Part 3

While you dare trust the loudest tongue of fame, The zeale you heare your Mistresse to proclaim To th' talking world: I in the silent'st grove, Scarce to my selfe dare whisper that I love. Thee, titles _Brud'nell_, riches thee adorne, And vigorous youth to vice not headlong borne By th' tide of custome: Which I value more Then what blind superstitious fooles adore, Who greatnesse in the chaire of blisse enthrone. Greatnesse we borrow, Vertue is our owne. In thy attempt be prosperous, and when ere Thou shalt prefix the houre; may _Hymen_ weare His brightest robe; where some fam'd Persian shall Worke by the wonder of her needle all The nuptiall joyes; which (if we Poets be True Prophets) bounteous heaven designes for thee. I envie not, but glory in thy fate, While in the narrow limits of my state I bound my hopes. Which if _Castara_ daigne Once to entitle hers; the wealthiest graine My earth, untild shall beare; my trees shall grone Under their fruitfull burthen, and at one And the same season, Nature forth shall bring Riches of Autumne, pleasures of the Spring. But digge, and thou shalt finde a purer Mine Then th' Indians boast: Taste of this generous Vine, And her blood sweeter will than Nectar prove. Such miracles wait on a noble love. But should she scorne my suite, I'le tread that path Which none but some sad Fairy beaten hath. There force wrong'd _Philomel_, hearing my mone, To sigh my greater griefes, forget her owne.

_To_ CASTARA, _Inquiring why I loved her_.

Why doth the stubborne iron prove So gentle to th' magnetique stone? How know you that the orbs doe move; With musicke too? since heard of none? And I will answer why I love.

'Tis not thy vertues, each a starre Which in thy soules bright spheare doe shine, Shooting their beauties from a farre, To make each gazers heart like thine: Our vertues often Meteors are.

'Tis not thy face, I cannot spie When Poets weepe some Virgins death, That _Cupid_ wantons in her eye, Or perfumes vapour from her breath, And 'mongst the dead thou once must lie.[6]

Nor is't thy birth. For I was ne're So vaine as in that to delight: Which ballance it, no weight doth beare, Nor yet is object to the sight, But onely fils the vulgar eare.

Nor yet thy fortunes: Since I know They in their motion like the Sea: Ebbe from the good, to the impious flow: And so in flattery betray, That, raising they but overthrow.

And yet these attributes might prove Fuell enough t' enflame desire; But there was something from above, Shot without reasons guide, this fire. I know, yet know not, why I love.

[6] And there must once thy beauty lie. 1634, 1635.

_To_ CASTARA, _Looking upon him_.

Transfix me with that flaming dart Ith' eye, or brest, or any part, So thou, _Castara_, spare my heart.

The cold Cymerian by that bright Warme wound, ith' darknesse of his night, Might both recover heat, and light.

The rugged Scythian gently move, Ith' whispering shadow of some grove, That's consecrate to sportive Love.

_December_ see the Primrose grow, The Rivers in soft murmurs flow, And from his head shake off his snow.

And crooked age might feele againe Those heates, of which youth did complaine, While fresh blood swels each withered veyne.

For the bright lustre of thy eyes, Which but to warme them would suffice, May burne me to a sacrifice.

[7]_To the right honourable the Countesse of_ Ar.

Wing'd with delight (yet such as still doth beare Chaste vertues stamp) those Children of the yeere The dayes, haste nimbly; and while as they flie, Each of them with their predecessors vie, Which yeelds most pleasure; you to them dispence, What Time lost with his cradle, innocence. So I (if fancie not delude my sight,) See often the pale monarch of the night, _Diana_, 'mong her nimphs. For every quire Of vulgar starres, who lend their weaker fire To conquer the nights chilnesse, with their Queene, In harmelesse revels tread the happy greene. But I who am proscrib'd by tyrant love, Seeke out a silent exile in some grove, Where nought except a solitary Spring, Was ever heard, to which the Nimphs did sing _Narcissus_ obsequies: For onely there Is musique apt to catch an am'rous eare. _Castara!_ oh my heart! How great a flame Did even shoot into me with her name? _Castara_ hath betray'd me to a zeale Which thus distracts my hopes. Flints may conceale In their cold veynes a fire. But I whose heart By Love's dissolv'd, ne're practis'd that cold art. But truce thou warring passion, for I'le now Madam to you addresse this solemne vow. By Vertue and your selfe (best friends) I finde In the interiour province of your minde Such government: That if great men obey Th' example of your order, they will sway Without reproofe. For onely you unite Honour with sweetenesse, vertue with delight.

[7] _To the right honourable my very good Lady_, Anne _Countesse of_ Ar. 1634, 1635.

_Upon_ CASTARA'S _frowne or smile_.

Learned shade of _Tycho Brache_, who to us, The stars propheticke language didst impart, And even in life their mysteries discusse: _Castara_ hath o'rethrowne thy strongest art.

When custome struggles from her beaten path, Then accidents must needs uncertaine be. For if _Castara_ smile; though winter hath Lock't up the rivers: Summer's warme in me.

And _Flora_ by the miracle reviv'd, Doth even at her owne beauty wondring stand. But should she frowne, the Northerne wind arriv'd, In midst of Summer, leads his frozen band: Which doth to yce my youthfull blood congeale, Yet in the midst of yce, still flames my zeale.

_In_ CASTARA, _All fortunes_.

Ye glorious wits, who finde then Parian stone, A nobler quarry to build trophies on, Purchast 'gainst conquer'd time; Go court loud fame, He wins it, who but sings _Castara's_ name? Aspiring soules, who grow but in a Spring, Forc't by the warmth of some indulgent King: Know if _Castara_ smile: I dwell in it, And vie for glory with the Favorit. Ye sonnes of avarice, who but to share Uncertaine treasure with a certaine care. Tempt death in th' horrid Ocean: I, when ere I but approach her, find the Indies there. Heaven brightest Saint, kinde to my vowes made thee Of all ambition courts, th' Epitome.

_Upon thought_ CASTARA _may dye_.

If she should dye, (as well suspect we may, A body so compact should ne're decay) Her brighter soule would in the Moone inspire More chastity, in dimmer starres more fire. You twins of _Læda_ (as your parents are In their wild lusts) may grow irregular Now in your motion: for the marriner Henceforth shall onely steere his course by her. And when the zeale of after time[8] shall spie Her uncorrupt ith' happy marble lie; The roses in her cheekes unwithered, 'Twill turne to love, and dote upon the dead. For he who did to her in life dispence A heaven, will banish all corruption thence.

[8] times. 1634.

_Time to the moments, on sight of_ CASTARA.

You younger children of your father stay, Swift flying moments (which divide the day And with your number measure out the yeare In various seasons) stay and wonder here. For since my cradle, I so bright a grace Ne're saw, as you see in _Castara's_ face; Whom nature to revenge some youthfull crime Would never frame, till age had weakened Time. Else spight of fate, in some faire forme of clay My youth I'de bodied, throwne my sythe away, And broke my glasse. But since that cannot be, I'le punish Nature for her injurie. On nimble moments in your journey flie, _Castara_ shall like me, grow old, and die.

_To a friend inquiring her name, whom he loved._

Fond Love himselfe hopes to disguise From view, if he but covered lies, Ith' veile of my transparent eyes.

Though in a smile himselfe he hide, Or in a sigh, thou art so tride In all his arts, hee'le be discride.

I must confesse (Deare friend) my flame, Whose boasts _Castara_ so doth tame, That not thy faith, shall know her name.

Twere prophanation of my zeale, If but abroad one whisper steale, They love betray, who him reveale.

In a darke cave which never eye Could by his subtlest ray descry, It doth like a rich minerall lye.

Which is she with her flame refine, I'de force it from that obscure Mine, And then it like pure should shine.

_A Dialogue betweene_ HOPE _and_ FEARE.

FEARE. Checke thy forward thoughts, and know _Hymen_ onely joynes their hands; Who with even paces goe, Shee in gold, he rich in lands.

HOPE. But _Castara's_ purer fire, When it meetes a noble flame: Shuns the smoke of such desire, Joynes with love, and burnes the same.

FEARE. Yet obedience must prevaile, They who o're her actions sway: Would have her in th' Ocean saile, And contemne thy narrow sea.

HOPE. Parents lawes must beare no weight When they happinesse prevent. And our sea is not so streight, But it roome hath for content.

FEARE. Thousand hearts as victims stand, At the Altar of her eyes. And will partiall she command, Onely thine for sacrifice?

HOPE. Thousand victims must returne; Shee the purest will designe: Choose _Castara_ which shall burne, Choose the purest, that is, mine.

_To_ CUPID, _Upon a dimple in_ CASTARA'S _cheeke_.

Nimble boy in thy warme flight, What cold tyrant dimm'd thy sight? Hadst thou eyes to see my faire, Thou wouldst sigh thy selfe to ayre: Fearing to create this one, Nature had her selfe undone. But if you when this you heare Fall downe murdered through your eare, Begge of _Jove_ that you may have In her cheeke a dimpled grave. Lilly, Rose, and Violet, Shall the perfum'd Hearse beset While a beauteous sheet of Lawne, O're the wanton corps is drawne: And all lovers use this breath; "Here lies _Cupid_ blest in death."

_Upon_ CUPID'S _death and buriall in_ CASTARA'S _cheeke_.

_Cupids_ dead. Who would not dye, To be interr'd so neere her eye? Who would feare the sword, to have Such an Alabaster grave? O're which two bright tapers burne, To give light to the beauteous Urne. At the first _Castara_ smil'd, Thinking _Cupid_ her beguil'd, Onely counterfeiting death. But when she perceiv'd his breath Quite expir'd: the mournefull Girle, To entombe the boy in Pearle, Wept so long; till pittious _Jove_, From the ashes of this Love, Made ten thousand _Cupids_ rise, But confin'd them to her eyes: Where they yet, to shew they lacke No due sorrow, still weare blacke. But the blacks so glorious are Which they mourne in, that the faire Quires of starres, look pale and fret, Seeing themselves out shin'd by jet.

_To_ Fame.

Fly on thy swiftest wing, ambitious Fame, And speake to the cold North _Castara's_ name: Which very breath will, like the East wind, bring The temp'rate warmth, and musicke of the Spring. Then from the Articke to th' Antarticke Pole, Haste nimbly and inspire a gentler soule, By naming her, ith' torrid South; that he May milde as _Zephirus_ coole whispers be. Nor let the West where heaven already joynes, The vastest Empire, and the wealthiest Mines: Nor th' East in pleasures wanton, her condemne, For not distributing her gifts on them. For she with want would have her bounty meete. Loves noble charity is so discreete.

_A Dialogue betweene_ ARAPHILL _and_ CASTARA.

ARAPH. Dost not thou _Castara_ read Am'rous volumes in my eyes? Doth not every motion plead What I'de shew, and yet disguise? Sences act each others part. Eyes, as tongues, reveale the heart.

CAST. I saw love, as lightning breake From thy eyes, and was content Oft to heare thy silence speake. Silent love is eloquent. So the sence of learning heares, The dumbe musicke of the Spheares.

ARAPH. Then there's mercy in your kinde, Listning to an unfain'd love, Or strives he to tame the wind, Who would your compassion move? No y'are pittious, as y're faire. Heaven relents, o'recome by prayer.

CAST. But loose man too prodigall Is in the expence of vowes; And thinks to him kingdomes fall When the heart of woman bowes: Frailty to your armes may yeeld; Who resists you, wins the field.

ARAPH. Triumph not to see me bleede, Let the Bore chased[9] from his den, On the wounds of mankinde feede. Your soft sexe should pitty men. Malice well may practise Art, Love hath a transparent heart.

CAST. Yet is love all one deceit, A warme frost, a frozen fire. She within her selfe is great, Who is slave to no desire. Let youth act, and age advise, And then love may finde his eyes.

ARAPH. _Hymens_ torch yeelds a dim light, When ambition joynes our hands. A proud day, but mournefull night, She sustaines, who marries lands. Wealth slaves man, but for their Ore, Th' Indians had beene free, though poore.

CAST. And yet wealth the fuell is Which maintaines the nuptiall fire, And in honour there's a blisse. Th' are immortall who aspire. But truth sayes, no joyes are sweete, But where hearts united meete.

ARAPH. Roses breath not such a sent, To perfume the neighbr'ing groves; As when you affirme content, In no spheare of glory moves. Glory narrow soules combines: Noble hearts Love onely joynes.

[9] chased. 1634, 1635.

_To_ CASTARA, _Intending a journey into the Countrey_.

Why haste you hence _Castara_? can the earth, A glorious mother, in her flowry birth, Shew Lillies like thy brow? Can she disclose In emulation of thy cheeke, a Rose, Sweete as thy blush? Upon thy selfe then set Just value, and scorne it, thy counterfet. The Spring's still with thee; But perhaps the field, Not warm'd with thy approach, wants force to yeeld, Her tribute to the Plough; O rather let Th' ingratefull earth for ever be in debt To th' hope of sweating industry, than we Should starve with cold, who have no heat but thee. Nor feare the publike good. Thy eyes can give A life to all, who can deserve to live.

_Upon_ CASTARA'S _departure_.

I am engag'd to sorrow, and my heart Feeles a distracted rage. Though you depart And leave me to my feares; let love in spite Of absence, our divided soules unite. But you must goe. The melancholy Doves Draw _Venus_ chariot hence. The sportive Loves Which wont to wanton here, hence with you flye, And like false friends forsake me when I dye. For but a walking tombe, what can he be; Whose best of life is forc't to part with thee?

_To_ CASTARA, _Upon a trembling kisse at departure_.

Th' Arabian wind, whose breathing gently blows Purple to th' Violet, blushes to the Rose; Did never yeeld an odour rich as this. Why are you then so thrifty of a kisse, Authoriz'd even by custome? Why doth feare So tremble on your lip, my lip being neare? Thinke you I parting with so sad a zeale, Will act so blacke a mischiefe, as to steale Thy Roses thence? And they, by this device, Transplanted: somewhere else force Paradice? Or else you feare, lest you, should my heart skip Up to my mouth, t' incounter with your lip, Might rob me of it: and be judg'd in this, T' have _Judas_ like betraid me with a kisse.

_To_ CASTARA, _Looking backe at her departing_.

Looke backe _Castara_. From thy eye Let yet more flaming arrowes flye. To live, is thus to burne and dye.

For what might glorious hope desire, But that thy selfe, as I expire, Should bring both death and funerall fire?

Distracted Love, shall grieve to see Such zeale in death: For feare lest he Himselfe, should be consumed in me.

And gathering up my ashes, weepe, That in his teares he then may sleepe: And thus embalm'd, as reliques, keepe.

Thither let lovers pilgrims turne, And the loose flames in which they burne, Give up as offerings to my Urne.

That them the vertue of my shrine, By miracle so long refine; Till they prove innocent as mine.

_Upon_ CASTARA'S _absence_.

Tis madnesse to give Physicke to the dead; Then leave me friends: Yet haply you'd here A lecture; but I'le not dissected be, T' instruct your Art by my anatomie. But still you trust your sense, sweare you discry No difference in me. All's deceit oth' eye, Some spirit hath a body fram'd in th' ayre, Like mine, which he doth to delude you, weare: Else heaven by miracle makes me survive My selfe, to keepe in me poore Love alive. But I am dead, yet let none question where My best part rests, and with a sigh or teare, Prophane the Pompe, when they my corps interre, My soule imparadis'd, for 'tis with her.

_To_ CASTARA, _Complaining her absence in the Country_.

The lesser people of the ayre conspire To keepe thee from me, _Philomel_ with higher And sweeter notes, wooes thee to weepe her rape, Which would appease the gods, and change her shape. The early Larke, preferring 'fore soft rest Obsequious duty, leaves his downy nest, And doth to thee harmonious tribute pay; Expecting from thy eyes the breake of day. From which the Owle is frighted, and doth rove (As never having felt the warmth of love.) In uncouth vaults, and the chill shades of night, Nor biding the bright lustre of thy sight. With him my fate agrees. Not viewing thee I'me lost in mists, at best, but meteors see.

_To_ THAMES.

Swift in thy watry chariot, courteous _Thames_, Hast by the happy error of thy streames, To kisse the banks of _Marlow_, which doth show Faire _Seymors_, and beyond that never flow. Then summon all thy Swans, that who did give Musicke to death, may henceforth sing, and live, For my _Castara_. She can life restore, Or quicken them who had no life before. How should the Poplar else the Pine provoke; The stately Cedar challenge the rude Oke To dance at sight of her? They have no sense From nature given, but by her influence. [10]If _Orpheus_ did those senslesse creatures move, He was a Prophet, and fore-sang my love.

[10]If _Orpheus_ did those senslesse creatures stirre, He was a Prophet, and fore-sang of her. 1634, 1635.

_To the right honourable the Earle of_ SHREWES.[11]

My Muse (great Lord) when last you heard her sing Did to your Uncles Urne, her off'rings bring: And if to fame I may give faith, your eares Delighted in the musicke of her teares. That was her debt to vertue. And when e're She her bright head among the clouds shall reare And adde to th' wondring heavens a new flame, Shee'le celebrate the Genius of your name. Wilde with another rage, inspir'd by love, She charmes the Myrtles of the Idalian grove. And while she gives the Cyprian stormes a law, Those wanton Doves which _Cythereia_ draw Through th' am'rous ayre: Admire what power doth sway The Ocean, and arrest them in their way. She sings _Castara_ then. O she more bright, Than is the starry Senate of the night; Who in their motion did like straglers erre, Cause they deriv'd no influence from her, Who's constant as she's chaste. The Sinne hath beene Clad like a neighb'ring shepheard often seene To hunt those Dales, in hope then _Daphnes_, there To see a brighter face. Th' Astrologer In th' interim dyed, whose proud Art could not show Whence that Ecclipse did on the sudden grow. A wanton Satyre eager in the chase Of some faire Nimph, beheld _Castara's_ face, And left his loose pursuite; who while he ey'd, Unchastely, such a beauty, glorified With such a vertue; by heavens great commands Turn'd marble, and there yet a Statute stands. As Poet thus. But as a Christian now, And by my zeale to you (my Lord) I vow, She doth a flame so pure and sacred move; In me impiety 'twere not to love.

[11] _To the Right Honourable my very good Lord_, JOHN _Earle of S._ 1634, 1635.

_To_ CUPID. _Wishing a speedy passage to_ CASTARA.

Thankes _Cupid_, but the Coach of _Venus_ moves For me too slow, drawn but by lazie Doves. I, left a journey my delay should finde, Will leape into the chariot of the winde. Swift as the flight of lightning through the ayre, Hee'le hurry me till I approach the faire But unkinde _Seymors_. Thus he will proclaime, What tribute winds owe to _Castara's_ name. Viewing this prodigie, astonisht they, Who first accesse deny'd me, will obey, With feare what love commands: Yet censure me As guilty of the blackest sorcery. But after to my wishes milder prove: When they know this the miracle of love.

_To_ CASTARA. _Of Love._

How fancie mockes me? By th' effect I prove, 'Twas am'rous folly, wings ascrib'd to love, And ore th' obedient elements command. Hee's lame as he is blinde, for here I stand Fixt as the earth. Throw then this Idoll downe Yee lovers who first made it; which can frowne Or smile but as you please. But I'me untame In rage. _Castara_ call thou[12] on his name, And though hee'le not beare up my vowes to thee, Hee'le triumph to bring downe my Saint to me.

[12] then. 1634.

_To the_ Spring, _Upon the uncertainty of_ CASTARA'S _abode_.

Faire Mistresse of[13] the earth, with garlands crown'd Rise, by a lovers charme, from the parcht ground, And shew thy flowry wealth: that she, where ere Her starres shall guide her, meete thy beauties there. Should she to the cold Northerne climates goe, Force thy affrighted Lillies there to grow; Thy Roses in those gelid fields t' appeare; She absent, I have all their Winter here. Or if to the torrid Zone her way she bend, Her the coole breathing of _Favonius_ lend, Thither command the birds to bring their quires. That Zone is temp'rate. I have all his fires. Attend her, courteous Spring, though we should here Lose by it all the treasures of the yeere.

[13] to. 1634, 1635.

_To_ Reason, _Upon_ CASTARA'S _absence_.