Who would not languish, by so fair a train To be lamented, and restored again? 40

Or, thus withheld, what hasty soul would go, Though to the blest? O'er young Adonis so Fair Venus mourn'd, and with the precious shower Of her warm tears cherish'd the springing flower.

The next support, fair hope of your great name, And second pillar of that n.o.ble frame, By loss of thee would no advantage have, But step by step pursue thee to the grave.

And now relentless Fate, about to end The line which backward does so far extend 50 That antique stock, which still the world supplies With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes, Kind Phoebus, interposing, bid me say, Such storms no more shall shake that house; but they, Like Neptune, and his sea-born niece,[1] shall be The shining glories of the land and sea; With courage guard, and beauty warm, our age, And lovers fill with like poetic rage.

[1] 'Nation spread': the Earl of Northumberland, appointed Lord High Admiral in the year 1638.

TO THE QUEEN, OCCASIONED UPON SIGHT OF HER MAJESTY'S PICTURE.[2]

Well fare the hand, which to our humble sight Presents that beauty, which the dazzling light Of royal splendour hides from weaker eyes, And all access, save by this art, denies.

Here only we have courage to behold This beam of glory; here we dare unfold In numbers thus the wonders we conceive; 7 The gracious image, seeming to give leave, Propitious stands, vouchsafing to be seen; And by our Muse saluted Mighty Queen, In whom th'extremes of power and beauty move, The Queen of Britain and the Queen of Love!

As the bright sun (to which we owe no sight Of equal glory to your beauty's light) Is wisely placed in so sublime a seat, T' extend his light, and moderate his heat; So, happy 'tis you move in such a sphere, As your high Majesty with awful fear In human b.r.e.a.s.t.s might qualify that fire, Which, kindled by those eyes, had flamed higher 20 Than when the scorched world like hazard run, By the approach of the ill-guided sun.

No other nymphs have t.i.tle to men's hearts, But as their meanness larger hope imparts; Your beauty more the fondest lover moves With admiration than his private loves; With admiration! for a pitch so high (Save sacred Charles his) never love durst fly.

Heaven, that preferr'd a sceptre to your hand, Favour'd our freedom more than your command; 30 Beauty had crown'd you, and you must have been The whole world's mistress, other than a Queen.

All had been rivals, and you might have spared, Or kill'd, and tyrannised, without a guard; No power achieved, either by arms or birth, Equals love's empire both in heaven and earth.

Such eyes as yours on Jove himself have thrown As bright and fierce a lightning as his own; Witness our Jove, prevented by their flame In his swift pa.s.sage to th'Hesperian dame; 40

When, like a lion, finding, in his way To some intended spoil, a fairer prey, The royal youth pursuing the report Of beauty, found it in the Gallic court; There public care with private pa.s.sion fought A doubtful combat in his n.o.ble thought: Should he confess his greatness, and his love, And the free faith of your great brother[3] prove; With his Achates breaking through the cloud Of that disguise which did their graces shroud;[4] 50 And mixing with those gallants at the ball, Dance with the ladies, and outshine them all; Or on his journey o'er the mountains ride?-- So when the fair Leucothoe he espied, To check his steeds impatient Phoebus yearn'd, Though all the world was in his course concern'd.

What may hereafter her meridian do, Whose dawning beauty warm'd his bosom so?

Not so divine a flame, since deathless G.o.ds Forbore to visit the defiled abodes 60 Of men, in any mortal breast did burn; Nor shall, till piety and they return.

[1] 'Sea-born niece': Venus.

[2] 'Majesty's picture': Henrietta, daughter of Henry IV., married by proxy to Charles I. in Paris, 1st May 1625. Marriages made in May are said to be unlucky--_this_ certainly was.

[3] 'Great brother': Louis XIII., King of France.

[4] 'Graces shroud': 'Achates,' the Duke of Buckingham.

TO AMORET.

1 Amoret! the Milky Way Framed of many nameless stars!

The smooth stream where none can say He this drop to that prefers!

2 Amoret! my lovely foe!

Tell me where thy strength does lie?

Where the pow'r that charms us so?

In thy soul, or in thy eye?

3 By that snowy neck alone, Or thy grace in motion seen, No such wonders could he done; Yet thy waist is straight and clean As Cupid's shaft, or Hermes' rod, And pow'rful, too, as either G.o.d.

TO PHYLLIS.

Phyllis! why should we delay Pleasures shorter than the day?

Could we (which we never can!) Stretch our lives beyond their span, Beauty like a shadow flies, And our youth before us dies.

Or would youth and beauty stay, Love hath wings, and will away.

Love hath swifter wings than Time, Change in love to heaven does climb. 10 G.o.ds, that never change their state, Vary oft their love and hate.

Phyllis! to this truth we owe All the love betwixt us two.

Let not you and I inquire What has been our past desire; On what shepherds you have smiled, Or what nymphs I have beguiled; Leave it to the planets too, 19 What we shall hereafter do; For the joys we now may prove, Take advice of present love.

TO SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT, UPON HIS TWO FIRST BOOKS OF GONDIBERT.[1]

WRITTEN IN FRANCE.

Thus the wise nightingale that leaves her home, Her native wood, when storms and winter come, Pursuing constantly the cheerful spring, To foreign groves does her old music bring.

The drooping Hebrews' banish'd harps, unstrung, At Babylon upon the willows hung; Yours sounds aloud, and tells us you excel No less in courage, than in singing well; While, unconcern'd, you let your country know They have impoverish'd themselves, not you; 10 Who, with the Muses' help, can mock those fates Which threaten kingdoms, and disorder states.

So Ovid, when from Caesar's rage he fled, The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led; Where he so sung, that we, through pity's gla.s.s, See Nero milder than Augustus was.

Hereafter such, in thy behalf, shall be Th' indulgent censure of posterity.

To banish those who with such art can sing, Is a rude crime, which its own curse doth bring; 20 Ages to come shall ne'er know how they fought, Nor how to love, their present youth be taught.

This to thyself.--Now to thy matchless book, Wherein those few that can with judgment look, May find old love in pure fresh language told, Like new-stamp'd coin made out of angel-gold.

Such truth in love as th'antique world did know, In such a style as courts may boast of now; Which no bold tales of G.o.ds or monsters swell, But human pa.s.sions, such as with us dwell. 30 Man is thy theme; his virtue or his rage Drawn to the life in each elaborate page.

Mars nor Bellona are not named here, But such a Gondibert as both might fear; Venus had here, and Hebe, been outshined By the bright Birtha and thy Rhodalind.

Such is thy happy skill, and such the odds Betwixt thy worthies and the Grecian G.o.ds!

Whose deities in vain had here come down, Where mortal beauty wears the Sovereign crown; 40 Such as of flesh compos'd, by flesh and blood, Though not resisted, may be understood.

[1] 'Sir William Davenant': Davenant fled to France in fear of the displeasure of the Parliament, and there wrote the two first cantos of _Gondibert_.

TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, MR WASE, THE TRANSLATOR OF GRATIUS.[1]

1 Thus, by the music, we may know When n.o.ble wits a-hunting go, Through groves that on Parna.s.sus grow.

2 The Muses all the chase adorn; My friend on Pegasus is borne; And young Apollo winds the horn.

3 Having old Gratius in the wind, No pack of critics e'er could find, Or he know more of his own mind.

4 Here huntsmen with delight may read How to choose dogs for scent or speed, And how to change or mend the breed;