And Cupid's power will there be shown,
If ever you come thither.
For, like two suns, two Beauties bright
I shining saw together;
And, tempted by their double light,
My eyes I fixed on either;
Till both at once so thralled my sight,
I loved, and knew not whether.
Such equal sweet, Venus gave,
That I preferred not either;
And when for love I thought to crave,
I knew not well of whether :
For one while, this I wished to have ;
And then I, that, had liefer.
A lover of the curious'st eye
Might have been pleased in either;
And so, I must confess, might I,
Had they not been together.
Now both must love, or both deny ;
In one, enjoy I neither.
But yet at last I 'scaped the smart
I feared at coming thither :
For, seeing my divided heart,
I choosing, knew not whether,
Love angry grew, and did depart :
And now I care for neither.
Fair Virtue, the Mistress
Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes
Which, waking, kept my boldest thoughts in awe ;
And free access unto that sweet lip lies,
From whence I long the rosy breath to draw.
Methinks no wrong it were, if I should steal
kiss;
From those two melting rubies one poor
None sees the theft that would the thief reveal,
Nor rob I her of aught which she can miss ;
Nay, should I twenty kisses take away,
There would be little sign I had done so ;
Why then should I this robbery delay?
Oh! she may wake, and therewith angry grow.
Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one,
And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.
Wither.
ON a time the amorous Silvy
Said to her shepherd, Sweet, how do you?
Kiss me this once, and then God b' wi' you,
My sweetest dear!
Kiss me this once and then God b' wi' you,
For now the morning draweth near.'
With that, her fairest bosom showing,
Opening her lips, rich perfumes blowing,
She said, Now kiss me and be going,
My sweetest dear!
Kiss me this once and then be going,
For now the morning draweth near.'
b' wi' you] b' wee you, 1622.
With that the shepherd waked from sleeping,
And, spying where the day was peeping,
He said,' Now take my soul in keeping,
Kiss me, and take my soul in keeping,
Since I must go, now day is near.'
J. Attey's The First Book of Airs, 1622.
THE life of man is full of grief and sorrow :
First at our birth we breathe, and next we mourn.
As day to night, and night succeeds to morrow,
Woe follows woe, to earth till we return.
Euripides did well and wisely say
Man's life and care are twins, and born one day.
The Poetical Recreations, 1623.
A Hymn to God the Father
WILT thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore ?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallowed in, a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ; But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son Shall shine, as he shines now and heretofore : And, having done that, thou hast done,
Poems, 1633.
(Poem written 1623.)*
Or this fair volume which we World do name,
If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care,
Of him who it corrects, and did it frame,
We clear might read the art and wisdom rare:
Find out his power which wildest powers doth tame,
His providence extending everywhere,
His justice which proud rebels doth not spare,
In every page, no, period of the same.
But silly we, like foolish children, rest
Well pleased with coloured vellum, leaves of gold,
Fair dangling ribbons, leaving what is best,
On the great Writer's sense ne'er taking hold ;
Or if by chance our minds do muse on aught,
It is some picture on the margin wrought.
Flowers of Sion, 1623, and 1630.
Look how the flower which lingeringly doth fade,
The morning's darling late, the summer's queen,
Spoiled of that juice which kept it fresh and green,
As high as it did raise, bows low the head:
Right so my life, contentments being dead
Or in their contraries but only seen,
our minds do muse] 1630; we stay our minds, 1623.
With swifter speed declines than erst it spread,
And, blasted, scarce now shows what it hath been.
As doth the pilgrim therefore, whom the night
By darkness would imprison on his way,
Think on thy home, my soul, and think aright
Of what yet rests thee of life's wasting day;
Thy sun posts westward, passëd is thy morn,
And twice it is not given thee to be born.
Drummond.
The Dead Host's Welcome
'Tis late and cold, stir up the fire;
Sit close, and draw the table nigher;
Be merry, and drink wine that 's old,
A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold.
Your bed 's of wanton down the best,
Where you shall tumble to your rest ;
I could wish you wenches too,
But I am dead, and cannot do.
Call for the best, the house may ring,
Sack, white, and claret, let them bring,
And drink apace while breath you have;
You'll find but cold drink in the grave.
Plover, partridge, for your dinner,
And a capon for the sinner,
You shall find ready, when you are up,
And horse shall have his sup:
Welcome, welcome, shall fly round,
And I shall smile, though under ground.
The Lover's Progress, in
Comedies and Tragedies, 1647.
(Licensed 1623.)*
As doth ... therefore] 1630; Therefore as doth the pilgrim, 1623. By darkness would] 1630; Hastes darkly to, 1623. Welcome, welcome] 1679; Welcome, 1647.
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