The Dream.

I yield, dear enemy, nor knowHow to resist so fair a foe!Who would not thy soft yoke sustain,And bow beneath thy easy chain,That with a bondage bless'd might be,Which far transcends all liberty?But since I freely have resign'dAt first assault my willing mind,Insult not o'er my captiv'd heart10With too much tyranny and art,Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prizeGain'd by the power of thy bright eyes,And thou this conquest thus shalt prove,Though got by Beauty, kept by Love!

I yield, dear enemy, nor know

How to resist so fair a foe!

Who would not thy soft yoke sustain,

And bow beneath thy easy chain,

That with a bondage bless'd might be,

Which far transcends all liberty?

But since I freely have resign'd

At first assault my willing mind,

Insult not o'er my captiv'd heart

10With too much tyranny and art,

Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prize

Gain'd by the power of thy bright eyes,

And thou this conquest thus shalt prove,

Though got by Beauty, kept by Love!

To set my jealous soul at strife,All things maliciously agree,Though sleep of Death the image be,Dreams are the portraiture of life.I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes,Celinda stoop t' another's will;If specious Apprehension kill,What would the truth without disguise?The joys which I should call mine own,10Methought this rival did possess:Like dreams is all my happiness;Yet dreams themselves allow me none.

To set my jealous soul at strife,All things maliciously agree,Though sleep of Death the image be,Dreams are the portraiture of life.

To set my jealous soul at strife,

All things maliciously agree,

Though sleep of Death the image be,

Dreams are the portraiture of life.

I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes,Celinda stoop t' another's will;If specious Apprehension kill,What would the truth without disguise?

I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes,

Celinda stoop t' another's will;

If specious Apprehension kill,

What would the truth without disguise?

The joys which I should call mine own,10Methought this rival did possess:Like dreams is all my happiness;Yet dreams themselves allow me none.

The joys which I should call mine own,

10Methought this rival did possess:

Like dreams is all my happiness;

Yet dreams themselves allow me none.

The Dream.] The actual and fullIn Memoriamarrangement is the point of interest here. Stanley, however, is even less successful than the few other seventeenth-century practitioners in getting the full rhythmical sweep of the form into operation. He breaks the circle and so loses the charm.

Madam,The blushes I betray,When at your feet I humbly layThese papers, beg you would excuseTh' obedience of a bashful Muse,Who, bowing to your strict command,Trusts her own errors to your hand,Hasty abortives, which, laid by,She meant, ere they were born should die:But since the soft power of your breath10Hath call'd them back again from Death,To your sharp judgement now made known,She dares for hers no longer own;The worst she must not, these resign'dShe hath to th' fire, and where you findThose your kind Charity admir'd,She writ but what your eyes inspir'd.

Madam,

The blushes I betray,

When at your feet I humbly lay

These papers, beg you would excuse

Th' obedience of a bashful Muse,

Who, bowing to your strict command,

Trusts her own errors to your hand,

Hasty abortives, which, laid by,

She meant, ere they were born should die:

But since the soft power of your breath

10Hath call'd them back again from Death,

To your sharp judgement now made known,

She dares for hers no longer own;

The worst she must not, these resign'd

She hath to th' fire, and where you find

Those your kind Charity admir'd,

She writ but what your eyes inspir'd.

To the Lady D.] This in1647is the Dedication 'To my most honour'd Aunt the Lady Dormer'. She was a daughter of Sir William Hammond and wife of Sir Robert Dormer, Knight, of Chearsley, Bucks. In1647Stanley added to the poem 'Madam, Your Ladyships Greatest admirer and most humble Servant,Tho. Stanley'.

You that unto your mistress' eyesYour hearts do sacrifice,And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine,Renounce with meTh' idolatry,Nor this infernal Power esteem divine.The brand, the quiver, and the bow,Which we did first bestow,And he as tribute wears from every lover,10I back againFrom him have ta'en,And the impostor, now unveil'd, discover.I can the feeble child disarm,Untie his mystic charm,Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow;We will obeyNo more his sway,Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow.20And you, bright Beauties, that inspireThe Boy's pale torch with fire,We safely now your subtle power despise,And unscorch'd mayLike atoms play,And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.Nor think hereafter by new artsYou can bewitch our hearts,Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm;We will no moreHis power implore,30Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm.

You that unto your mistress' eyesYour hearts do sacrifice,And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine,Renounce with meTh' idolatry,Nor this infernal Power esteem divine.

You that unto your mistress' eyes

Your hearts do sacrifice,

And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine,

Renounce with me

Th' idolatry,

Nor this infernal Power esteem divine.

The brand, the quiver, and the bow,Which we did first bestow,And he as tribute wears from every lover,10I back againFrom him have ta'en,And the impostor, now unveil'd, discover.

The brand, the quiver, and the bow,

Which we did first bestow,

And he as tribute wears from every lover,

10I back again

From him have ta'en,

And the impostor, now unveil'd, discover.

I can the feeble child disarm,Untie his mystic charm,Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow;We will obeyNo more his sway,Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow.

I can the feeble child disarm,

Untie his mystic charm,

Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow;

We will obey

No more his sway,

Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow.

20And you, bright Beauties, that inspireThe Boy's pale torch with fire,We safely now your subtle power despise,And unscorch'd mayLike atoms play,And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.

20And you, bright Beauties, that inspire

The Boy's pale torch with fire,

We safely now your subtle power despise,

And unscorch'd may

Like atoms play,

And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.

Nor think hereafter by new artsYou can bewitch our hearts,Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm;We will no moreHis power implore,30Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm.

Nor think hereafter by new arts

You can bewitch our hearts,

Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm;

We will no more

His power implore,

30Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm.

Dear, back my wounded heart restore,And turn away thy powerful eyes;Flatter my willing soul no more!Love must not hope what Fate denies.Take, take away thy smiles and kisses!Thy love wounds deeper than disdain;For he that sees the heaven he misses,Sustains two hells, of loss and pain.Shouldst thou some other's suit prefer,10I might return thy scorn to thee,And learn apostasy of her,Who taught me first idolatry.Or in thy unrelenting breastShould I disdain or coyness move,He by thy hate might be releas'd,Who now is prisoner to thy love.Since then unkind Fate will divorceThose whom Affection long united,Be thou as cruel as this force,20And I in death shall be delighted.Thus while so many suppliants woo.And beg they may thy pity prove,I only for thy scorn do sue:'Tis charity here not to love.

Dear, back my wounded heart restore,And turn away thy powerful eyes;Flatter my willing soul no more!Love must not hope what Fate denies.

Dear, back my wounded heart restore,

And turn away thy powerful eyes;

Flatter my willing soul no more!

Love must not hope what Fate denies.

Take, take away thy smiles and kisses!Thy love wounds deeper than disdain;For he that sees the heaven he misses,Sustains two hells, of loss and pain.

Take, take away thy smiles and kisses!

Thy love wounds deeper than disdain;

For he that sees the heaven he misses,

Sustains two hells, of loss and pain.

Shouldst thou some other's suit prefer,10I might return thy scorn to thee,And learn apostasy of her,Who taught me first idolatry.

Shouldst thou some other's suit prefer,

10I might return thy scorn to thee,

And learn apostasy of her,

Who taught me first idolatry.

Or in thy unrelenting breastShould I disdain or coyness move,He by thy hate might be releas'd,Who now is prisoner to thy love.

Or in thy unrelenting breast

Should I disdain or coyness move,

He by thy hate might be releas'd,

Who now is prisoner to thy love.

Since then unkind Fate will divorceThose whom Affection long united,Be thou as cruel as this force,20And I in death shall be delighted.

Since then unkind Fate will divorce

Those whom Affection long united,

Be thou as cruel as this force,

20And I in death shall be delighted.

Thus while so many suppliants woo.And beg they may thy pity prove,I only for thy scorn do sue:'Tis charity here not to love.

Thus while so many suppliants woo.

And beg they may thy pity prove,

I only for thy scorn do sue:

'Tis charity here not to love.

The Divorce.] A rise from one or two preceding pieces.12 Who] That1647.14 I] cold1647.15 He] I1647.16 is] am1647.21 while] whilst1647. woo] do1647.22 'Implore thy pity they may prove'1647.

The Divorce.] A rise from one or two preceding pieces.

12 Who] That1647.

14 I] cold1647.

15 He] I1647.

16 is] am1647.

21 while] whilst1647. woo] do1647.

22 'Implore thy pity they may prove'1647.

Come, my dear, whilst youth conspiresWith the warmth of our desires;Envious Time about thee watches,And some grace each minute snatches;Now a spirit, now a ray,From thy eye he steals away;Now he blasts some blooming rose,Which upon thy fresh cheek grows;Gold now plunders in a hair;10Now the rubies doth impairOf thy lips; and with sure hasteAll thy wealth will take at last;Only that of which thou mak'stUse in time, from time thou tak'st.

Come, my dear, whilst youth conspires

With the warmth of our desires;

Envious Time about thee watches,

And some grace each minute snatches;

Now a spirit, now a ray,

From thy eye he steals away;

Now he blasts some blooming rose,

Which upon thy fresh cheek grows;

Gold now plunders in a hair;

10Now the rubies doth impair

Of thy lips; and with sure haste

All thy wealth will take at last;

Only that of which thou mak'st

Use in time, from time thou tak'st.

Time Recovered.] This 'very light and good' version is from Guido Casoni (so more usually), a poet of the Trevisan March (1587-1640), and founder of the Academy of theIncognitiat Venice, to the Transactions of which he contributed most of his work.

Rebellious fools that scorn to bowBeneath Love's easy sway,Whose stubborn wills no laws allow,Disdaining to obey,Mark but this wreath of hair, and you shall see,None that might wear such fetters would be free!I once could boast a soul like you,As unconfin'd as air;But mine, which force could not subdue,10Was caught within this snare;And, by myself betray'd, I, for this gold,A heart that many storms withstood, have sold.No longer now wise Art inquire,With this vain search delighted,How souls, that human breasts inspire,Are to their frames united;Material chains such spirits well may bind,When this soft braid can tie both arm and mindNow, Beauties, I defy your charm,20Rul'd by more powerful art:This mystic wreath which crowns my arm,Defends my vanquish'd heart;And I, subdu'd by one more fair, shall beSecur'd from Conquest by Captivity.

Rebellious fools that scorn to bow

Beneath Love's easy sway,

Whose stubborn wills no laws allow,

Disdaining to obey,

Mark but this wreath of hair, and you shall see,

None that might wear such fetters would be free!

I once could boast a soul like you,As unconfin'd as air;But mine, which force could not subdue,10Was caught within this snare;And, by myself betray'd, I, for this gold,A heart that many storms withstood, have sold.

I once could boast a soul like you,

As unconfin'd as air;

But mine, which force could not subdue,

10Was caught within this snare;

And, by myself betray'd, I, for this gold,

A heart that many storms withstood, have sold.

No longer now wise Art inquire,With this vain search delighted,How souls, that human breasts inspire,Are to their frames united;Material chains such spirits well may bind,When this soft braid can tie both arm and mind

No longer now wise Art inquire,

With this vain search delighted,

How souls, that human breasts inspire,

Are to their frames united;

Material chains such spirits well may bind,

When this soft braid can tie both arm and mind

Now, Beauties, I defy your charm,20Rul'd by more powerful art:This mystic wreath which crowns my arm,Defends my vanquish'd heart;And I, subdu'd by one more fair, shall beSecur'd from Conquest by Captivity.

Now, Beauties, I defy your charm,

20Rul'd by more powerful art:

This mystic wreath which crowns my arm,

Defends my vanquish'd heart;

And I, subdu'd by one more fair, shall be

Secur'd from Conquest by Captivity.

The Bracelet.] Almost certainly suggested by Donne. If so the suggestion was very rashly taken, but the result might have been worse.7 soul] heart1647. l. 12 is an alteration—as Miss Guiney very rightly says to its detriment—of1647, which reads—Have to mine enemy my freedom sold.151647'that do our life inspire'.221647'Guards and defends my heart'.

The Bracelet.] Almost certainly suggested by Donne. If so the suggestion was very rashly taken, but the result might have been worse.

7 soul] heart1647. l. 12 is an alteration—as Miss Guiney very rightly says to its detriment—of1647, which reads—

Have to mine enemy my freedom sold.

151647'that do our life inspire'.

221647'Guards and defends my heart'.

Since Fate commands me hence, and IMust leave my soul with thee, and die,Dear, spare one sigh, or else let fallA tear to crown my funeral,That I may tell my grievéd heart,Thou art unwilling we should part,And Martyrs, that embrace the fire,Shall with less joy than I expire.With this last kiss I will bequeath10My soul transfus'd into thy breath,Whose active heat shall gently slideInto thy breast, and there reside,And be in spite of Fate, thus bless'dBy this sad death, of Heaven possess'd.Then prove but kind, and thou shalt seeLove hath more power than Destiny.

Since Fate commands me hence, and I

Must leave my soul with thee, and die,

Dear, spare one sigh, or else let fall

A tear to crown my funeral,

That I may tell my grievéd heart,

Thou art unwilling we should part,

And Martyrs, that embrace the fire,

Shall with less joy than I expire.

With this last kiss I will bequeath10My soul transfus'd into thy breath,Whose active heat shall gently slideInto thy breast, and there reside,And be in spite of Fate, thus bless'dBy this sad death, of Heaven possess'd.Then prove but kind, and thou shalt seeLove hath more power than Destiny.

With this last kiss I will bequeath

10My soul transfus'd into thy breath,

Whose active heat shall gently slide

Into thy breast, and there reside,

And be in spite of Fate, thus bless'd

By this sad death, of Heaven possess'd.

Then prove but kind, and thou shalt see

Love hath more power than Destiny.

The Farewell.] In lines 13 and 14 of this all editions vary slightly.1647has 'may' for 'be', which latter word opens the next line, turning out 'sad'. The text is1651,1656, keeping l. 13 of1647, has for l. 14 the text of1651.

Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vainThy beauteous face away,Which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a painAbove its power to lay.Love moves not, as thou turn'st thy look,But here doth firmly rest;He long ago thy eyes forsook,To revel in my breast.Thy power on him why hop'st thou more10Than his on me should be?The claim thou lay'st to him is poor,To that he owns from me.His substance in my heart excelsHis shadow in thy sight;Fire, where it burns, more truly dwells,Than where it scatters light.

Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vainThy beauteous face away,Which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a painAbove its power to lay.

Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vain

Thy beauteous face away,

Which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a pain

Above its power to lay.

Love moves not, as thou turn'st thy look,But here doth firmly rest;He long ago thy eyes forsook,To revel in my breast.

Love moves not, as thou turn'st thy look,

But here doth firmly rest;

He long ago thy eyes forsook,

To revel in my breast.

Thy power on him why hop'st thou more10Than his on me should be?The claim thou lay'st to him is poor,To that he owns from me.

Thy power on him why hop'st thou more

10Than his on me should be?

The claim thou lay'st to him is poor,

To that he owns from me.

His substance in my heart excelsHis shadow in thy sight;Fire, where it burns, more truly dwells,Than where it scatters light.

His substance in my heart excels

His shadow in thy sight;

Fire, where it burns, more truly dwells,

Than where it scatters light.

Thine eyes, bright Saint, disclose,And thou shalt findDreams have not with illusive showsDeceiv'd thy mind:What sleep presented to thy view,Awake, and thou shalt find is true.Those mortal wounds I bear,From thee begin,Which though they outward not appear,10Yet bleed within.Love's flame like active lightning flies,Wounding the heart, but not the eyes.But now I yield to dieThy sacrifice,Nor more in vain will hope to flyFrom thy bright eyes:Their killing power cannot be shunn'd,Open or closed alike they wound.

Thine eyes, bright Saint, disclose,And thou shalt findDreams have not with illusive showsDeceiv'd thy mind:What sleep presented to thy view,Awake, and thou shalt find is true.

Thine eyes, bright Saint, disclose,

And thou shalt find

Dreams have not with illusive shows

Deceiv'd thy mind:

What sleep presented to thy view,

Awake, and thou shalt find is true.

Those mortal wounds I bear,From thee begin,Which though they outward not appear,10Yet bleed within.Love's flame like active lightning flies,Wounding the heart, but not the eyes.

Those mortal wounds I bear,

From thee begin,

Which though they outward not appear,

10Yet bleed within.

Love's flame like active lightning flies,

Wounding the heart, but not the eyes.

But now I yield to dieThy sacrifice,Nor more in vain will hope to flyFrom thy bright eyes:Their killing power cannot be shunn'd,Open or closed alike they wound.

But now I yield to die

Thy sacrifice,

Nor more in vain will hope to fly

From thy bright eyes:

Their killing power cannot be shunn'd,

Open or closed alike they wound.

To his Mistress, &c.]1647'To Doris dreaming he was wounded'. Guarini is not there mentioned.

Phil.

That kiss, which last thou gav'st me, stoleMy fainting life away,Yet, though to thy breast fled, my soulStill in mine own doth stay;

That kiss, which last thou gav'st me, stole

My fainting life away,

Yet, though to thy breast fled, my soul

Still in mine own doth stay;

Char.

And with the same warm breath did mineInto thy bosom slide;There dwell contracted unto thine,Yet still with me reside.

And with the same warm breath did mine

Into thy bosom slide;

There dwell contracted unto thine,

Yet still with me reside.

Chor.

Both souls thus in desire are one,10And each is two in skill;Doubled in intellect alone,United in the will.Weak Nature no such power doth know:Love only can these wonders show.

Both souls thus in desire are one,

10And each is two in skill;

Doubled in intellect alone,

United in the will.

Weak Nature no such power doth know:

Love only can these wonders show.

The Exchange.]1647'Exchange of Souls'. In editions other than1651there is a refrain after each stanza-speech:Weak Nature no such power doth know,Love only can these wonders show.

The Exchange.]1647'Exchange of Souls'. In editions other than1651there is a refrain after each stanza-speech:

Weak Nature no such power doth know,Love only can these wonders show.

Weak Nature no such power doth know,

Love only can these wonders show.

Sickness, in vain thou dost invadeA Beauty that can never fade!Could all thy malice but impairOne of the sweets which crown this fair,Or steal the spirits from her eye,Or kiss into a paler dyeThe blushing roses of her cheek,Our drooping hopes might justly seekRedress from thee, and thou might'st save10Thousands of lovers from the grave:But such assaults are vain, for sheIs too divine to stoop to thee;Blest with a form as much too highFor any change, as Destiny,Which no attempt can violate;For what's her Beauty, is our Fate.

Sickness, in vain thou dost invade

A Beauty that can never fade!

Could all thy malice but impair

One of the sweets which crown this fair,

Or steal the spirits from her eye,

Or kiss into a paler dye

The blushing roses of her cheek,

Our drooping hopes might justly seek

Redress from thee, and thou might'st save

10Thousands of lovers from the grave:

But such assaults are vain, for she

Is too divine to stoop to thee;

Blest with a form as much too high

For any change, as Destiny,

Which no attempt can violate;

For what's her Beauty, is our Fate.

Unaltered by Sickness.] Lines 1 and 2 are expanded in1656to:Pale, envious Sickness, hence! no morePossess our breast, too cold before.In vain, alas! thou dost invadeThose beauties which can never fade.4 'On those sweets which crown the fair'1656.7 blushing] blooming1657.8 drooping] dropping1647: suffering1656.14 For any]1656Butany—nonsensically.

Unaltered by Sickness.] Lines 1 and 2 are expanded in1656to:

Pale, envious Sickness, hence! no morePossess our breast, too cold before.In vain, alas! thou dost invadeThose beauties which can never fade.

Pale, envious Sickness, hence! no more

Possess our breast, too cold before.

In vain, alas! thou dost invade

Those beauties which can never fade.

4 'On those sweets which crown the fair'1656.

7 blushing] blooming1657.

8 drooping] dropping1647: suffering1656.

14 For any]1656Butany—nonsensically.

Love the ripe harvest of my toilsBegan to cherish with his smiles,Preparing me to be induedWith all the joys I long pursued,When my fresh hopes, fair and full blown,Death blasts, ere I could call my own.Malicious Death! why with rude forceDost thou my Fair from me divorce?False Life! why in this loathéd chain10Me from my Fair dost thou detain?In whom assistance shall I find?Alike are Life and Death unkind.Pardon me, Love; thy power outshines,And laughs at their infirm designs.She is not wedded to a tomb,Nor I to sorrow in her room.They, what thou join'st, can ne'er divideShe lives in me, in her I died.

Love the ripe harvest of my toils

Began to cherish with his smiles,

Preparing me to be indued

With all the joys I long pursued,

When my fresh hopes, fair and full blown,

Death blasts, ere I could call my own.

Malicious Death! why with rude forceDost thou my Fair from me divorce?False Life! why in this loathéd chain10Me from my Fair dost thou detain?In whom assistance shall I find?Alike are Life and Death unkind.

Malicious Death! why with rude force

Dost thou my Fair from me divorce?

False Life! why in this loathéd chain

10Me from my Fair dost thou detain?

In whom assistance shall I find?

Alike are Life and Death unkind.

Pardon me, Love; thy power outshines,And laughs at their infirm designs.She is not wedded to a tomb,Nor I to sorrow in her room.They, what thou join'st, can ne'er divideShe lives in me, in her I died.

Pardon me, Love; thy power outshines,

And laughs at their infirm designs.

She is not wedded to a tomb,

Nor I to sorrow in her room.

They, what thou join'st, can ne'er divide

She lives in me, in her I died.

Draw near,You Lovers that complainOf Fortune or Disdain,And to my ashes lend a tear;Melt the hard marble with your groans,And soften the relentless stones,Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide,Of all Love's cruelties, and Beauty's pride!No verse,10No epicedium bring,Nor peaceful requiem sing,To charm the terrors of my hearse;No profane numbers must flow nearThe sacred silence that dwells here.Vast griefs are dumb; softly, oh! softly mourn,Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.Yet strewUpon my dismal graveSuch offerings as you have,20Forsaken cypress and sad yew;For kinder flowers can take no birth,Or growth, from such unhappy earth.Weep only o'er my dust, and say, Here liesTo Love and Fate an equal sacrifice.

Draw near,

You Lovers that complain

Of Fortune or Disdain,

And to my ashes lend a tear;

Melt the hard marble with your groans,

And soften the relentless stones,

Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide,

Of all Love's cruelties, and Beauty's pride!

No verse,10No epicedium bring,Nor peaceful requiem sing,To charm the terrors of my hearse;No profane numbers must flow nearThe sacred silence that dwells here.Vast griefs are dumb; softly, oh! softly mourn,Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.

No verse,

10No epicedium bring,

Nor peaceful requiem sing,

To charm the terrors of my hearse;

No profane numbers must flow near

The sacred silence that dwells here.

Vast griefs are dumb; softly, oh! softly mourn,

Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.

Yet strewUpon my dismal graveSuch offerings as you have,20Forsaken cypress and sad yew;For kinder flowers can take no birth,Or growth, from such unhappy earth.Weep only o'er my dust, and say, Here liesTo Love and Fate an equal sacrifice.

Yet strew

Upon my dismal grave

Such offerings as you have,

20Forsaken cypress and sad yew;

For kinder flowers can take no birth,

Or growth, from such unhappy earth.

Weep only o'er my dust, and say, Here lies

To Love and Fate an equal sacrifice.

The Exequies.] A very good stanza, the rhythm rising and swelling admirably. In the final couplet of the first,1647reads—do a victim hide,That, paid to Beauty, on Love's altar died.

The Exequies.] A very good stanza, the rhythm rising and swelling admirably. In the final couplet of the first,1647reads—

do a victim hide,That, paid to Beauty, on Love's altar died.

do a victim hide,

That, paid to Beauty, on Love's altar died.

This silkworm, to long sleep retir'd,The early year hath re-inspir'd,Who now to pay to thee preparesThe tribute of her pleasing cares;And hastens with industrious toilTo make thy ornament, her spoil:See with what pains she spins for theeThe thread of her own destiny;Then growing proud in Death, to know10That all her curious labours thouWilt, as in triumph, deign to wear,Retires to her soft sepulchre.Such, dearest, is that hapless state,To which I am design'd by Fate,Who by thee, willingly, o'ercome,Work mine own fetters and my tomb.

This silkworm, to long sleep retir'd,

The early year hath re-inspir'd,

Who now to pay to thee prepares

The tribute of her pleasing cares;

And hastens with industrious toil

To make thy ornament, her spoil:

See with what pains she spins for thee

The thread of her own destiny;

Then growing proud in Death, to know

10That all her curious labours thou

Wilt, as in triumph, deign to wear,

Retires to her soft sepulchre.

Such, dearest, is that hapless state,

To which I am design'd by Fate,

Who by thee, willingly, o'ercome,

Work mine own fetters and my tomb.

The Silkworm.] 1 This] The1647.6 Miss Guiney insists, in the teeth of all texts, upon changing over 'thy' and 'her', saying that 'facts and the context force' the reversal. I am afraid that the genius of seventeenth-century poetry did not care much for facts or context at any time. But here no violence is done to either. Nine men out of ten wishing to say 'to make out of the spoil of herself an ornament for thee' would have probably put it in the same way, especially if they wanted the rhyme 'spoil'.10 'Thather rich work andlabours'1647.14 'I destined am'1647.

The Silkworm.] 1 This] The1647.

6 Miss Guiney insists, in the teeth of all texts, upon changing over 'thy' and 'her', saying that 'facts and the context force' the reversal. I am afraid that the genius of seventeenth-century poetry did not care much for facts or context at any time. But here no violence is done to either. Nine men out of ten wishing to say 'to make out of the spoil of herself an ornament for thee' would have probably put it in the same way, especially if they wanted the rhyme 'spoil'.

10 'Thather rich work andlabours'1647.

14 'I destined am'1647.

As when some brook flies from itself away,The murmuring crystal loosely runs astray;And as about the verdant plain it winds,The meadows with a silver riband binds,Printing a kiss on every flower she meets,Losing herself to fill them with new sweets,To scatter frost upon the lily's head,And scarlet on the gilliflower to spread;So melting sorrow, in the fair disguise10Of humid stars, flow'd from bright Cloris' eyes,Which wat'ring every flower her cheek discloses,Melt into jasmines here, there into roses.

As when some brook flies from itself away,

The murmuring crystal loosely runs astray;

And as about the verdant plain it winds,

The meadows with a silver riband binds,

Printing a kiss on every flower she meets,

Losing herself to fill them with new sweets,

To scatter frost upon the lily's head,

And scarlet on the gilliflower to spread;

So melting sorrow, in the fair disguise

10Of humid stars, flow'd from bright Cloris' eyes,

Which wat'ring every flower her cheek discloses,

Melt into jasmines here, there into roses.

A Lady Weeping.] Few people, I think, will accept Miss Guiney's suggestion of 'tears' for 'stars' in l. 10, especially after 'humid'. The shooting star, which dissolved on reaching earth into dew or 'jelly', is very common with Carolines.

I must no longer now admireThe coldness which possess'dThy snowy breast,That can by other flames be set on fire.Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray'd,Is by Ambition thus out-weigh'd.Hadst thou but known the vast extentOf constant faith, how far'Bove all that are10Born slaves to Wealth, or Honour's vain ascent;No richer treasure couldst thou findThan hearts with mutual chains combin'd.But Love is too despis'd a name,And must not hope to riseAbove these ties;Honour and Wealth outshine his paler flame;These unite souls, whilst true desireUnpitied dies in its own fire.Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim20With no less justice too,Than those that sueFor other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim.Wealth honours, honours wealth approve,But Beauty's only meant for Love.

I must no longer now admireThe coldness which possess'dThy snowy breast,That can by other flames be set on fire.Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray'd,Is by Ambition thus out-weigh'd.

I must no longer now admire

The coldness which possess'd

Thy snowy breast,

That can by other flames be set on fire.

Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray'd,

Is by Ambition thus out-weigh'd.

Hadst thou but known the vast extentOf constant faith, how far'Bove all that are10Born slaves to Wealth, or Honour's vain ascent;No richer treasure couldst thou findThan hearts with mutual chains combin'd.

Hadst thou but known the vast extent

Of constant faith, how far

'Bove all that are

10Born slaves to Wealth, or Honour's vain ascent;

No richer treasure couldst thou find

Than hearts with mutual chains combin'd.

But Love is too despis'd a name,And must not hope to riseAbove these ties;Honour and Wealth outshine his paler flame;These unite souls, whilst true desireUnpitied dies in its own fire.

But Love is too despis'd a name,

And must not hope to rise

Above these ties;

Honour and Wealth outshine his paler flame;

These unite souls, whilst true desire

Unpitied dies in its own fire.

Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim20With no less justice too,Than those that sueFor other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim.Wealth honours, honours wealth approve,But Beauty's only meant for Love.

Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim

20With no less justice too,

Than those that sue

For other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim.

Wealth honours, honours wealth approve,

But Beauty's only meant for Love.

Ambition.] 16 Miss Guiney thinks that the singular 'Honour', though in all texts, is obviously wrong. I should say that the plural would be more obviously wronger. The mistake, of course, comes from importing a modern distinction.

When, dearest beauty, thou shalt payThy faith and my vain hope awayTo some dull soul that cannot knowThe worth of that thou dost bestow;Lest with my sighs and tears I mightDisturb thy unconfin'd delight,To some dark shade I will retire,And there, forgot by all, expire.Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove10Betwixt a feign'd and real love,Whilst he, more happy, but less true,Shall reap those joys I did pursue,And with those pleasures crownéd beBy Fate, which Love design'd for me,Then thou, perhaps, thyself wilt findCruel too long, or too soon kind.

When, dearest beauty, thou shalt pay

Thy faith and my vain hope away

To some dull soul that cannot know

The worth of that thou dost bestow;

Lest with my sighs and tears I might

Disturb thy unconfin'd delight,

To some dark shade I will retire,

And there, forgot by all, expire.

Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove10Betwixt a feign'd and real love,Whilst he, more happy, but less true,Shall reap those joys I did pursue,And with those pleasures crownéd beBy Fate, which Love design'd for me,Then thou, perhaps, thyself wilt findCruel too long, or too soon kind.

Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove

10Betwixt a feign'd and real love,

Whilst he, more happy, but less true,

Shall reap those joys I did pursue,

And with those pleasures crownéd be

By Fate, which Love design'd for me,

Then thou, perhaps, thyself wilt find

Cruel too long, or too soon kind.

Song.] Not one of Stanley's worst.

Fair Rebel to thyself and Time,Who laugh'st at all my tears,When thou hast lost thy youthful prime,And Age his trophy rears,Weighing thy inconsiderate prideThou shalt in vain accuse it,Why beauty am I now denied,Or knew not then to use it?Then shall I wish, ungentle fair,10Thou in like flames mayst burn;Venus, if just, will hear my prayer,And I shall laugh my turn.

Fair Rebel to thyself and Time,Who laugh'st at all my tears,When thou hast lost thy youthful prime,And Age his trophy rears,

Fair Rebel to thyself and Time,

Who laugh'st at all my tears,

When thou hast lost thy youthful prime,

And Age his trophy rears,

Weighing thy inconsiderate prideThou shalt in vain accuse it,Why beauty am I now denied,Or knew not then to use it?

Weighing thy inconsiderate pride

Thou shalt in vain accuse it,

Why beauty am I now denied,

Or knew not then to use it?

Then shall I wish, ungentle fair,10Thou in like flames mayst burn;Venus, if just, will hear my prayer,And I shall laugh my turn.

Then shall I wish, ungentle fair,

10Thou in like flames mayst burn;

Venus, if just, will hear my prayer,

And I shall laugh my turn.

The Revenge.] Not one of his best, even as a translation. The suspicion offlatnesswhich occurs too often in him could not be more fatal than in connexion with Ronsard's famous and beautiful sonnet. But Stanley has handicapped himself almost inconceivably. He has thrown away the half-sad, half-scornful burst of the opening 'Quand vous serez bien vieille'—the vivid picture of the crone half boasting, half regretting her love and her disdain, by the flicker of fire and candle, to the listening handmaiden, and the final touch as to the use of life. In fact I have sometimes wondered whether he really meant this masterpiece.

I will not trust thy tempting graces,Or thy deceitful charms;Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces,Or fetter'd in thy arms;No, Celia, no, not all thy artCan wound or captivate my heart.I will not gaze upon thy eyes,Or wanton with thy hair,Lest those should burn me by surprise,10Or these my soul ensnare;Nor with those smiling dangers play,Or fool my liberty away.Since then my wary heart is free,And unconfin'd as thine,If thou wouldst mine should captiv'd be,Thou must thine own resign,And gratitude may thus move moreThan Love or Beauty could before.

I will not trust thy tempting graces,Or thy deceitful charms;Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces,Or fetter'd in thy arms;No, Celia, no, not all thy artCan wound or captivate my heart.

I will not trust thy tempting graces,

Or thy deceitful charms;

Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces,

Or fetter'd in thy arms;

No, Celia, no, not all thy art

Can wound or captivate my heart.

I will not gaze upon thy eyes,Or wanton with thy hair,Lest those should burn me by surprise,10Or these my soul ensnare;Nor with those smiling dangers play,Or fool my liberty away.

I will not gaze upon thy eyes,

Or wanton with thy hair,

Lest those should burn me by surprise,

10Or these my soul ensnare;

Nor with those smiling dangers play,

Or fool my liberty away.

Since then my wary heart is free,And unconfin'd as thine,If thou wouldst mine should captiv'd be,Thou must thine own resign,And gratitude may thus move moreThan Love or Beauty could before.

Since then my wary heart is free,

And unconfin'd as thine,

If thou wouldst mine should captiv'd be,

Thou must thine own resign,

And gratitude may thus move more

Than Love or Beauty could before.

Song.] Another capital stanza-mould, especially in 1. The next is even better.This Song is also inSelect Airs and Dialogues, set by Mr. Jeremy Savill,1659.

Song.] Another capital stanza-mould, especially in 1. The next is even better.

This Song is also inSelect Airs and Dialogues, set by Mr. Jeremy Savill,1659.

No, I will sooner trust the wind,When falsely kindIt courts the pregnant sails into a storm,And when the smiling waves persuade,Be willingly betray'd,Than thy deceitful vows or form.Go, and beguile some easy heartWith thy vain art;Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow,10Who only see the calms that sleepOn this smooth flatt'ring deep,But not the hidden dangers know.They that like me thy falsehood prove,Will scorn thy love.Some may, deceiv'd at first, adore thy shrine;But he that, as thy sacrifice,Doth willingly fall twice,Dies his own martyr, and not thine.

No, I will sooner trust the wind,When falsely kindIt courts the pregnant sails into a storm,And when the smiling waves persuade,Be willingly betray'd,Than thy deceitful vows or form.

No, I will sooner trust the wind,

When falsely kind

It courts the pregnant sails into a storm,

And when the smiling waves persuade,

Be willingly betray'd,

Than thy deceitful vows or form.

Go, and beguile some easy heartWith thy vain art;Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow,10Who only see the calms that sleepOn this smooth flatt'ring deep,But not the hidden dangers know.

Go, and beguile some easy heart

With thy vain art;

Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow,

10Who only see the calms that sleep

On this smooth flatt'ring deep,

But not the hidden dangers know.

They that like me thy falsehood prove,Will scorn thy love.Some may, deceiv'd at first, adore thy shrine;But he that, as thy sacrifice,Doth willingly fall twice,Dies his own martyr, and not thine.

They that like me thy falsehood prove,

Will scorn thy love.

Some may, deceiv'd at first, adore thy shrine;

But he that, as thy sacrifice,

Doth willingly fall twice,

Dies his own martyr, and not thine.

Song. 12 the] thy1647.

Lover, than Love more blind, whose bold thoughts dareFix on a woman is both young and fair!If Argus, with a hundred eyes, not oneCould guard, hop'st thou to keep thine, who hast none?

Lover, than Love more blind, whose bold thoughts dare

Fix on a woman is both young and fair!

If Argus, with a hundred eyes, not one

Could guard, hop'st thou to keep thine, who hast none?

To a Blind Man in Love.] 2 The ellipsis of 'who' before 'is' is one of the few grammatical licences which are really awkward in poetry. InOronta 1647, where this poem also appeared with two other translations from Marino, the reading is 'woman that is young'; and in 7 'Senses too'.

I'm blind, 'tis true, but, in Love's rules, defectOf sense is aided by the intellect;And senses by each other are supplied:The touch enjoys what's to the sight denied.

I'm blind, 'tis true, but, in Love's rules, defect

Of sense is aided by the intellect;

And senses by each other are supplied:

The touch enjoys what's to the sight denied.

I Prithee let my heart alone,Since now 'tis rais'd above thee,Not all the beauty thou dost own,Again can make me love thee:He that was shipwreck'd once beforeBy such a Syren's call,And yet neglects to shun that shore,Deserves his second fall.Each flatt'ring kiss, each tempting smile,10Thou dost in vain bestow,Some other lovers might beguile,Who not thy falsehood know.But I am proof against all art.No vows shall e'er persuade meTwice to present a wounded heartTo her that hath betray'd me.Could I again be brought to loveThy form, though more divine,I might thy scorn as justly move,20As now thou sufferest mine.

I Prithee let my heart alone,Since now 'tis rais'd above thee,Not all the beauty thou dost own,Again can make me love thee:

I Prithee let my heart alone,

Since now 'tis rais'd above thee,

Not all the beauty thou dost own,

Again can make me love thee:

He that was shipwreck'd once beforeBy such a Syren's call,And yet neglects to shun that shore,Deserves his second fall.

He that was shipwreck'd once before

By such a Syren's call,

And yet neglects to shun that shore,

Deserves his second fall.

Each flatt'ring kiss, each tempting smile,10Thou dost in vain bestow,Some other lovers might beguile,Who not thy falsehood know.

Each flatt'ring kiss, each tempting smile,

10Thou dost in vain bestow,

Some other lovers might beguile,

Who not thy falsehood know.

But I am proof against all art.No vows shall e'er persuade meTwice to present a wounded heartTo her that hath betray'd me.

But I am proof against all art.

No vows shall e'er persuade me

Twice to present a wounded heart

To her that hath betray'd me.

Could I again be brought to loveThy form, though more divine,I might thy scorn as justly move,20As now thou sufferest mine.

Could I again be brought to love

Thy form, though more divine,

I might thy scorn as justly move,

20As now thou sufferest mine.

Song.] Pretty, and the double rhymes in stanzas 1 and 4 well brought off.71656'theshore'.

Song.] Pretty, and the double rhymes in stanzas 1 and 4 well brought off.

71656'theshore'.

Yet ere I go,Disdainful Beauty, thou shall beSo wretched, as to knowWhat joys thou fling'st away with me.A faith so bright,As Time or Fortune could not rust;So firm, that lovers mightHave read thy story in my dust,And crown'd thy name10With laurel verdant as thy youth,Whilst the shrill voice of FameSpread wide thy beauty and my truth.This thou hast lost;For all true lovers, when they findThat my just aims were crost,Will speak thee lighter than the wind.And none will layAny oblation on thy shrine,But such as would betray20Thy faith, to faiths as false as thine.Yet, if thou chooseOn such thy freedom to bestow,Affection may excuse,For love from sympathy doth flow.

Yet ere I go,Disdainful Beauty, thou shall beSo wretched, as to knowWhat joys thou fling'st away with me.

Yet ere I go,

Disdainful Beauty, thou shall be

So wretched, as to know

What joys thou fling'st away with me.

A faith so bright,As Time or Fortune could not rust;So firm, that lovers mightHave read thy story in my dust,

A faith so bright,

As Time or Fortune could not rust;

So firm, that lovers might

Have read thy story in my dust,

And crown'd thy name10With laurel verdant as thy youth,Whilst the shrill voice of FameSpread wide thy beauty and my truth.

And crown'd thy name

10With laurel verdant as thy youth,

Whilst the shrill voice of Fame

Spread wide thy beauty and my truth.

This thou hast lost;For all true lovers, when they findThat my just aims were crost,Will speak thee lighter than the wind.

This thou hast lost;

For all true lovers, when they find

That my just aims were crost,

Will speak thee lighter than the wind.

And none will layAny oblation on thy shrine,But such as would betray20Thy faith, to faiths as false as thine.

And none will lay

Any oblation on thy shrine,

But such as would betray

20Thy faith, to faiths as false as thine.

Yet, if thou chooseOn such thy freedom to bestow,Affection may excuse,For love from sympathy doth flow.

Yet, if thou choose

On such thy freedom to bestow,

Affection may excuse,

For love from sympathy doth flow.

The Loss.] Still good. But I have once more to demur to Miss Guiney's opinion that 'Thy' in l. 20, though found in all texts, should 'almost certainly' be 'Their'. In the first place, conjectural emendations in the teeth of text-agreement are never to be made without absolute necessity. In the second, the hackneyed observation about the less obvious reading is never so true as of the Caroline poets. In the third, this particular correction, if obvious in one sense, is but specious in another, and 'Theirfaith' will be found on examination to make less, not more, sense than 'Thy'. The meaning is, 'Such faith as thou mightest repose in them after being false to me', i.e. 'They would leave thee for other light-o'-loves'.

Cast off, for shame, ungentle Maid,That misbecoming joy thou wear'st;For in my death, though long delay'd,Unwisely cruel thou appear'st.Insult o'er captives with disdain,Thou canst not triumph o'er the slain.No, I am now no longer thine,Nor canst thou take delight to seeHim whom thy love did once confine,10Set, though by Death, at liberty;For if my fall a smile beget,Thou gloriest in thy own defeat.Behold how thy unthrifty prideHath murder'd him that did maintain it!And wary souls, who never triedThy tyrant beauty, will disdain it:But I am softer, and that meThou wouldst not pity, pity thee.

Cast off, for shame, ungentle Maid,

That misbecoming joy thou wear'st;

For in my death, though long delay'd,

Unwisely cruel thou appear'st.

Insult o'er captives with disdain,

Thou canst not triumph o'er the slain.

No, I am now no longer thine,Nor canst thou take delight to seeHim whom thy love did once confine,10Set, though by Death, at liberty;For if my fall a smile beget,Thou gloriest in thy own defeat.

No, I am now no longer thine,

Nor canst thou take delight to see

Him whom thy love did once confine,

10Set, though by Death, at liberty;

For if my fall a smile beget,

Thou gloriest in thy own defeat.

Behold how thy unthrifty prideHath murder'd him that did maintain it!And wary souls, who never triedThy tyrant beauty, will disdain it:But I am softer, and that meThou wouldst not pity, pity thee.

Behold how thy unthrifty pride

Hath murder'd him that did maintain it!

And wary souls, who never tried

Thy tyrant beauty, will disdain it:

But I am softer, and that me

Thou wouldst not pity, pity thee.

The Self-Cruel.] Merely 'Song' in1647.The observations in the preceding note apply to Miss Guiney's supposition that 'that' in the penultimate line is a misprint for 'though'. 'I pity theein(or 'for') that thou wouldst not pity me.'

The Self-Cruel.] Merely 'Song' in1647.

The observations in the preceding note apply to Miss Guiney's supposition that 'that' in the penultimate line is a misprint for 'though'. 'I pity theein(or 'for') that thou wouldst not pity me.'

Wert thou yet fairer than thou art,Which lies not in the power of Art;Or hadst thou in thine eyes more dartsThan ever Cupid shot at hearts;Yet if they were not thrown at me,I would not cast a thought on thee,I'd rather marry a disease,Than court the thing I cannot please;She that will cherish my desires,10Must meet my flames with equal fires.What pleasure is there in a kissTo him that doubts the heart's not his?I love thee not because th' art fair,Softer than down, smoother than air;Nor for the Cupids that do lieIn either corner of thine eye:Wouldst thou then know what it might be?'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me.

Wert thou yet fairer than thou art,

Which lies not in the power of Art;

Or hadst thou in thine eyes more darts

Than ever Cupid shot at hearts;

Yet if they were not thrown at me,

I would not cast a thought on thee,

I'd rather marry a disease,Than court the thing I cannot please;She that will cherish my desires,10Must meet my flames with equal fires.What pleasure is there in a kissTo him that doubts the heart's not his?

I'd rather marry a disease,

Than court the thing I cannot please;

She that will cherish my desires,

10Must meet my flames with equal fires.

What pleasure is there in a kiss

To him that doubts the heart's not his?

I love thee not because th' art fair,Softer than down, smoother than air;Nor for the Cupids that do lieIn either corner of thine eye:Wouldst thou then know what it might be?'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me.

I love thee not because th' art fair,

Softer than down, smoother than air;

Nor for the Cupids that do lie

In either corner of thine eye:

Wouldst thou then know what it might be?

'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me.

Song.] In1647the song itself is not given, and the title of Stanley's piece is'In Answer to a Song, Wert thou much fairer than thou art, &c.' I do not know who Master W. M. was—possibly Walter Montagu, Abbé de Saint-Martin, whom we have met once or twice in commendatory poems, and who was of the Cavalier literary set.

Wert thou by all affections sought,And fairer than thou wouldst be thought;Or had thine eyes as many dartsAs thou believ'st they shoot at hearts;Yet if thy love were paid to me,I would not offer mine to thee.I'd sooner court a fever's heat,Than her that owns a flame as great;She that my love will entertain,10Must meet it with no less disdain;For mutual fires themselves destroy,And willing kisses yield no joy.I love thee not because aloneThou canst all beauty call thine ownNor doth my passion fuel seekIn thy bright eye or softer cheek:Then, fairest, if thou wouldst know whyI love thee, 'cause thou canst deny.

Wert thou by all affections sought,

And fairer than thou wouldst be thought;

Or had thine eyes as many darts

As thou believ'st they shoot at hearts;

Yet if thy love were paid to me,

I would not offer mine to thee.

I'd sooner court a fever's heat,Than her that owns a flame as great;She that my love will entertain,10Must meet it with no less disdain;For mutual fires themselves destroy,And willing kisses yield no joy.

I'd sooner court a fever's heat,

Than her that owns a flame as great;

She that my love will entertain,

10Must meet it with no less disdain;

For mutual fires themselves destroy,

And willing kisses yield no joy.

I love thee not because aloneThou canst all beauty call thine ownNor doth my passion fuel seekIn thy bright eye or softer cheek:Then, fairest, if thou wouldst know whyI love thee, 'cause thou canst deny.

I love thee not because alone

Thou canst all beauty call thine own

Nor doth my passion fuel seek

In thy bright eye or softer cheek:

Then, fairest, if thou wouldst know why

I love thee, 'cause thou canst deny.

Oh, turn away those cruel eyes,The stars of my undoing!Or Death, in such a bright disguise,May tempt a second wooing.Punish their blindly impious pride,Who dare contemn thy glory;It was my fall that deifiedThy name, and seal'd thy story.Yet no new sufferings can prepare10A higher praise to crown thee;Though my first Death proclaim thee fair,My second will unthrone thee.Lovers will doubt thou canst enticeNo other for thy fuel,And if thou burn one victim twice,Both think thee poor and cruel.

Oh, turn away those cruel eyes,The stars of my undoing!Or Death, in such a bright disguise,May tempt a second wooing.

Oh, turn away those cruel eyes,

The stars of my undoing!

Or Death, in such a bright disguise,

May tempt a second wooing.

Punish their blindly impious pride,Who dare contemn thy glory;It was my fall that deifiedThy name, and seal'd thy story.

Punish their blindly impious pride,

Who dare contemn thy glory;

It was my fall that deified

Thy name, and seal'd thy story.

Yet no new sufferings can prepare10A higher praise to crown thee;Though my first Death proclaim thee fair,My second will unthrone thee.

Yet no new sufferings can prepare

10A higher praise to crown thee;

Though my first Death proclaim thee fair,

My second will unthrone thee.

Lovers will doubt thou canst enticeNo other for thy fuel,And if thou burn one victim twice,Both think thee poor and cruel.

Lovers will doubt thou canst entice

No other for thy fuel,

And if thou burn one victim twice,

Both think thee poor and cruel.

The Relapse.] One of the author's best. Double rhymes often brought him luck. It was reprinted in Lawes'sAirs and Dialogues, the Second Book, 1655, p. 7, with the heading 'He would not be tempted'. In1647called 'Song' only. This edition also reads in l. 5 'blind and impious', and in l. 7 'thy name' for 'my fall'. This last, which doubtless is a slip, seems to occur in some copies of1651, but Brydges prints it correctly.

Madam,Since every place you bless, the nameThis book assumes may justlier claim,(What more a court than where you shine?And where your soul, what more divine?)You may, perhaps, doubt at first sight,That it usurps upon your right;And praising virtues, that belongTo you, in others, doth yours wrong;No; 'tis yourself you read, in all10Perfections earlier ages callTheir own; all glories they e'er knewWere but faint prophecies of you.You then have here sole interest whom 'tis meantAs well to entertain, as represent.

Madam,

Since every place you bless, the name

This book assumes may justlier claim,

(What more a court than where you shine?

And where your soul, what more divine?)

You may, perhaps, doubt at first sight,

That it usurps upon your right;

And praising virtues, that belong

To you, in others, doth yours wrong;

No; 'tis yourself you read, in all

10Perfections earlier ages call

Their own; all glories they e'er knew

Were but faint prophecies of you.

You then have here sole interest whom 'tis meant

As well to entertain, as represent.

To the Countess of S.] This lady has been supposed, probably enough, to be Dorothy Sidney or Spencer, Countess of Sunderland, and Waller's 'Sacharissa'.The Holy Courtwas a manual of devotion by the Jesuit Caussin, translated into English as early as 1626.

I languish in a silent flame;For she, to whom my vows incline,Doth own perfections so divine,That but to speak were to disclose her nameIf I should say that she the storeOf Nature's graces doth comprise,The love and wonder of all eyes,Who will not guess the beauty I adore?Or though I warily conceal10The charms her looks and soul possess;Should I her cruelty express,And say she smiles at all the pains we feel;Among such suppliants as implorePity, distributing her hate,Inexorable as their fate,Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

I languish in a silent flame;

For she, to whom my vows incline,

Doth own perfections so divine,

That but to speak were to disclose her name

If I should say that she the store

Of Nature's graces doth comprise,

The love and wonder of all eyes,

Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

Or though I warily conceal10The charms her looks and soul possess;Should I her cruelty express,And say she smiles at all the pains we feel;

Or though I warily conceal

10The charms her looks and soul possess;

Should I her cruelty express,

And say she smiles at all the pains we feel;

Among such suppliants as implorePity, distributing her hate,Inexorable as their fate,Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

Among such suppliants as implore

Pity, distributing her hate,

Inexorable as their fate,

Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

Song.] Stanley was lessimpar congressuswith Voiture than with Ronsard, and this is well done. The stanza is well framed and is different from the French ('Je me tais et me sens brûler', Chanson LIV,Œuvresde Voiture, ed. Ubicini, Paris, 1855, ii. 336).

Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire,Though I must waste in an unpitied fire,By the same Deity, severe as fair,Commanded adoration and despair;Though I am mark'd for sacrifice, to tellThe growing age what dangerous glories dwellIn this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays,Will challenge every heart, and every praise;Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim,10By Fortune's taught indulgence to my flame.Great Queen of Chance! unjustly we excludeThy power an interest in beatitude,Who, with mysterious judgement, dost dispenseThe bounties of unerring Providence,Whilst we, to whom the causes are unknown,Would style that blindness thine, which is our own;As kind in justice to thyself as me,Thou hast redeem'd thy name and votary;Nor will I prize this less for being thine,20Nor longer at my destiny repine:Counsel and choice are things below thy state;Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate.

Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire,

Though I must waste in an unpitied fire,

By the same Deity, severe as fair,

Commanded adoration and despair;

Though I am mark'd for sacrifice, to tell

The growing age what dangerous glories dwell

In this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays,

Will challenge every heart, and every praise;

Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim,

10By Fortune's taught indulgence to my flame.

Great Queen of Chance! unjustly we exclude

Thy power an interest in beatitude,

Who, with mysterious judgement, dost dispense

The bounties of unerring Providence,

Whilst we, to whom the causes are unknown,

Would style that blindness thine, which is our own;

As kind in justice to thyself as me,

Thou hast redeem'd thy name and votary;

Nor will I prize this less for being thine,

20Nor longer at my destiny repine:

Counsel and choice are things below thy state;

Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate.

Reach incense, boy! thou pious Flamen, pray!To genial Deities these rites we pay.Fly far from hence, such as are only taughtTo fear the Gods by guilt of crime or thought!This is my suit; grant it, Celestial Powers,If what my will affects, oppose not yours.First, pure before your altars may I stand,And practise studiously what you command;My parents' faith devoutly let me prize,10Nor what my ancestors esteem'd, despise;Let me not vex'd inquire (when thriving illDepresseth good) why thunder is so still?No such ambitious knowledge trouble me;Those curious thoughts advance not Piety:Peaceful my house, in wife and children bless'd,Nor these beyond my fortunes be increas'd:None cozen me with Friendship's specious gloss;None dearly buy my friendship with their loss:To suits nor wars my quiet be betray'd;20My quiet, to the Muses justly paid:Want never force me court the rich with lies,And intermix my suit with flatteries:Let my sure friends deceive the tedious light,And my sound sleeps, with debts not broke, the night:Cheerful my board, my smiles shar'd by my wife,O Gods! yet mindful still of human life,To die nor let me wish nor fear; amongMy joys mix griefs, griefs that not last too long:My age be happy; and when Fate shall claim30My thread of life, let me survive in fame.Enough: the gods are pleas'd; the flames aspire,And crackling laurel triumphs in the fire.

Reach incense, boy! thou pious Flamen, pray!

To genial Deities these rites we pay.

Fly far from hence, such as are only taught

To fear the Gods by guilt of crime or thought!

This is my suit; grant it, Celestial Powers,

If what my will affects, oppose not yours.

First, pure before your altars may I stand,

And practise studiously what you command;

My parents' faith devoutly let me prize,

10Nor what my ancestors esteem'd, despise;

Let me not vex'd inquire (when thriving ill

Depresseth good) why thunder is so still?

No such ambitious knowledge trouble me;

Those curious thoughts advance not Piety:

Peaceful my house, in wife and children bless'd,

Nor these beyond my fortunes be increas'd:

None cozen me with Friendship's specious gloss;

None dearly buy my friendship with their loss:

To suits nor wars my quiet be betray'd;

20My quiet, to the Muses justly paid:

Want never force me court the rich with lies,

And intermix my suit with flatteries:

Let my sure friends deceive the tedious light,

And my sound sleeps, with debts not broke, the night:

Cheerful my board, my smiles shar'd by my wife,

O Gods! yet mindful still of human life,

To die nor let me wish nor fear; among

My joys mix griefs, griefs that not last too long:

My age be happy; and when Fate shall claim

30My thread of life, let me survive in fame.

Enough: the gods are pleas'd; the flames aspire,

And crackling laurel triumphs in the fire.

A small well-gotten stock and country seatI have, yet my content makes both seem great.My quiet soul to fears is not inur'd,And from the sins of Idleness secur'd.Others may seek the camp, others the town,And fool themselves with pleasure or renown;Let me, unminded in the common crowd,Live master of the time that I'm allow'd.

A small well-gotten stock and country seat

I have, yet my content makes both seem great.

My quiet soul to fears is not inur'd,

And from the sins of Idleness secur'd.

Others may seek the camp, others the town,

And fool themselves with pleasure or renown;

Let me, unminded in the common crowd,

Live master of the time that I'm allow'd.

Fletcher (whose fame no age can ever waste;Envy of ours, and glory of the last)Is now alive again; and with his nameHis sacred ashes wak'd into a flame;Such as before did by a secret charmThe wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm,And lend the ladies' eyes a power more bright,Dispensing thus to either, heat and light.He to a sympathy those souls betray'd,10Whom Love or Beauty never could persuade;And in each mov'd spectator could begetA real passion by a counterfeit:When first Bellario bled, what lady thereDid not for every drop let fall a tear?And when Aspasia wept, not any eyeBut seem'd to wear the same sad livery.By him inspir'd, the feign'd Lucina drewMore streams of melting sorrow than the true;But then the Scornful Lady did beguile20Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile.Thus he affections could or raise or lay;Love, Grief, and Mirth thus did his charms obey:He Nature taught her passions to outdo,How to refine the old, and create new;Which such a happy likeness seem'd to bear,As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were.Yet all had nothing been, obscurely keptIn the same urn wherein his dust hath slept,Nor had he ris' the Delphic wreath to claim,30Had not the dying scene expir'd his name.Oh the indulgent justice of this age,To grant the Press, what it denies the Stage!Despair our joy hath doubled; he is comeTwice welcome by thispost-liminium;His loss preserv'd him; they that silenc'd witAre now the authors to eternize it:Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv'd,And plays, by intermission, longer liv'd.

Fletcher (whose fame no age can ever waste;

Envy of ours, and glory of the last)

Is now alive again; and with his name

His sacred ashes wak'd into a flame;

Such as before did by a secret charm

The wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm,

And lend the ladies' eyes a power more bright,

Dispensing thus to either, heat and light.

He to a sympathy those souls betray'd,

10Whom Love or Beauty never could persuade;

And in each mov'd spectator could beget

A real passion by a counterfeit:

When first Bellario bled, what lady there

Did not for every drop let fall a tear?

And when Aspasia wept, not any eye

But seem'd to wear the same sad livery.

By him inspir'd, the feign'd Lucina drew

More streams of melting sorrow than the true;

But then the Scornful Lady did beguile

20Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile.

Thus he affections could or raise or lay;

Love, Grief, and Mirth thus did his charms obey:

He Nature taught her passions to outdo,

How to refine the old, and create new;

Which such a happy likeness seem'd to bear,

As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were.

Yet all had nothing been, obscurely kept

In the same urn wherein his dust hath slept,

Nor had he ris' the Delphic wreath to claim,

30Had not the dying scene expir'd his name.

Oh the indulgent justice of this age,

To grant the Press, what it denies the Stage!

Despair our joy hath doubled; he is come

Twice welcome by thispost-liminium;

His loss preserv'd him; they that silenc'd wit

Are now the authors to eternize it:

Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv'd,

And plays, by intermission, longer liv'd.

Back to Index Next