Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein;
But each tide does less supply,

Till they quite shrink in again:
If a flow in age appear,

'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

401.

I

Hidden Flame

FEED a flame within, which so torments me That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me: 'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,

That I had rather die than once remove it.

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel;
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me.
To be more happy I dare not aspire,

Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.

402. Song to a Fair Young Lady, going out of the Town in the Spring

ASK not the cause why sullen Spring

So long delays her flowers to bear;

Why warbling birds forget to sing,

And winter storms invert the year:
Chloris is gone; and fate provides
To make it Spring where she resides.

Chloris is gone, the cruel fair;

She cast not back a pitying eye:
But left her lover in despair

To sigh, to languish, and to die:
Ah! how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure?

Great God of Love, why hast thou made
A face that can all hearts command,
That all religions can invade,

And change the laws of every land?
Where thou hadst plac'd such power before,
Thou shouldst have made her mercy more.

When Chloris to the temple comes,
Adoring crowds before her fall;
She can restore the dead from tombs
And every life but mine recall.

I only am by Love design'd
To be the victim for mankind.

403.

404.

CHARLES WEBBE

Against Indifference

MORE love or more disdain I crave;

Sweet, be not still indifferent:

O send me quickly to my grave,

Or else afford me more content!
Or love or hate me more or less,
For love abhors all lukewarmness.

Give me a tempest if 'twill drive

Me to the place where I would be;
Or if you'll have me still alive,
Confess you will be kind to me.
Give hopes of bliss or dig my grave:
More love or more disdain I crave.

SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE

Song

c. 1678

1635-1691

LADIES, though to your conquering eyes

Love owes his chiefest victories,

And borrows those bright arms from you
With which he does the world subdue,
Yet you yourselves are not above
The empire nor the griefs of love.

Then rack not lovers with disdain,
Lest Love on you revenge their pain:
You are not free because you're fair:
The Boy did not his Mother spare.
Beauty's but an offensive dart:
It is no armour for the heart.

405. To a Lady asking him how long he would love her

IT is not, Celia, in our power

To say how long our love will last;
It may be we within this hour

May lose those joys we now do taste;
The Blessed, that immortal be,
From change in love are only free.

Then since we mortal lovers are,

Ask not how long our love will last;
But while it does, let us take care
Each minute be with pleasure past:
Were it not madness to deny
To live because we're sure to die?

406.

THOMAS TRAHERNE

News

1637?-1674

NEWS from a foreign country came

As if my treasure and my wealth lay there ;

So much it did my heart inflame, 'Twas wont to call my Soul into mine ear; Which thither went to meet

The approaching sweet,

And on the threshold stood

To entertain the unknown Good.

It hover'd there

As if 'twould leave mine ear,

And was so eager to embrace
The joyful tidings as they came,
"Twould almost leave its dwelling-place
To entertain that same.

As if the tidings were the things,
My very joys themselves, my foreign treasure-
Or else did bear them on their wings-
With so much joy they came, with so much pleasure.
My Soul stood at that gate

To recreate

Itself with bliss, and to

Be pleased with speed. A fuller view
It fain would take,

Yet journeys back would make

Unto my heart; as if 'twould fain
Go out to meet, yet stay within
To fit a place to entertain

And bring the tidings in.

What sacred instinct did inspire
My soul in childhood with a hope so strong?
What secret force moved my desire
To expect my joys beyond the seas, so young?
Felicity I knew

Was out of view,

And being here alone,

I saw that happiness was gone

From me! For this

I thirsted absent bliss,

And thought that sure beyond the seas,
Or else in something near at hand—
I knew not yet-since naught did please
I knew my Bliss did stand.