And looking back, at that short space Before I taught my tongue to wound O how I long to travel back, H. Vaughan XCIX TO MR. LAWRENCE Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son, From the hard season gaining? Time will run What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? C J. Milton TO CYRIACK SKINNER Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench And what the Swede intend, and what the French, CI A HYMN IN PRAISE OF NEPTUNE Of Neptune's empire let us sing, At whose command the waves obey; Wherein they dwell; And every sea-god pays a gem The Tritons dancing in a ring, The sea-nymphs chaunt their accents shrill, With their sweet voice, Make every echoing rock reply, T. Campion CII HYMN TO DIANA Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Earth, let not thy envious shade Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Lay thy bow of pearl apart And thy crystal-shining quiver; Five unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever : B. Jonson G Whoe'er she be, That not impossible She That shall command my heart and me; Where'er she lie, Lock'd up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny: Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate stand forth, And teach her fair steps tread our earth; Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine : -Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye call'd, my absent kisses. I wish her beauty That owes not all its duty To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie : Something more than Taffata or tissue can, Or rampant feather, or rich fan. A face that's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone commend the rest : A face made up Out of no other shop Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. Sidneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers Whate'er delight Can make day's forehead bright Soft silken hours, Open suns, shady bowers; 'Bove all, nothing within that lowers. Days, that need borrow No part of their good morrow Days, that in spite Of darkness, by the light Of a clear mind are day all night. Life, that dares send A challenge to his end, And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend.' I wish her store Of worth may leave her poor Of wishes; and I wish- -no more. Now, if Time knows That Her, whose radiant brows Her that dares be What these lines wish to see: I seek no further, it is She. 'Tis She, and here Lo! I unclothe and clear My wishes' cloudy character. Such worth as this is Shall fix my flying wishes, And determine them to kisses. Let her full glory, My fancies, fly before ye; Be ye my fictions:-but her story. R. Crashaw |