Chapter 4
Amyntas, go! Thou art undone, Thy faithful heart is crossed by fate; That love is better not begun, Where love is come to love too late.
Yet who that saw fair Chloris weep Such sacred dew, with such pure grace, Durst think them feigned tears, or seek For treason in an angel's face.
Henry Vaughan.
LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG.
Love me little, love me long, Is the burden of my song; Love that is too hot and strong Burneth soon to waste; Still I would not have thee cold, Or backward, or too bold, For love that lasteth till 'tis old Fadeth not in haste.
Winter's cold, or summer's heat, Autumn tempests on it beat, It can never know defeat, Never can rebel; Such the love that I would gain, Such love, I tell thee plain, That thou must give or love in vain, So to thee farewell.
Circa 1610.
FAIN WOULD I CHANGE THAT NOTE.
Fain would I change that note To which fond love hath charm'd me, Long, long to sing by rote, Fancying that that harm'd me: Yet when this thought doth come, "Love is the perfect sum Of all delight," I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write.
O Love, they wrong thee much That say thy sweet is bitter, When thy rich fruit is such As nothing can be sweeter. Fair house of joy and bliss Where truest pleasure is, I do adore thee; I know thee what thou art, I serve thee with my heart, And fall before thee.
Captain Tobias Hume.
TO ROSES IN CASTARA'S BREAST.
Ye blushing Virgins happy are In the chaste Nunn'ry of her breasts, For he'd profane so chaste a fair, Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests.
Transplanted thus how bright ye grow, How rich a perfume do ye yield? In some close garden, cowslips so Are sweeter than in th' open field.
In those white Cloisters live secure From the rude blasts of wanton breath, Each hour more innocent and pure, Till you shall wither into death.
Then that which living gave you room, Your glorious sepulchre shall be; There wants no marble for a tomb, Whose breast hath marble been to me.
William Habington.
THOU PRETTY BIRD.
Thou pretty bird, how do I see Thy silly state and mine agree! For thou a prisoner art; So is my heart. Thou sing'st to her, and so do I address My music to her ear that's merciless; But herein doth the difference lie,-- That thou art graced; so am not I; Thou singing livest, and I must singing die.
John Danyel.
ONCE I LOV'D A MAIDEN FAIR.
Once I lov'd a maiden fair, But she did deceive me; She with Venus might compare, In my mind, believe me: She was young, and among All our maids the sweetest. Now I say, ah! well-a-day! Brightest hopes are fleetest.
I the wedding ring had got, Wedding clothes provided, Sure the church would bind a knot Ne'er to be divided: Married we straight must be, She her vows had plighted; Vows, alas! as frail as glass: All my hopes are blighted.
Maidens wav'ring and untrue, Many a heart have broken; Sweetest lips the world e'er knew, Falsest words have spoken. Fare thee well, faithless girl, I'll not sorrow for thee; Once I held thee dear as pearl, Now I do abhor thee.
Temp. Jas. I. (condensed by T. Oxenford).
I PR'YTHEE SEND ME BACK MY HEART.
I pr'ythee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine?
Yet now I think on't, let it lie; To find it were in vain, For thou'st a thief in either eye Would steal it back again.
Why should two hearts in one breast lie, And yet not lodge together? O love! where is thy sympathy, If thus our breasts you sever?
But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out; For when I think I'm best resolved, I then am most in doubt.
Then farewell love, and farewell woe, I will no longer pine; For I'll believe I have her heart As much as she hath mine.
Sir John Suckling.
ORSAMES' SONG.
Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute?
Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move, This cannot take her; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!
Sir John Suckling.
SINCE FIRST I SAW YOUR FACE.
Since first I saw your face I resolved To honour and renown you; If now I be disdained I wish my heart had never known you. What! I that loved, and you that liked, Shall we begin to wrangle? No, no, no, my heart is fast And cannot disentangle.
The sun whose beams most glorious are, Rejecteth no beholder, And your sweet beauty past compare, Made my poor eyes the bolder. Where beauty moves, and wit delights And signs of kindness bind me, There, oh! there, where'er I go I leave my heart behind me.
If I admire or praise you too much, That fault you may forgive me, Or if my hands had strayed but a touch, Then justly might you leave me. I asked you leave, you bade me love; Is't now a time to chide me? No, no, no, I'll love you still, What fortune e'er betide me.
Circa 1617.
THE GIVEN HEART.
I Wonder what those lovers mean, who say They've given their hearts away. Some good, kind lover, tell me how: For mine is but a torment to me now.
If so it be one place both hearts contain, For what do they complain? What courtesy can Love do more, Than to join hearts that parted were before?
Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come Into the self-same room; 'Twill tear and blow up all within Like a grenade shot into a magazine.
Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts Of both our broken hearts; Shall out of both one new one make, From hers th' alloy, from mine the metal take.
For of her heart he from the flames will find But little left behind: Mine only will remain entire, No dross was there to perish in the fire.
Abraham Cowley.
ICE AND FIRE.
Naked Love did to thine eye, Chloris, once to warm him, fly; But its subtle flame, and light, Scorch'd his wings, and spoiled his sight.
Forc'd from thence he went to rest In the soft couch of thy breast: But there met a frost so great, As his torch extinguish'd straight.
When poor Cupid (thus constrain'd His cold bed to leave) complain'd: "'Las! what lodging's here for me, If all ice and fire she be."
Sir Edmund Sherburne.
AMARANTHA.
Amarantha, sweet and fair, Forbear to braid that shining hair; As my curious hand or eye, Hovering round thee, let it fly:
Let it fly as unconfined As its ravisher the wind, Who has left his darling east To wanton o'er this spicy nest.
Every tress must be confess'd But neatly tangled at the best, Like a clew of golden thread, Most excellently ravelled.
Do not then wind up that light In ribands, and o'ercloud the night; Like the sun in his early ray, But shake your head and scatter day.
Richard Lovelace.
TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON.
When love, with unconfined wings, Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye-- The birds that wanton in the air, Know no such liberty.
* * * * *
Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage. If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free,-- Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Richard Lovelace.
A MOCK SONG.
Tis true I never was in love: But now I mean to be, For there's no art Can shield a heart From love's supremacy.
Though in my nonage I have seen A world of taking faces, I had not age or wit to ken Their several hidden graces.
Those virtues which, though thinly set, In others are admired, In thee are altogether met, Which make thee so desired.
That though I never was in love, Nor never meant to be, Thyself and parts Above my arts Have drawn my heart to thee.
Alexander Brome.
SPEAKING AND KISSING.
The air which thy smooth voice doth break, Into my soul like lightning flies; My life retires while thou dost speak, And thy soft breath its room supplies.
Lost in this pleasing ecstasy, I join my trembling lips to thine, And back receive that life from thee Which I so gladly did resign.
Forbear, Platonic fools! t' inquire What numbers do the soul compose; No harmony can life inspire But that which from these accents flows.
Thomas Stanley.
LADIES' CONQUERING EYES.
Ladies, though to your conquering eyes Love owes its chiefest victories, And borrows those bright arms from you With which he does the world subdue; Yet you yourselves are not above The empire nor the griefs of love.
Then rack not lovers with disdain, Lest love on you revenge their pain: You are not free because you're fair, The Boy did not his mother spare: Though beauty be a killing dart, It is no armour for the heart.
George Etherege.
DORINDA.
Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes, United, cast too fierce a light, Which blazes high, but quickly dies, Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight.
Love is a calmer, gentler joy, Smooth are his looks and soft his pace; Her Cupid is a blackguard boy That runs his link full in your face.
Charles Sackville.
CELIA AND SYLVIA.
Celia is cruel. Sylvia, thou, I must confess art kind; But in her cruelty, I vow, I more repose can find. For, oh! thy fancy at all games does fly, Fond of address, and willing to comply.
Thus he that loves must be undone, Each way on rocks we fall; Either you will be kind to none, Or worse, be kind to all. Vain are our hopes, and endless is our care; We must be jealous, or we must despair.
Robert Gould.
TRUE LOVE.
Love, when 'tis true, needs not the aid Of sighs, nor aches, to make it known, And to convince the cruellest maid, Lovers should use their love alone.
Into their very looks 'twill steal, And he that most would hide his flame, Does in that case his pain reveal: Silence itself can love proclaim.
Sir Charles Sedley.
TOO LATE!
Too late, alas! I must confess, You need not arts to move me; Such charms by nature you possess, 'Twere madness not to love ye.
Then spare a heart you may surprise, And give my tongue the glory To boast, though my unfaithful eyes Betray a tender story.
John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester.
MY MISTRESS' HEART.
My dear mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave me; When with Love's resistless art, And her eyes, she did enslave me. But her constancy's so weak, She's so wild and apt to wander; That my jealous heart would break Should we live one day asunder.
Melting joys about her move, Killing pleasures, wounding blisses; She can dress her eyes in love, And her lips can arm with kisses. Angels listen when she speaks, She's my delight, all mankind wonder; But my jealous heart would break Should we live one day asunder.
John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester.
CONSTANCY.
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since the poor swain that sighs for you, For you alone was born. No, Phillis, no, your heart to move A surer way I'll try; And to revenge my slighted love, Will still love on and die.
When, killed with grief, Amyntas lies, And you to mind shall call The sighs that now unpitied rise, The tears that vainly fall; That welcome hour that ends his smart, Will then begin your pain; For such a faithful tender heart Can never break in vain.
John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester.
MAN AND WOMAN.
Man is for woman made, And woman made for man; As the spur is for the jade, As the scabbard for the blade, As for liquor is the can, So man's for woman made, And woman made for man.
As the sceptre to be sway'd, As to night the serenade, As for pudding is the pan, As to cool us is the fan, So man's for woman made, And woman made for man.
Peter Antony Motteux.
ACCEPT MY HEART.
Accept, my love, as true a heart As ever lover gave: 'Tis free, it vows, from any art, And proud to be your slave.
Then take it kindly, as 'twas meant, And let the giver live, Who, with it, would the world have sent Had it been his to give.
And, that Dorinda may not fear I e'er will prove untrue, My vow shall, ending with the year, With it begin anew.
Matthew Prior.
AN ANGELIC WOMAN.
Not an angel dwells above Half so fair as her I love. Heaven knows how she'll receive me: If she smiles I'm blest indeed; If she frowns I'm quickly freed; Heaven knows she ne'er can grieve me.
None can love her more than I, Yet she ne'er shall make me die, If my flame can never warm her: Lasting beauty I'll adore, I shall never love her more, Cruelty will so deform her.
Sir John Vanbrugh.
I SMILE AT LOVE.
I smile at Love, and all its arts, The charming Cynthia cried: Take heed, for Love has piercing darts, A wounded swain replied. Once free and blest as you are now, I trifled with his charms, I pointed at his little bow, And sported with his arms, Till urged too far, Revenge! he cries, A fatal shaft he drew, It took its passage through your eyes, And to my heart it flew.
To tear it thence I tried in vain; To strive, I quickly found Was only to increase the pain, And to enlarge the wound. Ah! much too well, I fear, you know What pain I'm to endure, Since what your eyes alone can do Your heart alone can cure. And that (grant Heaven, I may mistake!) I doubt is doom'd to bear A burden for another's sake, Who ill rewards its care.
Sir John Vanbrugh.
ADIEU L'AMOUR.
Here end my chains, and thraldom cease, If not in joy, I'll live at least in peace; Since for the pleasures of an hour, We must endure an age of pain; I'll be this abject thing no more, Love, give me back my heart again.
Despair tormented first my breast, Now falsehood, a more cruel guest; O! for the peace of human kind, Make women longer true, or sooner kind: With justice, or with mercy reign, O Love! or give me back my heart again.
George Granville.
SABINA WAKES.
See, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes! And now the sun begins to rise; Less glorious is the morn that breaks From his bright beams, than her fair eyes.
With light united, day they give, But different fates ere night fulfil; How many by his warmth will live! How many will her coldness kill!
William Congreve.
FALSE! OR INCONSTANCY.
False though she be to me and love, I'll ne'er pursue revenge; For still the charmer I approve, Though I deplore her change.
In hours of bliss we oft have met, They could not always last; And though the present I regret, I'm grateful for the past.
William Congreve.
LOVE AND HATE.
Why we love, and why we hate, Is not granted us to know: Random chance, or wilful fate, Guides the shaft from Cupid's bow.
If on me Zelinda frown, Madness 'tis in me to grieve: Since her will is not her own, Why should I uneasy live?
If I for Zelinda die, Deaf to poor Mizella's cries, Ask not me the reason why: Seek the riddle in the skies.
Ambrose Philips.
I LATELY VOWED.
I lately vow'd, but 'twas in haste, That I no more would court The joys that seem when they are past As dull as they are short.
I oft to hate my mistress swear, But soon my weakness find; I make my oaths when she's severe, But break them when she's kind.
John Oldmixon.
FEW HAPPY MATCHES.
Say, mighty Love, and teach my song To whom thy sweetest joys belong, And who the happy pairs Whose yielding hearts, and joining hands, Find blessings twisted with their bands To soften all their cares.
* * * * *
Two kindest souls alone must meet, 'Tis friendship makes the bondage sweet, And feeds their mutual loves: Bright Venus on her rolling throne Is drawn by gentlest birds alone, And Cupids yoke the doves.
Dr. Isaac Watts.
DORINDA'S CONQUEST.
Fame of Dorinda's conquest brought The God of Love her charms to view; To wound th' unwary maid he thought, But soon became her conquest too.
He dropp'd half-drawn his feeble bow, He look'd, he raved, and sighing pined; And wish'd in vain he had been now, As painters falsely draw him, blind.
Disarm'd, he to his mother flies; Help, Venus, help thy wretched son! Who now will pay us sacrifice? For Love himself's, alas! undone.
To Cupid now no lover's prayer Shall be address'd in suppliant sighs; My darts are gone, but, oh! beware, Fond mortals, of Dorinda's eyes!
John Hughes.
LOVERS IN DISGUISE.
How bless'd are lovers in disguise! Like gods, they see, As I do thee, Unseen by human eyes. Exposed to view, I'm hid from view, I'm altered, yet the same: The dark conceals me, Love reveals me: Love, which lights me by its flame.
Were you not false, you would me know; For though your eyes Could not devise, Your heart had told you so. Your heart would beat With eager heat, And me by sympathy would find: True love might see, One changed like me, False love is only blind.
George Farquhar.
WHEN THY BEAUTY APPEARS.
When thy beauty appears In its graces and airs, All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky; At a distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears, So strangely you dazzle my eye!
But then, without art, Your kind thought you impart, When your love runs in blushes through every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart, Then I know you're a woman again.
There's a passion and pride In our sex, she replied, And thus, might I gratify both, would I do: Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But still be a woman to you.
Thomas Parnell.
INDEX OF FIRST LINES.
Accept, my love, as true a heart. 124.
Ah! I remember well (and how can I. 48.
Ah! my sweet sweeting! 5.
Amarantha, sweet and fair. 112.
Amid my bale I bathe in bliss. 14.
Amyntas, go! Thou art undone. 100.
And wilt thou leave me thus? 2.
Away with these self-loving lads. 24.
Celia is cruel. Sylvia, thou. 118.
Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry. 91.
Come live with me, and be my love. 50.
Cupid and my Campaspe played. 26.
Dear, if you change, I'll never choose again. 95.
Diaphenia, like the daffa-down-dilly. 46.
Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes. 117.
Drink to me only with thine eyes. 74.
Dry those fair, those crystal eyes. 94.
Fain would I change that note. 102.
False though she be to me and love. 129.
Fame of Dorinda's conquest brought. 133.
Farewell! my joy. 96.
Faustina hath the fairest face. 66.
Foolish love is only folly. 41.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. 92.
Go, lovely Rose. 98.
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings. 56.
He that loves a rosy cheek. 88.
He that loves and fears to try. 30.
Help me to seek! For I lost it there. 1.
Here end my chains, and thraldom cease, 127.
How bless'd are lovers in disguise! 134.
How long shall I pine for love? 81.
I cannot change, as others do. 122.
I dare not ask a kiss. 93.
I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair. 67.
I have a mistress, for perfections rare. 99.
I lately vow'd, but 'twas in haste. 131.
I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more. 69.
I pr'ythee send me back my heart. 106.
I smile at Love, and all its arts. 126.
I wonder what those lovers mean, who say. 110.
If all the world and Love were young. 22.
If women could be fair, and yet not fond. 11.
In a maiden-time profess'd. 71.
In petticoat of green. 78.
In the merry month of May. 35.
It is not Beauty I demand. 59.
It was a beauty that I saw. 73.
Ladies, though to your conquering eyes. 116.
Like to Diana in her summer weed. 39.
Like to the clear in highest sphere. 32.
Look, Delia, how we esteem the half-blown rose. 47.
Love guards the roses of thy lips. 31.
Love is a sickness full of woes. 49.
Love me little, love me long. 101.
Love me not for comely grace. 61.
Love mistress is of many minds. 43.
Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought. 3.
Love, when 'tis true, needs not the aid. 119.
Man is for woman made. 123.
My dear mistress has a heart. 121.
My girl, thou gazest much. 6.
My Phyllis hath the morning sun. 16.
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his. 27.
Naked Love did to thine eye. 111.
Not an angel dwells above. 125.
Now fie on foolish love, it not befits. 82.
Now thou hast loved me one whole day. 75.
O gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed! 17.
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm. 77.
Oh, what a plague is love! 64.
Once I loved a maiden fair. 105.
Over the mountains. 62.
Phylida was a fair maid. 12.
Pretty twinkling starry eyes. 42.
Ring out your bells, let mourning shews be spread. 28.
Rise, Lady Mistress! rise! 89.
Say, mighty Love, and teach my song. 132.
See, see, she wakes! Sabina wakes! 128.
Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green. 4.
Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee. 37.
Shall I like a hermit dwell. 18.
Shall I, wasting in despair. 85.
Shepherd, what's love? I pray thee tell! 20.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more. 55.
Since first I saw your face I resolved. 108.
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part. 53.
Some asked me where the rubies grew. 90.
Sweetest love, I do not go. 76.
Take, O, take those lips away. 79.
Tell me, dearest, what is love? 80.
The air which thy smooth voice doth break. 115.
The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest. 97.
There is a garden in her face. 38.
Thou pretty bird, how do I see. 104.
'Tis true I never was in love. 114.
Too late, alas! I must confess. 120.
Tune on my pipe the praises of my love. 83.
Two lines shall teach you how. 8.
Two lines shall tell the grief. 7.
Weep eyes, break heart! 72.
Were I as base as is the lowly plain. 52.
What shepherd can express. 9.
When love, with unconfined wings. 113.
When thy beauty appears. 135.
Whence comes my love? O heart, disclose! 45.
While that the sun with his beams hot. 57.
Who is Sylvia? What is she. 54.
Why so pale and wan, fond lover? 107.
Why we love, and why we hate. 130.
With fragrant flowers we strew the way. 34.
Wonder not, though I am blind. 87.
Ye blushing Virgins happy are. 103.
INDEX OF AUTHORS.
Alexander, W., Earl of Stirling. 77.
Anonymous. 5, 57, 59, 61, 62, 64, 66, 101, 105.
Aytoun, Sir Robert. 67.
Beaumont, Francis. 80.
Beaumont and Fletcher. 79.
Breton, Richard. 35.
Brome, Alexander. 114.
Brooke, Lord. 24.
Campion, Thomas. 37.
Carew, Thomas. 87.
Congreve, William. 128.
Constable, Henry. 46.
Cowley, Abraham, 110.