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10

James Sbirley

1596-1667

A DIRGE

(From The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses, 1659)

The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;

Death lays his icy hand on kings:

Sceptre and crown

Must tumble down,

And in the dust be equal made

With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late

They stoop to fate,

15 And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, poor captives, creep to death.

20

The garlands wither on your brow,

Then boast no more your mighty deeds;

Upon Death's purple altar now

See, where the victor-victim bleeds:
Your heads must come

To the cold tomb,

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.

Thomas Carew

1589-1639

DISDAIN RETURNED

(Printed, without concluding stanza, in Porter's Madrigalles and Ayres, 1632)

He that loves a rosy cheek,

Or a coral lip admires;

Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires,

5 As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

10

But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts, with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires;
Where these art not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.

No tears, Celia, now shall win,
My resolved heart to return;

15 I have searched thy soul within

And find nought but pride and scorn;
I have learned thy arts, and now

Can disdain as much as thou!

Sir John Suckling

1609-1641

ORSAMES' SONG.

(From Aglaura, acted 1637)

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?

Prithee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?

5 Prithee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prithee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?

10 Prithee, why so mute?

15

Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move:
This cannot take her.

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her:

The devil take her!

Richard Lovelace

1618-1658

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS

(From Lucasta, 1649)

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

5 True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field,

10

And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you, too, shall adore,-

I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.

TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON

(From the same)

When Love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates;

5 When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fettered to her eye,

10

The birds that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.

When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,

Our careless heads with roses bound,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep
When healths and draughts go free,
15 Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.

20

When, like committed linnets, I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty,
And glories of my King;

When I shall voice aloud, how good
He is, how great should be,
Enlarged winds that curl the flood
Know no such liberty.

25 Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;

30

If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

Robert Herrick

1591-1674

ARGUMENT TO HESPERIDES

(From Hesperides, 1648)

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
Of April, May, of June and July-flowers;

I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes;
5 I write of youth, of love, and have access
By these to sing of cleanly wantonness;

I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece
Of balm, of oil, of spice and ambergris;
I sing of times trans-shifting, and I write
10 How roses first came red and lilies white;
I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
The Court of Mab, and of the fairy king;
I write of hell; I sing, (and ever shall)
Of heaven, and hope to have it after all.

5

CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYING
(From the same)

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree.