As from a snowy fortress of defence, Let constant use but keep it bright, To holy hands and humble hearts, Than sin hath snares or hell hath darts. Only be sure The hands be pure That hold these weapons, and the eyes Wakeful and wise, Here is a friend shall fight for you. That studies this high art Must be a sure housekeeper And yet no sleeper. Dear soul, be strong, Mercy will come ere long, And bring her bosom full of blessings - To make immortal dressings, For worthy souls whose wise embraces 101. ROBERT HERRICK. 1591-1674. (Manual, p. 169.) SONG. Gather the rose-buds while ye may, And this same flower that smiles to-day The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The sooner will his race be run, The age is best which is the first, Then be not coy, but use your time, TO MEADOWS. Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; Until the hasting day But to the even song; And having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay, We die, As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning's dew, 102. SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 1609-1641. (Manual, p. 169.) SONG. Out upon it, I have loved Three whole days together; Time shall melt away his wings, In the whole wide world again But the spite on't is, no praise Is due at all to me: Love with me had made no stays, Had it any been but she. Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place. 103. SIR RICHARD LOVELACE. 1618-1658. (Manual, p. 169.) TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON. When love with unconfinéd wings And fettered with her eye, When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses crowned, When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go frec, Fishes, that tipple in the deep, When, linnet-like, confinéd I With shriller note shall sing The mercy, sweetness, majesty, And glories of my king; When I shall voice aloud how good Ile is, how great should be, Th' enlarged winds that curl the flood, Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage, Minds innocent and quiet, take That for an hermitage: 104. THOMAS CAREW. 1589-1639. (Manual, pp. 170 and 86.) Ask me no mo.e, where Jove bestows, Ask me no more, whither do stray Ask me no more, whither doth haste Ask me no more, where those stars light, Ask me no more, if east or west, And in your fragrant bosom dies. 105. WILLIAM BROWNE. 1590-1645. (Manual, p. 171.) EVENING. As in an evening when the gentle air I oft have sat on Thames' sweet bank to hear My friend with his sweet touch to charm mine ear. So in this differing key though I could well 106. WILLIAM HABINGTON. 1605-1654. (Manual, p. 171.) CUPIO DISSOLVI. My God! if 'tis thy great decree My heart obeys, joyed to retreat And treachery of the fair. When thou shalt please this soul t' enthrone What should I grieve or fear, To think this breathless body must For in the fire when ore is tried, Do we deplore the loss? And when thou shalt my soul refine, That it thereby may purer shine, Shall I grieve for the dross? 107. EDMUND WALLER. 1605-1687. (Manual, p. 171.) Go, lovely rose! SONG. Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. |