,

They beg for more by spending,
Who, in their greatest cost,

Seek nothing but commending:
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;

Tell time it is but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust:
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.

Tell age it daily wasteth;

Tell honour how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favour how it falters:

And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.

Tell wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in over-wiseness:
And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.

Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is pretension;

Tell charity of coldness;

Tell law it is contention :

And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.

Tell fortune of her blindness;
Tell nature of decay;
Tell friendship of unkindness;
Tell justice of delay:

And if they will reply,

Then give them all the lie.

Tell arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming ;
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming :

If arts and schools reply,

Give arts and schools the lie.

Tell faith it's fled the city;

Tell how the country erreth;
Tell manhood shakes off pity;
Tell virtue least preferreth:
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.

So when thou hast, as I

Commanded thee, done blabbing,Although to give the lie

Deserves no less than stabbing,Stab at thee he that will,

No stab the soul can kill.

XVII.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH'S PILGRIMAGE.1

(Circ. 1603?)

IVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,

My gown of glory, hope's true gage;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body's balmer;

No other balm will there be given;
Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,

Travelleth towards the land of heaven;

Over the silver mountains,

Where spring the nectar fountains:
There will I kiss

The bowl of bliss ;

And drink mine everlasting fill

Upon every milken hill.

My soul will be a-dry before;

But after, it will thirst no more.

In MS. Ashm. 38, No. 70, it is entitled "Verses made by Sr. Walter Raleigh the night before he was beheaded;" a date probably taken by inference from the closing lines. In a MS. belonging to the late Mr. Pickering, the title is the same as is here given from the old editions of Raleigh's "Remains." There are many other early copies; in the best of which the two concluding lines are omitted.