The Hesperides & Noble Numbers - Part 13
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Part 13

154. HIS PROTESTATION TO PERILLA.

Noonday and midnight shall at once be seen: Trees, at one time, shall be both sere and green: Fire and water shall together lie In one self-sweet-conspiring sympathy: Summer and winter shall at one time show Ripe ears of corn, and up to th' ears in snow: Seas shall be sandless; fields devoid of gra.s.s; Shapeless the world, as when all chaos was, Before, my dear Perilla, I will be False to my vow, or fall away from thee.

155. LOVE PERFUMES ALL PARTS.

If I kiss Anthea's breast, There I smell the phnix nest: If her lip, the most sincere Altar of incense I smell there-- Hands, and thighs, and legs are all Richly aromatical.

G.o.ddess Isis can't transfer Musks and ambers more from her: Nor can Juno sweeter be, When she lies with Jove, than she.

156. TO JULIA.

Permit me, Julia, now to go away; Or by thy love decree me here to stay.

If thou wilt say that I shall live with thee, Here shall my endless tabernacle be: If not, as banish'd, I will live alone There where no language ever yet was known.

157. ON HIMSELF.

Love-sick I am, and must endure A desperate grief, that finds no cure.

Ah me! I try; and trying, prove _No herbs have power to cure love._ Only one sovereign salve I know, And that is death, the end of woe.

158. VIRTUE IS SENSIBLE OF SUFFERING.

Though a wise man all pressures can sustain, His virtue still is sensible of pain: Large shoulders though he has, and well can bear, He feels when packs do pinch him, and the where.

159. THE CRUEL MAID.

And cruel maid, because I see You scornful of my love and me, I'll trouble you no more; but go My way where you shall never know What is become of me: there I Will find me out a path to die, Or learn some way how to forget You and your name for ever: yet, Ere I go hence, know this from me, What will, in time, your fortune be: This to your coyness I will tell, And, having spoke it once, farewell.

The lily will not long endure, Nor the snow continue pure; The rose, the violet, one day, See, both these lady-flowers decay: And you must fade as well as they.

And it may chance that Love may turn, And, like to mine, make your heart burn And weep to see't; yet this thing do, That my last vow commends to you: When you shall see that I am dead, For pity let a tear be shed; And, with your mantle o'er me cast, Give my cold lips a kiss at last: If twice you kiss you need not fear That I shall stir or live more here.

Next, hollow out a tomb to cover Me--me, the most despised lover, And write thereon: _This, reader, know: Love kill'd this man_. No more, but so.

160. TO DIANEME.

Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes Which, starlike, sparkle in their skies; Nor be you proud that you can see All hearts your captives, yours yet free; Be you not proud of that rich hair Which wantons with the love-sick air; Whenas that ruby which you wear, Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, Will last to be a precious stone When all your world of beauty's gone.

161. TO THE KING, TO CURE THE EVIL.

To find that tree of life whose fruits did feed And leaves did heal all sick of human seed: To find Bethesda and an angel there Stirring the waters, I am come; and here, At last, I find (after my much to do) The tree, Bethesda and the angel too: And all in your blest hand, which has the powers Of all those suppling-healing herbs and flowers.

To that soft charm, that spell, that magic bough, That high enchantment, I betake me now, And to that hand (the branch of heaven's fair tree), I kneel for help; O! lay that hand on me, Adored Caesar! and my faith is such I shall be heal'd if that my king but touch.

The evil is not yours: my sorrow sings, "Mine is the evil, but the cure the king's".

162. HIS MISERY IN A MISTRESS.

Water, water I espy; Come and cool ye, all who fry In your loves; but none as I.

Though a thousand showers be Still a-falling, yet I see Not one drop to light on me.

Happy you who can have seas For to quench ye, or some ease From your kinder mistresses.

I have one, and she alone, Of a thousand thousand known, Dead to all compa.s.sion.

Such an one as will repeat Both the cause and make the heat More by provocation great.

Gentle friends, though I despair Of my cure, do you beware Of those girls which cruel are.

164. TO A GENTLEWOMAN OBJECTING TO HIM HIS GRAY HAIRS.

Am I despised because you say, And I dare swear, that I am gray?

Know, lady, you have but your day: And time will come when you shall wear Such frost and snow upon your hair; And when (though long, it comes to pa.s.s) You question with your looking-gla.s.s; And in that sincere crystal seek, But find no rose-bud in your cheek: Nor any bed to give the show Where such a rare carnation grew.

Ah! then too late, close in your chamber keeping, It will be told That you are old, By those true tears y'are weeping.

165. TO CEDARS.

If 'mongst my many poems I can see One only worthy to be wash'd by thee, I live for ever, let the rest all lie In dens of darkness or condemn'd to die.

_Cedars_, oil of cedar was used for preserving ma.n.u.scripts (carmina linenda cedro. _Hor._ Ars Poet., 331.)

166. UPON CUPID.

Love like a gipsy lately came, And did me much importune To see my hand, that by the same He might foretell my fortune.

He saw my palm, and then, said he, I tell thee by this score here, That thou within few months shalt be The youthful Prince d'Amour here.

I smil'd, and bade him once more prove, And by some cross-line show it, That I could ne'er be prince of love, Though here the princely poet.

167. HOW PRIMROSES CAME GREEN.

Virgins, time-past, known were these, Troubled with green-sicknesses: Turn'd to flowers, still the hue, Sickly girls, they bear of you.

168. TO JOS., LORD BISHOP OF EXETER.

Whom should I fear to write to if I can Stand before you, my learn'd diocesan?

And never show blood-guiltiness or fear To see my lines excathedrated here.

Since none so good are but you may condemn, Or here so bad but you may pardon them.

If then, my lord, to sanctify my muse One only poem out of all you'll choose, And mark it for a rapture n.o.bly writ, 'Tis good confirm'd, for you have bishop'd it.

_Blood-guiltiness_, guilt betrayed by blushing; cp. 837.

_Excathedrated_, condemned _ex cathedra_.