327.

Why so Pale and Wan?

WHY

HY so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?

Prithee, why so pale?

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

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

Prithee, 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 devil take her!

328. When, Dearest, I but think of Thee WHEN, dearest, I but think of thee,

Methinks all things that lovely be

Are present, and my soul delighted:
For beauties that from worth arise
Are like the grace of deities,

Still present with us, tho' unsighted.

Thus while I sit and sigh the day

With all his borrow'd lights away,

Till night's black wings do overtake me,
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleepy men,

So they by their bright rays awake me.

Thus absence dies, and dying proves
No absence can subsist with loves

That do partake of fair perfection:
Since in the darkest night they may
By love's quick motion find a way
To see each other by reflection.

The waving sea can with each flood
Bathe some high promont that hath stood
Far from the main up in the river:
O think not then but love can do
As much! for that's an ocean too,
Which flows not every day, but ever!

329.

SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE

A Rose

BLOWN in the morning, thou shalt fade

1608-1666

ere noon.

What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee?

Thou'rt wondrous frolic, being to die so soon,
And passing proud a little colour makes thee.
If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives,

Know then the thing that swells thee is thy bane;

For the same beauty doth, in bloody leaves,

The sentence of thy early death contain.

Some clown's coarse lungs will poison thy sweet flower,

If by the careless plough thou shalt be torn;

And many Herods lie in wait each hour

To murder thee as soon as thou art born

Nay, force thy bud to blow-their tyrant breath
Anticipating life, to hasten death!

THERE

First strikes the new awaken'd sense;

The other when two souls unite,

And we must count our life from thence:

When you loved me and I loved you
Then both of us were born anew.

Love then to us new souls did give

And in those souls did plant new powers; Since when another life we live,

The breath we breathe is his, not ours: Love makes those young whom age doth chill, And whom he finds young keeps young still.

331.

STILL

Falsehood

their light

do the stars impart
To those that travel in the night;

Still time runs on, nor doth the hand

Or shadow on the dial stand;

The streams still glide and constant are:

Only thy mind.

Untrue I find,
Which carelessly

Neglects to be

Like stream or shadow, hand or star.

Fool that I am! I do recall

My words, and swear thou'rt like them all,

Thou seem'st like stars to nourish fire,
But O how cold is thy desire!
And like the hand upon the brass
Thou point'st at me

In mockery;

If I come nigh

Shade-like thou❜lt fly,

And as the stream with murmur pass.

332. On the Queen's Return from the Low

Countries

HALLOW the threshold, crown the posts anew!
The day shall have its due.

Twist all our victories into one bright wreath,
On which let honour breathe;

Then throw it round the temples of our Queen!
'Tis she that must preserve those glories green.

When greater tempests than on sea before
Received her on the shore;

When she was shot at 'for the King's own good'
By legions hired to blood;

How bravely did she do, how bravely bear!

And show'd, though they durst rage, she durst not fear.

Courage was cast about her like a dress

Of solemn comeliness:

A gather'd mind and an untroubled face
Did give her dangers grace:

Thus, arm'd with innocence, secure they move
Whose highest treason' is but highest love.

333. On a Virtuous Young Gentlewoman that died suddenly

SHE

HE who to Heaven more Heaven doth annex,
Whose lowest thought was above all our sex,
Accounted nothing death but t' be reprieved,
And died as free from sickness as she lived.
Others are dragg'd away, or must be driven,
She only saw her time and stept to Heaven;
Where seraphims view all her glories o'er,
As one return'd that had been there before.
For while she did this lower world adorn,
Her body seem'd rather assumed than born;
So rarified, advanced, so pure and whole,
That body might have been another's soul;
And equally a miracle it were

That she could die, or that she could live here.

JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE

2246

334. I'll never love Thee more

Y dear and only Love, I pray

MY

That little world of thee

Be govern'd by no other sway
Than purest monarchy;
For if confusion have a part

(Which virtuous souls abhor),

And hold a synod in thine heart,
I'll never love thee more.

Like Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone;

My thoughts did evermore disdain
A rival on my throne.

N

1612-1650

353