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

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.

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.

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, 10Look in my heart where Love thy picture drew; And then, if pleased with thine own shape thou be, Learn how to love thyself in loving me.

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 10To parallel my Chariessa's cheek; 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.

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, 10As to become in love a reprobate? 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.

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, 10Since thou (Love's votary before 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.

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 10Doth th' obsequious iron move; 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.

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, 10And doth all other flowers disdain; 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!

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: 10For this wine, to which we are 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, 30Thou, like us, mayst Love disdain. Love, thy power must yield to wine! And whilst thus ourselves we arm, Boldly we defy thy charm: For these flames extinguish thine.

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, 10And I shall smile in death to see thee weep. 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, 20And thus united be by death's divorce.

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), 10Stars, or jewels they invest thee, 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, 20All those cunning charms avoid; 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.

Stars to jewels they divest thee.

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

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 10The empty air, or feed on hopes as cold; 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.

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.

Then let thy dim heat warm, or else expire.

Amare liceat si potiri non licet,

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, 10It will adore 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.

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 10Unfold not of the Destinies, 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.