294.

295.

Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made I uncreate;
Let fools thy mystic form adore,
I know thee in thy mortal state.
Wise poets, that wrapt Truth in tales,
Knew her themselves through all her veils.

Epitaph

On the Lady Mary Villiers

THE Lady Mary Villiers lies

Under this stone; with weeping eyes
The parents that first gave her birth,
And their sad friends, laid her in earth.
If any of them, Reader, were
Known unto thee, shed a tear;
Or if thyself possess a gem

As dear to thee, as this to them,
Though a stranger to this place,
Bewail in theirs thine own hard case:
For thou perhaps at thy return
May'st find thy Darling in an urn.

THIS

Another

HIS little vault, this narrow room,
Of Love and Beauty is the tomb;
The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear
Our clouded sky, lies darken'd here,
For ever set to us: by Death
Sent to enflame the World Beneath.

'Twas but a bud, yet did contain
More sweetness than shall spring again;

296.

A budding Star, that might have grown
Into a Sun when it had blown.
This hopeful Beauty did create
New life in Love's declining state;
But now his empire ends, and we
From fire and wounding darts are free;
His brand, his bow, let no man fear:
The flames, the arrows, all lie here.

JASPER MAYNE

Time

TIME is the feather'd thing,
And, whilst I praise

1604-1672

The sparklings of thy looks and call them rays,
Takes wing,

Leaving behind him as he flies
An unperceived dimness in thine eyes.
His minutes, whilst they're told,
Do make us old;

And every sand of his fleet glass,
Increasing age as it doth pass,
Insensibly sows wrinkles there
Where flowers and roses do appear.
Whilst we do speak, our fire
Doth into ice expire,

Flames turn to frost;

And ere we can

Know how our crow turns swan,
Or how a silver snow

Springs there where jet did grow,

Our fading spring is in dull winter lost.

Since then the Night hath hurl'd
Darkness, Love's shade,

Over its enemy the Day, and made
The world

Just such a blind and shapeless thing
As 'twas before light did from darkness spring,
Let us employ its treasure
And make shade pleasure:

Let's number out the hours by blisses,
And count the minutes by our kisses;
Let the heavens new motions feel
And by our embraces wheel;
And whilst we try the way

By which Love doth convey
Soul unto soul,

And mingling so

Makes them such raptures know
As makes them entranced lie
In mutual ecstasy,

Let the harmonious spheres in music roll!

WILLIAM HABINGTON

1605-1654

297. To Roses in the Bosom of Castara

E blushing virgins happy are

YE

In the chaste nunnery of her breasts—
For he'd profane so chaste a fair,

Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.

Transplanted thus how bright ye grow!
How rich a perfume do ye yield!
In some close garden cowslips so
Are sweeter than i' th' open field.

In those white cloisters live secure
From the rude blasts of wanton breath!-
Each hour more innocent and pure,
Till you shall wither into death.

Then that which living gave you room,
Your glorious sepulchre shall be.
There wants no marble for a tomb

Whose breast hath marble been to me.

298. Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam

WHEN I survey the bright

Celestial sphere;

So rich with jewels hung, that Night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:

My soul her wings doth spread
And heavenward flies,

Th' Almighty's mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.

For the bright firmament

Shoots forth no flame

So silent, but is eloquent

In speaking the Creator's name.

No unregarded star

Contracts its light

Into so small a character,

Removed far from our human sight,

But if we steadfast look

We shall discern

In it, as in some holy book,

How man may heavenly knowledge learn.

It tells the conqueror

That far-stretch'd power,

Which his proud dangers traffic for,
Is but the triumph of an hour:

That from the farthest North,
Some nation may,

Yet undiscover'd, issue forth,

And o'er his new-got conquest sway:

Some nation yet shut in

With hills of ice

May be let out to scourge his sin,
Till they shall equal him in vice.

And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have;

For as yourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.

Thus those celestial fires,

Though seeming mute,

The fallacy of our desires

:

And all the pride of life confute :

For they have watch'd since first
The World had birth:

And found sin in itself accurst,
And nothing permanent on Earth.