Or have smelt o' the bud of the briar?
Or the nard in the fire?

Or have tasted the bag of the bee?

O, so white! O, so soft! O, so sweet is she!

BEN JONSON

TO CELIA 1

DRINK to me only with thine

eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss but in the cup

And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine ;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there

It could not wither'd be ;

But thou thereon didst only breathe,

And sent'st it back to me;

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee!

BEN JONSON

Он

SONG 2

H do not wanton with those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing;

Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being.

1 The Ninth Song in The Forest.
2 From Underwoods.

Oh be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me ;
Nor look too kind on my desires,
For then my hopes will spill me.

Oh do not steep them in thy tears,
For so will sorrow slay me ;
Nor spread them as distract with fears;
Mine own enough betray me.

BEN JONSON

FOR

BEGGING ANOTHER1

OR Love's sake, kiss me once again!
I long, and should not beg in vain.
Here's none to spy, or see;

Why do you doubt or stay?

I'll taste as lightly as the bee,

That doth but touch his flower, and flies away.

Once more, and, faith, I will be gone,

Can he that loves ask less than one?

Nay, you may err in this,

And all your bounty wrong:

This could be call'd but half a kiss ;
What we're but once to do, we should do long.

I will but mend the last, and tell

Where, how, it would have relish'd well ;

Join lip to lip, and try :

Each suck the other's breath,

And whilst our tongues perplexed lie,

Let who will think us dead, or wish our death.

From Underwoods.

BEN JONSON

HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING1

LET it not your

wonder

move,

Less your laughter, that I love,
Though I now write fifty years :
I have had and have my peers.
Poets, though divine, are men ;
Some have loved as old again.
And it is not always face,
Clothes, or fortune, gives the grace,
Or the feature, or the youth;
But the language, and the truth
With the ardour and the passion,
Gives the lover weight and fashion.
If you then will read the story,
First prepare you to be sorry
That you never knew till now
Either whom to love or how ;
But be glad as soon, with me,
When you know that this is She
Of whose beauty it was sung,-
She shall make the old man young,
Keep the middle age at stay,
And let nothing high decay,
Till she be the reason why
All the world for love may die.

THE DREAM

BEN JONSON

DEAR love, for nothing less than thee

Would I have broke this happy dream;
It was a theme

For reason, much too strong for fantasy.

1 From Underwoods.

Therefore thou waked'st me wisely; yet

My dream thou brokest not, but continued'st it.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths, and fables histories ;
Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best
Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest.

As lightning, or a taper's light,

Thine eyes, and not thy noise waked me;
Yet I thought thee

-For thou lovest truth-an angel, at first sight;
But when I saw thou saw'st my heart,

And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art,
When thou knew'st what I dreamt, when thou knew'st

when

Excess of joy would wake me, and camest then,

I must confess, it could not choose but be

Profane, to think thee anything but thee.

Coming and staying show'd thee, thee,
But rising makes me doubt, that now
Thou art not thou.

That love is weak where fear's as strong as he;
'Tis not all spirit, pure and brave,

If mixture it of fear, shame, honour have ;
Perchance as torches, which must ready be,
Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me;
Thou camest to kindle, go'st to come; then I
Will dream that hope again, but else would die.
JOHN DONNE

THE MESSAGE

END home my long-stray'd eyes to me,

Yet since there they have learn'd such ill,

Such forced fashions,

And false passions,

That they be

Made by thee

Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

Send home my harmless heart again,

Which no unworthy thought could stain
But if it be taught by thine

To make jestings

Of protestings,

And break both

Word and oath,

Keep it, for then 'tis none of mine.

Yet send me back my heart and eyes,
That I may know, and see thy lies,
And may laugh and joy, when thou
Art in anguish

And dost languish

For some one

That will none,

Or prove as false as thou art now.

;

SONG

thee

;

JOHN DONNE