No More Learning

Thrice happy he, who, not mistook.

Hath read in nature's mystic book I

And see how chance's better wit sss

Could with a mask my studies hit !

The oak-leaves me embroider all.

Between which caterpillars crawl ;

And ivy, with familiar trails.

Me licks and clasps, and curls and hales. &»

Under this Attic cope I move.

Like some great prelate of the grove ;

Then, languishing with ease, I toss

On pallets swoln of velvet moss.

While the wind, cooling through the boughs, s»

Flatters with air my panting brows.

Thanks for my rest, ye mossy banks,

And unto you, cool zephyrs, thanks.

Who, as my hair, my thoughts too shed,

And winnow from the chaff my head ! ew

How safe, methinks, and strong behind
These trees, have I encamped my mind,
Where beauty, aiming at the heart,
Bends in some tree its useless dart.
And where the world no certain shot eos

Can make, or me it toucheth not,
But 1 on it securely play,
And gall its horsemen all the day.
Bind me, }e woodbines, in )*our twines,



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28 THE POEMS

Curl me about, ye gadding vines,

And oh so close your circles lace.

That I may never leave this place !

But, lest your fettei-s prove too weak,

Ere I your silken bondage break,

Do you, O brambles, chain me too,

And, courteous briars, nail me through !

Here in the morning tie my chain.

Where the two woods have made a lane,

While, like a guard on either side.

The trees before their Lord divide ;

This, like a long and equal thread,

BetAvixt two labyrinths does lead.

But, where the floods did lately drown,

There at the evening stake me down ;

For now the waves are fallen and dried,

And now the meadows fresher dyed,

Whose grass, with moister colour dashed.

Seems as green silks but newly washed.

No serpent new, nor crocodile,

Remains behind our little Nile,

Unless itself you will mistake,

Among these meads the only snake.

See in what wanton harmless folds.

It everywhere the meadow holds.

And its yet muddy back doth lick,

'Till as a crystal mirror slick.

Where all things gaze themselves, and doubt

If they be in it, or without.

And for his shade which therein shines.



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OF MARVELL. 2D

Narcissus-like, the sun too pines. •«>

Oh what a pleasure 'tis to hedge

My temples here with heavy sedge,

Abandoning my lazy side,

Stretched as a bank unto the tide,

Or to suspend my sliding foot «5

On the osier's undermined root,

And in its branches tough to hang.

While at my lines the fishes twang I

But now away my hooks, my quills.

And angles, idle utensils ! «3»

The young Maria walks to-night :

Hide, trifling youth, thy pleasures slight ;

'Twere shame that such judicious eyes

Should with such toys a man surprise ;

She that already is the law «»

Of all her sex, her age's awe.

See how loose nature, in respect

To her, itself doth recollect,

And every thing so washed and fine,

Starts forth with it to its bonne mine. •»

The sun himself of her aware.

Seems to descend with greater care.

And, lest she see him go to bed.

In blushing clouds conceals his head.

So when the shadows laid asleep, ms

From underneath these banks do creep,

And on the river, as it flows.

With ebon shuts begin to close.

The modest halcyon comes in sight,



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6{) THE POEMS

Fljring betwixt the day and night.

And such a horror calm and dumb,

Admiring nature does benumb ;

The viscous air, where'er she flj,

Follows and sucks her azure dye ;

The jellying stream compacts below,

If it might fix her shadow so ;

The stupid fishes hang, as plain

As flies in crystal overtaken.

And men the silent scene assist,

Charmed with the sapphire-winged mist;—

Maria, such, and so doth hush

The world, and through the evening rusk.

No new-born comet such a train

Draws through the sky, nor star new slain.

For straight those giddy rockets fail,

Which from the putrid earth exhale,

But by her flames, in heaven tried.

Nature is wholly vitrified.

'Tis she, that to these gardens gave

That wondrous beauty which they have ;

She straightness on the woods bestows ;

To her the meadow sweetness owes ;

Nothing could make the river be

So crystal pui*e, but only she.

She yet more pure, sweet, straight, and fair

Than gardens, woods, meads, rivers are.

Therefore what fii-st she on them spent.

They gratefully again present;

The meadow carpets where to tread,



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OP MARVELL. 31

The garden flowers to crown her head, "*>

And for a glass the limpid brook,

Where she may all her beauties look,

But, since she would not have them seen,

The wood about her draws a screen.

For she to higher beauties raised, 705

Disdains to be for lesser praised.

She counts her beauty to converse

In all the languages as hers ;

Nor yet in those herself employs,

But for the wisdom not the noise ; tio

Nor yet that wisdom would affect.

But as 'tis heaven's dialect.

Blest nymph ! that couldst so soon prevent

Those trains by youth against thee meant ;

Tears (wateiy shot that pierce the mind,) ^w

And sighs (love's cannon chai'ged with wind ;)

True praise (that breaks through all defence,)

And feigned complying innocence ;

But knowing where this ambush lay,

She 'scaped the safe, but roughest way. f^

This 'tis to have been from the first

In a domestic heaven nursed.

Under the discipline severe

Of Fairfax, and the starry Verb,

Where not one object can come nigh tsb

But pure, and spotless as the eye.

And goodness doth itself entail

On females, if there want a male.



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32 THE POEMS

Go now, fond sex, that on your face
Do all your useless study place.
Nor once at vice your brows dare knit.
Lest the smooth forehead wrinkled sit :
Yet your own face shall at you grin.
Thorough the black bag of your skin.
When knowledge only could have filled,
And virtue all those furrows tilled.
Hence she with graces more divine
Supplies beyond her sex the line,
And, like a sprig of misletoe.
On the Fairfacian oak does grow.
Whence, for some universal good,
The priest shall cut the sacred bud.
While her glad parents most rejoice
And make their destiny their choice.
Meantime, ye fields, springs, bushes, flowers.
Where yet she leads her studious houi-s,
(Till Fate her worthily translates
And find a Fairfax for our Thwates,)
Employ the means you have by her.
And in your kind yourselves prefer.
That, as all virgins she precedes,
So you all woods, streams, gardens, meads.
For you, Thessalian Tempe's seat
Shall now be scorned as obsolete ;
Aranjuez, as less, disdained ;
The Bel-Retiro, as constrained ;
But name not the Idalian grove.
For 'twas the seat of wanton love ;



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OF MARVELL. 33



Nor e'en the dead's Eljsian fields,
Yet not to them your beauty yields.
Tis not, as once appeared the world,
A heap confused together hurled,
All negligently overgrown,
Gulfs, deserts, precipices, stone ;
Your lesser world contains the same.
But in more decent order tame.
You, Heaven's centre, Nature's lap ;
And Paradise's only map.

And now the salmon-fishers moist,
Their leathern boats begin to hoist ;
And, like Antipodes in shoes.
Have shod their heads in their canoes.
How tortoise-like, but not so slow.
These rational amphibii go !
Let's in ; for the dark hemisphere
Does now like one of them appear.



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34 THK POEMS



THE CORONET.

When with the thorns with which I long, too
long,
With many a piercing wound,
My Saviour's head have crowned,

I seek with garlands to redress that wrong, —
Through every garden, every mead,

I gather flowers (my fruits are only flowers)
Dismantling all the fragrant towers

That once adorned my shepherdess's head :

And now, when I have summed up all my store.
Thinking (so I myself deceive)
So rich a chaplet thence- to weave

As never yet the King of Glory wore,
Alas ! I And the Serpent old,
Twining in his speckled breast.
About the flowers disguised does fold,
With wreaths of fame and interest.

Ah foolish man, that would'st debase with them,

And mortal glory. Heaven's diadem !

But thou who only could'st the Serpcmt tame.



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OF MARVELL. 35

Either his slippery knots at once untie,
And disentangle all his winding snare,
Or shatter too with him my curious frame,
And let these wither so that he may die,
Though set with skill, and chosen out with care,
That they, while thou on both their spoils dost

tread,
May crown thy feet, that could not crown thy

bead.



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36 THE POEMS



EYES AND TEARS.

How wisely Nature did decree,
With the same eyes to weep and see,
That, having viewed the object vain,
They might be ready to complain !
And, since the self-deluding sight.
In a false angle takes each height.
These tears, which better measure all.
Like watery lines and plummets fall.
Two tears, which sorrow long did weigh.
Within the scales of either eye,
And then paid out in equal poise.
Are the true price of all my joys.
What in the world most fair appears.
Yea, even laughter, turns to tears.
And all the jewels which we prize.
Melt in these pendants of the eyes.
I have through every garden been,
Amongst the red, the white, the green,
And yet from all those flowers I saiv,
No honey, but these tears could draw.



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OF MAKVELL. 37

So the all-seeing sun each day,
Distils the world with chymic ray,
But finds the essence only showers,
Which straight in pity back he pours.
Yet happy they whom grief doth bless,
That weep the more, and see the less,
And, to preserve their sight more true.
Bathe still their eyes in their own dew.
So Magdalen in tears more wise
Dissolved those captivating eyes.
Whose liquid chains could flowing meet
To fetter her Redeemer's feet.
Not full sails hasting loaden home.
Nor the chaste lady's pregnant womb,
Nor Cynthia teeming shows so fair
As two eyes swollen with weeping are.
The sparkling glance that shoots desire.
Drenched in these waves, does lose its fire,
Yea oft the Thunderer pity takes.
And here the hissing lightning slakes.
The incense was to heaven dear,
Not as a perfume, but a tear.
And stars shew lovely in the night,
But as they seem the tears of light.
Ope then, mine eyes, your double sluice,
And practise so your noblest use ;
For others too can see, or sleep.
But only human eyes can weep.
Now, like two clouds dissolving, drop,
And at each tear, in distance stop ;



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38 THE POEMS

Now, like two fountains, trickle down ;
Now like two floods o*errun and drown :
Thus let your streams overflow your spring. ^,
Till eyes and tears be the same things,
And each the other's difference bears,
These weeping eyes, those seeing tears.



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OP MARVELL. 39



BERMUDAS.

Where the remote Bermudas ride,
In the ocean's bosom un espied,
From a small boat, that rowed along,
The listening winds received this song.

" What should we do but sing his praise,
That led us through the watery maze,
Unto an isle so long unknown.
And yet far kinder than our own ?
Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks.
That lift the deep upon their backs.
He lands us on a grassy stage,
Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage.
He gave us this eternal spring,
Which here enamels every thing.
And sends the fowls to us in care.
On daily visits through the air ;
He hangs in shades the orange bright.
Like golden lamps in a green night.
And doc^ in the pomegranates close.
Jewels more rich than Ormus shows ;



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iO THE POEXS

He makes tbe figs oor moaths to meet.
And throws tbe melons at oor feet.
But apples plants cff such a price.
No tree could ever bear tbem twice ;
With cedars cbosen bj his hand.
From Lebanon, he stores tbe land.
And makes tbe hollow seas, that roar,
Proclaim the ambergrease on shore ;
He cast (of which we rather boast)
The Gospel's pearl upon our coast.
And in these rocks for us did frame
A temple where to sound his name.
Oh ! let our voice his prabe exalt,
'Till it arrive at heaven's vault.
Which, then (perhaps) rebounding, may
Echo beyond the Mexique Bay. "

Thus sung they, in the English boat,
A holy and a cheerful note.
And all the way, to guide their chime,
With falling oars they kept the time.



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OF MABVELL. 41



CLORINDA AND DAMON.

OLORINDA.

Damon, come drive thy flocks this way.

DAMON.

No : 'tis too late they went astray.

CLOBINDA.

I have a grassy scutcheon spied,
Where Flora blazons all her pride ;
The grass I aim to feast thy sheep,
The flowers I for thy temples keep.

DAMON.

Grass withers, and the flowers too fade.

CLORINDA.

Seize the short joys then, ere they vade.
Seest thou that unfrequented cave ?

DAMON.

That den ?



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42 TH£ POEMS

CLORINDA.

Love's shrine.

DAMON.

But virtue's grave.

CLORINDA.

In whose cool bosom we may lie,
Safe from the sun.

DAMON.

Not heaven's eye.

CLORINDA.

Near this, a fountain's liquid bell
Tinkles within the concave shell.

DAMON.

Might a soul bathe there and be clean,
Or slake its drought ?

CLORINDA.

What is't you mean ?

DAMON.

Clorinda, pastures, caves, and springs,
These once had been enticing things.

CLORINDA.

And what late chan«:e ?



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Pan met mo.



or MARVELL. 4'3

DAMON.

The other day

OLORINDA.

What did great Pan say ?



DAMON.

Words that transcend poor shepherd's skill ;
But he e'er since my songs does fill.
And his name swells my slender oat.

CLOBINDA.

Sweet must Pan sound in Damon'is note.

DAMON.

Clorinda's voice might make it sweet.

CLORINDA.

Who would not in Pan's praises meet ?

CHORUS.

Of Pan the flowery pastures sing,
Caves echo, and the fountains ring.
Sing then while he doth us inspire ;
For all the world is our Pan's quire.



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44 THE POEMS



A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE SOUL AND
BODY.

SOUL.
O who shall from this dungeon raise
A soul enslaved so many ways ?
With bolts of bones, that fettered stands
In feet, . and manacled in hands ;
Here blinded with an eye, and there
Deaf with the drumming of an ear ;
A soul hung up, as 'twere, in chains
Of nerves, and arteries, and veins ;
Tortured, besides each other part,
In a vain head, and double heart ?

BODY.

O who shall me deliver whole.
From bonds of this tyrannic soul.
Which, stretched upright, impales me so
That mine own precipice I go,
And warms and moves this needless frame,
(A fever could but do the same,)
And, wanting where its spite to try.
Has made me live to let me die



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OF MARVELL. 45

A body that could never rest,
Since this ill spirit it possessed ?

SOUL.

What magic could me thus confine
Within another^s grief to pine,
Where, whatsoever it complain,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain^
And all my care itself employs,
That to preserve, which me destroys ;
Constrained not only to endure
Diseases, but, what's worse, the cure ;
And, ready oil the port to gain.
Am shipwrecked into health again ?

BODY.

But Physic yet could never reach
The maladies thou me dost teach.
Whom first the cramp of hope does tear,.
And then the palsy shakes of fear ;
The pestilence of love does heat.
Or hatred's hidden ulcer eat ;
Joy's cheerful madness does perplex,.
Or sorrow's other madness vex ;
Which knowledge forces me to know,
And memory will not forego ;
What but a soul could have the wit
To build me up for sin so fit?
So architects do squai*c and hew
Green trees that in the forest grew.



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46 THE POEMS



THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE
DEATH OF HER FAWN.

The wanton troopers riding by,
Have shot my fawn, and it will die.
Ungentle men ! they cannot thrive
Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst alive
Them any harm, alas ! nor could
Thy death yet do them any good.
I'm sure I never wished them ill ;
Nor do I for all this, nor will :
But, if my simple prayers may yet
Prevail with heaven to forget
Thy murder, I will join my tears.
Rather than fail. But, O my fears !
It cannot die so. Heaven's king
Keeps register of every thing,
And nothing may we use in vain ;
Even beasts must be with justice slain.
Else men are made their deodands.
Though they should wash their guilty hands
In this warm life-blood which doth part
From thine and wound me to the hcurt.



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OP MAR V ELL.

Yet could they not be clean, their stain
Is dyed in such a purple grain.
There is not such another in
The world, to oflfer for their sin.

Inconstant Stlvio, when yet
I had not found him counterfeit.
One morning (I remember well)
Tied in this silver chain and bell.
Gave it to me : nay, and I know
What he said then, I'm sure I do ;
Said he, ' Look how your huntsman here
' Hath taught a fawn to hunt his deer. '
But Sylyio soon had me beguiled ;
This waxed tame, while he grew wild,
And quite regardless of my smart,
Left me his fawn, but took his heart.

Thenceforth I set myself to play
My solitary time away
With this ; and, very well content.
Could so mine idle life have spent ;
For it was full of sport, and light
Of foot and heart, and did invite
Me to its game : it seemed to bless
Itself in me ; how could I less
Than love it ? 01 cannot be
Unkind to a beast that loveth me.

Had it lived long, I do not know
Whether it too might have done so



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48 THE POEMS

As Sylyio did ; his gifts might be
Perhaps as false, or more, than he ;
But I am sure, for aught that I
Could in so short a time espj.
Thy love was far more better than
The love of fabe and cruel man.

With sweetest milk and sugar first
I it at my own fingers nursed ;
And as it grew, so every day
It waxed more white and sweet than they.
It had so sweet a breath I And ofl
I blushed to see its foot more soft
And white, shall I say than my hand ?
Nay, any lady's of the land.

It is a wond'rous thing how fleet
Twas on those little silver feet ;
With what a pretty skipping grace
It oft would challenge me the race ;
And, when it had left me far away,
*Twould stay, and run again, and stay ;
For it was nimbler much than hinds.
And trod as if on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own,
But so with roses overgrown,
And lilies, that you would it guess
To be a little wilderness.
And all the spring time of the year
It only loved to be there.



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OF MARVELL. 49

Among the beds of lilies I
Have sought it of^, where it should lie.
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it, although before mine eyes ;,
For, in the flaxen lilies' shade.
It like a bank of lilies laid.
Upon the roses it would feed,
Until its lips e'en seemed to bleed,
And then to me 'twould boldly trip,.
And print those roses on my lip.
But all its chief delight was still
On roses thus itself to fill,
And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold :
Had it lived long, it would have been
Lilies without, roses within.

help ! O help ! I see it faint
And die as calmly as a saint !

See how it weeps ! the tears do come
Sad, slowly, dropping like a gum.
So weeps the wounded balsam ; so
The holy frankincense doth flow ;
The brotherless Heliades
Melt in such amber tears as these.

1 in a golden vial will

Keep these two crystal tears, and fill
It till it doth overflow with mine,
Then place it in Diana's shrine.
4



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50 THE P0KM6

Now my sweet fawn is vanish'd to
Whither the swans and turtles go ;
In fair Elysium to endure,
With milk-white lambs, and ermines pure.
O do not run too fast : for I
Will but bespeak thy grave, and die.

First, my unhappy statue shall
Be cut in marble ; and withal, t

Let it be weeping too ; but there
The engraver sure his art may spare ;
For I so truly thee bemoan,
That I shall weep, though I be stone,
Until my tears, still dropping, wear
My breast, themselves engraving there ;
Then at my feet shalt thou be laid,
Of purest alabaster made ;
For I would have thine image be
White as I can, though not as thee.



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OP MARVELL. 51



YOUNG LOVE.



Come, little infant, love me now,
While thine unsuspected years

Clear thine aged father's brow
From cold jealousy and fears.

II.
Pretty surely 'twere to see

By young Love old Time beguiled,
While our sportings are as free

As the nurse's with the child.

III.
Common beauties stay fifteen ;

Such as yours should swifter move,
Whose fair blossoms are too green

Yet for lust, but not for love.

iv.
Love as much the snowy lamb.

Or the wanton kid, does prize,
As the lusty bull or ram,

For his morning sacrifice.



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62 THE POEMS



y.
Now then love me : Time may take

Thee before thy time away ;
Of this need we'll virtue make.

And learn love before we may.

VI.

So we win of doubtful fate,

Andy if good to us she meant,

We that good shall antedate.
Or, if ill, that ill prevent

vn.
Thus do kingdoms, frustrating

Other titles to their crown.
In the cradle crown their king,

So all foreign claims to drown.

Vlll.

So to make all rivals vain.

Now I crown thee with my love :
Crown me with thy love again.

And we both shall monarchs prove.



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OP MARVELL. 53



TO HIS COY HISTRESa

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Should'st rubies find : I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the fiood.
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews ;
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow ;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze ;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest ;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state.
Nor would I love at lower rate.



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54 THE POEMS

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near,
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found.
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song : then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity.
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust :
The grave's a fine and private place.
But none, I think, do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youtliful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew.
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may.
And now, like amorous birds of prey
Rather at once our time devour.
Than languish in his slow-chaped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball.
And tear our pleasures with rough strife.
Thorough the iron gates of life ;
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.



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OF MARYZLL. 55



THE UNFORTUNATE LOVER.

Alas ! how pleasant are their days,
With whom the infant love yet plays 1
Sorted by pairs, they still are seen
By fountains cool and shadows green ;
But soon these flames do lose their light,
Like meteors of a summer's night ;
Nor can they to that region climb,
To make impression upon time.
'Twas in a shipwreck, when the seas
Ruled, and the winds did what they please,
That my poor lover floating lay.
And, ere brought forth, was cast away ;
Till at the last the master wave
Upon the rock his mother drave,
And there she split against the stone.
In a Csesarian section.
The sea him lent these bitter tears,
Which at his eyes he always beai*s,
And from the winds the sighs he bore.
Which through his surging breast do roar ;



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56 THE POEMS

No day he saw but that which breaks
Through frighted clouds in forked streaks,
While round the rattling thunder hurled,
As at the funeral of the world.
While nature to his birth presents
This masque of quarrelling elements,
A numerous fleet of cormorants black,
That sailed insulting o'er the wrack,
Received into their cruel care.
The unfortunate and abject heir ;
Guardians most fit to entertain
The orphan of the hurricane.
They fed him up with hopes and air,
Which soon digested to despair,
And as one cormorant fed him, still
Another on his heart did bill ;
Thus, while they famish him, and feast,
He both consumed, and increased.
And languished with doubtful breath,
The amphibium of life and death.
. And now, when angry heaven would
Behold a spectacle of blood.
Fortune and he are called to play
At sharp before it all the day.
And tyrant Love his breast does ply
With all his winged artillery.
Whilst he, betwixt the fiames and waves.
Like Ajax, the mad tempest braves.
See how he naked and fierce does stand,
Cuffing the thunder with one hand,



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OP MARVELL. 57

While with the other he does lock,

And grapple, with the stubborn rock,

From which he with each wave rebounds,

Tom into ilames, and ragged with wounds,

And all he sajs, a lover drest

In his own blood does relish best.

This is the only banneret,

That ever love created yet ;

Who, though by the malignant stars.

Forced to live in storms and wars.

Yet dying, leaves a perfume here.

And music within every ear ;

And he in story only rules,

In a field sable, a lover gules.



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58 THE rO£MS



THE GALLERY.

Ghlora, come view my soul, and tell
Whether I have contrived it well ;
How all its several lodgings lie,
Composed into one gallery,
And the great arras-hangings, made
Of various faces, by are laid.
That, for all furniture, you'll find
Only your picture in my mind.
Here thou art painted in the dress
Of an inhumane murtheress,
Examining upon our hearts,
(Thy fertile shop of cruel arts,)
Engines more keen than ever yet
Adorned a tyrant's cabinet,
Of which the most tormenting are.
Black eyes, red lips, and curled hair.
But, on the other side, thou*rt drawn,
Like to Aurora in the dawn.
When in the east she slumbering lies,
'And stretches out her milky thighs.



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OF MARVELL. 59

While all the morning quire does sing,

And Manna falls and roses spring,

And, at thy feet, the wooing doves

Sit perfecting their harmless loves.

Like an enchantress here thou show'st,

Vexing thy restless lover's ghost.

And, by a light obscure, dost rave

Over his entrails, in the cave.

Divining thence, with horrid care.

How long thou shalt continue fair,

And (when informed) them throw'st away

To be the greedy vulture's prey.

But, against that, thou sittest afloat,

Like Venus in her pearly boat ;

The halcyons, calming all that's nigh,

Betwixt the air and water fly ;

Or, if some rolling wave appears,

A mass of ambergrease it bears,

Nor blows more wind than what may well

Convoy the perfume to the smeJL

These pictures, and a thousand more.

Of thee, my gallery do store.

In all the forms thou can'st invent.

Either to please me, or torment ;

For thou alone, to people me,

Art grown a numerous colony.

And a collection choicer far

Than or Whitehall's, or Mantua's were.

But of these pictures, and the rest,

That at the entrance likes mc best,



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60 THE POEMS

Where the same postare and the look
Bemains with which I first was took ;
A tender shepherdess, whose hair
Hangs loosely playing in the air.
Transplanting flowers from the green hill
To crown her head and bosom filL



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F MARVELL* 61



THE FAIR SINGER.

I.
To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony.
That, while she with her eyes my heart doe*

bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind.

II.
I could have fled from one but singly fair ;
My disentangled soul itself might save.
Breaking the curled trammels of her hair ;
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
My fetters of the very air I breathe ?

III.
It had been easy fighting in some plain,
Where victory might hang in equal choice



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62 THE POEMS

But all resistance against her is vain,
Who has the advantage both of eyes and voice,
And all mj forces needs must be undone.
She having gained both the wind and sun.



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OF MARVELL. U8



MOURNING.



You, that decipher out the fate
Of human offsprings from the skies,
What mean these infants which, of late.
Spring from the stars of Chlora's eyes ?

11.
Her ejes confused, and doubled o'er
With tears suspended ere they flow,
Seem bending upwards to restore
To^ heaven, whence it came, their woe.

III.
When, moulding of the watery spheres,
Slow drops untie themselves away,
As if she with those precious tears.
Would strew the ground where Strephon lay.

IV. .
Yet some affirm, pretending art.
Her eyes have so her bosom drown'd,
Only to soften, near her heart,
A place to fix another wound.



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fi4 THE POEMS



V.

And, while vain pomp does her restrain
Within her solitary bower,
She courts herself in amorous rain,
Herself both Danae and the shower.

VI.

Nay others, bolder, hence esteem
Joy now so much her master grown,
That whatsoever does but seem
Like grief is from her windows thrown.

yn.
Nor that she pays, while she survives.
To her dead love this tribute due.
But casts abroad these donatives.
At the installing of a new.

VIII.
How wide they dream ! the Indian slaves,
Who sink for pearl through seas profound.
Would find her tears yet deeper waves.
And not of one the bottom sound.

IX.

I yet my silent judgment keep,
Disputing not what they believe :
But sure as ofl the women weep,
It is to be supposed they grieve.



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OF MARVELL. 6o



DAPHNIS AND CHLOE.

I.
Daphnis must from Chloe part ;
Now is come the dismal hour^
That must all his hopes devour,.
All his labour, all his art.

11.
Nature, her own sex's foe^
Long had taught her to be coy ;
But she neither knew to enjoy,
Nor yet let her lover go.

in.