Oh my beloved caves! from dog-star heats, In the artificial night Even of my dearest friends, have I In your recesses' friendly shade All my sorrows open laid, And my most secret woes entrusted to your privacy! Lord! would men let me alone, What an over-happy one Might I in this desart place, Which most men by their voice disgrace, Would I, maugre winter's cold, And all the while, Without an envious eye On any thriving under fortune's smile, Contented live, and then contented die. RONDEAU. THOU fool! if madness be so rife, All the sad days of thy whole life. To that a world of woe and strife, TO CUPID. FOND Love, deliver up thy bow, No springing beauty 'scapes my dart, Faith, quit thine empire, and come down, SONNET. Go false one, now I see the cheat, Oh woman! frailty is thy name, 'Tis a fair sex, we all must love it, But (on my conscience) could we prove it, STANZES DE MONSIEUR BERTAUD. Since thus to love her is to hate. But since from this my hatred springs, And is unto my love ingrate, That 'tis to love her thus to hate. I wish that milder love, or death, His grace or rage in this estate, She love and loath, who is my fate, THE EIGHTH PSALM PARAPHRASED.. But if thou canst not live without her, This only she, when it comes to't, And she relent not (as I doubt her) Never make more ado about her, To sigh and wimper is no boot; Go, hang thyself, and that will do't. LYRICK. EX CORNELIO GALLO. TRANS. 1. O LORD, our governor, whose potent sway All pow'rs in Heav'n and Eartb obey, Throughout the spacious Earth's extended frame How great is thy adored name! Above the empirean sky. From the dark closet of the womb, To baffle all thine enemies; Of bloody and revengeful men. Thy work, almighty architect, The changing Moon and Stars that thou hast made T'illuminate night's sable shade: 4. Oh! what is man, think I, that Heaven's King Should mind so poor a wretched thing ; Or man's frail offspring, that Almighty God Should stoop to visit bis abode? Below the heav'nly hierarchy Frail dust with glory and renown. 'Thou giv'st him absolute command, And all the rest that thou hast made Under his feet hast subject laid ; 7. All sheep, and oxen, and the wilder breed Of beasts, that on their fellows feed; That live and wanton in the flood, Thorough th' investigable deep : How great is thy adored name! Lydia, thou lovely maid, whose white The milk and lily does outvie, The pale and blushing roses light, Or polish'd Indian ivory, Dishevel, sweet, thy yellow hair, Whose ray doth burnish'd gold disprize, Disclose thy neck so white and fair, That doth from snowy shoulders rise. Virgin, unveil those starry eyes, Whose sable brows like arches spread, Unveil those cheeks, where the rose lies Streak’d with the Tyrian purple's reda Lend me those lips with coral lin'd, And kisses mild of doves impart, Thou ravishest away my mind, Those gentle kisses wound my heart. Why suck'st thou from my panting breast The youthful vigour of my blood ? Hide those twin-apples, ripe, if press'd, To spring into a milky flood. From thy expanded bosom breathe Perfumes Arabia doth not know; Thy ev'ry part doth love bequeath, From thee all excellencies flow. Tly bosom's killing white then shade, Hide that temptation from mine eye ; See'st not I languish, cruel maid ! Wilt thou then go, and let me die? ESTRENNES. TO CALISTA. ADVICE. By them more obstinate she's made, The more she does torment thee still, And when most prostrate to her will Thou meanly begg'st for life, does basely kill. By Heav'n 'tis against all nature, Honour and manhood, wit and sense, And thy unmanly patience Or more compassionate at least, As firm and true as thine own breast, VOL VI. [ reckon the first day I saw those eyes, To all my whole futurity, The first day of my first new year, And knew why Heaven plac'd me here; Not rational at least, until Beauty with her diviner light And shows us how to choose aright; Ааа And can so little lore assuage, That we (in truth) can hardly say, A long one, we have lov'd a day. Love by swift time, which sickly passions dread, That passion where all others cease, Is evermore in its increase, And yet being love, is still the same: They err call liking love; true lovers know He never lov'd who does not always so. You, who my last love have, my first love had, The richest new year's-gift I have, EPIGRAMME DE MONSIEUR DES-PORTES. SOME four years ago I made Phillis an offer, Provided she would be my where, Of two thousand good crowns to put in her coffer, About two years after, a message she sent me, But unless for an hundred she now would content me, She fell to my price six or seven weeks after, I then told her in vain she talk'd of the matter, T' other day for six ducatoons she was willing, A VOYAGE TO IRELAND IN BURLESQUE. THE lives of frail men are compar'd by the sages, From whence, when one dead is, it currently follows, And though I was bred 'mongst the wonders o`th' neck To have seen a great hill, a rock, or a cave, brave; But at forty years old you may (if you please) trot; And therefore I think I'm not much to be blam'd 'Twas now the most beautiful time of the year, too soon, With a pitiful voice, and a most heavy heart, Of over-grown, golden, and silver-scal'd fishes; By pacing and trotting, betimes in the even, F'er the Sun had forsaken one half of the Heaven, We all at fair Congerton took up our inn, Where the sign of a king kept a king and his queen: But who do you think came to welcome me there? No worse a man, marry. than good master mayor, With his staff of command, yet the man was not lame, But he needed it more when he went, than he came; bacon, And of sovereign hostess our leaves kindly taken, (For her king (as 'twas rumour'd) by late pouring. down, This morning had got a foul flaw in his crown,) We mounted again, and full soberly riding, "A hay!" quoth the foremost, "ho! who keeps my lord " "The best liquor," quoth I, "that the house will "You shall straight," quoth he; and then calls out, Mary, 66 Come quickly, and bring us a quart of Canary." Hold, hold, my spruce host! for i' th' morning so early, I never drink liquor but what's made of barley." Which words were scarce out, but, which made me admire, My lordship was presently turn'd into 'squire: Better, I sure am, ne'er blew out a stopple ; 64 be such, For the best ale in England, it is not too much: A pot in your pate is a mile in your way: Of the best Cheshire bum he e'er drank in his life." As clear as a milkmaid, and white as her milk, walk in ?" I thank'd her; but told her, I then could not stay, Should no where afford better accommodation: A trepan was for bottles had broken their scull; Sans bragging, I hate it, nor will I e'er do't ; And then I conceiv'd it was time to be jogging, From thence we set forth with more mettle and Our horses were empty, our coxcombs were light; Till our horses were basted as if they were roasted: must cat ; And i' faith we had victuals both plenty and good, man, Thy guests shall by thee ne'er be turn'd to a com- And if I should farther here spur on my course, To night let us rest, for 'tis good Sunday's even, bout, And better or worse be't, for murther will out, CANTO II. AFTER Seven hours' sleep, to commute for pains A man of himself, one would think, might awaken; When straight I perceived myself all on a fire; blood, That a little phlebotomy would do me good: When having twelve ounces, he bound up my arm, And I gave him two Georges, which did him no harm: But after my bleeding, I soon understood I fell to my smoking until I grew dull; Now wak'd me again, chiming all in to vespers; Had my clothes neatly brush'd, and then put on my sword, Resolv'd now to go and attend on the word. Thus trick'd, and thus trim, to set forth I begin, Neat and cleanly without, but scarce cleanly within; For why, Heaven knows it, I long time had been I scorned (forsooth) to join pray'r with the crowd; I was scarce in my quarters, and set down on crupper, [per : But his man was there too, to invite me to supI start up, and after most respective fashion Gave his worship much thanks for his kind invitation; But begg'd his excuse, for my stomach was small, And I never did eat any supper at all; But that after supper I would kiss his hands, And would come to receive his worship's com mands. Sure no one will say, but a patron of slander, But, however, I staid at the church's commanding All save master mayor, who still gravely stays mace: Then he and his brethren in order appear, In this rev'rend order we marched from pray'r; That I was a most humble servant of his; pointed, Resolving, it seems, to be better acquainted, The man, upon this, comes me running again, there; He would neither say grace, nor sit down on his Harry; But whether his face was swell'd up with fat, Advanc'd a whole step and an half for to meet me; 1 By which you may note, that either the man was mistaken, or the mayor was not so good as his word, when he said he would not sit down till I caine. |