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THING BUT SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASETH.
That whom ill fate would ruin, it prefers; Charm all her senses; till the joyful Sun
Without a rival half his course has run:
Who, while my hand that fairer light confines,
Ye gods, that have the power
To trouble and compose
Fair Venus, in thy soft arms
The god of Rage confine; A brave romance, who would exactly frame,
For thy whispers are the charms Fr brings his knight from some immortal dame :
Which only can divert his fierce design. And then a weapon, and a flaming shield,
What though he frown, and to tumult do incline? Bright as his mother's eyes, he makes him wield;
Thou the fame,
Kindled in his breast, caust tame,
With that snow, which, unmelted, lies on thine.
Thy chief care, our halcyon, builds her nest.
Bright as high heaven is, and fertile as earth;
Whose beauty relieves us,
Whose royal bed gives us POR NOT APPROACHING THE LADY, WHO CAN DO ANY
Both glory and peace:
Our present joy, and all our hopes increase.
Bright as the deathless gods, and happy, she Great queen of Europe! whence thy offspring wears Froon all that may infringe delight is free: All the chief crowns; where princes are thy heirs; Lore at her royal feet his quiver lays,
As welcome thou to sea-girt Britain's shore, And not his mother with more haste obeys.
As erst Latona (who fair Cynthia bore)
Should I with lightning fill her awful hand, Why was her joy in Belgia confin'd ?
Scarce could the ocean (though inrag'd) have tost
A wreath of towers adorn'd her reverend head, Ascending do the seat of sense invade,
Mother of all that on ambrosia fed. No dood in so serene a mansion find,
Thy godlike race must sway the age to come; To ofercast her ever-shining mind :
As she Olympus peopled with her womb. Which bolds resemblance with those spot! s skies, Would those commanders of mankind obey Where floxing Nilus want of rain supplies; Their honour'd parent; all pretences lay That crystal heaven, where Phoebus never shrouds Down at her royal feet; compose their jars, His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds. And on the growing Turk discharge these wars: But what so hard which numbers cannot force? The Christian knights that sacred tomb should wrest So stoops the moon, and rivers change their course. From pagan hands, and triumph o'er the east: The bold Mæonian 3 made me dare to steep Our England's prince and Gallia's dolphin might Joe's dreadful temples in the dew of sleep. Like young Rinaldo and Tancredi fight: And, since the muses do invoke my power,
In single combat by their swords again I shall no more decline that sacred bower, The proud Argantes, and fierce Soldan, slain : Where Gloriana, their great mistress, lies :
Again might we their valiant deeds recite, Bat, gently taming those victorious eyes,
And with your Tuscan Muse 4 exalt the fight.
L'PON HER LANDING.
THE COUNTRY TO
With greater bounty, and more sacred state,
The banquets of the gods to celebrate.
But oh! what elocution might he use,
What potent charms, that could so soon infuse Madam, of all the sacred muse inspir’d
His absent master's love into the heart
From her lov'd brother, country, and the sun ;
Into his arms; while the Parisian dames
Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you to scorn When the bold charmer of Thessalia wars
With heaven itself; and numbers does repeat,
IN ANSWER TO ONE WHO WRIT A LIBEL AGAINST THE
COUNTESS OF CARLISLE.
What fury has provok'd thy wit to dare
With Diomede, to wound the queen
of Love? To the bright Carlisle of the court of Heaven. Thy mistress' envy, or thine own despair? Carlisle ! a name which all our woods are taught,
Not the just Pallas in thy breast did move Loud as their Amarillis, to resound:
So blind a rage, with such a different fate:
He honour won, where thou hast purchas'd hate.
Thou, that without a rival thou may'st love,
While after her the gazing world does move,
Or, is thy mistress not content with one?
Hast thou not read of fairy Arthur's shield,
Which, but disclos'd, amaz'd the weaker eyes When from black clouds no part of sky is clear,
Of proudest foes, and won the doubtful field? But just so much as lets the sun appear;
So shall thy rebel wit become her prize. Heaven then would seem thy image, and reflect
Should thy iambics swell into a book, Those sable vestments, and that bright aspect.
All were confuted with one radiant look. A spark of virtue by the deepest shade
Heaven he oblig'd that plac'd her in the skies Of sad adversity is fairer made;
Rewarding Phæbus for inspiring so Nor less advantage doth thy beauty get:
His noble brain, by likening to those eyes A Venus rising from a sea of jet!
His joyful beams : but Phæbus is thy foe; Such was th' appearance of new-formed light,
And neither aids thy fancy nor thy sight;
So ill thou rhym'st against so fair a light.
OF HER CHAMBER.
And renders all within these walls alike:
Ambition lose; and have no other scope, But power to grieve, exempt from thy commands. Save Carlisle's favour to employ their hope. (true If thou lament, thou must do so alone;
The Thracian could (though all those tales were Grief in thy presence can lay hold of none. The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do: Yet still persist the memory to love
Before his feet so sheep and lions lay, Of that great Mercury of our mighty Jove; Fearless, and wrathless, while they heard him play. Who, by the power of his inchanting tongue, The gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave, Swords from the hands of threatening monarchs Subdued alike, all but one passion þave: War he prevented, or soon made it cease; [wrung. No worthy mind, but finds in her's there is Instructing princes in the arts of peace;
Something proportion'd to the rule of his : Such as made Sheba's curious queen resort
While she with cheerful, but impartial grace, To the large-hearted Hebrew's 7 famous court. (Born for no one, but to delight the race Had Homer sat amongst his wondering guests, Of men) like Phæbus, so divides her light, He might have learn’d at those stupendous feasts, And warms us, that she stoops not from her height. 5 Paris. 6 Venus. 7 Solomon.
OF HIS LATE SICKNESS AND RECOVERY.
TO PHYLLIS... TO LORD NORTHUMBERLAND.
41 Suspended all the pleasures of your life, TO PHYLLIS.
And shorten'd the short joy of such a wife: Perlis, 'twas Love that injur'd you,
For which your country's more obliged, than And on that rock your Thyrsis threw;
For many lives of old, less happy, men.
You, that have sacrific'd so great a part
Of youth, and private bliss, ought to impart
Your sorrow too; and give your friends a right
As well in your affliction, as delight. And nothing springs from what he sows :
Then with Æmilian courage bear this cross, From foes discharg'd, as often meet
Since public persons only public loss The shining points of arrows fleet,
Ought to affect. And though her form, and youth, In the wide air creating fire ;
Her application to your will, and truth; As suls that join in one desire.
That noble sweetness, and that humble state, Lore made the lovely Venus burn
(All snatch'd away by such a hasty fate!) In rain, and for the cold youth' mour,
Might give excuse to any common breast, Who the pursuit of churlish beats
With the buge weight of so just grief opprest : Prefett'd, to sleeping on her breasts. Love makes so many hearts the prize
Yet, let no portion of your life be stain'd
With passion, but your character maintain'd
To the last act; it is enough her stone
May honour'd be with superscription
Of the sole lady, who had power to move
The great Northumberland to grieve and love.
Then, Phyllis, since our passions are
MY LORD ADMIRAL,
With joy like ours, the Thracian youth invades No more to Love we'll sacrifice,
Orpheus, returning from th' Elysian shades; But to the best of deities :
Embrace the hero, and his stay implore; And let our hearts, which Love disjoin'd,
Make it their public suit, he would no more
Desert them so; and for his spouse's sake,
Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed,
Eurydice! for whom his numerous moan
Makes listening trees and savage mountains groan: To this great loss a sea of tears is due:
Through all the air his sounding strings dilate But the whole debt not to be paid by you.
Sorrow, like that which touch'd our hearts of late. Charge not yourself with all, nor render vain Your pining sickness, and your restless pain, Those showers, the eyes of us your servants rain. At once the land affecting, and the main : Stall grief contract the largeness of that heart, When the glad news, that you were admiral, In which nor fear, nor anger, has a part? [dries, Scarce through the nation spread,'twas fear'd by all, Virtue would blush, if time should boast (which That our great Charles, whose wisdom shines in you, Her sole child dead, the tender mother's eyes) Would be perplexed how to choose a new. Your mind's relief; where reason triumphs so So more than private was the joy, and grief, Over all passions, that they ne'er could grow That at the worst it gave our souls relief, Berood their limits in your noble breast,
That in our age such sense of virtue liv'd; To harm another, or impeach your rest.
They joy'd so justly, and so justly griev'd. This we observ'd, delighting to obey
Nature (her fairest lights eclipsed) seems One, who did never from his great self stray: Herself to suffer in those sharp extremes : Whose mild example seemed to engage
While not from thine alone thy blood retires, Th' obsequious seas, and teach them not to rage. But from those cheeks which all the world admires.
Toe brave Æmilius, his great charge laid down, The stem thus threaten'd, and the sap in thee, (The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon) Droop all the branches of that noble tree! In his lost sons did feel the cruel stroke
Their beauty they, and we our love, suspend, O changing fortune; and thus highly spoke Nought can our wishes, save thy health, intend. Before Rome's people: “We did oft implore, As lilies overcharg'd-with rain, they bend That if the heavens had any bad in store
Their beauteous heads, and with high heaven conFor your Æmilius, they would pour that ill Fold thee within their snowy arms, and cry, (tend; On his own house, and let you flourish still.” He is too faultless, and too young, to die. Yea on the barren seas, my lord, bave spent So like immortals round about thee they Wble springs, and summers to the public lent: Sit, that they fright approaching Death away.
Who would not languish, by so fair a train 9 Adonis.
To be lamented, and restor'd again?
Or, thus withheld, what hasty soul would go, From thy shop of beauty we
Slaves return, that enter'd free.
The next support, fair hope of your great name, But, confounded with thy art,
Inquires her name, that has his heart. By loss of thee would no advantage have,
Another, who did long refrain, But step by step pursue thee to the grave.
Feels his old wound bleed fresh again,
With dear remembrance of that face,
This softness from thy finger took.
The beauty only, but the fire :
May'st thou yet thyself as well,
As all the world besides, excel !
So you th' unfeigned truth rehearse, The world, to which you Ay so fast,
(That I may make it live in verse)
Why thou couldst not, at one assay, Conveying day
That face to after-times convey, From us to them, can pay your haste
Which this admires. Was it thy wit, With no such object, nor salute your rise
To make her oft before thee sit? With no such wonder, as De Mornay's eyes.
Confess, and we'll forgive thee this: Well does this prove
For who would not repeat that bliss ? The errour of those antique books,
And frequent sight of such a dame Which made you move
Buy, with the hazard of his fame? About the world : her charming looks
Yet who can tax thy blameless skill,
When Nature's self so often errs?
Yet never could a perfect birth
Which waxed old, ere it could see
Where those immortal colours grow,
No; for this theft thou hast climb'd higher,
Hap Dorothea liv'd when mortals made Had but this copy (which the artist took
Choice of their deities, this sacred shade From the fair picture of that noble book)
Had held an altar to her power, that gave
And beauty too, and order can impart,
No less than those of old did Orpheus' lyre :
If she sit down, with tops all tow'rds her bow'd, Rare artisan, whose pencil moves
They round about her into arbours crowd ; Not our delights alone, but loves !
Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand,
Like some well-marshall’d and obsequious band. I Venus. Pamela.
Amphion so made stones and timber leap 3 Sir Philip Sidney, 4 Pyrocles and Musidorus. | Into fair figures, from a confus'd heap:
TO MY LORD OF LEICESTER...OF THE LADY..
43 And in the symmetry of her parts is found Nor would exchange with Jove, to hide the skies A poser, like that of harmony in sound.
In dark’ning clouds, the power to close her eyes : Ye lofty beeches, tell this matchless dame, Eyes, which so far all other lights control, That if together ye fed all one flame,
They warm our mortal parts, but these our soul ! It could not equalize the hundredth part
Let her free spirit, whose unconquer'd breast Of=bat her eyes have kindled in my heart! Holds such deep quiet, and untroubled rest, 6 bov, and carve this passion on the bark Know, that though Venus and her son should spare Of coder tree, which stands the sacred mark Her rebel heart, and never teach her care; Of wble Sidney's birth; when such benign, Yet Hymen may in force his vigils keep; Such more than mortal making stars did shine; And, for another's joy, suspend her sleep. That there they cannot but for ever prove The monument and pledge of humble love:
OF THE MISREPORT OF HER BEING PAINTED.
With their wild howlings at fair Cynthia's light;
Her vexed servants blame those envious tongues :
Call Love to witness, that no painted fire
Can scorch men so, or kindle such desire: Vct that thy trees at Pens-Hurst groan,
While, unconcerned, she seems mov'd no more Oppressed with their timely load,
With this new malice, than our loves before; And seem to make their silent moan,
But, from the height of her great mind, looks down That their great lord is now abroad :
On both our passions, without smile or frown. Ther, to delight his taste, or eye,
Su little care of what is done below Tould spend themselves in fruit, and die.
Hath the bright dame, whom Heaven affecteth so!
Paints her, 'tis true, with the same hand which Not that thy harmless deer repine,
spreads And think themselves unjustly slain
Like glorious colours through the flowery meads, By any other hand than thine,
When lavish nature, with her best attire, Whase arrows they would gladly stain :
Clothes the gay spring, the season of desire. Na por thy friends, which hold too dear
Paints her, 'tis true, and does her cheek adorn, That peace with France, which keeps thee there.
With the same art, wherewith she paints the morn: All these are less than that great cause,
With the same art, wherewith she gildeth so Which now exacts your presence here;
Those painted clouds, which form Thaumantias' bow. herein there meet the divers laws Of pablic and domestic care.
OF HER PASSING THROUGH A CROWD OF PEOPLE. For one bright nymph our youth contends,
As in old Chaos (heaven with earth confus'd, Add on your prudent choice depends.
And stars with rocks together crush'd and bruis'd) Nat the bright shield of Thetis' son",
The Sun his light no further could extend (For which such stern debate did rise,
Than the next hill, which on his shoulders lean'd; That the great Ajax Telamon
So in this throng bright Sacharissa far'd, Refus'd to live without the prize)
Oppress'd by those, who strove to be her guard : Those achire peers did more engage,
As ships, though never so obsequious, fall Than sbe the gallants of our age.
Foul in a tempest on their admiral.
A greater favour this disorder brought That beam of beauty, which begun
Cnto her servants, than their awful thought To warm us so, when thou wert here,
Durst entertain, when, thus compell’d, they prest Now scorches like the raging sun, When Sirius does first appear.
The yielding marble of her snowy breast.
While Love insults, disguised in the cloud, O fix this flame; and let despair
And welcome force of that unruly crowd.
So th' amorous tree, while yet the air is calm,
Into his arms, and mingles all their boughs;
Though loth he seems her tender leaves to press,
More loth he is that friendly storm should cease;
From whose rude bounty he the double use
At once receives, of pleasure and excuse.
PHEBUS AND DAPHNE
Fair Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain :
Like Phæbus sung the no less amorous boy; 5 Achilles.
Like Daphne she, as lovely, and as coy!
THE STORY OF