Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd

Of common beauties lived unknown,
Had not my verse exhaled thy name,
And with it imped the wings of Fame.

That killing power is none of thine:
I gave it to thy voice and eyes;
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;

Thou art my star, shin'st in my skies;
Then dart not from thy borrowed sphere
Lightning on him that fixed thee there.

Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made I uncreate;
Let fools thy mystic forms adore,

I know thee in thy mortal state:

Wise poets, that wrapt Truth in tales,
Knew her themselves through all her veils.

233

GIVE ME MORE LOVE

GIVE me more love, or more disdain;
The torrid or the frozen zone
Bring equal ease unto my pain;

The temperate affords me none:
Either extreme, of love or hate,
Is sweeter than a calm estate.

Give me a storm; if it be love

Like Danaë in that golden shower,
I'll swim in pleasure; if it prove

Disdain, that torrent will devour
My vulture hopes; and he's possessed
Of heaven, that's from hell released.
Then crown my joys, or cure my pain;
Give me more love, or more disdain.

234

SIR JOHN SUCKLING [1609-1642]

THE CONSTANT LOVER

OUT upon it, I have loved
Three whole days together!
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.

Time shall moult away his wings
Ere he shall discover

In the whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.

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.

235

WHY SO PALE AND WAN

WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?
Prythee, why so pale?

Will, if looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prythee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prythee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?

Prythee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move,
This cannot take her;

If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her:
The D-1 take her!

236

SIR WILLIAM D'AVENANT

[1606-1668]

DAWN SONG

THE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest,
And climbing shakes his dewy wings.
He takes this window for the East,

And to implore your light he sings-
Awake, awake! the morn will never rise
Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.

The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,
The ploughman from the sun his season takes;
But still the lover wonders what they are

Who look for day before his mistress wakes.
Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn!
Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!

237

RICHARD LOVELACE

[1618-1658]

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS

TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind
That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;

I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.

238

To ALTHEA FROM PRISON

WHEN Love with unconfinèd wings
Hovers within my gates,

And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair
And fetter'd to her eye,
The birds that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.

When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,

Our careless heads with roses crown'd,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep,

When healths and draughts go free-
Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.

When, linnet-like confinèd I

With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty
And glories of my King;
When I shall voice aloud how good
He is, how great should be,
Enlargèd winds, that curl the flood,
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage;

If I have freedom in my love
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

239

TO LUCASTA, GOING BEYOND THe Seas

IF to be absent were to be

Away from thee;

Or that when I am gone

You or I were alone;

Then, my Lucasta, might I crave

Pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave.

Though seas and land betwixt us both,

Our faith and troth,

Like separated souls,

All time and space controls:

Above the highest sphere we meet
Unseen, unknown, and greet as Angels greet.

So then we do anticipate
Our after-fate,

And are alive i' the skies,
If thus our lips and eyes

Can speak like spirits unconfined
In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.

240

EDMUND WALLER

[1606-1687]

ON A GIRDLE

THAT which her slender waist confined
Shall now my joyful temples bind:
No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do what this has done.