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A LOV‘E R’S COMPLAINT.
From off a bill wbose concave womb re-worded These often bath'd she in her flux ve eyes,
And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear;
What unapproved witness dost thou bear! Ere long espy'd a fickle maid full pale,
Ink would bave seem'd more black and damned hera Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. Big discontent so breaking their contents. Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
A reverend man that graz'd his cattle nigh, Which fortified her visage from the sun,
(Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw Of court, of city, and had let go by The carcase of a beauty spent and done.
The swiftest hours,) observed as they flew; Time bad not scythed all that youth begun, Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, And, privileged by age, desires to know Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age. In brief, the grounds and motives of her woc. Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, So slides he down upon his grained bat, Which on it had conceited characters,
And comely-distant sits he by her side; Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine
When he again desires her, being sat, That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,
Her grievance with his hearing to divide : And often reading what contents it bears;
If that from him there may be aught apply'd, As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe,
Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, In clamours of all size, both high and low. 'Tis promis’d in the charity of age. Sometimes her level'd eyes their carriage ride, Father, she says, though in me you behold As they did battery to the spheres intend;
The injury of many a blasting hour, Sometime diverted their poor balls are ty’d Let it not tell your judgment I am old; To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power : Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
I might as yet have been a spreading flower, To every place at once, and no where fix'd, Fresh to myself, if I had self-apply'd The mind and sight distractly commix'd.
Love to myself, and to no lore beside. Her hair, nor loose, por ty'd in formal plat, But woe is me! too early I attended Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride; A youthful suit (it was to gain my grace) For some, untuck’d, descended her sheav'd bat, of one by nature's outwards so commended, Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside ; That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face: Some in her threaden fillet still did bide,
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, And when in his fair parts she did abide, Though slackly braided in loose negligence. She was new lodg'd, and newly deifed. A thousand favours from a maund she drew
His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; Of amber, crystal, and of bedded jet,
And every light occasion of the wind Which one by one she in a river threw,
Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls Upon whose weeping margent she was set; What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find: Like usury, applying wet to wet,
Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind; Or monarch's hands, that let not bounty fall For on his visage was in little drawn, Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. What largeness thinks in paradise was sawn. of folded schedules had she many a one,
Small shew of man was yet upon his chin; Which she perus’d, sigh’d, tore, and gave the flood; His phænix down began but to appear, Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone, Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; Whose bare out-brag'd the web it seem'd to wear Found yet more letters sadìy pen'd in blood, Yet shew'd his visage by that cost most dear; With sleided silk feat and affectedly
And nice affections wavering stood in doubt Enswath'd, and seal'd to curious secrecy.
| If best 'twere as it was, or best without.
His qualities were beauteous as his form,
Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.
The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
Though reason weep, and cry-it is thy last. Well could he ride, and often men would say, For further I could say, this man's untrue, That horse his mettle from his rider takes :
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,
Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he saw how deceits were gilded in bis smiling; makes !
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; Aud controversy hence a question takes,
Thought, characters, and words, merely but art, Whether the horse by him became his deed, And bastards of his foul adulterate heart. Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.
And long upon these terms I held my city, But quickly on this side the verdict went; Till thus hegan besiege me: “Gentle maid, His real habitude gave life and grace
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity To appertainings and to ornament,
And be not of my holy vows afraid : Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case :
That's to you sworn, to none was ever said; All aids themselves made fairer by their place; For feasts of love I have been call'd unto, Came for additions, yet their purpos'd trim Till now did ne'er in vite, nor never vow. Piec'd not his grace, but were all grac'd by him.
All my offences that abroad you see, So on the tip of his subduing tongue
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; All kind of arguments and question deep,
Love made them not: with acture they may be, All replication prompt, and reason strong,
Where neither party is nor true nor kind: For his advantage still did wake and sleep They sought their shame that so their shamo did To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
find; He nad the dialect and different skill,
And so much less of shame in me remains, Catching all passions in his craft of will;
By how much of me their reproach contains. That he did in the general bosom reign
Among the many that mine eges have seen, Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted, Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm'd, To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain Or my affection put to the smallest teen, In personal duty, following where he haunted :
Or any of my leisures ever charm'd: Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted; Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harm'd; And dialogu'd from him what he would say, Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey. And reign'd, commanding in his monarchy. Many there were that did his picture get,
Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me, To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; Of paled pearls, and rubies red as blood; Like fools that in the imagination set
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me The goodly objects which abroad they find
Of grief and blushes, aptly understood Of lands and mansions, their's in thought assign'd; In Bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood; And labouring in more pleasures to bestow them, Effects of terror and dear modesty, Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them. Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly. So many have, that never touch'd his hand, And lo! behold these talents of their hair, Sweetly suppos'd them mistress of his beart. With twisted metal amorously impleach'd, My woeful self, that did in freedom stand,
I have receiv'd from many a several fair, Aod was my own fee-simple, (not in part,) (Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech'd,) What with his art in youth, and youth in art, With the annexions of fair gems enrich'd, Threw my affections in his charmed power, And deep-brain'd sonnets, that did amplify Reserv'd the stalk, and gave him all my flower. Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality. Yet did I not, as some my equals did,
The diamond; why 'twas beautiful and hard, Demand of him, nor being desired, yielded ; Whereto his invis'd properties did tend; Finding myself in honour so forbid,
The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard With safest distance I mine honour shielded : Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; Experience for me many bulwarks builded
The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil With objects manifold; each several stone, or this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.
With wit well blazon'd, smild or made some moan. But ah! who ever shunn'd by precedent
Lo! all these trophies of affections hot, The destin'd ill she must herself assay ?
Of pensir'd and subdued desires the tender, Or forc'd examples, 'gainst her own content, Nature hath charg'd me that I hoard them not, To put the by-pass'd perils in her way?
But yield them up where I myself must render, Counsel may stop a while what will not stay; That is, to you, my origin and ender : For when we rage, advice is often seen
For these, of force, must your oblations be, By blunting us to make our wits more keen
Since I their altar, you enpatron me.
O then advance of yours that phraseless hand, Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine Take all these similes to your own command, | And supplicant their sighs to you extend, Hallow'd with sighs that burning lungs did r2.se ; | To leave the battery that you make 'gainst mine, What me your minister, for you obeys,
| Lending soft audience to my sweet design, Works under you; and to your audit comes And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath Their distract parcels in combined sums.
That shall prefer and undertake my troth.” Lo! this device was sent me from a nun,
This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, Or sister sanctified, of holiest note;
Whose sights till then were leveld on my face Which late ner noble suit in court did shun, Each cheek a river running from a fount Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; With brinish current downward flow'd apace : For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, o, how the channel to the stream gave grace! But kept cold distance, and did thence remove, Who, glaz'd with crystal, gave the glowing roses To spend her living in eternal love
That flame through water which their hue incloses. But O, my sweet, what labour is't to leave
O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies The thing we have not, mastering what not strives? In the small orb of one particular tear ? Paling the place which did no form receive;- But with the inundation of the eyes Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves :
What rocky heart to water will not wear? She that her fame so to herself contrives,
What breast so cold that is not warmed here? The scars of battle scapeth by the fight,
O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, And makes her absence valiant dot her might.
Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath! O pardon me, in that my boast is true; The accident which brought me to her eye,
For lo! his passion, but an art of craft,
Even there resolv'd my reason into tears;
There my white stole of chastity I daff'd,
Shook off my sober guards and civil fears ; Not to be tempted, would she be immur'd,
Appear to him, as he to me appears, And now, to tempt all, liberty procur'd.
All melting; though our drops this difference bore,
His poison'd me, and mine did him restore.
In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves, Must for your victory us all congest,
In either's aptness, as it best deceives As compound love to physic your cold breast.
To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes,
Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shews.
That not a heart which in his level came,
Shewing fair nature is both kind and tame; O most potential love ! vow, bond, nor space, And veil'd in them, did win whom he would maim, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, Against the thing he sought he would exclaim: For thou art all, and all things else are thine. When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury,
He preach'd pure maid, and prais'd cold chastity. When thou impressest, what are precepts worth Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, Thus merely with the garment of a Grace How coldly those impediments stand forth The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd; Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame? That the unexperienc'd gave the tempter place, Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sepse, Which, like a cherubin, above them hoverd. 'gainst shame;
Who, young and simple, would not be so lover'd?
What I should do again for such a sake.
THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM.
Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god embrac'd me Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook,
And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms; With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
Even thus, quoth she, the warlike god unlac'd me; Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
As if the boy should use like loving charms : Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. Even thus, quoth she, be seized on my lips, She told him stories to delight his ear;
And with her lips on his did act the seizure ; She skew'd him favours to allure his eye;
And as she fetched breath, away he skips, To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there :
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay, But whether unripe years did want conceit,
To kiss and clip me till I run away! Or he refus'd to take her figur'd proffer,
V. The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
Crabbed age and youth But smile and jest at every gentle offer:
Cannot live together; Then fell she on her back, fáir queen, and toward;
Youth is full of pleasance, He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward !
Age is full of care:
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave, And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for sbade,
Age like winter bare. When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
Youth is full of sport, A longing tarriance for Adonis made,
Age's breath is short, Under an osier growing by a brook,
Youth is nimble, age is lame; A brook, where Adon us’d to cool his spleen :
Youth is hot and bold, Hot was the day; she hotter that did look
Age is weak and cold; For his approach, that often there had been.
Youth is wild, and age is tame. Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
Age, I do abhor thee, And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim; Youth, I do adore thee; The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
O, my love, my love is young; Yet not so wistly, as this queen on him :
Age, I do defy thee; He spying her, bounc'd in, whereas he stood
0, sweet shepherd, hie thee, O Jove, quoth she, why was not I a flood ?
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck’d, soon faded, Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love,
Pluck'd in the bud, and faded in the spring! Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded ! For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild;
Fair creature, kill'd toc soon by death's sharp Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill :
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. She, silly, queen, with more than love's good will,
I weep for thee, and yet no cause have; Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds;
For why ? thou left'st me nothing in thy will. Once, quoth she, did I see a fair sweet youth,
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave; Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar,
For why? I craved nothing of thee still :
O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee :
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.
Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle,
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty; Venus with young Adonis sitting by her,
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle, Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him;
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty: She told the youngling how god Mars did try her, A lily pale, with damask die to grace her, And as he fell to her so fell she to him.
None fairer, nor none falser to doface her.
Her lips to mine how often hath she join'd, Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether How many tales to please me hath she coin'd, 'Tmay be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing ! "Tmay be, again to make me wander thither;
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise Was this a covei, or a lecher whether ?
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest. Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. Nyt da.irg trust the office of mine eyes, VIII.
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark; Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
For she doth welcome day-light with her ditty, Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty; A woman forswore; but I will prove,
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight; Thou teing a goddess, I forswore not thee:
Sorrow chang'd to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow; My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
For why ? she sighed, and bade me come to-morrow. Thy grace being gain’d, cures all disgrace in me. Were I with her, the night would post too soon ; My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
But now are minutes added to the hours; Then thou fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, To spite me now, each minute seems a moon; Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is :
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers ! It broken, then it is no fault of mine.
Pack night, peep day, good day, of night now borIf by me broke, what fool is not so wise To break an oath to win a paradise ?
Short night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow. IX.
XIII. If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love ?
(), never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd : It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant That liked of her mæster as well as well might be, prove;
(bow'd. Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest eye Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Her fancy fell a turning: Where all those pleasures live, that art can com- Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love prehend.
did fight, If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant Well learned is that tongue that well can thee
knight : commend;
To put in practice either, alas it was a spite All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; Unto the silly damsel. Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts ad- But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain,
mire: Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his That nothing could be used, to turn them both to dreadful thunder,
gain, Which (not to anger bent) is music and sweet fire. Por of the two the trusty knight was wounded with
disdain : Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, To sing the heavens' praise with such an earthly Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day;
Alas, she could not help it!
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid
away; Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good,
Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay; A shining gloss, that fadeth suddenly;
For now my song is ended.
On a day (alack the day!)
Love, whose month was ever May, And as good lost are seld or never found,
Spy'd a blossom passing fair, As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
Playing in the wanton air : As flowers dead, lie wither'd on the ground,
Through the velvet leaves the wind, As broken glass no cement can redress,
All unseen, 'gan passage find; So beauty blemish'd once, for ever's lost,
That the lover, sick to death, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
Wish'd bimself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
She bade good night, that kept my rest away; Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : And daffod me to a cabin hang'd with care,
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; To descant on the doubts of my decay.
Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow;
Do not call it sin in me, Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.
That I am forsworn for thes;