Those, whom you now servants call?
Like swallows, when your summer's done,
They'll fly and seek some warmer sun.
Then wisely choose one to your friend,
Whose love may (when your beauties end)
Remain still firm: be provident

And think before the summer's spent
Of following winter; like the ant
In plenty hoard for time of scant.
Cull out amongst the multitude
Of lovers, that seek to intrude
Into your favour, one that may
Love for an age, not for a day.

For when the storms of time have moved
Waves on that cheek which was beloved,
When a fair lady's face is pined,

And yellow spread where red once shined,
When beauty, youth, and all sweets leave her,
Love may return, but lover never!

[18 l.

Thomas Carew.

TO HIS FELLOW POET.

HEN we are dead, and now, no more
Our harmless mirth, our wit, and score
Distracts the Town; when all is spent
That the base niggard world hath lent
Thy purse, or mine; when the loath'd noise
Of drawers, prentices and boys

Hath left us, and the clam'rous bar
Items no pints i' th' Moon, or Star;
When no calm whisperers wait the doors,
To fright us with forgotten scores;
And such aged, long bills carry,

As might start an antiquary;
When the sad tumults of the maze,
Arrests, suits, and the dreadful face
Of serjeants are not seen, and we
No lawyer's ruffs or gowns must fee:
When all these mulcts are paid, and I
From thee, dear wit, must part, and die;
We'll beg the world would be so kind
To give's one grave, as we'd one mind;
There (as the wiser few suspect,
That spirits after death affect)

Our souls shall meet, and thence will they
(Freed from the tyranny of clay)
With equal wings and ancient love
Into the Elysian fields remove,

Where in those blessed walks they'll find,

More of thy genius, and my mind.

[30 ll.

Henry Vaughan.

SPRING SUN.

EW doth the sun appear,

The mountains' snows decay,

Crown'd with frail flowers forth comes the

infant year;

My soul, Time posts away,

And thou yet in that frost

Which flower and fruit hath lost,

As if all here immortal were, dost stay;

For shame! thy powers awake,

Look to that Heaven which never night makes black,
And there, at that immortal sun's bright rays,
Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days.

William Drummond.

A WESTERN WONDER.

you not know, not a fortnight ago,

How they bragg'd of a western wonder?

When a hundred and ten slew five thousand men, With the help of lightning and thunder?

There Hopton was slain, again and again,
Or else my author did lie;

With a new thanksgiving, for the dead who are living,
To God, and his servant Chidleigh.

But now on which side was this miracle try'd,

I hope we at last are even;

For Sir Ralph and his knaves are risen from their graves,
To cudgel the clowns of Devon.

And there Stamford came, for his honour was lame
Of the gout three months together;

But it proved, when they fought, but a running gout,
For his heels were lighter than ever.

For now he out-runs his arms and his guns,
And leaves all his money behind him.
But they follow after, unless he take water,
At Plymouth again, they will find him.

What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath lost,
Goes deep in the sequestrations;

These wounds will not heal, with your new great seal,
Nor Jephson's declarations.

and grace

Now Peters, and Case, in your prayer
Remember the new thanksgiving;
Isaac and his wife, now dig for your life,
Or shortly, you'll dig for your living.

Sir John Denham.

THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD.

RESERVE thy sighs, unthrifty girl,
To purify the air;

Thy tears to thread, instead of pearls,
On bracelets of thy hair.

The trumpet makes the echo hoarse,
And wakes the louder drum;
Expense of grief gains no remorse
When sorrow should be dumb.

For I must go where lazy Peace
Will hide her drowsy head;
And, for the sport of kings, increase
The number of the dead.

But first I'll chide thy cruel theft:
Can I in war delight,
Who, being of my heart bereft,
Can have no heart to fight?

Thou know'st the sacred laws of old
Ordain'd a thief should pay,
To quit him of his theft, sevenfold
What he had stolen away.

Thy payment shall but double be;
O then with speed resign

My own seduced heart to me,
Accompanied with thine.

Sir W. Davenant.

TWO HEARTS.

PRITHEE send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine:

For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shouldst thou have mine?

Yet now I think on't, let it lie,

To find it were in vain,

For th' hast a thief in either eye

Would steal it back again.

Why should two hearts in one breast lie,

And yet not lodge together?

Oh, Love, where is thy sympathy,

If thus our breasts thou sever!

But love is such a mystery,

I cannot find it out:

For when I think I'm best resolved,

I then am in most doubt.

Then farewell care, and farewell woe,

I will no longer pine,

For I'll believe I have her heart

As much as she hath mine.

Sir John Suckling.

UPON KINGS.

INGS must be dauntless; subjects will contemn
Those who want hearts, and wear a diadem.

H

Robert Herrick.