Volume 1 — APPENDIX B. POEMS WHICH HAVE BEEN ATTRIBUTED TO JOHN DONNE IN THE OLD EDITIONS AND THE PRINCIPAL MS. COLLECTIONS, ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THEIR PROBABLE AUTHORS.

S LEEP, next Society and true friendship, Mans best contentment, doth securely slip His passions and the worlds troubles. Rock me O sleep, wean'd from my dear friends company, 5In a cradle free from dreams or thoughts, there Where poor men ly, for Kings asleep do fear. Here sleeps House by famous Ariosto, By silver-tongu'd Ovid, and many moe, Perhaps by golden-mouth'd Spencer too pardie, 10(Which builded was some dozen Stories high) I had repair'd, but that it was so rotten, As sleep awak'd by Ratts from thence was gotten: And I will build no new, for by my Will, Thy fathers house shall be the fairest still 15In Excester. Yet, methinks, for all their Wit, Those wits that say nothing, best describe it. Without it there is no Sense, only in this Sleep is unlike a long Parenthesis. Not to save charges, but would I had slept 20The time I spent in London, when I kept Fighting and untrust gallants Company, In which Natta, the new Knight, seized on me, And offered me the experience he had bought With great Expence. I found him throughly taught 25In curing Burnes. His thing hath had more scars Then Things himselfe; like Epps it often wars, And still is hurt. For his Body and State The Physick and Counsel which came too late, 'Gainst Whores and Dice, hee nowe on mee bestowes 30Most superficially: hee speaks of those (I found by him) least soundly who most knows: He swears well, speakes ill, but best of Clothes, What fits Summer, what Winter, what the Spring. He had Living, but now these waies come in 35His whole Revenues. Where each Whore now dwells, And hath dwelt, since his fathers death, he tells. Yea he tells most cunningly each hid cause Why Whores forsake their Bawds. To these some Laws He knows of the Duello, and touch his Skill 40The least lot in that or those he quarrell will, Though sober; but so never fought. I know What made his Valour, undubb'd, Windmill go, Within a Pint at most: yet for all this (Which is most strange) Natta thinks no man is 45More honest than himself. Thus men may want Conscience, whilst being brought up ignorant, They use themselves to vice. And besides those Illiberal Arts forenam'd, no Vicar knows, Nor other Captain less then he; His Schools 50Are Ordinaries, where civil men seem fools, Or are for being there; His best bookes, Plaies, Where, meeting godly Scenes, perhaps he praies. His first set prayer was for his father, ill And sick, that he might dye: That had, until 55The Lands were gone, he troubled God no more: And then ask'd him but his Right, That the whore Whom he had kept, might now keep him: She spent, They left each other on even terms; she went To Bridewel, he unto the Wars, where want 60Hath made him valiant, and a Lieutenant He is become: Where, as they pass apace, He steps aside, and for his Captains place He praies again: Tells God, he will confess His sins, swear, drink, dice and whore thenceforth less, 65On this Condition, that his Captain dye And he succeed; But his Prayer did not; They Both cashir'd came home, and he is braver now Than'his captain: all men wonder, few know how. Can he rob? No. Cheat? No. Or doth he spend 70His own? No. Fidus, he is thy dear friend, That keeps him up. I would thou wert thine own, Or thou'hadst as good a friend as thou art one. No present Want nor future hope made me, Desire (as once I did) thy friend to be: 75But he had cruelly possest thee then, And as our Neighbours the Low-Country men, Being (whilst they were Loyal, with Tyranny Opprest) broke loose, have since refus'd to be Subject to good Kings, I found even so, 80Wer't thou well rid of him, thou't have no moe. Could'st thou but chuse as well as love, to none Thou should'st be second: Turtle and Damon Should give thee place in songs, and Lovers sick Should make thee only Loves Hieroglyphick: 85Thy Impress should be the loving Elm and Vine, Where now an ancient Oak, with Ivy twine Destroy'd, thy Symbol is. O dire Mischance! And, O vile verse! And yet your Abraham France Writes thus, and jests not. Good Fidus for this 90Must pardon me, Satyres bite when they kiss. But as for Natta, we have since faln out: Here on his knees he pray'd, else we had fought. And because God would not he should be winner, Nor yet would have the Death of such a sinner, 95At his seeking, our Quarrel is deferr'd, I'll leave him at his Prayers, and (as I heard) His last; Fidus, and you, and I do know, I was his friend, and durst have been his foe, And would be either yet; But he dares be 100Neither; Sleep blots him out and takes in thee. "The mind, you know is like a Table-book, "Which, th'old unwipt, new writing never took. Hear how the Huishers Checques, Cupbord and Fire I pass'd; by which Degrees young men aspire 105In Court; And how that idle and she-state, Whenas my judgment cleer'd, my soul did hate; How I found there (if that my trifling Pen Durst take so hard a Task) Kings were but men, And by their Place more noted, if they erre; 110How they and their Lords unworthy men prefer; And, as unthrifts had rather give away Great Summs to flatterers, than small debts pay, So they their weakness hide, and greatness show, By giving them that which to worth they owe: 115What Treason is, and what did Essex kill, Not true Treason, but Treason handled ill; And which of them stood for their Countries good, Or what might be the Cause of so much Blood. He said she stunck, and men might not have said 120That she was old before that she was dead. His Case was hard, to do or suffer; loth To do, he made it harder, and did both. Too much preparing lost them all their Lives, Like some in Plagues kill'd with preservatives. 125Friends, like land-souldiers in a storm at Sea, Not knowing what to do, for him did pray. They told it all the world; where was their wit? Cuffs putting on a sword, might have told it. And Princes must fear Favorites more then Foes, 130For still beyond Revenge Ambition goes. How since Her death, with Sumpter-horse that Scot Hath rid, who, at his coming up, had not A Sumpter-dog. But till that I can write Things worth thy Tenth reading (dear Nick) goodnight.

The Physick and Councel (which came too late 'Gainst Whores and Dice) he now on me bestows: Most superficially he speaks of those. I found, by him, least sound him who most knows. 1669

MEN write that love and reason disagree, But I ne'r saw't exprest as 'tis in thee. Well, I may lead thee, God must make thee see, But, thine eyes blinde too, there's no hope for thee. 5Thou say'st shee's wise and witty, faire and free, All these are reasons why she should scorne thee. Thou dost protest thy love, and wouldst it shew By matching her as she would match her foe: And wouldst perswade her to a worse offence, 10Then that whereof thou didst accuse her wench. Reason there's none for thee, but thou may'st vexe Her with example. Say, for feare her sexe Shunne her, she needs must change; I doe not see How reason e'r can bring that must to thee. 15Thou art a match a Iustice to rejoyce, Fit to be his, and not his daughters choyce. Urg'd with his threats shee'd scarcely stay with thee, And wouldst th'have this to chuse thee, being free? Goe then and punish some soone-gotten stuffe, 20For her dead husband this hath mourn'd enough, In hating thee. Thou maist one like this meet; For spight take her, prove kinde, make thy breath sweet, Let her see she hath cause, and to bring to thee Honest children, let her dishonest bee. 25If shee be a widow, I'll warrant her Shee'll thee before her first husband preferre, And will wish thou hadst had her maidenhead; Shee'll love thee so, for then thou hadst bin dead. But thou such strong love, and weake reasons hast, 30Thou must thrive there, or ever live disgrac'd. Yet pause a while; and thou maist live to see A time to come, wherein she may beg thee; If thou'lt not pause nor change, she'll beg thee now. Doe what she can, love for nothing shee'll allow. 35Besides, her〈s〉 were too much gaine and merchandise, And when thou art rewarded, desert dies. Now thou hast odds of him she loves, he may doubt Her constancy, but none can put thee out. Againe, be thy love true, shee'll prove divine, 40And in the end the good on't will be thine: For thou must never think on other love, And so wilt advance her as high above Vertue as cause above effect can bee: 'Tis vertue to be chast, which shee'll make thee.

C OME, Fates; I feare you not. All whom I owe Are paid, but you. Then rest me ere I goe. But, Chance from you all soveraignty hath got, Love woundeth none but those whom death dares not; 5Else, if you were, and just, in equitie I should have vanquish'd her, as you did me. Else Lovers should not brave death's pains, and live, But 'tis a rule, Death comes not to relieve. Or, pale and wan deaths terrours, are they lay'd 10So deepe in Lovers, they make death afraid? Or (the least comfort) have I company? Orecame she Fates, Love, Death, as well as mee? Yes, Fates doe silke unto her distaffe pay, For their ransome, which taxe on us they laye. 15Love gives her youth, which is the reason why Youths, for her sake, some wither and some die. Poore Death can nothing give; yet, for her sake, Still in her turne, he doth a Lover take: And if Death should prove false, she feares him not; 20Our Muses, to redeeme her she hath got. That fatall night wee last kiss'd, I thus pray'd, Or rather, thus despair'd; I should have said: Kisses, and yet despaire? The forbid tree Did promise (and deceive) no more then shee. 25Like Lambs that see their teats, and must eat Hay, A food, whose tast hath made me pine away. Dives, when thou saw'st blisse, and crav'dst to touch A drop of water, thy great paines were such. Here griefe wants a fresh wit, for mine being spent, 30And my sighes weary, groanes are all my rent; Vnable longer to indure the paine, They breake like thunder, and doe bring down rain. Thus, till dry teares soulder mine eyes, I weepe; And then, I dreame, how you securely sleepe, 35And in your dreames doe laugh at me. I hate, And pray Love, All may: He pitties my state, But sayes, I therein no revenge should finde; The Sunne would shine, though all the world were blind. Yet, to trie my hate, Love shew'd me your teare; 40And I had dy'd, had not your smile beene there. Your frowne undoes me; your smile is my wealth; And as you please to looke, I have my health. Me thought, Love pittying me, when he saw this, Gave me your hands, the backs and palmes to kisse. 45That cur'd me not, but to beare paine gave strength, And what it lost in force, it tooke in length. I call'd on Love againe, who fear'd you so, That his compassion still prov'd greater woe; For, then I dream'd I was in bed with you, 50But durst not feele, for feare't should not prove true. This merits not your anger, had it beene, The Queene of Chastitie was naked seene; And in bed, not to feele, the paine I tooke, Was more then for Actæon not to looke. 55And that brest which lay ope, I did not know, But for the clearnesse, from a lump of snowe, Nor that sweet teat which on the top it bore From the rose-bud, which for my sake you wore. These griefs to issue forth, by verse, I prove, 60Or turne their course, by travaile, or new love: All would not doe. The best at last I tryde: Unable longer to hould out I dyed. And then I found I lost life, death by flying: Who hundreds live are but soe long a dying. 65Charon did let me passe: I'le him requite. To marke the groves or shades wrongs my delight. I'le speake but of those ghosts I found alone, Those thousand ghosts, whereof myself made one, All images of thee. I ask'd them, why? 70The Judge told me, all they for thee did dye, And therefore had for their Elisian blisse, In one another their owne Loves to kisse. O here I miss'd not blisse, but being dead; For loe, I dream'd, I dream'd; and waking said, 75Heaven, if who are in thee there must dwell, How is't, I now was there, and now I fell.

SHALL I goe force an Elegie? abuse My witt? and breake the Hymen of my muse For one poore houres love? Deserves it such Which serves not me, to doe on her as much? 5Or if it could, I would that fortune shunn: Who would be rich, to be foe foone undone? The beggars best is, wealth he doth not know; And but to shew it him, encreases woe. But we two may enjoye an hour? when never 10It returnes, who would have a losse for ever? Nor can so short a love, if true, but bring A halfe howres feare, with the thought of losing: Before it, all howres were hope; and all are (That shall come after it,) yeares of dispaire. 15This joye brings this doubt, whether it were more To have enjoy'd it, or have died before? T'is a lost paradise, a fall from grace, Which I thinke, Adam felt more then his race. Nor need those angells any other Hell; 20It is enough for them, from Heaven they fell. Besides, Conquest in love is all in all; That when I liste, shee under me may fall: And for this turne, both for delight and view, I'le have a Succuba, as good as you. 25But when these toyes are past, and hott blood ends, The best enjoying is, we still are frends. Love can but be frendshipps outside; their two Beauties differ, as myndes and bodies do. Thus, I this great Good still would be to take, 30Vnless one houre, another happy make: Or, that I might forgett it instantlie; Or in that blest estate, that I might die. But why doe I thus travaile in the skill Of despis'd poetrie, and perchance spill 35My fortune? or undoe myself in sport By having but that dangerous name in Court? I'le leave, and since I doe your poet prove, Keep you my lines as secret as my Love.

TRUE Love findes witt, but he whose witt doth move Him to love, confesses he doth not love: And from his witt, passions and true desire Are forc'd as hard, as from the flint is fire. 5My love's all fire whose flames my soule do nurse, Whose smokes are sighes; whose every sparke's a verse. Doth measure women win? Then I know why Most of our Ladies with the Scotts doe lie. A Scott is measur'd in each syllable, terse 10And smooth as a verse: and like that smooth verse Is shallow, and wants matter, but in his handes, And they are rugged; Her state better standes Whom dauncing measures tempted, not the Scott: In brief she's out of measure, lost, soe gott. 15Greene-sickness wenches, (not needes must but) may Looke pale, breathe short; at Court none so long stay. Good witt ne're despair'd there, or Ay me said: For never Wench at Court was ravished. And shee but cheates on Heaven, whom you so winne 20Thinking to share the sport, but not the sinne.

D EARE Love, continue nice and chaste, For, if you yeeld you doe me wrong, Let duller wits to loves end haste, I have enough to wooe thee long. 5All paine and joy is in their way; The things we feare bring lesse annoy Then feare; and hope brings greater joy; But in themselves they cannot stay. Small favours will my prayers increase; 10Granting my suit you give me all, And then my prayers must needs surcease, For, I have made your Godhead fall. Beasts cannot witt nor beauty see, They mans affections onely move; 15Beasts other sports of love doe prove, With better feeling farre than we. Then Love prolong my suite, for thus By losing sport, I sport doe win; And that may vertue prove in us, 20Which ever yet hath beene a sinne. My comming neare may spie some ill, And now the world is given to scoffe; To keepe my Love, (then) keepe me off, And so I shall admire thee still. 25Say I have made a perfect choyce, Satietie our Love may kill; Then give me but thy face and voyce, Mine eye and eare thou canst not fill. To make me rich (oh) be not poore, 30Give me not all, yet something lend, So I shall still my suite commend, And you at will doe lesse or more. But, if to all you condescend, My love, our sport, your Godhead end.

THE State and mens affaires are the best playes Next yours; 'Tis nor more nor lesse than due praise. Write, but touch not the much descending race Of Lords houses, so settled in worths place, 5As but themselves none thinke them usurpers. It is no fault in thee to suffer theirs. If the Queene Masque, or King a hunting goe, Though all the Court follow, Let them. We know Like them in goodnesse that Court ne'r will be, 10For that were vertue, and not flatterie. Forget we were thrust out; It is but thus, God threatens Kings, Kings Lords, as Lords doe us. Iudge of strangers, Trust and believe your friend, And so me; And when I true friendship end, 15With guilty conscience let me be worse stonge, Then with Pophams sentence theeves, or Cookes tongue Traitors are. Friends are our selves. This I thee tell As to my friend, and to my selfe as Counsell; Let for a while the times unthrifty rout 20Contemne learning, and all your studies flout. Let them scorne Hell, they will a Sergeant feare, More then wee that; ere long God may forbeare, But Creditors will not. Let them increase In riot and excesse as their meanes cease; 25Let them scorne him that made them, and still shun His Grace, but love the whore who hath undone Them and their soules. But; that they that allow But one God, should have religions enow For the Queens Masque, and their husbands, far more 30Then all the Gentiles knew, or Atlas bore! Well, let all passe, and trust him who nor cracks The bruised Reed, nor quencheth smoaking flaxe.

IF great men wrong me, I will spare my selfe; If meane, I will spare them. I know that pelf Which is ill got the Owner doth upbraid. It may corrupt a Iudge, make me afraid 5And a Iury; But 'twill revenge in this, That, though himselfe be judge, hee guilty is. What care I though of weaknesse men taxe me, I had rather sufferer than doer be. That I did trust, it was my Natures praise, 10For breach of word I knew but as a phrase. That judgement is, that surely can comprise The world in precepts, most happy and most wise. What though? Though lesse, yet some of both have we, Who have learn'd it by use and misery. 15Poore I, whom every pety crosse doth trouble, Who apprehend each hurt thats done me, double, Am of this (though it should sinke me) carelesse, It would but force me to a stricter goodnesse. They have great odds of me, who gaine doe winne, 20(If such gaine be not losse) from every sinne. The standing of great mens lives would afford A pretty summe, if God would sell his Word. He cannot; they can theirs, and breake them too. How unlike they are that they are likened to? 25Yet I conclude, they are amidst my evils, If good, like Gods, the naught are so like devils.

Deare Thom: TELL her if she to hired servants shew Dislike, before they take their leave they goe; When nobler spirits start at no disgrace, For who hath but one minde, hath but one face: 5If then why I tooke not my leave she aske, Aske her againe why she did not unmaske? Was she or proud or cruell, or knew shee 'Twould make my losse more felt, and pittyed me? Or did she feare one kisse might stay for moe? 10Or else was she unwilling I should goe? I thinke the best, and love so faithfully I cannot chuse but thinke that she loves mee. If this prove not my faith, then let her trie How in her service I would fructifie. 15Ladies have boldly lov'd; bid her renew That decay'd worth, and prove the times past true. Then he whose wit and verse goes now so lame, With songs to her will the wild Irish tame. Howe'r, I'll weare the black and white ribband, 20White for her fortunes, blacke for mine shall stand. I doe esteeme her favours, not their stuffe; If what I have was given, I have enough: And all's well; for had she lov'd, I had had All my friends hate; for now, departing sad 25I feele not that; Yet as the Rack the Gout Cures, so hath this worse griefe that quite put out: My first disease nought but that worse cureth, Which (which I dare foresee) nought cures but death. Tell her all this before I am forgot, 30That not too late shee grieve shee lov'd me not. Burden'd with this, I was to depart lesse Willing, then those which die, and not confesse.

THAT unripe side of earth, that heavy clime That gives us man up now, like Adams time Before he ate; mans shape, that would yet bee (Knew they not it, and fear'd beasts companie) 5So naked at this day, as though man there From Paradise so great a distance were, As yet the newes could not arrived bee Of Adams tasting the forbidden tree; Depriv'd of that free state which they were in, 10And wanting the reward, yet beare the sinne. But, as from extreme hights who downward looks, Sees men at childrens shapes, Rivers at brookes, And loseth younger formes; so, to your eye, These (Madame) that without your distance lie, 15Must either mist, or nothing seeme to be, Who are at home but wits mere Atomi. But, I who can behold them move, and stay, Have found my selfe to you, just their midway; And now must pitty them; for, as they doe 20Seeme sick to me, just so must I to you. Yet neither will I vexe your eyes to see A sighing Ode, nor crosse-arm'd Elegie. I come not to call pitty from your heart, Like some white-liver'd dotard that would part 25Else from his slipperie soule with a faint groane, And faithfully, (without you smil'd) were gone. I cannot feele the tempest of a frowne, I may be rais'd by love, but not throwne down. Though I can pittie those sigh twice a day, 30I hate that thing whispers it selfe away. Yet since all love is fever, who to trees Doth talke, doth yet in loves cold ague freeze. 'Tis love, but, with such fatall weaknesse made, That it deftroyes it selfe with its owne shade. 35Who first look'd sad, griev'd, pin'd, and shew'd his paine, Was he that first taught women, to disdaine. As all things were one nothing, dull and weake, Vntill this raw disordered heape did breake, And severall desires led parts away, 40Water declin'd with earth, the ayre did stay, Fire rose, and each from other but unty'd, Themselves unprison'd were and purify'd: So was love, first in vast confusion hid, An unripe willingnesse which nothing did, 45A thirst, an Appetite which had no ease, That found a want, but knew not what would please. What pretty innocence in those dayes mov'd? Man ignorantly walk'd by her he lov'd; Both sigh'd and enterchang'd a speaking eye, 50Both trembled and were sick, both knew not why. That naturall fearefulnesse that struck man dumbe, Might well (those times consider'd) man become. As all discoverers whose first assay Findes but the place, after, the nearest way: 55So passion is to womans love, about, Nay, farther off, than when we first set out. It is not love that sueth, or doth contend; Love either conquers, or but meets a friend. Man's better part consists of purer fire, 60And findes it selfe allow'd, ere it desire. Love is wise here, keepes home, gives reason sway, And journeys not till it finde summer-way. A weather-beaten Lover but once knowne, Is sport for every girle to practise on. 65Who strives through womans scornes, women to know, Is lost, and seekes his shadow to outgoe; It must bee sicknesse, after one disdaine, Though he be call'd aloud, to looke againe. Let others sigh, and grieve; one cunning sleight 70Shall freeze my Love to Christall in a night. I can love first, and (if I winne) love still; And cannot be remov'd, unlesse she will. It is her fault if I unsure remaine, Shee onely can untie, and binde againe. 75The honesties of love with ease I doe, But am no porter for a tedious woo. But (madame) I now thinke on you; and here Where we are at our hights, you but appeare, We are but clouds you rise from, our noone-ray 80But a foule shadow, not your breake of day. You are at first hand all that's faire and right, And others good reflects but backe your light. You are a perfectnesse, so curious hit, That youngest flatteries doe scandall it. 85For, what is more doth what you are restraine, And though beyond, is downe the hill againe. We'have no next way to you, we crosse to it: You are the straight line, thing prais'd, attribute; Each good in you's a light; so many a shade 90You make, and in them are your motions made. These are your pictures to the life. From farre We see you move, and here your Zani's are: So that no fountaine good there is, doth grow In you, but our dimme actions faintly shew. 95Then finde I, if mans noblest part be love, Your purest luster must that shadow move. The soule with body, is a heaven combin'd With earth, and for mans ease, but nearer joyn'd. Where thoughts the starres of soule we understand, 100We guesse not their large natures, but command. And love in you, that bountie is of light, That gives to all, and yet hath infinite. Whose heat doth force us thither to intend, But soule we finde too earthly to ascend, 105'Till slow accesse hath made it wholy pure, Able immortall clearnesse to endure. Who dare aspire this journey with a staine, Hath waight will force him headlong backe againe. No more can impure man retaine and move 110In that pure region of a worthy love: Then earthly substance can unforc'd aspire, And leave his nature to converse with fire: Such may have eye, and hand; may sigh, may speak; But like swoln bubles, when they are high'st they break. 115Though far removed Northerne fleets scarce finde The Sunnes comfort; others thinke him too kinde. There is an equall distance from her eye, Men perish too farre off, and burne too nigh. But as ayre takes the Sunne-beames equall bright 120From the first Rayes, to his last opposite: So able men, blest with a vertuous Love, Remote or neare, or howsoe'r they move; Their vertue breakes all clouds that might annoy, There is no Emptinesse, but all is Ioy. 125He much profanes whom violent heats do move To stile his wandring rage of passion, Love: Love that imparts in every thing delight, Is fain'd, which only tempts mans appetite. Why love among the vertues is not knowne 130Is, that love is them all contract in one.

D EATH be not proud, thy hand gave not this blow, Sinne was her captive, whence thy power doth flow; The executioner of wrath thou art, But to destroy the just is not thy part. 5Thy comming, terrour, anguish, griefe denounce; Her happy state, courage, ease, joy pronounce. From out the Christall palace of her breast, The clearer soule was call'd to endlesse rest, (Not by the thundering voyce, wherewith God threats, 10But, as with crowned Saints in heaven he treats,) And, waited on by Angels, home was brought, To joy that it through many dangers sought; The key of mercy gently did unlocke The doores 'twixt heaven and it, when life did knock. 15Nor boast, the fairest frame was made thy prey, Because to mortall eyes it did decay; A better witnesse than thou art, assures, That though dissolv'd, it yet a space endures; No dramme thereof shall want or losse sustaine, 20When her best soule inhabits it again. Goe then to people curst before they were, Their spoyles in Triumph of thy conquest weare. Glory not thou thy selfe in these hot teares Which our face, not for hers, but our harme weares, 25The mourning livery given by Grace, not thee, Which wils our soules in these streams washt should be, And on our hearts, her memories best tombe, In this her Epitaph doth write thy doome. Blinde were those eyes, saw not how bright did shine 30Through fleshes misty vaile the beames divine. Deafe were the eares, not charm'd with that sweet sound Which did i'th spirit-instructed voice abound. Of flint the conscience, did not yeeld and melt, At what in her last Act: it saw, heard, felt. 35Weep not, nor grudge then, to have lost her sight, Taught thus, our after stay's but a short night: But by all soules not by corruption choaked Let in high rais'd notes that power be invoked. Calme the rough seas, by which she sayles to rest, 40From sorrowes here, to a kingdome ever blest; And teach this hymne of her with joy, and sing, The grave no conquest gets, Death hath no sting.

BY Euphrates flowry side We did bide, From deare Juda farre absented, Tearing the aire with our cryes, 5And our eyes, With their streames his streame augmented.

When, poore Syons dolefull state, Desolate; Sacked, burned, and inthrall'd, 10And the Temple spoil'd, which wee Ne'r should see, To our mirthlesse mindes wee call'd:

Our mute harpes, untun'd, unstrung, Up wee hung 15On greene willowes neere beside us, Where, we sitting all forlorne; Thus, in scorne, Our proud spoylers 'gan deride us.

Come, sad Captives, leave your moanes, 20And your groanes Under Syons ruines bury; Tune your harps, and sing us layes In the praise Of your God, and let's be merry.

25Can, ah, can we leave our moanes? And our groanes Under Syons ruines bury? Can we in this Land sing Layes In the praise 30Of our God, and here be merry?

No; deare Syon, if I yet Do forget Thine affliction miserable, Let my nimble joynts become 35Stiffe and numme, To touch warbling harpe unable.

Let my tongue lose singing skill, Let it still To my parched roofe be glewed, 40If in either harpe or voice I rejoyce, Till thy joyes shall be renewed.

Lord, curse Edom's traiterous kinde, Beare in minde 45In our ruines how they revell'd. Sack, kill, burne, they cry'd out still, Sack, burne, kill, Downe with all, let all be levell'd.

And, thou Babel, when the tide 50Of thy pride Now a flowing, growes to turning; Victor now, shall then be thrall, And shall fall To as low an ebbe of mourning.

55Happy he who shall thee waste, As thou hast Us, without all mercy, wasted, And shall make thee taste and see What poore wee 60By thy meanes have seene and tasted.

Happy, who, thy tender barnes From the armes Of their wailing mothers tearing, 'Gainst the walls shall dash their bones, 65Ruthlesse stones With their braines and blood besmearing.

To your Harpes sing us some layes To the praise Crane

if I faile To bewayle Crane

What by thee Wee (poore wee) have &c. Crane

I N that, ô Queene of Queenes, thy birth was free From that which others doth of grace bereave, When in their mothers wombe they life receive, God, as his sole-borne daughter loved thee. 5To match thee like thy births nobilitie, He thee his Spirit for thy spouse did leave, By whom thou didst his onely sonne conceive, And so wast link'd to all the Trinitie. Cease then, ô Queenes, that earthly Crownes doe weare, 10To glory in the Pompe of earthly things; If men such high respects unto you beare, Which daughters, wives, and mothers are to Kings, What honour can unto that Queene be done Who had your God for Father, Spouse and Sonne?

HE was the Word that spake it, Hee tooke the bread and brake it; And what that Word did make it, I doe beleeve and take it.

A BSENCE heare my protestation Against thy strengthe Distance and lengthe, Doe what thou canst for alteration: 5For harts of truest mettall Absence doth joyne, and time doth settle. Who loves a Mistris of right quality, His mind hath founde Affections grounde 10Beyond time, place, and all mortality: To harts that cannot vary Absence is present, time doth tary: My Sences want their outward motion Which now within 15Reason doth win, Redoubled by her secret notion: Like rich men that take pleasure In hidinge more then handling treasure. By absence this good means I gaine 20That I can catch her Where none can watch her In some close corner of my braine: There I embrace and there kiss her, And so enjoye her, and so misse her.

SOULES joy, now I am gone, And you alone, (Which cannot be, Since I must leave my selfe with thee, 5And carry thee with me) Yet when unto our eyes Absence denyes Each others sight, And makes to us a constant night, 10When others change to light; O give no way to griefe, But let beliefe Of mutuall love, This wonder to the vulgar prove 15Our Bodyes, not wee move. Let not thy wit beweepe Wounds but sense-deepe, For when we misse By distance our lipp-joying blisse, 20Even then our soules shall kisse, Fooles have no meanes to meet, But by their feet. Why should our clay, Over our spirits so much sway, 25To tie us to that way? O give no way to griefe, &c.

I F her disdaine least change in you can move, you doe not love, For whilst your hopes give fuell to the fire, you sell desire. 5Love is not love, but given free, And so is mine, so should yours bee. Her heart that melts at others moane, to mine is stone. Her eyes that weepe a strangers hurt to see, 10 joy to wound mee: Yet I so much affect each part, As (caus'd by them) I love my smart. Say her disdaynings justly must be grac't with name of chaste. 15And that shee frownes least longing should exceed, and raging breed; Soe can her rigor ne'er offend Unlesse selfe-love seeke private end.

'Tis love breeds love in mee, and cold disdaine 20 kils that againe, As water causeth fire to fret and fume, till all consume. Who can of love more free gift make, Then to loves self, for loves own sake. 25I'll never dig in Quarry of an heart to have no part, Nor roast in fiery eyes, which alwayes are Canicular. Who this way would a Lover prove, 30May shew his patience, not his love. A frowne may be sometimes for physick good, But not for food; And for that raging humour there is sure A gentler Cure. 35Why barre you love of private end, Which never should to publique tend?

So her disdaines can ne'er offend; Vnlesse selfe-love take private end. 1635-69

Who can of love more free gift make Then to loves self, for loves owne sake

Who can of love more gift make, Then to love selfe for loves sake. 1635-39 Who can of love more rich gift make, Then to love selfe-love for loves sake? 1650-54 Who can of love more rich gift make, Then to Loves self for loves own sake. 1669

STAY, O sweet, and do not rise, The light that shines comes from thine eyes; The day breaks not, it is my heart, Because that you and I must part. 5Stay, or else my joys will die, And perish in their infancie.