Chapter VII: Introduction: To Thomas Stanley (1)

Thomas Stanley, poet, scholar, translator, and historian of philosophy, occupies a position in literary history, and in the general knowledge of fairly instructed people, which is less unenviable than that of Cleveland, almost equally curious, but more distinctly accidental. In a way--in more ways than one--he cannot be said to be exactly unknown. Everybody who has received the once usual 'liberal education', if not directly acquainted with his work on classical literature, has seen his _History of Philosophy_ referred to in later histories; and his notes on Aeschylus quoted, and sometimes fought over, in later editions. His translations have attained a place in that private-adventure Valhalla of English translations--Bohn's Library. A few at least of his poems are in all or most of the anthologies. Not many writers have such an anchor with four flukes, lodged in the general memory, as this. And yet there are probably few people who have any very distinct knowledge or idea of his work as a whole; his _Poems_ (until a time subsequent to the original promise of them in this Collection) had never been issued since his own day save in one of the few-copied reprints of the indefatigable Sir Egerton Brydges; and he makes small figure in most literary histories.

The reasons of this, however, are not very far to seek. For a very considerable time during the later seventeenth and the whole of the eighteenth century, if not later, Stanley was a recognized authority on history and scholarship: but during this time a philosopher and a scholar would have been usually thought to derogate, strangely and not quite pardonably, by writing and translating love poetry in a style of 'false wit' the most contrary to the precepts of Mr. Addison. We cannot even be sure that Stanley himself would not have been short-sighted enough to feel a certain shame at his harmless _fredaines_ in verse, for he certainly never published or fully collected them at all after he was six and twenty, though he lived to double that age. He seems, moreover, though most forward to help other men of letters, to have been in all other ways a decidedly retiring person--a man of books rather than of affairs. Though an unquestioned Royalist, and not accused of any dishonourable compliance, he seems to have been quite undisturbed during the Civil War, no doubt because of his observation of the precept [Greek: lathe biôsas]. In short, he took no trouble to keep himself before any public except the public of letters, and the public of letters chose to keep him only in his capacity as scholar.

If, however, he put himself not forward it was not for want of means and opportunity to do so. After some mistakes about his genealogy, it has been made certain that he was descended, though with the bend sinister, from the great house that bears the same name, and through a branch which enriched itself by commerce and settled in Hertfordshire and Essex. His mother was a Hammond of the family which has been referred to in dealing with his uncle the poet (vol. ii), and he was also connected with Sandys, Lovelace, and Sherburne, all of whom were his intimate friends, as were John Hall and Shirley the dramatist. He seems always to have been a man of means: and used them liberally, though less thoughtlessly than Benlowes, in assisting brother men of letters. He is not said to have been at any of the great schools, but his private tutor William Fairfax (son of Edward of Tasso fame) appears to have grounded him thoroughly in scholarship. At thirteen he went to Pembroke College (then Hall), Cambridge, entering in June 1639 and matriculating in December. He is said to have entered at Oxford next year. He was co-opted at Cambridge in 1642 as (apparently) a gentleman pensioner or commoner. He married early, his wife's name being Dorothy Enyon, and they had several children, of whom four survived him when he died, in 1678, at Suffolk Street, St. Martin's-in-the-Fields.

There is a tendency--which is perhaps rather slightly unfair than positively unjust--to suspect a poet who is specially given to translation: and not exactly to discard the suspicion in the ratio of his excellence as a translator. The reason behind this is sufficient, as has been said, to free it from the charge of positive injustice as a general rule, for it may be plausibly contended that a true poet, with nature and his own soul to draw upon, will not experience any great necessity to go to some one else for matter. But these general rules are always dangerous in particular application, and therefore it has been said that the notion is not quite fair. In fact, if it is examined as it does apply to individuals, it becomes clear that it will not do as a general rule at all--that like some other general rules it is practically useless. That Chaucer was _grant translateur_ may be said to be neither here nor there in the circumstances. But Spenser did not disdain translation; Dryden evidently did it for love as well as for money, though the latter may have been its chief attraction for Pope; and a poet such as Shelley, who was very nearly _the_ poet, by no means despised it.

When, however, we come to examine Stanley's work we may perhaps discover something in the very excellence of his translations which connects itself usefully with his original poems. These translations are excellent because he has almost unerringly selected writers who are suitable to the poetical style of his own day, and has transposed them into English verse of that style. But in his original poems there is perhaps a little too much suggestion of something not wholly dissimilar. They are (pretty as they almost always are, and beautiful as they sometimes are) a little devoid of the spontaneity and _élan_ which distinguish the best things of the time from Carew and Crashaw down to Kynaston and John Hall. There is a very little of the _exercise_ about them. Moreover, not quite as a necessary consequence of this, there is a want of decided character. Stanley is much more a typical minor Caroline poet than he is Stanley, and so much must needs be said critically in these volumes on the type that it seems unnecessary to repeat it on an individual who gives that type with little idiosyncrasy, even while giving it in some abundance and with real charm. Only let it be added that we could not have a better foil to Cleveland, who, though unpolished, is always 'Manly, Sir, manly!' than this scholarly and graceful but somewhat epicene poet.

There are, however, some peculiarities about his work which made me slow to make up my mind about the fashion of presenting it. His translations are numerous: but this collection was not originally intended to include translations unless they were inextricably connected with issues of original work, or where, as in Godolphin's case, there was a special reason. Further, the translations, which are from a large number of authors, ancient and modern, sometimes include prose as well as verse. Thirdly, even the original poems were cross-issued in widely different arrangements. In short, the thing was rather a muddle, and though no one has occupied me in my various visits to the British Museum and the Bodleian during the past ten or twelve years oftener than Stanley, I postponed him from volume to volume. At last, and very recently a feasible plan suggested itself--to give the edition of 1651 as Brydges had done, this being after all the only one which at once represents revision and definite literary purpose, and to let the translations in this represent--as the poet seems himself to have selected them to do--his translating habits and studies. Before these I have printed the original poems of the first or 1647 edition, and after them the few which he seems to have allowed to be added to the set versions in Gamble's _Airs and Dialogues_ ten years later. I think this will put Stanley on a fair level with the rest of our flock. Those who want his classical translations from Anacreon, Ausonius, the Idylls, and the _Pervigilium_, as well as from Johannes Secundus, will not have much difficulty in finding them; and I did not see my way to load this volume with Preti's _Oronta_, Montalvan's _Aurora_, &c. The bibliography of these things is rather complicated, and I do not pretend to have followed it out exhaustively. In fact this is certainly the case as far as my own collations of 1647, made at the British Museum, and those furnished me from the Bodleian copy are concerned.[1] But the differences are rarely of importance. 1647, a private issue, was reprinted in 1650 and 1651: while Gamble's _Airs and Dialogues_ appeared in 1656 and was reissued with a fresh title-page in 1657. In the latter year Stanley furnished another composer--John Wilson, Professor of Music at Oxford--with the letterpress of _Psalterium Carolinum_, the King's devotions from the _Eikon_ versified. His _History of Philosophy_ appeared in 1655: his _Aeschylus_ in 1663.

Some years ago (London, 1893) a beautiful illustrated edition of his _Anacreon_ appeared, and more recently--but, as I have noted, after the announcement of this collection--a carefully arranged and collated edition of the original _Lyrics_ with a few selected translations (Tutin, Hull, 1907), edited by Miss L. Imogen Guiney. I have not found Miss Guiney's work useless, and if I have occasionally had to question her emendations that is only a matter of course.

[Footnote 1: I am informed by three subsequent collators more
experienced in such work than myself--Mr. Percy Simpson, Mr.
Thorn-Drury, and a Clarendon Press reader--that they have not
found some differences which my own comparison-notes of some
years ago seemed to show between the British Museum and the
Bodleian copies of 1647. No doubt they are right. Some of the
dates given above have also been corrected by them.]

CONTENTS

PAGE

THOMAS STANLEY 95
Introduction 97

POEMS NOT PRINTED AFTER 1647 101
Despair 101
The Picture 101
Opinion 101

POEMS PRINTED IN 1647 AND REPRINTED IN 1656
BUT NOT IN 1651 102
The Dream 102
To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass 102
The Blush 103
The Cold Kiss 103
The Idolater 104
The Magnet 104
On a Violet in her Breast 105
Song: 'Foolish lover, go and seek' 105
The Parting 106
Counsel 106
Expostulation with Love in Despair 107
Song: 'Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care' 108
Expectation 108

1651 POEMS 109
The Dedication: To Love 109
The Glow-worm 110
The Breath 111
Desiring her to burn his Verses 111
The Night 112
Excuse for wishing her less Fair 113
Chang'd, yet Constant 113
The Self-deceiver (_Montalvan_) 115
The Cure 115
Celia Singing 117
A la Mesme 117
The Return 118
Song: 'When I lie burning in thine eye' 119
The Sick Lover (_Guarini_) 119
Song: 'Celinda, by what potent art' 120
Song: 'Fool, take up thy shaft again' 120
Delay 121
Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her
(_Marina_) 121
The Repulse 122
The Tomb 123
The Enjoyment (_St.-Amant_) 124
To Celia Pleading Want of Merit 126
The Bracelet (_Tristan_) 127
The Kiss 128
Apollo and Daphne (_Garcilasso Marino_) 128
Speaking and Kissing 129
The Snow-ball 129
The Deposition 130
To his Mistress in Absence (_Tasso_) 130
Love's Heretic 130
La Belle Confidente 132
La Belle Ennemie 132
The Dream (_Lope de Vega_) 133
To the Lady D. 133
Love Deposed 134
The Divorce 134
Time Recovered (_Casone_) 135
The Bracelet 135
The Farewell 136
Claim to Love (_Guarini_) 137
To his Mistress, who dreamed he was wounded
(_Guarini_) 137
The Exchange 138
Unaltered by Sickness 138
On his Mistress's Death (_Petrarch_) 139
The Exequies 139
The Silkworm 140
A Lady Weeping (_Montalvan_) 140
Ambition 141
Song: 'When, dearest beauty, thou shall pay' 141
The Revenge 142
Song: 'I will not trust thy tempting graces' 142
Song: 'No, I will sooner trust the wind' 143
To a Blind Man in Love (_Marino_) 143
Answer 143
Song: 'I prithee let my heart alone' 144
The Loss 144
The Self-Cruel 145
Song (_by M. W. M._):
'Wert thou yet fairer than thou art' 145
Answer 146
The Relapse 146
To the Countess of S. with the Holy Court 147
Song (_De Voiture_):
'I languish in a silent flame' 147
Drawn for Valentine by the L. D. S. 148
The Modest Wish (_Barclay_) 148
E Catalectis Veterum Poetarum 149
On the Edition of Mr. Fletcher's Works 149
To Mr. W. Hammond 150
On Mr. Shirley's Poems 151
On Mr. Sherburn's Translation of Seneca's _Medea_,
and Vindication of the Author 152
On Mr. Hall's Essays 153
On Sir John Suckling his Picture and Poems 154
The Union (_by Mr. William Fairfax_) 154
The Answer 154
Pythagoras his Moral Rules 155

POEMS APPEARING ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1656 159
'On this swelling bank, once proud' 159
'Dear, fold me once more in thine arms!' 160
'The lazy hours move slow' 160

POEMS NOT PRINTED AFTER 1647

_Despair._

No, no, poor blasted Hope!
Since I (with thee) have lost the scope
Of all my joys, I will no more
Vainly implore
The unrelenting Destinies:
He that can equally sustain
The strong assaults of joy or pain,
May safely laugh at their decrees.

Despair, to thee I bow,
Whose constancy disdains t' allow 10
Those childish passions that destroy
Our fickle joy;
How cruel Fates so e'er appear,
Their harmless anger I despise,
And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise,
Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.

[_Despair._] Note here the skill and success of the
use of the short--almost 'bob'--lines, and the _In Memoriam_
arrangement of rhyme in the last half of each stanza.]

_The Picture._

Thou that both feel'st and dost admire
The flames shot from a painted fire,
Know Celia's image thou dost see:
Not to herself more like is she.
He that should both together view
Would judge both pictures, or both true.
But thus they differ: the best part
Of Nature this is; that of Art.

[_The Picture._] The conceit wraps up the point of
the epigram.]

_Opinion._

Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays
That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise?
Why should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white,
Which from the sun receives a sparkling light,
Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth
Decks the green garment of the richer earth?
Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice
Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise?
Which, melting, show that to impartial sight
Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright. 10
But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn,
Taking their praise the other to adorn.
Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave
To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave;
Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense,
Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.

[_Opinion._] As in _The Dream_, distinctly nervous
stopped couplet.]

POEMS PRINTED IN 1647 AND REPRINTED IN 1656 BUT NOT IN 1651

_The Dream._

That I might ever dream thus! that some power
To my eternal sleep would join this hour!
So, willingly deceiv'd, I might possess
In seeming joys a real happiness.
Haste not away: oh do not dissipate
A pleasure thou so lately didst create!
Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin'd;
Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.

[_The Dream._] Closed couplets, already of
considerable accomplishment. Reprinted in _1656_ in an
enlarged form; after ll. 1-4 the poem continued:--

Death, I would gladly bow beneath thy charms,
If thou couldst bring my Doris to my arms,
That thus at last made happy I might prove
In life the hell, in death the heaven of love.
Haste not away so soon, mock not my joy,
With the delusive sight or empty noise
Of happiness; oh do not dissipate
A pleasure thou so lately didst create!
Shadows of life or death do such bliss give,
That 'tis an equal curse to wake or live.
Stay then, kind Sleep; be ever here confin'd;
Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.
]

_To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass._

Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away,
Nor in its crystal face thine own survey.
What can be free from Love's imperious laws
When painted shadows real flames can cause?
The fires may burn thee from this mirror rise
By the reflected beams of thine own eyes;
And thus at last, fallen with thyself in love,
Thou wilt my rival, thine own martyr prove.
But if thou dost desire thy form to view,
Look in my heart where Love thy picture drew; 10
And then, if pleased with thine own shape thou be,
Learn how to love thyself in loving me.

[_To Chariessa &c._] ]

[Line: 12 _1656_ 'by loving'.]

_The Blush._

So fair Aurora doth herself discover
(Asham'd o' th' aged bed of her cold lover)
In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light
Betrays her early shame to the world's sight.
Such a bright colour doth the morning rose
Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose
Half drown'd in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear
Of night doth like a dissolv'd pearl appear;
Yet 'twere in vain a colour out to seek
To parallel my Chariessa's cheek; 10
Less are conferr'd with greater, and these seem
To blush like her, not she to blush like them.
But whence, fair soul, this passion? what pretence
Had guilt to stain thy spotless innocence?
Those only this feel who have guilty been,
Not any blushes know, but who know sin.
Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame,
That knows no cause, know no effects of shame.

[_The Blush._] Interesting to compare prosodically
with _The Dream_ and _Opinion_. A much older fashion of
couplet, here and there overlapped and breathless, but
pointing towards the newer. In l. 11 Miss Guiney has
unfortunately altered 'conferr'd' (_confero_ = 'to set side
by side') to 'compar'd'. In l. 15, _1647_ has the common 'bin'
and l. 16 'knows' for the second 'know'.]

_The Cold Kiss._

Such icy kisses, anchorites that live
Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give;
And those cold maids on whom Love never spent
His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,
To their expiring fathers such bequeath,
Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath:
The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice
Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice.

Fie, Chariessa! whence so chang'd of late,
As to become in love a reprobate? 10
Quit, quit this dullness, Fairest, and make known
A flame unto me equal with mine own.
Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon
Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone,
Let 's once more join our lips, and thou shalt see
That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.

[_The Cold Kiss._] There are some very trifling
alterations, all for the worse, in _1656_ (Gamble).]

_The Idolater._

Think not, pale lover, he who dies,
Burnt in the flames of Celia's eyes,
Is unto Love a sacrifice;

Or, by the merit of this pain,
Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain!
Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain.

For when, by death, from these flames free,
To greater thou condemn'd shalt be,
And punish'd for idolatry,

Since thou (Love's votary before 10
Whilst He was kind) dost him no more,
But, in his shrine, Disdain adore.

Nor will this fire (the gods prepare
To punish scorn) that cruel Fair,
(Though now from flames exempted) spare;

But as together both shall die,
Both burnt alike in flames shall lie,
She in thy breast, thou in her eye.

[_The Idolater._] ]

[Line: 11 'He' altered in _1656_ to 'she', which Miss Guiney
adopts. But of course 'He' is Love.]

[Line: 18 breast _1647_: later, much worse, 'heart'.]

_The Magnet._

Ask the empress of the night
How the Hand which guides her sphere,
Constant in unconstant light,
Taught the waves her yoke to bear,
And did thus by loving force
Curb or tame the rude sea's course.

Ask the female palm how she
First did woo her husband's love;
And the magnet, ask how he
Doth th' obsequious iron move; 10
Waters, plants, and stones know this:
That they love; not what Love is.
Be not then less kind than these,
Or from Love exempt alone!
Let us twine like amorous trees,
And like rivers melt in one.
Or, if thou more cruel prove,
Learn of steel and stones to love.

[_The Magnet._] ]

[Line: 9 'he' _1647_, altered to 'she' in _1656_. One would
expect 'he' to avoid identical rhyme, but Stanley was a
scholar and the Greek is [Greek: hê Magnêtis lithos], and the
other things to be 'asked' are feminine.]

[In l. 13 'then' became 'thou', neither for better nor for
worse.]

_On a Violet in her Breast._

See how this violet, which before
Hung sullenly her drooping head,
As angry at the ground that bore
The purple treasure which she spread,
Doth smilingly erected grow,
Transplanted to those hills of snow.

And whilst the pillows of thy breast
Do her reclining head sustain,
She swells with pride to be so blest,
And doth all other flowers disdain; 10
Yet weeps that dew which kissed her last,
To see her odours so surpass'd.

Poor flower! how far deceiv'd thou wert,
To think the riches of the morn,
Or all the sweets she can impart,
Could these or sweeten or adorn,
Since thou from them dost borrow scent,
And they to thee lend ornament!

[_On a Violet in her Breast._]

[Line: 6 'hills of snow' is probably as old as the Garden of
Eden (if there was snow there). But Stanley must have known
the exquisite second verse of 'Take, oh take those lips away'
in _The Bloody Brother_. I would ask any one who despises
this as a mere commonplace love-poem to note--if he can--the
splendid swell of the verse to the fourth line, and then the
'turn' of the final couplet. With Stanley and his generation
that swell and turn passed--never to reappear till William
Blake revived it nearly a century and a half afterwards.]

_Song._

Foolish Lover, go and seek
For the damask of the rose,
And the lilies white dispose
To adorn thy mistress' cheek;

Steal some star out of the sky,
Rob the phoenix, and the east
Of her wealthy sweets divest,
To enrich her breath or eye!

We thy borrow'd pride despise:
For this wine, to which we are 10
Votaries, is richer far
Than her cheek, or breath, or eyes.

And should that coy fair one view
These diviner beauties, she
In this flame would rival thee,
And be taught to love thee too.

Come, then, break thy wanton chain,
That when this brisk wine hath spread
On thy paler cheek a red,
Thou, like us, mayst Love disdain. 20

Love, thy power must yield to wine!
And whilst thus ourselves we arm,
Boldly we defy thy charm:
For these flames extinguish thine.

[_Song._] A Donne-inspired one, doubtless, but not
ill justified. 'Distinguish' in the last line is one of the
numerous misprints of _1656_.]

_The Parting._

I go, dear Saint, away,
Snatch'd from thy arms
By far less pleasing charms,
Than those I did obey;
But when hereafter thou shall know
That grief hath slain me, come,
And on my tomb
Drop, drop a tear or two;
Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep,
And I shall smile in death to see thee weep. 10

Thy tears may have the power
To reinspire
My ashes with new fire,
Or change me to some flower,
Which, planted 'twixt thy breasts, shall grow:
Veil'd in this shape, I will
Dwell with thee still,
Court, kiss, enjoy thee too:
Securely we'll contemn all envious force,
And thus united be by death's divorce. 20

[_The Parting._] ]

[Line: 19 contemn _1647_: contain _1656_.]

_Counsel._

When deceitful lovers lay
At thy feet their suppliant hearts,
And their snares spread to betray
Thy best treasure with their arts,
Credit not their flatt'ring vows:
Love such perjury allows.

When they with the choicest wealth
Nature boasts of, have possess'd thee;
When with flowers (their verses' stealth),
Stars, or jewels they invest thee, 10
Trust not to their borrow'd store:
'Tis but lent to make thee poor.

When with poems they invade thee,
Sing thy praises or disdain;
When they weep, and would persuade thee
That their flames beget that rain;
Let thy breast no baits let in:
Mercy 's only here a sin!

Let no tears or offerings move thee,
All those cunning charms avoid; 20
For that wealth for which they love thee,
They would slight if once enjoy'd.
Who would keep another's heart
With her own must never part.

[_Counsel._]

[Line: 7 'the' altered in _1656_ to 'their', which is clearly
wrong. But the untrustworthiness of Gamble's text is still
better illustrated by l. 10, which he twists into--

Stars _to_ jewels they _di_vest thee.

The copy was probably dictated to a very careless, ignorant,
or stupid workman.]

[Lines: 23-4. This pointed if cynical conclusion was changed in
_1657_ to the much feebler

Guard thy unrelenting mind;
None are cruel but the kind.
]

_Expostulation with Love in Despair._

Love, with what strange tyrannic laws must they
Comply, which are subjected to thy sway!
How far all justice thy commands decline,
Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoin!
Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain
A double torture of despair and pain?
Is 't not enough vainly to hope and woo,
That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?
It were some joy, Ixion-like, to fold
The empty air, or feed on hopes as cold; 10
But if thou to my passion this deny,
Thou mayst be starv'd to death as well as I;
For how can thy pale sickly flame burn clear
When death and cold despair inhabit near?
Rule in my breast alone, or thence retire;
Dissolve this frost, or let that quench thy fire.
Or let me not desire, or else possess!
Neither, or both, are equal happiness.

[_Expostulation, &c._] The texts of _1647_ and
_1656_ differ considerably here, and Miss Guiney has attempted
a 'composite text'--a thing for which I have small fancy.
That given above is from _1647_: _1656_ runs as follows in the
first quatrain:

Love, what tyrannic laws must they obey
Who bow beneath thy uncontrolled sway;
Or how unjust will that harsh empire prove
Forbids to hope, and yet commands to love.

and reads in l. 9 'hope' for 'joy'; l. 10 'thought that's
cold'; l. 14 'old' and 'here' for 'cold' and 'near'; l. 15
(entirely different)

Then let thy dim heat warm, or else expire.

l. 16 'the' for 'thy'; and in the closing distich '_Thus_ let
me not' and '_Either_ or both'. The interest of this piece is
almost wholly centred on the penultimate line, which, being an
evident and intended contradiction to

Amare liceat si potiri non licet,

gives us at once the connexion, in Stanley's mind, with that
strange, Mrs. Grundy-shocking, but 'insolent and passionate'
piece which is attributed, credibly enough, to Apuleius, but
rather less credibly as a latinizing of Menander's [Greek:
_Anechomenos_]. The contrast of the sensuous fire of this
with Stanley's rather vapid and languid metaphysicalities is a
notable one.]

_Song._

Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care
To seek t' ensnare
A heart so poor as mine:
Some fools there be
Hate liberty,
Whom with more ease thou mayst confine.

Alas! when with much charge thou hast
Brought it at last
Beneath thy power to bow,
It will adore 10
Some twenty more,
And that, perhaps, you'll not allow.

No, Chloris, I no more will prove
The curse of love,
And now can boast a heart
Hath learn'd of thee
Inconstancy,
And cozen'd women of their art.

[_Song._]

[Lines: 2, 3. The quality and value of _1656_ are again well
illustrated by its readings of 'inspire' for 'ensnare' and
'pure' for 'poor'.]

_Expectation._

Chide, chide no more away
The fleeting daughters of the day,
Nor with impatient thoughts outrun
The lazy sun,
Or think the hours do move too slow;
Delay is kind,
And we too soon shall find
That which we seek, yet fear to know.

The mystic dark decrees
Unfold not of the Destinies, 10
Nor boldly seek to antedate
The laws of Fate;
Thy anxious search awhile forbear,
Suppress thy haste,
And know that Time at last
Will crown thy hope or fix thy fear.

[_Expectation._] There is a suggestion here of John
Hall's beautiful _Call_ ('Romira, stay'), and the two pieces
appeared so close together that it is difficult to say which
may have been the first. Perhaps the resemblance was what made
Stanley omit it in _1651_. In l. 5 _1656_ reads '_N_or'.]

1651 POEMS

THE DEDICATION

_To Love._

Thou, whose sole name all passions doth comprise,
Youngest and oldest of the Deities;
Born without parents, whose unbounded reign
Moves the firm earth, fixeth the floating main,
Inverts the course of heaven; and from the deep
Awakes those souls that in dark Lethe sleep,
By thy mysterious chains seeking t' unite,
Once more, the long-since torn Hermaphrodite.
He, who thy willing pris'ner long was vow'd,
And uncompell'd beneath thy sceptre bow'd, 10
Returns at last in thy soft fetters bound,
With victory, though not with freedom crown'd:
And, of his dangers pass'd a grateful sign,
Suspends this tablet at thy numerous shrine.

[_The Dedication._ In 1647 printed at p. 49 with
the title 'Conclusion, to Love', and obviously intended to
end that collection, but a number of unpaged leaves were
subsequently added containing the complimentary verses
addressed to Fletcher and others. The following variants
occur: 11 'by thy kind power unbound'. 12 'At least with
freedom, though not conquest crown'd'. 14 'Suspends these
papers'. Stanley also appended a list of Greek quotations
justifying the cento. There is an intrinsic interest attaching
to them in that they _may_ have suggested a similar process to
Gray. A further comparison-contrast may also interest some as
to the lines themselves--that of the famous and magnificent
opening of Mr. Swinburne's _Tristram of Lyonesse_.

The notes annotate the following phrases:--1 '(_a_) all
passions', 2 '(_b_) Youngest and (_c_) oldest', 3 '(_d_)
Born', 4 '(_e_) Moves', 7 '(_f_) By thy mysterious ...' The
Greek has been slightly corrected in spelling and accents.

(_a_) Alexis apud Athenaeum:

[Greek: synenênegmenos
Pantachothen en heni topô poll' eidê pherôn,
Hê tolma men gar andros, hê de deilia
Gynaikos], &c.

Sophocles:

[Greek: Kypris ou Kypris monon,
All' esti pantôn onomatôn epônymos].

(_b_) Plato, _Sympos._: [Greek: Phêmi neôtaton auton einai
theôn, kai aei neon.]

(_c_. _d_) Plato: [Greek: To gar en tois presbytatois einai
tôn theôn timion. Tekmêrion de toutou: goneis gar erôtos out'
eisin, oute legontai hyp' oudenos oute idiôtou oute poiêtou.]

(_e_) Oppian. _Cyneg._ 2:

[Greek: Gaia pelei statherê, beleessi de soisi doneitai
Astatos epleto pontos, atar sy ge kai ton epêxas;
Êlythes eis aithêr', oiden de se makros Olympos.
Deimainei de se panta, kai ouranos eurys hyperthe
Gaiês hossa t' enerthe kai ethnea lygra kamontôn
Hoi lêthês men aphyssan hypo stoma nêpathes hydôr.]

(_f_) Plato: [Greek: Prôton men gar tria ên ta genê ta tôn
anthrôpôn (sc. [Greek: arren, thêly, kai androgynon]). Mox
addit, [Greek: Esti dê oun ek tosou ho erôs emphytos allêlôn
tois anthrôpois kai tês archaias physeôs synagôgeus kai
epicheirôn poiêsai hen ek duoin, <kai> iasasthai tên physin tên
anthrôpinên.] Phil. Jud. [Greek: peri tês kosmopoiias. Epei
de eplasthê hê gynê theasamenos adelphon eidos kai syngenê
morphên êsmenise tê thea erôs de epiginomenos kathaper
henos zôon ditta tmêmata diestêkota synagôgôn eis tauton
harmottetai.] ]

POEMS

_The Glow-worm._

Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark
This animated gem, whose fainter spark
Of fading light its birth had from the dark.

A Star thought by the erring passenger,
Which falling from its native orb dropt here,
And makes the earth (its centre) now its sphere.

Should many of these sparks together be,
He that the unknown light far off should see,
Would think it a terrestrial Galaxy.

Take 't up, fair Saint; see how it mocks thy fright! 10
The paler flame doth not yield heat, though light,
Which thus deceives thy reason, through thy sight.

But see how quickly it (ta'en up) doth fade,
To shine in darkness only being made,
By th' brightness of thy light turn'd to a shade;

And burnt to ashes by thy flaming eyes,
On the chaste altar of thy hand it dies,
As to thy greater light a sacrifice.

[_The Glow-worm._] Sir Egerton Brydges thought that
'A stile of poetry so full of quaint and far-fetched conceits
cannot be commended as the most chaste and classical';
but that, 'among trifles of this kind, _The Glow-worm_ is
singularly elegant and happy'. Perhaps a later judgement,
while waiving the indispensableness, or even pre-eminence,
of chastity and classicality in verse, may doubt whether _The
Glow-worm_ itself is not rather too 'elegant' to be as 'happy'
as some other things even of its author's. The last verse
redeems it, though, to some extent.]

[Line: 2 _1647_ 'This living star of earth'. I suppose Stanley
did not like the recurrence of 'star', or he may have thought
that the same sound (-_ar_) recurred still more excessively
in the rhymes. In itself the earlier reading is certainly the
better.]

[Line: 4 erring] deceiv'd _1647_.]

[Line: 12 'Which doth deceive' _1647_.]

[Line: 15 thy] the _1647_.]

_The Breath._

Favonius the milder breath o' th' Spring,
When proudly bearing on his softer wing
Rich odours, which from the Panchean groves
He steals, as by the Phoenix' pyre he moves,
Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispense
To the next rose's blushing innocence,
But from the grateful flower, a richer scent
He back receives than he unto it lent.
Then laden with his odours' richest store,
He to thy breath hastes; to which these are poor! 10
Which whilst the amorous wind to steal essays,
He like a wanton Lover 'bout thee plays,
And sometimes cooling thy soft cheek doth lie,
And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye:
Drawn in at last by that breath we implore,
He now returns far sweeter than before,
And rich by being robb'd, in thee he finds
The burning sweets of Pyres, the cool of Winds.

[_The Breath._] This appears in all three editions,
_1656_ following _1647_ in the following variants: l. 8 'He
doth receive'; l. 11 'while he sportively'; l. 16 'back' for
'now'.]

_Desiring her to burn his Verses._

These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath
Condemn; thy hand unto the flames bequeath;
'Tis fit, who gave them life, should give them death.

And whilst in curled flames to Heaven they rise,
Each trembling sheet shall as it upwards flies,
Present itself to thee a sacrifice.

Then when about its native orb it came,
And reach'd the lesser lights o' th' sky, this flame
Contracted to a star should wear thy name.

Or falling down on earth from its bright sphere, 10
Shall in a diamond's shape its lustre bear,
And trouble (as it did before) thine ear.

But thou wilt cruel even in mercy be,
Unequal in thy justice, who dost free
Things without sense from flames, and yet not Me.

[_Desiring her to burn his Verses._] _Title_, _1647_
'To Chariessa, desiring', &c.]

[Line: 4 whilst] as _1647_.]

[Line: 7 about] above _1647_.]

[Line: 14 who] that _1647_.]

_The Night._

A DIALOGUE.

_Chariessa._

What if Night
Should betray us, and reveal
To the light
All the pleasures that we steal?

_Philocharis._

Fairest, we
Safely may this fear despise;
How can She
See our actions who wants eyes?

_Chariessa._

Each dim star
And the clearer lights, we know, 10
Night's eyes are;
They were blind that thought her so!

_Philocharis._

Those pale fires
Only burn to yield a light
T' our desires,
And though blind, to give us sight.

_Chariessa._

By this shade
That surrounds us might our flame
Be betray'd,
And the day disclose its name. 20

_Philocharis._

Dearest Fair,
These dark witnesses we find
Silent are;
Night is dumb as well as blind.

_Chorus._

Then whilst these black shades conceal us,
We will scorn
Th' envious Morn,
And the Sun that would reveal us.
Our flames shall thus their mutual light betray,
And night, with these joys crown'd, outshine the day. 30

[_The Night._] Entitled in _1647_ 'Amori Notturni. A
Dialogue between Philocharis and Chariessa'.]

[Line: 2 and] or _1647_.]

[Line: 8 who] that _1647_.]

[Line: 18 surrounds] conceals _1647_.]

The metrical arrangement here is very delightful, and
the Chorus-adjustment particularly happy.]

_Excuse for wishing her less Fair._

Why thy passion should it move
That I wish'd thy beauty less?
Fools desire what is above
Power of nature to express;
And to wish it had been more.
Had been to outwish her store!

If the flames within thine eye
Did not too great heat inspire,
Men might languish yet not die,
At thy less ungentle fire; 10
And might on thy weaker light
Gaze, and yet not lose their sight.

Nor wouldst thou less fair appear,
For detraction adds to thee;
If some parts less beauteous were,
Others would much fairer be:
Nor can any part we know
Best be styl'd, when all are so.

Thus this great excess of light,
Which now dazzles our weak eyes, 20
Would, eclips'd, appear more bright;
And the only way to rise,
Or to be more fair, for thee,
Celia, is less fair to be.

[_Excuse for wishing her less Fair._] _1647_
prefixes 'To Celia'.]

[Line: 7 the] thy _1647_.]

[Line: 9 yet] and _1647_.]

[Line: 10 less ungentle] then less scorching _1647_.]

[Line: 23 for] _1656_ 'than', which, like much else in this
edition, is pure nonsense.

Brydges thought that 'one cannot avoid admiring the ingenuity
exercised in this continual play upon words'. But surely

In things like this the play of words became
A play of thought, and therefore shames all shame.
]

_Chang'd, yet Constant._

Wrong me no more
In thy complaint,
Blam'd for inconstancy;
I vow'd t' adore
The fairest Saint,
Nor chang'd whilst thou wert she:
But if another thee outshine,
Th' inconstancy is only thine.

To be by such
Blind fools admir'd, 10
Gives thee but small esteem,
By whom as much
Thou'dst be desir'd,
Didst thou less beauteous seem:
Sure why they love they know not well,
Who why they should not cannot tell.

Women are by
Themselves betray'd,
And to their short joys cruel,
Who foolishly 20
Themselves persuade
Flames can outlast their fuel;
None (though Platonic their pretence)
With reason love unless by sense.

And He, by whose
Command to thee
I did my heart resign,
Now bids me choose
A Deity
Diviner far than thine; 30
No power can Love from Beauty sever;
I'm still Love's subject, thine was never.

The fairest She
Whom none surpass
To love hath only right,
And such to me
Thy beauty was
Till one I found more bright;
But 'twere as impious to adore
Thee now, as not t' have done 't before. 40

Nor is it just
By rules of Love
Thou shouldst deny to quit
A heart that must
Another's prove,
Ev'n in thy right to it;
Must not thy subjects captives be
To her who triumphs over Thee?

Cease then in vain
To blot my name 50
With forg'd Apostasy,
Thine is that stain
Who dar'st to claim
What others ask of Thee.
Of Lovers they are only true
Who pay their hearts where they are due.

[_Chang'd, yet Constant._] Here, perhaps for the
first time, we get the _fire_ of the period communicating to
the verse its own glow and flicker. It is a pity he allowed
himself double rhymes in stanza 3, which break the note (those
at the end of st. 4 do not). There are no variants; the poem
is not in _1647_. But Miss Guiney has proposed to substitute
'hearts' for 'they' in the last line.]

_The Self-deceiver._

MONTALVAN.

Deceiv'd and undeceiv'd to be
At once I seek with equal care,
Wretched in the discovery,
Happy if cozen'd still I were:
Yet certain ill of ill hath less
Than the mistrust of happiness.

But if when I have reach'd my aim
(That which I seek less worthy prove),
Yet still my love remains the same,
The subject not deserving love; 10
I can no longer be excus'd,
Now more in fault as less abus'd.

Then let me flatter my desires,
And doubt what I might know too sure,
He that to cheat himself conspires,
From falsehood doth his faith secure;
In love uncertain to believe
I am deceiv'd, doth undeceive.

For if my life on doubt depend,
And in distrust inconstant steer, 20
If I essay the strife to end
(When Ignorance were Wisdom here),
All thy attempts how can I blame
To work my death? I seek the same.

[_The Self-deceiver._] (On Stanley's translations
see Introduction.) Juan Perez de Montalvan (1602-1638)
belonged to the best age of Spanish literature, and was, in
proportion, almost as prolific in plays and _autos_ as his
master Lope. He was accused of 'Gongorism', and this piece is
one somewhat of 'conviction'.]

_The Cure._

_Nymph._

What busy cares too timely born
(Young Swain!) disturb thy sleep?
Thy early sighs awake the Morn,
Thy tears teach her to weep.

_Shepherd._

Sorrows, fair Nymph, are full alone;
Nor counsel can endure.

_Nymph._

Yet thine disclose, for until known
Sickness admits no cure.

_Shepherd._

My griefs are such as but to hear
Would poison all thy joys, 10
The pity which thou seem'st to bear
My health, thine own destroys.

_Nymph._

How can diseaséd minds infect?
Say what thy grief doth move!

_Shepherd._

Call up thy virtue to protect
Thy heart, and know 'twas love.

_Nymph._

Fond Swain!

_Shepherd._

By which I have been long
Destin'd to meet with hate.

_Nymph._

Fy, Shepherd, fy: thou dost love wrong,
To call thy crime thy fate. 20

_Shepherd._

Alas what cunning could decline
What force can love repel?

_Nymph._

Yet, there 's a way to unconfine
Thy heart.

_Shepherd._

For pity tell.

_Nymph._

Choose one whose love may be allur'd
By thine: who ever knew
Inveterate diseases cur'd
But by receiving new?

_Shepherd._

All will like her my soul perplex.

_Nymph._

Yet try.

_Shepherd._

Oh could there be, 30
But any softness in that sex,
I'd wish it were in thee.

_Nymph._

Thy prayer is heard: learn now t' esteem
The kindness she hath shown,
Who thy lost freedom to redeem
Hath forfeited her own.

[_The Cure_. As this appears only in _1651_ there
are no variants. The 'common measure' has little of the
magic common at the time, and is sometimes banal to
eighteenth-century level. But we rise in the next.]

_Celia Singing._

Roses in breathing forth their scent,
Or stars their borrowed ornament;
Nymphs in the wat'ry sphere that move,
Or Angels in their orbs above;
The wingéd chariot of the light,
Or the slow silent wheels of night;
The shade, which from the swifter sun
Doth in a circular motion run;
Or souls that their eternal rest do keep,
Make far more noise than Celia's breath in sleep. 10

But if the Angel, which inspires
This subtile flame with active fires,
Should mould this breath to words, and those
Into a harmony dispose,
The music of this heavenly sphere
Would steal each soul out at the ear,
And into plants and stones infuse
A life that Cherubins would choose;
And with new powers invert the laws of Fate,
Kill those that live, and dead things animate. 20

[_Celia Singing._] _1647_ 'Celia sleeping or
singing', and printed without stanza-break.]

[Line: 10 more] Some imp of the press altered 'more' to 'less'
in the later 'edition'. _1647_ has 'more', which has been
restored in text.]

[Line: 12 _1647_ 'frame'--tempting, but perhaps not certain.]

[Line: 13 _1647_ 'his'--again _nescio an recte_.]

[Line: 19 _1647_ 'power'.]

_A la Mesme._

Belle voix, dont les charmes desrobent mon âme,
Et au lieu d'un esprit m'animent d'une flamme,
Dont je sens la subtile et la douce chaleur
Entrer par mon oreille et glisser dans mon c[oe]ur;
Me faisant esprever par cette aimable vie,
Nos âmes ne consistent que d'une harmonie;
Que la vie m'est douce, la mort m'est sans peine,
Puisqu'on les trouve toutes deux dans ton haleine:
Ne m'espargne donc pas; satisfais tes rigueurs;
Car si tu me souffres de vivre, je me meurs. 10

[_A la Mesme_] _1647_ 'A une Dame qui chantoit'.
Stanley does not, like some more modern English writers of
French verse, neglect his final _e_'s, but he takes remarkable
liberties with the caesura. 'Esprever' (l. 5) is not wrong
necessarily.]

_The Return._

Beauty, whose soft magnetic chains
_Beauty, thy harsh imperious chains_
Nor time nor absence can untie,
_As a scorned weight I here untie_,
Thy power the narrow bounds disdains
_Since thy proud empire those disdains_
Of Nature or philosophy,
_Of reason or philosophy_,
That canst by unconfinéd laws
_That wouldst within tyrannic laws_
A motion, though at distance, cause.
_Confine the power of each free cause._

Drawn by the sacred influence
_Forced by the potent influence_
Of thy bright eyes, I back return;
_Of thy disdain I back return_,
And since I nowhere can dispense
_Thus with those flames I do dispense_,
With flames that do in absence burn, 10
_Which, though they would not light, did burn;_
I rather choose 'midst them t' expire
_And rather will through cold expire_
Than languish by a hidden fire.
_Than languish at a frozen fire._

But if thou the insulting pride
_But whilst I the insulting pride_
Of vulgar Beauties dost despise,
_Of thy vain beauty do despise_,
Who by vain triumphs deified,
_Who gladly wouldst be deified_,
Their votaries do sacrifice,
_By making me thy sacrifice;_
Then let those flames, whose magic charm
_May love thy heart, which to his charm_
At distance scorch'd, approach'd but warm.
_Approached seemed cold, at distance warm._

[_The Return--(Palinode.)_] The _1647_ edition
contains _two_ poems, _The Return_ and _Palinode_, which stand
to each other in a curious relation. In _1651_ _Palinode_ has
disappeared. I have thought it best to print them together.
The lines in roman type are those of _The Return_, those in
italic belong to _Palinode_. The latter reappeared in _1657_,
with slight alterations as below. In _Pal._ 5 Miss Guiney
reads 'would' for 'wouldst', evidently not quite understanding
the sense or the grammar of the time. The second person
connects itself with the vocative in 'Beauty' and the 'thou'
twice implied in 'thy'.]

[In _Palinode_, l. 7, _1657_ reads 'powerful' for
'potent'; l. 12 'in' for 'at'.]

[In _The Return_, l. 2, _1651_ 'unite'--an obvious
misprint; l. 3, _1647_ 'bound'; l. 5, _1647_ 'That', _1651_
'Thou'; l. 10, _1657_ 'which' for 'that'; l. 11, 'twixt'--not
so well; l. 13, 'the' is dropped by mere accident in
_1651_--'the', not 'th',' is required.]

_Song._

When I lie burning in thine eye.
Or freezing in thy breast,
What Martyrs, in wish'd flames that die,
Are half so pleas'd or blest?

When thy soft accents through mine ear
Into my soul do fly,
What Angel would not quit his sphere,
To hear such harmony?

Or when the kiss thou gav'st me last
My soul stole in its breath, 10
What life would sooner be embrac'd
Than so desir'd a death?

[When I commanded am by thee,
Or by thine eye or hand,
What monarch would not prouder be
To serve than to command?]

Then think no freedom I desire,
Or would my fetters leave,
Since Phoenix-like I from this fire
Both life and youth receive. 20

[_Song._] Sir Egerton thought this (which, by the
way, Lovelace may have seen, or _vice versa_) 'a very elegant
little song, with all the harmony of _modern_ rhythm'.
One might perhaps substitute 'with more of the harmony of
_contemporary_ rhythm than Stanley always attains'. It is
certainly much better than _The Cure_. The bracketed stanza
was dropped in _1651_, but it seemed better to restore it
thus in text than to degrade it hither. One or two extremely
unimportant misprints occur in one or other version, but are
not worth noting.]

_The Sick Lover._

GUARINI.

My sickly breath
Wastes in a double flame;
Whilst Love and Death
To my poor life lay claim;
The fever, in whose heat I melt,
By her that causeth it not felt.

Thou who alone
Canst, yet wilt grant no ease,
Why slight'st thou one
To feed a new disease? 10
Unequal fair! the heart is thine;
Ah, why then should the pain be mine?

[_The Sick Lover._] Not a great thing. In l. 6, Miss
Guiney thinks 'it', which is in all texts, should be 'is'. But
'it' is wanted and 'is' is not. 'The fever not [_being_] felt'
is no excessively 'absolute' construction.]

_Song._

Celinda, by what potent art
Or unresisted charm,
Dost thou thine ear and frozen heart
Against my passion arm?

Or by what hidden influence
Of powers in one combin'd,
Dost thou rob Love of either sense,
Made deaf as well as blind?

Sure thou, as friends, united hast
Two distant Deities; 10
And scorn within thy heart hast plac'd,
And love within thine eyes.

Or those soft fetters of thy hair,
A bondage that disdains
All liberty, do guard thine ear
Free from all other chains.

Then my complaint how canst thou hear,
Or I this passion fly,
Since thou imprison'd hast thine ear,
And not confin'd thine eye? 20

[_Song--Celinda, &c._] Again, mere commonplace
common measure. '_Those_ soft fetters of thy hair' (l. 13) is
at least as good as 'mobled queen', but otherwise the phrase
rather sinks to the measure. 'friends' (l. 9) is misprinted
'friend' in _1647_, and Sir Egerton has mispunctuated 'friends
united'.]

_Song._

Fool, take up thy shaft again;
If thy store
Thou profusely spend in vain,
Who can furnish thee with more?
Throw not then away thy darts
On impenetrable hearts.

Think not thy pale flame can warm
Into tears,
Or dissolve the snowy charm
Which her frozen bosom wears, 10
That expos'd, unmelted lies
To the bright suns of her eyes.

But since thou thy power hast lost,
Nor canst fire
Kindle in that breast, whose frost
Doth these flames in mine inspire,
Not to thee but her I'll sue,
That disdains both me and you.

[_Song--Fool, &c._] An extremely pretty measure,
not ill-parted with phrase and imagery. The 'Take, oh! take'
motive reappears.]

_Delay._

Delay! Alas, there cannot be
To Love a greater tyranny:
Those cruel beauties that have slain
Their votaries by their disdain,
Or studied torments, sharp and witty,
Will be recorded for their pity,
And after-ages be misled
To think them kind, when this is spread.
Of deaths the speediest is despair,
Delays the slowest tortures are; 10
Thy cruelty at once destroys,
But Expectation starves my joys.
Time and Delay may bring me past
The power of Love to cure, at last;
And shouldst thou wish to ease my pain,
Thy pity might be lent in vain;
Or if thou hast decreed, that I
Must fall beneath thy cruelty,
O kill me soon! Thou wilt express
More mercy, ev'n in showing less. 20

_Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her._

MARINO.

Strange kind of love! that knows no president,
A faith so firm as passeth Faith's extent,
By a tyrannic beauty long subdu'd,
I now must sue for her to whom I su'd,
Unhappy Orator! who, though I move
For pity, pity cannot hope to prove:
Employing thus against myself my breath,
And in another's life begging my death.

But if such moving powers my accents have,
Why first my own redress do I not crave? 10
What hopes that I to pity should incline
Another's breast, who can move none in thine?
Or how can the griev'd patient look for ease,
When the physician suffers the disease?
If thy sharp wounds from me expect their cure,
'Tis fit those first be heal'd that I endure.

Ungentle fair one! why dost thou dispense
Unequally thy sacred influence?
Why pining me, offer'st the precious food
To one by whom nor priz'd, nor understood; 20
So some clear brook to the full main, to pay
Her needless crystal tribute hastes away,
Profusely foolish; whilst her niggard tide
Starves the poor flowers that grow along her side.

Thou who my glories art design'd to own,
Come then, and reap the joys that I have sown:
Yet in thy pride acknowledge, though thou bear
The happy prize away, the palm I wear.
Nor the obedience of my flame accuse,
That what I sought, myself conspir'd to lose: 30
The hapless state where I am fix'd is such,
To love I seem not, 'cause I love too much.

[_Commanded by his Mistress, &c._] Marino[i]'s name
is so frequent in books on literature, and his work so
little known to the ordinary reader, that this example may
be welcome. The rather snip-snap antithesis, and the somewhat
obvious conceit, show the famous Italian really at his worst.
'President' (l. 1), though not impossible, is probably for
'pre_ce_dent'. The whole piece has a special interest as
showing how this 'conceit' and 'false wit' actually encouraged
the growth of the stopped antithetic couplet which was to be
turned against both.]

_The Repulse._

Not that by this disdain
I am releas'd,
And freed from thy tyrannic chain,
Do I myself think bless'd;

Nor that thy flame shall burn
No more; for know
That I shall into ashes turn,
Before this fire doth so.

Nor yet that unconfin'd
I now may rove, 10
And with new beauties please my mind,
But that thou ne'er didst love: