Marble vaults, and gloomy caves, But if needs 'mongst us thou'lt rage, Yet, perhaps, as thou flew'st by, They who loath'd thee, when they see Thou shouldst murder with a kisse. TO CASTARA, INVITING HER TO SLEEPE. SLEEPE, my Castara, silence doth invite VPON CASTARA'S RECOVERIE. SHE is restor❜d to life. Vnthrifty Death, Thy mercy in permitting vitall breath Backe to Castara, hath enlarg'd us all, Whom griefe had martyr'd in her funerall. While others in the ocean of their teares Had, sinking, wounded the beholders' eares With exefamations: I, without a grone, Had suddenly congeal'd into a stone: There stood a statue, till the general doome; Had ruin'd time and memory with her tombe. While in my heart, which marble, yet still bled, Each lover might this epitaph have read : "Her earth lyes here below; her soul's above, This wonder speakes her vertue, and my love." TO A FRIEND, INVITING HIM TO A MEETING UPON PROMISE. MAY you drinke beare, or that adult'rate wine Which makes the zeale of Amsterdam divine, If you make breach of promise. I have now So rich a sacke, that even your selfe will bow T'adore my genius. Of this wine should Prynne Some excuse forth, and answer me, the king But y'are too full of candour: and I know Come, therefore, blest even in the Lollards' zeale, Who canst, with conscience safe, 'fore hen and veale Say grace in Latine; while I faintly sing A penitential! verse in oyle and ling. TO CASTARA, WHLBE TRUE HAPPINESSE ABIDES. CASTARA, whisper in some dead man's eare Nor lurke they in the caverns of the earth, If among these content, he thus doth prove, TO CASTARA. FORSAKE with me the Earth, my faire, Her haire abroad: as she did weare TO CASTARA, VPON THE DEATH OF A LADY. CASTARA, weepe not, tho' her tombe appeare 'Cause cloath'd in purple, can no mourner be, Is falne, how can ye stand? How can the night Show stars, when Fate puts out the daye's great light? But 'mong the faire, if there live any yet, An eagle groaning o're an infant slaine? Laid onely downe to slumber. Then forbeare TO CASTARA, BEING TO TAKE A JOURNEY. WHAT'S death more than departure? The dead go The beauteous tresses of the weeping morne, TO CASTARA, WEEPING. CASTARA! O you are too prodigall Make no returne: well plac'd calme peace might O'th' treasure of your teares; which, thus let fall, bring To the loud wars, each free a captiv'd king. Would ruine vitious Earth; be then profuse. I TO CASTARA, VPON A SIGH. HEARD a sigh, and something in my eare Of swans is like, propheticke in their death: Burnes a religious zeale. May we be lost But should you up to your blest mansion flie, Or e're tradition taught; who gives such praise TO CASTARA, AGAINST OPINION. WHY should we build, Castara, in the aire Of court applause. What can their powerfull spell Him into various formes? Nor serves their charme TO CASTARA, VPON BEAUTIE. CASTARA, see that dust, the sportive wind O empty boast of flesh! though our heires gild To mocke weake man, whom every wind of praise If so, mocke on; and tell him that his lust TO CASTARA, MELANCHOLLY. WERE but that sigh a penitentiall breath We still have land in ken; and 'cause our boat A DIALOGUE, BETWEENE ARAPHILL AND CASTARA. ARAPHILL. CASTARA, you too fondly court The silken peace with which we cover'd are: Unquiet Time may, for his sport, Up from its iron den rouse sleepy Warre. CASTARA. Then, in the language of the drum, I will instruct my yet affrighted eare: ARAPHILL. If Fate, like an unfaithfull gale, CASTARA. [show: Love shall in that tempestuous showre If on my skin the noysome skar CASTARA. In flesh may sicknesse horror move, But heavenly zeale will be by it refin'd; For then wee'd like two angels love, [feare? Without a sense; embrace each other's mind. ARAPHILL. Were it not impious to repine, 'Gainst rigid Fate I should direct my breath: That two must be, whom Heaven did joyne In such a happy one, disjoin'd by death. CASTARA. That's no divource. Then shall we see The rites in life, were types o'th' marriage state, Our souls on Earth contracted be: But they in Heaven their nuptials consumate. TO THE RIGHT HONOURALE LORD M. MY LORD, My thoughts are not so rugged, nor doth carth So farre predominate in me, that mirth a TO Lookes not as lovely as when our delight Else by the weeping magicke of my verse, First fashion's wings to adde a nimbler fight Thou hast reviv'd to triumph o're thy hearses To lazie Time : who would, to have survai’d Our varied pleasures, there have ever staid. And they were harmlesse. For obedience, If frailty yeelds to the wild lawes of sense, We shall but with a sugred venome meete: THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD P. No pleasure, if not innocent as sweet. MY LORD, And that's your choyce : who adde the title good The reverend man, by magicke of his prayer, To that of noble. For although the blood Hath charm'd so, that I and your daughter are Of Marshall, Standley, and La Pule, doth flow, Contracted into one. The holy lights With happy Brandon's, in your veines; you owe Smil'd with a cheerfull lustre on our rites, Your vertue not to them. Man builds alone And every thing presag'd full happiness O'th' ground of honour : for desert's our owne, To mutual love : if you'le the omen blesse. Be that your ayme. I'le with Castara sit Now grieve, my lord, 'tis perfected. Before l'th' shade, froin heat of businesse. While my wit Afficted seas souglit refuge on the shore Is neither big with an ambitious ayme, From the angry north wind; ere th' astonisht spring To build tall pyramids i'th'court of Fame. Heard in the ayre the feather'd people sing ; For after ages, or to win conceit Ere time had motion, or the Sunne obtain'd O'th' present, and grow in opinion great. His province o're the day, this was ordain'd. Rich in ourselves, we envy not the East Nor think in her I courted wealth or blood, Her rockes of diamonds, or her gold the West. Or more uncertain hopes: for had I stood Arabia may be happy in the death On th' highest ground of Fortune, the world knowne Of her reviving phenix : in the breath No greatnesse but what waited on my throne : Of cool Faronius, famous be the grove And she had onely had that face and mind, Of Tempe: while we in each other's love. 1, with my selfe, had th' Earth to her resign'd. For that let us be fam’d. And when of all In vertue there's an empire. And so sweete That Nature made us two, the funerall The rule is when it doth with beauty meete, Leaves but a little dust, (which then as wed, As fellow consul, that of Heaven they Even after death, shall sleepe still in one bed.) Nor Earth partake, who would her disobey. The bride and bridegroome, on the solemne day, This captiv'd me. And ere I question'd why Shall with warme zeale approach our urne, to pay I ought to love Castara, through my eye Their vowes, that Heaven should blisse so far their This soft obedience stole into my heart. To show them the faire paths to our delights. (rites, Then found Love might lend to th' quick-ey'd art Of reason yet a purer sight: for he, Tho'blind, taught her these Indies first to see, TO A TOMBE. In whose possession I at length am blest, And with my selfe at quiet, here I rest, Tyrant oʻre tyrants, thou who onely dost As all things to my power subdu'd. To me Clip the lascivious beauty without Inst : There's nought beyond this. The whole world is she. HIS MUSE SPEAKS TO HIM. Thy vowes are heard, and thy Castara's name have Is writ as faire i'th' register of Fame, Fresh in their cheeke, are strewd upon a grave. As th' ancient beauties which translated are Thou tell'st the rich, their idoll is but earth. By poets up to Peaven: each there a starre. The vajoely pleas'd, that syren-like their mirth dud though imperiall Tiber boast alone Betrays to mischiefe, and that onely he Ovid's Corinna, and to Am is knowne Dares welcome death, whose aimes at virtue be. But Petrarch's Laura; while our famous Thames Which yet more zcale doth to Castara more. Doth inurnur Sydney's Stella to bei streamese What checks me, when the tonbe perswades to Yet hast thou Severne lest, and she can bring love! As many quires of swans as they to sing The only sovereign of those waters be. Dead in lore's firmament, no starre shall shine So nubly faire, so purely chaste as thine. TO VAINE HOPE. Thou dream of inadmen, ever changing gale, Some melanchely chainber of the earth, Swell with thy wanton breath the gaudy saile (For that like Time devours whom it gave breath) Of glorious fooles! Thou guid'st them who thee Thy beauties shall entombe, while all who ere court Lov'd nobly, ofler up their sorrowes there. To rocks, to quick-sands, or some faithlesse port. But I, whose griefe no formal limits bound, Were I not mad, who, when secure at ease, Beholding the darke caverne of that ground, I might i'th' cabbin passe the raging seas, Will there immure my selfe. And thus I shall Would like a franticke ship-boy wildly baste Thy mourner be, and my owne funerall. To climbe the giddy top of th' unsafe mast? UPON THOUGHT OF AGE AND DEATH. a Ambition never to her bopes did faine (Most beauteous soule) doth in his journey faile, A greatnesse, but I really obtaine And blushing says, “ The subtlest art is fraile, In my Castara. Wer't not fondnesse then And but truth's counterfet.” Your flight doth T'imbrace the shadowes of true blisse? And when teach, My Paradise all flowers and fruits doth breed, Fair vertue hath an orbe beyond his reach. To rob a barren garden for a weed. But I grow dull with sorrow. Unkinde Fate, To play the tyrant, and subvert the state Of setled goodnesse! Who shall henceforth stand TO CASTARA. A pure example to enforme the land Of her loose riot? Who shall counterchecke HOW HAPPY, THOUGH IN AN OBSCURE PORTUNE. The wanton pride of greatnesse, and direct WERE we by Fate throwne downe below our feare, Strayed honour in the true magnificke way? Could we be poore? Or question Nature's care Whose life shall shew what triumph 'tis t'obey, In our provision? She who doth afford The loud commands of reason? And how sweet A feathered garment fit for every bird, The nuptials are, when wealth and learning meet? And onely voyce enough t expresse delight: Who will with silent piety confute She who apparels lillies in their white, Atheisticke sophistry, and by the fruite As if in that she'de teach man's duller sence, Approve religion's tree? Who'll teach his blood Wh' are highest, should be so in innocence: A virgin law, and dare be great and good ? She who in damask doth attire the rose, Who will despise bis stiles? and nobly weigh (And man t himselfe a mockery to propose, In judgment's ballance, that his honour'd clay 'Mong whom the humblest judges grow to sit) Hath no advantage by thein? Who will live She who in purple cloathes the violet: So innocently pious, as to give And to warme passion a cold martyr dye? What checks the living: know, I serve the dead. The dead, who need no monumental vaults, What can the freedome of our love enthral? With his pale ashes to intombe his faults; Castara, were we dispossest of all Whose sins beget no libels, whom the poore The gifts of Fortune: richer yet than she For bencfit, for worth, the rich adore. Can inake her slaves, wee'd in each other be. Who liv'd a solitary phænix, free Love in himself's a world. If we should have From the commerce with mischiefe, joy'd to be Amansion but in some forsaken cave, Still gazing beaven-ward, where his thoughts did Wee'd smooth misfortune, and ourselves think then Ped with the sacred fire of zealous love, [move, Retir'd like princes from the noise of men, Alone he flourisht, till the fatal houre To breath a while unflatter'd. Each wild beast, Did summon him, when gathering from each flowre That should the silence of our cell infest, Their vertuous odours, froin bis perfum'd nest With clamour, seeking prey: wee'd fancie were He took his flight to everlasting rest. Nought but an avaritious courtier. There shine, great lord, and with propitious eyes Wealth's but opinion. Who thinks others more Looke downe, and smile upon this sacrifice. Of treasures have, than we, is onely poore. TO MY WORTHY COUSIN, MR. E. C. ON THE DEATH OF IN PRAISE OF THE CITY LIFE, IN THE LONG VACATION. THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE EARL OF S. I 11Ke the green plush which your meadows weare, BRIcat saint, thy pardon, if my sadder verse | praise your pregnant fields, which duly beare Appeare in sighing o’re thy glorious hearse, Their wealthy burthen to th' industrious Bore. To envie Heaven. For fame itselfe now weares Nor do I disallow, that who are poore Griefe's livery, and onely speaks in teares. In minde and fortune, thither should retire: And pardon you, Castara, if a while But hate that be, who's warme with holy fire Your memory I banish from my stile: Of any knowledge, and 'inong us may feast When I have paid bis death the tribute dne On nectar'd wit, should turne himselfe t'a beast, Of sorrow, I'le return to love and you. And graze i'th' country. Why did Nature wrong Is there a name like Talbot, which a showre So much her paines, as to give you a tongue Can force from every eye? And hath even powre And fluent language, if converse you hold To alter Nature's course? How else should all With oxen in the stall, and sheepe i'th' fold? Runne wilde with mourning, and distracted fall? But now it's long vacation, you will say Th’illiterate vulgar, in a well-tun'd breath, The towne is empty, and who ever may Lament their losse, and learnedly chide death To th' pleasure of his country-home repaire, For its bold rape, while the sad poet's song Flies from th' infection of our London aire. Is yet unheard, as if griefe had no tongue. In this your errour. Now's the time alone Th’ amaz'd mariner having lost his way To live here, when the city dame is gone In the tempestuous desart of the sea, T'' her house at Brandford; for beyond that she Lookes up, but finds no starres. They all conspire Imagines there's no land, but Barbary, To darke themselves, t enlighten this new fire. Where lies her husband's factor. When from hence The learn'd astronomer, with daring eye, Rid is the country justice, whose non-sence Searching to tracke the spheares through which Corrupted had the language of the ione, you fie, Where he and his horse litier’d: we beginne |