Or in the empire of thy heart,
Where I should solely be,
Another do pretend a part,
And dares to vie with me;
Or if Committees thou erect,
And go on such a score:
I'll sing, and laugh at thy neglect;
And never love thee more!
But if thou wilt be constant then,
And faithful of thy word;
I'll make thee glorious by my pen,
And famous by my sword!
I'll serve thee, in such noble ways
Were never heard before!
I'll crown and deck thee all with bays;
And love thee evermore!
FAIR FIDELIA, leave me now!
I may no more
Thy deity adore;
Nor offer to thy shrine!
I serve one more divine;
And greater far than you!
Hark! the trumpets call away!
I must go,
Lose the King; and win the day!
Let's march bravely on!
Charge them in the Van!
Our Cause GOD's is!
Though the odds is
Ten times ten to one!
Tempt me no more! I may not yield; Although thy eyes,
A Kingdom might surprise!
Leave off thy wanton tales!
The high-born Prince of Wales
Is mounted in the Field;
Where the loyal Gentry flock,
Though forlorn,
Nobly born
Of a ne'er-decaying stock.
Cornish boys, be bold!
Never lose your hold!
He that loiters,
Is by traitors
Basely bought and sold!
One kiss more; and then, farewell!
Nay! now, give o'er!
I prithee, fool! no more!
Why cloud'st thou so thy beams?
I see, by these extremes,
A woman's heaven, or hell!
Pray, the King may have his own!
That the Queen
With her babes, on England's throne!
Rally up your men!
One shall vanquish ten!
Victory! we
Come to try thy
Favour once again!
HIS REQUEST TO JULIA.
JULIA, if I chance to die
Ere I print my Poetry;
I most humbly thee desire
To commit it to the fire!
Better 'twere my Book were dead;
Than to live not perfected!
THE ARGUMENT OF HIS BOOK.
I SING of Brooks, of Blossoms, Birds, and Bowers; Of April, May, of June, and July flowers!
I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, Wassails, Wakes;
Of Bridegrooms, Brides, and of their Bridal Cakes!
I write of Youth, of Love! and have access
By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness.
I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,
Of balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris!
I sing of times' trans-shifting; and I write
How roses first came red, and lilies white!
I write of groves, of twilights; and I sing
The Court of MAB, and of the Fairy King!
I write of Hell! I sing, and ever shall!
Of Heaven; and hope to have it, after all!
IN sober mornings, do not thou rehearse
The holy incantation of a verse!
But when that men have both well drunk and fed;
Let my Enchantments then be sung, or read!
When laurel spirts i' th' fire; and when the hearth
Smiles to itself, and gilds the roof with mirth!
When up the Thyrse1 is raised; and when the sound
Of sacred Orgies 2 flies around! around!
When the rose reigns, and locks with ointments shine;
Let rigid CATO read these lines of mine!
THE SUCCESSION OF THE FOUR
SWEET MONTHS.
FIRST, April; she, with mellow showers,
Opens the way for early flowers.
Then, after her, comes smiling May,
In a more rich and sweet array.
Next enters June; and brings us more
Gems than those two that went before.
Then, lastly, July comes; and she
More wealth brings in, than all these three.
1 A javelin twined with ivy.
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