To the World.The Perfection of Love.You who are earth, and cannot riseAbove your sence,Boasting the envyed wealth which lyesBright in your Mistris lips or eyes,Betray a pittyed eloquence.That which doth joyne our soules, so lightAnd quicke doth move.That like the Eagle in his flight,It doth transcend all humane sight,Lost in the element of Love.You Poets reach not this, who singThe praise of dustBut kneaded, when by theft you bringThe rose and Lilly from the SpringT' adorne the wrinckled face of lust.When we speake Love, nor art, nor witWe glosse upon:Our soules engender, and begetIdaas, which you counterfeitIn your dullpropagation.While Time, seven ages shall disperse,Wee'le talke of Love,And when our tongues hold no commerse.Our thoughts shall mutually converse.And yet the blood no rebell prove.And though we be of severall kindFit for offence:Yet are we so by Love refin'd,From impure drosse we are all mind.Death could not more have conquer'd sence.How suddenly those flames expireWhich scorch our clay?Prometheas-like when we steale fireFrom heaven 'tis endlesse and intireIt may know age, but not decay.To theWinter.Why dost thou looke so pale, decrepit man?Why doe thy cheeks curle like the Ocean,Into such furrowes? Why dost thou appeareSo shaking, like an ague to the yeare?The Sunne is gone. But yetCastarastayes,And will adde stature to thy Pigmy dayes,Warme moysture to thy veynes: her smile can bringThee the sweet youth, and beauty of the Spring.Hence with thy palsie then, and on thy headWeare flowrie chaplets as a bridegroome ledTo th' holy Fane. Banish thy aged ruth,That Virgins may admire and court thy youth.And the approaching Sunne when she shall findeA Spring without him, fall, since uselesse, blinde.Upon a visit toCastarain the Night.T'was Night: whenPhœbeguided by thy rayes,Chaste as my zeale, with incence of her praise,I humbly crept to myCastara'sshrine.But oh my fond mistake! for there did shineA noone of beauty, with such lustre crown'd,As shewd 'mong th' impious onely night is found.It was her eyes which like two Diamonds shin'd,Brightest ith' dark. Like which could th' Indian find,But one among his rocks, he would out vieIn brightnesse all the Diamonds of the Skie.But when her lips did ope, the Phœnix nestBreath'd forth her odours; where mightJoveonce feast,Hee'd loath his heavenly surfets: if we dareAffirme,Jovehath a heaven without my faire.ToCastara,Of the chastity of his Love.Why would you blushCastara, when the nameOf love you heare? Who never felt his flame,Ith' shade of melancholly night doth stray,A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day.Let's chastly loveCastara, and not soyleThis Virgin lampe, by powring in the oyleOf impure thoughts. O let us sympathize,And onely talke ith' language of our eyes,Like two starres in conjunction. But bewareLest th' Angels who of love compacted are,Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire,Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their quire.Yet take thy flight: on earth for surely weSo joyn'd, in heaven cannot divided be.The Description ofCastara.Like the Violet which aloneProspers in some happy shade;MyCastaralives unknowne,To no looser eye betray'd.For shee's to her selfe untrue,Who delights ith' publicke view.Such is her beauty, as no artsHave enricht with borrowed grace.Her high birth no pride imparts,For she blushes in her place.Folly boasts a glorious blood,She is noblest being good.Cautious she knew never yetWhat a wanton courtship meant:Not speaks loud to boast her wit,In her silence eloquent.Of her selfe survey she takes,But 'tweene men no difference makes.She obeyes with speedy willHer grave Parents wise commands.And so innocent, that ill,She nor acts, nor understands.Womens feete runne still astray.If once to ill they know the way.She sailes by that rocke, the Court,Where oft honour splits her mast:And retir'dnesse thinks the port,Where her fame may anchor cast.Vertue safely cannot sit,Where vice is enthron'd for wit.She holds that dayes pleasure best.Where sinne waits not on delight.Without maske, or ball, or feast,Sweetly spends a winters night.O're that darknesse, whence is thrust,Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust.She her throne makes reason climbe,While wild passions captive lie.And each article of time,Her pure thoughts to heaven flie:All her vowes religious be,And her love she vowes to me.FINIS.
To the World.The Perfection of Love.You who are earth, and cannot riseAbove your sence,Boasting the envyed wealth which lyesBright in your Mistris lips or eyes,Betray a pittyed eloquence.That which doth joyne our soules, so lightAnd quicke doth move.That like the Eagle in his flight,It doth transcend all humane sight,Lost in the element of Love.You Poets reach not this, who singThe praise of dustBut kneaded, when by theft you bringThe rose and Lilly from the SpringT' adorne the wrinckled face of lust.When we speake Love, nor art, nor witWe glosse upon:Our soules engender, and begetIdaas, which you counterfeitIn your dullpropagation.While Time, seven ages shall disperse,Wee'le talke of Love,And when our tongues hold no commerse.Our thoughts shall mutually converse.And yet the blood no rebell prove.And though we be of severall kindFit for offence:Yet are we so by Love refin'd,From impure drosse we are all mind.Death could not more have conquer'd sence.How suddenly those flames expireWhich scorch our clay?Prometheas-like when we steale fireFrom heaven 'tis endlesse and intireIt may know age, but not decay.
To the World.The Perfection of Love.You who are earth, and cannot riseAbove your sence,Boasting the envyed wealth which lyesBright in your Mistris lips or eyes,Betray a pittyed eloquence.That which doth joyne our soules, so lightAnd quicke doth move.That like the Eagle in his flight,It doth transcend all humane sight,Lost in the element of Love.You Poets reach not this, who singThe praise of dustBut kneaded, when by theft you bringThe rose and Lilly from the SpringT' adorne the wrinckled face of lust.When we speake Love, nor art, nor witWe glosse upon:Our soules engender, and begetIdaas, which you counterfeitIn your dullpropagation.While Time, seven ages shall disperse,Wee'le talke of Love,And when our tongues hold no commerse.Our thoughts shall mutually converse.And yet the blood no rebell prove.And though we be of severall kindFit for offence:Yet are we so by Love refin'd,From impure drosse we are all mind.Death could not more have conquer'd sence.How suddenly those flames expireWhich scorch our clay?Prometheas-like when we steale fireFrom heaven 'tis endlesse and intireIt may know age, but not decay.
You who are earth, and cannot riseAbove your sence,Boasting the envyed wealth which lyesBright in your Mistris lips or eyes,Betray a pittyed eloquence.
You who are earth, and cannot rise
Above your sence,
Boasting the envyed wealth which lyes
Bright in your Mistris lips or eyes,
Betray a pittyed eloquence.
That which doth joyne our soules, so lightAnd quicke doth move.That like the Eagle in his flight,It doth transcend all humane sight,Lost in the element of Love.
That which doth joyne our soules, so light
And quicke doth move.
That like the Eagle in his flight,
It doth transcend all humane sight,
Lost in the element of Love.
You Poets reach not this, who singThe praise of dustBut kneaded, when by theft you bringThe rose and Lilly from the SpringT' adorne the wrinckled face of lust.
You Poets reach not this, who sing
The praise of dust
But kneaded, when by theft you bring
The rose and Lilly from the Spring
T' adorne the wrinckled face of lust.
When we speake Love, nor art, nor witWe glosse upon:Our soules engender, and begetIdaas, which you counterfeitIn your dullpropagation.
When we speake Love, nor art, nor wit
We glosse upon:
Our soules engender, and beget
Idaas, which you counterfeit
In your dullpropagation.
While Time, seven ages shall disperse,Wee'le talke of Love,And when our tongues hold no commerse.Our thoughts shall mutually converse.And yet the blood no rebell prove.
While Time, seven ages shall disperse,
Wee'le talke of Love,
And when our tongues hold no commerse.
Our thoughts shall mutually converse.
And yet the blood no rebell prove.
And though we be of severall kindFit for offence:Yet are we so by Love refin'd,From impure drosse we are all mind.Death could not more have conquer'd sence.
And though we be of severall kind
Fit for offence:
Yet are we so by Love refin'd,
From impure drosse we are all mind.
Death could not more have conquer'd sence.
How suddenly those flames expireWhich scorch our clay?Prometheas-like when we steale fireFrom heaven 'tis endlesse and intireIt may know age, but not decay.
How suddenly those flames expire
Which scorch our clay?
Prometheas-like when we steale fire
From heaven 'tis endlesse and intire
It may know age, but not decay.
To theWinter.Why dost thou looke so pale, decrepit man?Why doe thy cheeks curle like the Ocean,Into such furrowes? Why dost thou appeareSo shaking, like an ague to the yeare?The Sunne is gone. But yetCastarastayes,And will adde stature to thy Pigmy dayes,Warme moysture to thy veynes: her smile can bringThee the sweet youth, and beauty of the Spring.Hence with thy palsie then, and on thy headWeare flowrie chaplets as a bridegroome ledTo th' holy Fane. Banish thy aged ruth,That Virgins may admire and court thy youth.And the approaching Sunne when she shall findeA Spring without him, fall, since uselesse, blinde.
To theWinter.Why dost thou looke so pale, decrepit man?Why doe thy cheeks curle like the Ocean,Into such furrowes? Why dost thou appeareSo shaking, like an ague to the yeare?The Sunne is gone. But yetCastarastayes,And will adde stature to thy Pigmy dayes,Warme moysture to thy veynes: her smile can bringThee the sweet youth, and beauty of the Spring.Hence with thy palsie then, and on thy headWeare flowrie chaplets as a bridegroome ledTo th' holy Fane. Banish thy aged ruth,That Virgins may admire and court thy youth.And the approaching Sunne when she shall findeA Spring without him, fall, since uselesse, blinde.
Why dost thou looke so pale, decrepit man?Why doe thy cheeks curle like the Ocean,Into such furrowes? Why dost thou appeareSo shaking, like an ague to the yeare?The Sunne is gone. But yetCastarastayes,And will adde stature to thy Pigmy dayes,Warme moysture to thy veynes: her smile can bringThee the sweet youth, and beauty of the Spring.Hence with thy palsie then, and on thy headWeare flowrie chaplets as a bridegroome ledTo th' holy Fane. Banish thy aged ruth,That Virgins may admire and court thy youth.And the approaching Sunne when she shall findeA Spring without him, fall, since uselesse, blinde.
Why dost thou looke so pale, decrepit man?
Why doe thy cheeks curle like the Ocean,
Into such furrowes? Why dost thou appeare
So shaking, like an ague to the yeare?
The Sunne is gone. But yetCastarastayes,
And will adde stature to thy Pigmy dayes,
Warme moysture to thy veynes: her smile can bring
Thee the sweet youth, and beauty of the Spring.
Hence with thy palsie then, and on thy head
Weare flowrie chaplets as a bridegroome led
To th' holy Fane. Banish thy aged ruth,
That Virgins may admire and court thy youth.
And the approaching Sunne when she shall finde
A Spring without him, fall, since uselesse, blinde.
Upon a visit toCastarain the Night.T'was Night: whenPhœbeguided by thy rayes,Chaste as my zeale, with incence of her praise,I humbly crept to myCastara'sshrine.But oh my fond mistake! for there did shineA noone of beauty, with such lustre crown'd,As shewd 'mong th' impious onely night is found.It was her eyes which like two Diamonds shin'd,Brightest ith' dark. Like which could th' Indian find,But one among his rocks, he would out vieIn brightnesse all the Diamonds of the Skie.But when her lips did ope, the Phœnix nestBreath'd forth her odours; where mightJoveonce feast,Hee'd loath his heavenly surfets: if we dareAffirme,Jovehath a heaven without my faire.
Upon a visit toCastarain the Night.T'was Night: whenPhœbeguided by thy rayes,Chaste as my zeale, with incence of her praise,I humbly crept to myCastara'sshrine.But oh my fond mistake! for there did shineA noone of beauty, with such lustre crown'd,As shewd 'mong th' impious onely night is found.It was her eyes which like two Diamonds shin'd,Brightest ith' dark. Like which could th' Indian find,But one among his rocks, he would out vieIn brightnesse all the Diamonds of the Skie.But when her lips did ope, the Phœnix nestBreath'd forth her odours; where mightJoveonce feast,Hee'd loath his heavenly surfets: if we dareAffirme,Jovehath a heaven without my faire.
T'was Night: whenPhœbeguided by thy rayes,Chaste as my zeale, with incence of her praise,I humbly crept to myCastara'sshrine.But oh my fond mistake! for there did shineA noone of beauty, with such lustre crown'd,As shewd 'mong th' impious onely night is found.It was her eyes which like two Diamonds shin'd,Brightest ith' dark. Like which could th' Indian find,But one among his rocks, he would out vieIn brightnesse all the Diamonds of the Skie.But when her lips did ope, the Phœnix nestBreath'd forth her odours; where mightJoveonce feast,Hee'd loath his heavenly surfets: if we dareAffirme,Jovehath a heaven without my faire.
T'was Night: whenPhœbeguided by thy rayes,
Chaste as my zeale, with incence of her praise,
I humbly crept to myCastara'sshrine.
But oh my fond mistake! for there did shine
A noone of beauty, with such lustre crown'd,
As shewd 'mong th' impious onely night is found.
It was her eyes which like two Diamonds shin'd,
Brightest ith' dark. Like which could th' Indian find,
But one among his rocks, he would out vie
In brightnesse all the Diamonds of the Skie.
But when her lips did ope, the Phœnix nest
Breath'd forth her odours; where mightJoveonce feast,
Hee'd loath his heavenly surfets: if we dare
Affirme,Jovehath a heaven without my faire.
ToCastara,Of the chastity of his Love.Why would you blushCastara, when the nameOf love you heare? Who never felt his flame,Ith' shade of melancholly night doth stray,A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day.Let's chastly loveCastara, and not soyleThis Virgin lampe, by powring in the oyleOf impure thoughts. O let us sympathize,And onely talke ith' language of our eyes,Like two starres in conjunction. But bewareLest th' Angels who of love compacted are,Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire,Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their quire.Yet take thy flight: on earth for surely weSo joyn'd, in heaven cannot divided be.
ToCastara,Of the chastity of his Love.Why would you blushCastara, when the nameOf love you heare? Who never felt his flame,Ith' shade of melancholly night doth stray,A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day.Let's chastly loveCastara, and not soyleThis Virgin lampe, by powring in the oyleOf impure thoughts. O let us sympathize,And onely talke ith' language of our eyes,Like two starres in conjunction. But bewareLest th' Angels who of love compacted are,Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire,Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their quire.Yet take thy flight: on earth for surely weSo joyn'd, in heaven cannot divided be.
Why would you blushCastara, when the nameOf love you heare? Who never felt his flame,Ith' shade of melancholly night doth stray,A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day.Let's chastly loveCastara, and not soyleThis Virgin lampe, by powring in the oyleOf impure thoughts. O let us sympathize,And onely talke ith' language of our eyes,Like two starres in conjunction. But bewareLest th' Angels who of love compacted are,Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire,Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their quire.Yet take thy flight: on earth for surely weSo joyn'd, in heaven cannot divided be.
Why would you blushCastara, when the name
Of love you heare? Who never felt his flame,
Ith' shade of melancholly night doth stray,
A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day.
Let's chastly loveCastara, and not soyle
This Virgin lampe, by powring in the oyle
Of impure thoughts. O let us sympathize,
And onely talke ith' language of our eyes,
Like two starres in conjunction. But beware
Lest th' Angels who of love compacted are,
Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire,
Should snatch thee hence, to joyne thee to their quire.
Yet take thy flight: on earth for surely we
So joyn'd, in heaven cannot divided be.
The Description ofCastara.Like the Violet which aloneProspers in some happy shade;MyCastaralives unknowne,To no looser eye betray'd.For shee's to her selfe untrue,Who delights ith' publicke view.Such is her beauty, as no artsHave enricht with borrowed grace.Her high birth no pride imparts,For she blushes in her place.Folly boasts a glorious blood,She is noblest being good.Cautious she knew never yetWhat a wanton courtship meant:Not speaks loud to boast her wit,In her silence eloquent.Of her selfe survey she takes,But 'tweene men no difference makes.She obeyes with speedy willHer grave Parents wise commands.And so innocent, that ill,She nor acts, nor understands.Womens feete runne still astray.If once to ill they know the way.She sailes by that rocke, the Court,Where oft honour splits her mast:And retir'dnesse thinks the port,Where her fame may anchor cast.Vertue safely cannot sit,Where vice is enthron'd for wit.She holds that dayes pleasure best.Where sinne waits not on delight.Without maske, or ball, or feast,Sweetly spends a winters night.O're that darknesse, whence is thrust,Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust.She her throne makes reason climbe,While wild passions captive lie.And each article of time,Her pure thoughts to heaven flie:All her vowes religious be,And her love she vowes to me.
The Description ofCastara.Like the Violet which aloneProspers in some happy shade;MyCastaralives unknowne,To no looser eye betray'd.For shee's to her selfe untrue,Who delights ith' publicke view.Such is her beauty, as no artsHave enricht with borrowed grace.Her high birth no pride imparts,For she blushes in her place.Folly boasts a glorious blood,She is noblest being good.Cautious she knew never yetWhat a wanton courtship meant:Not speaks loud to boast her wit,In her silence eloquent.Of her selfe survey she takes,But 'tweene men no difference makes.She obeyes with speedy willHer grave Parents wise commands.And so innocent, that ill,She nor acts, nor understands.Womens feete runne still astray.If once to ill they know the way.She sailes by that rocke, the Court,Where oft honour splits her mast:And retir'dnesse thinks the port,Where her fame may anchor cast.Vertue safely cannot sit,Where vice is enthron'd for wit.She holds that dayes pleasure best.Where sinne waits not on delight.Without maske, or ball, or feast,Sweetly spends a winters night.O're that darknesse, whence is thrust,Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust.She her throne makes reason climbe,While wild passions captive lie.And each article of time,Her pure thoughts to heaven flie:All her vowes religious be,And her love she vowes to me.
Like the Violet which aloneProspers in some happy shade;MyCastaralives unknowne,To no looser eye betray'd.For shee's to her selfe untrue,Who delights ith' publicke view.
Like the Violet which alone
Prospers in some happy shade;
MyCastaralives unknowne,
To no looser eye betray'd.
For shee's to her selfe untrue,
Who delights ith' publicke view.
Such is her beauty, as no artsHave enricht with borrowed grace.Her high birth no pride imparts,For she blushes in her place.Folly boasts a glorious blood,She is noblest being good.
Such is her beauty, as no arts
Have enricht with borrowed grace.
Her high birth no pride imparts,
For she blushes in her place.
Folly boasts a glorious blood,
She is noblest being good.
Cautious she knew never yetWhat a wanton courtship meant:Not speaks loud to boast her wit,In her silence eloquent.Of her selfe survey she takes,But 'tweene men no difference makes.
Cautious she knew never yet
What a wanton courtship meant:
Not speaks loud to boast her wit,
In her silence eloquent.
Of her selfe survey she takes,
But 'tweene men no difference makes.
She obeyes with speedy willHer grave Parents wise commands.And so innocent, that ill,She nor acts, nor understands.Womens feete runne still astray.If once to ill they know the way.
She obeyes with speedy will
Her grave Parents wise commands.
And so innocent, that ill,
She nor acts, nor understands.
Womens feete runne still astray.
If once to ill they know the way.
She sailes by that rocke, the Court,Where oft honour splits her mast:And retir'dnesse thinks the port,Where her fame may anchor cast.Vertue safely cannot sit,Where vice is enthron'd for wit.
She sailes by that rocke, the Court,
Where oft honour splits her mast:
And retir'dnesse thinks the port,
Where her fame may anchor cast.
Vertue safely cannot sit,
Where vice is enthron'd for wit.
She holds that dayes pleasure best.Where sinne waits not on delight.Without maske, or ball, or feast,Sweetly spends a winters night.O're that darknesse, whence is thrust,Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust.
She holds that dayes pleasure best.
Where sinne waits not on delight.
Without maske, or ball, or feast,
Sweetly spends a winters night.
O're that darknesse, whence is thrust,
Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust.
She her throne makes reason climbe,While wild passions captive lie.And each article of time,Her pure thoughts to heaven flie:All her vowes religious be,And her love she vowes to me.
She her throne makes reason climbe,
While wild passions captive lie.
And each article of time,
Her pure thoughts to heaven flie:
All her vowes religious be,
And her love she vowes to me.
FINIS.