Chapter I: HAVE followed thee a year at least,

And never stopped myself to rest,
But yet can thee o'ertake no more
Than this day can the day that went before.

In this our fortunes equal prove
To stars which govern them above;
Our stars they move for ever round
With the same distance still betwixt them found.

In vain, alas! in vain I strive
The wheel of fate faster to drive,
Since if around it swifter fly,
She in it mends her pace as much as I.

Hearts by Love strangely shuffled are,
That there can never meet a pair;
Tamelier than worms are lovers slain;
The wounded heart ne'er turns to wound again.

From _Tixall Poetry_,[72] 1813.

TO FLORA.

WHAT though Flora frowns on me?
'Tis but a chance of destiny.
The wisest I have heard to say,
'Tis dusk before the break of day.
Why should I curse that hour of night
That brings the day to light?

Each angry look appears to me
As witness of her modesty;
And blustering storms do but forerun
The lustre of a brighter sun;
Which when appeased, I'm full possess'd
Her frowns are but in jest.

I know, fair Flora, in thy breast
A killing anger cannot rest:
Yet for my humour I will love
Though thou to me a fury prove:
I know thy soul is so refined
Thou wilt at last prove kind.

[72] From the section containing _Poems Collected by the Right
Honourable Lady Aston_ (p. 136).

From _The New Academy of Compliments_, 1671.

FAIREST thing that shines below,
Why in this robe dost thou appear?
Wouldst thou a white most perfect show,
Thou must at all no garments wear:
For thou wilt seem much whiter so
Than winter when 'tis clad in snow.

'Tis not the linen shows so fair,
Her skin shines through and makes it bright;
So clouds themselves like suns appear
When the sun pierces them with light;
So, lilies in a glass enclose,
The glass will seem as white as those.

Thou now one heap of beauty art,
Nought outwards or within is foul;
Condensed beams make every part,
The body's clothed like the soul,
Thy soul which does itself display
Like a star placed i' th' milky way.

Such robes the saints departed wear,
Woven all with light divine;
Such their exalted bodies are,
And with such full glory shine:
But they regard no mortal's pain,
Men pray (I fear) to both in vain.

Yet, seeing thee so gently pure,
My hopes will needs continue still;
Thou wouldst not take this garment, sure,
When thou hadst an intent to kill:
Of peace and yielding who would doubt
When the white flag he sees hung out?

From _Wit's Cabinet_, n. d.

VIRGINS ADMONISHED.

PRETTY nymph, why always blushing?
If thou love'st why art thou so coy?
In thy cheeks these roses flushing
Shew thee fearful of thy joy.
What is man that thou shouldst dread
To change with him a maidenhead?
At first all virgins fear to do it
And but trifle away their time,
And still unwilling to come to it
In foolish whining spend their time;
But when they once have found the way,
Then they are for it night and day.

From _Harl. MS._ 7332. fol. 242.

O HOW oftentimes have I
Joyfully
Under green trees in the shade
My seat made,
Dainty birds for to hear sing
And the woods with music ring.

But the case is altered quite:
My delight
Is to hear my mistress dear
Singing clear;
That music's sweet harmony
Makes with joy my heart to die.

O how oftentimes have I
Joyfully
Seen so many pleasant flowers
After showers
Blushingly to show their pride,
As if still they should abide.

But the case is altered quite:
My delight
Is to see how prettily,
When that I
Have stol'n a kiss, she will blush
And in jest me from her push.

Adieu, then, without delay,
I do say,
Old delights, unpleasant toys;
For no joys
Ye now have which me do please
Or can comfort or can ease.

But pray come without delay,
I do say,
My new delight, most pleasant joy,
And no toy;
It is you which me do please,
And can comfort and can ease.

From _Wit Restored_, 1658.

TO B. R. FOR HER BRACELETS.

'TIS not, dear Love, that amber twist,
Which circles round thy captive wrist,
Can have the power to make me more
Your prisoner than I was before;
Though I that bracelet dearer hold
Than misers would a chain of gold.
Yet this but ties my outward part:
Heart-strings alone can tie my heart.

'Tis not that soft and silken wreath,
Your hands did unto mine bequeath,
Can bind with half so powerful charms
As the embraces of your arms;
Although not iron bands, my fair,
Can bind more fiercely than your hair.
Yet that will chain me most will be
Your heart in True Love's-knot to me.

'Tis not those beams, your hairs, nor all
Your glorious outside doth me thrall;
Although your looks have force enow[73]
To make the stateliest tyrants bow,
Nor any angel could deny
Your person his idolatry.
Yet I do not so much adore
The temple, but the goddess more.

If then my soul you would confine
To prison, tie your heart to mine;
Your noble virtues, constant love,
The only pow'rful chains will prove
To bind me ever; such as those
The bands of death shall ne'er unloose,
Until I such a prisoner be
No liberty can make me free.

[73] Old ed. "enough."

By SIR EDWARD SHERBURNE.

ICE AND FIRE.

NAKED love did to thine eye,
Fairest, once to warm him fly;
But its purer flame and light
Scorch'd his wings and spoil'd his sight.

Forced from thence, he went to rest
In the soft couch of thy breast;
But there met a frost so great
As his torch extinguish'd straight!

When poor Cupid, being constrain'd
His cold bed to leave, complain'd,
"What a lodging's here for me,
If all ice and fire she be!"

From _Wit's Recreations_, 1663.

ON THE EYES AND BREASTS OF THE LADY ON WHOM HE WAS ENAMOURED.

LADY, on your eyes I gazed;
When amazed
At their brightness,
On your breasts I cast a look,
No less took
With their whiteness:
Both I justly did admire,
These all snow and those all fire.

Whilst these wonders I survey'd,
Thus I said
In suspense:
Nature could have done no less,
To express
Her providence,
Than that two such fair worlds might
Have two suns to give them light.

From _Tixall Poetry_,[74] 1813.

A SONG[75] FOR DRINKING.

WOULD you be a man of fashion?
Would you lead a life divine?
Take a little dram of passion
In a lusty dose of wine.

If the nymph have no compassion,
Vain it is to sigh and groan:
Love was but put in for fashion,
Wine will do the work alone.

A SONG FOR LOVE.

WOULD you know earth's highest pleasure?
Would you rival gods above?
Drink rich wines, but drink with measure,
But fear no excess in love.

Or if wine you quite give over,
You will nothing lose thereby;
All is rapture to a lover,
So in love he live or die.

[74] From the section containing _Poems Collected by the Honourable
Herbert Aston_ (pp. 307, 308).

[75] "This was a song of 1683, set to music by Captain Pack, and not
improbably to his own words. It was printed in 1684 in Playford's
_Choice Ayres_, v. 14, and parodies soon followed. Cf. _Roxburghe
Ballads_, iv. 350."--_J. W. Ebsworth._

From _Wit at a Venture: or Clio's Privy Garden_, 1674.[76]

EPITHALAMIUM.

TO bed ye two in one united go,
To pleasures killing;
Embrace and struggle till your spirits flow,
Embrace more willing
Than th' loving palms (great union's wonder),
That ne'er bore any fruit asunder.

Be young to each when winter and grey hairs
Your head shall climb;
May your affections like the merry spheres
Still move in time,
And may (with many a good presage)
Your marriage prove your merry age.

[76] "This appeared twenty-four years earlier, being by Robert Baron,
among his _Poems_, 1650, p. 65."--_J. W. Ebsworth._

From _Rawlinson MS. Poet._ 199.

TO HIS MISTRESS FEIGNING TO CONCEAL LOVE.

DO not rack my bleeding heart;
Fling away, or show thy dart;
Delay is a worse pain
Than proud disdain.

Do not starve my ling'ring soul,
That still waits till thou control;
And either send home mine
Or give me thine.

Dost thou love me as thine own?
O then smile and do not frown:
Love soured with debate
Is worse than hate.

Dost thou hate me as too vile?
O then frown and do not smile:
Hate sweetened so will prove
Worse than love.

Sourest friend and sweetest foe,
Do not love and hate me too:
O 'tis a double ill
To wound and kill!

Quickly, quickly, speak my fate:
Dost thou love or dost thou hate?
Lest I too soon remove
And hate thy love.

HE. RAMSAY.

From _Rawlinson MS. Poet._ 199.

A SONG.

SIGHS, blow out those flames in me,
Or else allay them, ye cold fears,
Till so their heat chastised be;
And then I'll quench them with my tears.

But oh! my tears but oil will prove
To feed the flame of my desire:
My fears they stir the coals of love,
My sighs like bellows blow the fire.

But surely I'll not fail of this:
I'll sigh away my soul in air,
Leaving my body cold as is
Her love to me or my despair.

W. R.

From _Harl. MS._ 6917. fol. 86.

HE or she that hopes to gain
Love's best sweet without some pain,
Hopes in vain.

Cupid's livery no one wears
But must put on hopes and fears,
Smiles and tears,

And, like to April weather,
Rain and shine both together,
Both or neither.

From _Harl. MS._ 4955. fol. 146. (By DR. ANDREWES.[77])

PHILLIS INAMORATA.

COME, be my valentine!
I'll gather eglantine,
Cowslips and sops-in-wine,
With fragrant roses.
Down by thy Phillis sit,
She will white lilies get,
And daffadilies fit
To make thee posies.

I have a milk-white lamb,
New-taken from the dam,
It comes where'er I am
When I call "Willy:"
I have a wanton kid
Under my apron hid,
A colt that ne'er was rid,
A pretty filly.

I bear in sign of love
A sparrow in my glove,
And in my breast a dove,
This shall be all thine:
Besides of sheep a flock,
Which yieldeth many a lock,
And this shall be thy stock:
Come be my valentine!

[77] Dr. Lancelot Andrewes, Bishop of Winchester, a prelate of rare
virtue and high ability. This is the best of his poems.

By SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.

THE FALL.

AS Chloe o'er the meadow past
I viewed the lovely maid:
She turned and blushed, renewed her haste,
And feared by me to be embraced:
My eyes my wish betrayed.

I trembling felt the rising flame,
The charming nymph pursued;
Daphne was not so bright a game,
Tho' great Apollo's darling dame,
Nor with such charms endued.

I followed close, the fair still flew
Along the grassy plain;
The grass at length my rival grew,
And catched my Chloe by the shoe;
Her speed was then in vain.

But, oh! as tottering down she fell,
What did the fall reveal?
Such limbs description cannot tell;
Such charms were never in the Mall,
Nor smock did e'er conceal.

She shrieked; I turned my ravished eyes
And, burning with desire,
I helped the Queen of Love to rise:
She checked her anger and surprise,
And said, "Rash youth, retire;

"Begone, and boast what you have seen;
It shan't avail you much:
I know you like my form and mien,
Yet since so insolent you've been,
The Parts disclosed you ne'er shall touch."

From _Poems_. By W[ILLIAM] H[AMMOND], 1655.

THE FORSAKEN MAID.

GO, fickle man, and teach the moon to change,
The winds to vary, the coy bee to range:
You that despise the conquest of a town
Rendered without resistance of one frown.

Is this of easy faith the recompense?
Is my prone love's too prodigal expense
Rewarded with disdain? did ever dart
Rebound from such a penetrable heart?

Diana, in the service of whose shrine
Myself to single life I will confine,
Revenge thy votaress; for unto thee
The reeling Ocean bends his azure knee.

And since he loves upon rough seas to ride,
Grant such an Adria whose swelling tide
And stormy tongue may his false vessel wrack
And make the cordage of his heart to crack.

ANOTHER.

KNOW, falsest man, as my love was
Greater than thine or thy desert,
My scorn shall likewise thine surpass:
And thus I tear thee from my heart.

Thou art so far my love below
That than my anger thou art less;
I neither love nor quarrel now,
But pity thy unworthiness.

Go join, before thou think to wed,
Thy heart and tongue in wedlock's knot;
Can peace be reaped from his bed
Who with himself accordeth not?

Go learn to weigh thy words upon
The balance of reality,
And having that perfection
Attained, come then and I'll scorn thee.

From _Malone MS._ 13. fol. 53.

TO THE LADY MAY.

YOUR smiles are not, as other women's be,
Only the drawing of the mouth awry;
For breasts and cheeks and forehead we may see,
Parts wanting motion, all stand smiling by:
Heaven hath no mouth, and yet is said to smile
After your style:
No more hath earth, yet that smiles too,
Just as you do.

No simpering lips nor looks can breed
Such smiles as from your face proceed:
The sun must lend his golden beams,
Soft winds their breath, green trees their shade,
Sweet fields their flowers, clear springs their streams,
Ere such another smile be made:
But these concurring, we may say
"So smiles the spring and so smiles lovely May."

AU. TOWNSEND.[78]

[78] The author of a couple of masques. He was a friend of Carew; and
is introduced into Suckling's _Session of the Poets_.

From _Harl. MS._ 6918. fol. 92.

LOVE'S CONTENTMENT.

COME, my Clarinda, we'll consume
Our joys no more at this low rate;
More glorious titles let's assume
And love according to our state.

For if Contentment wears a crown
Which never tyrant could assail,
How many monarchs put we down
In our Utopian commonweal?

As princes rain down golden showers
On those in whom they take delight,
So in this happier court of ours
Each is the other's favourite.

Our privacies no eye dwells near,
But unobserved we embrace;
And no sleek courtier's pen is there
To set down either time or place.

No midnight fears disturb our bliss,
Unless a golden dream awake us;
For care we know not what it is,
Unless to please doth careful make us.

We fear no enemy's invasion,
Our counsel's wise and politic;
With timely force, if not persuasion,
We cool the homebred schismatic.

All discontent thus to remove,
What monarch boasts but thou and I?
In this content we live and love,
And in this love resolve to die:

That when, our souls together fled,
One urn shall our mix'd dust enshrine,
In golden numbers may be read
"Here lie Content's late King and Queen."

J. PAULIN.

_L'ENVOI._

_WITH faith unfeigned and constant heart
Still worship at Love's shrine:
Love's votaries ne'er feel any smart,
Nor at their yoke repine._

_Your lady kind shall multiply
Her kisses without measure;
Your days will slide unclouded by,
Your nights be crowned with pleasure._

_Love one, one only: if you stray,
By random fires beguiled,
In vain for grace you'll plead and pray,
From Love's sweet court exiled._

Chiswick Press

PRINTED BY CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE,
LONDON, E.C.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained
except in obvious cases of typographical errors.

In "I HAVE followed thee a year at least" (p107) the first line of the
last verse ends with "arc". This has been changed to "are"

A missing footnote anchor [19] has been added to "UNDERNEATH this
myrtle shade" (p 26).

Italics are shown thus _italic_.