Ye silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth wear, Who, for some sweetheart's sake, did prove The fire and martyrdom of love: Here is the legend of those saints That died for love, and their complaints: Their wounded hearts and names we find Encarv'd upon the leaves and rind.

Give way, give way to me, who come Scorch'd with the self-same martyrdom: And have deserv'd as much (love knows) As to be canonis'd 'mongst those Whose deeds and deaths here written are Within your greeny calendar: By all those virgins' fillets hung Upon your boughs, and requiems sung For saints and souls departed hence (Here honour'd still with frankincense); By all those tears that have been shed, As a drink-offering to the dead; By all those true love-knots that be With mottoes carv'd on every tree; By sweet Saint Phyllis pity me: By dear Saint Iphis, and the rest Of all those other saints now blest, Me, me, forsaken, here admit Among your myrtles to be writ: That my poor name may have the glory To live remembered in your story.

_Phyllis_, the Thracian princess who hanged herself for love of Demophoon.

_Iphis_, a Cyprian youth who hanged himself for love of Anaxaretes.

450. AN EPITAPH UPON A VIRGIN.

Here a solemn fast we keep, While all beauty lies asleep Hush'd be all things--no noise here-- But the toning of a tear: Or a sigh of such as bring Cowslips for her covering.

451. TO THE RIGHT GRACIOUS PRINCE, LODOWICK, DUKE OF RICHMOND AND LENNOX.

Of all those three brave brothers fall'n i' th' war (Not without glory), n.o.ble sir, you are, Despite of all concussions, left the stem To shoot forth generations like to them.

Which may be done, if, sir, you can beget Men in their substance, not in counterfeit, Such essences as those three brothers; known Eternal by their own production.

Of whom, from fame's white trumpet, this I'll tell, Worthy their everlasting chronicle: Never since first Bellona us'd a shield, _Such three brave brothers fell in Mars his field_.

These were those three Horatii Rome did boast, Rome's were these three Horatii we have lost.

One Cur-de-Lion had that age long since; This, three; which three, you make up four, brave prince.

452. TO JEALOUSY.

O jealousy, that art The canker of the heart; And mak'st all h.e.l.l Where thou do'st dwell; For pity be No fury, or no firebrand to me.

Far from me I'll remove All thoughts of irksome love: And turn to snow, Or crystal grow, To keep still free, O! soul-tormenting jealousy, from thee.

453. TO LIVE FREELY.

Let's live in haste; use pleasures while we may; Could life return, 'twould never lose a day.

455. HIS ALMS.

Here, here I live, And somewhat give Of what I have To those who crave, Little or much, My alms is such; But if my deal Of oil and meal Shall fuller grow, More I'll bestow; Meantime be it E'en but a bit, Or else a crumb, The scrip hath some.

_Deal_, portion.

456. UPON HIMSELF.

Come, leave this loathed country life, and then Grow up to be a Roman citizen.

Those mites of time, which yet remain unspent, Waste thou in that most civil government.

Get their comportment and the gliding tongue Of those mild men thou art to live among; Then, being seated in that smoother sphere, Decree thy everlasting topic there; And to the farm-house ne'er return at all: Though granges do not love thee, cities shall.

457. TO ENJOY THE TIME.

While Fates permit us let's be merry, Pa.s.s all we must the fatal ferry; And this our life too whirls away With the rotation of the day.

458. UPON LOVE.

Love, I have broke Thy yoke, The neck is free; But when I'm next Love-vexed, Then shackle me.

'Tis better yet To fret The feet or hands, Than to enthral Or gall The neck with bands.

459. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MILDMAY, EARL OF WESTMORELAND.

You are a lord, an earl, nay more, a man Who writes sweet numbers well as any can; If so, why then are not these verses hurled, Like Sybil's leaves, throughout the ample world?

What is a jewel if it be not set Forth by a ring or some rich carcanet?

But being so, then the beholders cry: See, see a gem as rare as Belus' eye.

Then public praise does run upon the stone, For a most rich, a rare, a precious one.

Expose your jewels then unto the view, That we may praise them, or themselves prize you.

_Virtue concealed_, with Horace you'll confess, _Differs not much from drowsy slothfulness_.

_Belus' eye_, the eye onyx. "The stone called Belus' eie is white, and hath within it a black apple." (Holland's _Pliny_.)

460. THE PLUNDER.

I am of all bereft, Save but some few beans left, Whereof, at last, to make For me and mine a cake, Which eaten, they and I Will say our grace, and die.

461. LITTLENESS NO CAUSE OF LEANNESS.

One feeds on lard, and yet is lean, And I but feasting with a bean Grow fat and smooth. The reason is: Jove prospers my meat more than his.

464. THE JIMMALL RING OR TRUE-LOVE KNOT.

Thou sent'st to me a true love-knot, but I Returned a ring of jimmals to imply Thy love had one knot, mine a triple tie.

_Jimmal_ or _gimmal_, double or triple ring.

465. THE PARTING VERSE OR CHARGE TO HIS SUPPOSED WIFE WHEN HE TRAVELLED.

Go hence, and with this parting kiss, Which joins two souls, remember this: Though thou be'st young, kind, soft, and fair And may'st draw thousands with a hair; Yet let these glib temptations be Furies to others, friends to me.

Look upon all, and though on fire Thou set their hearts, let chaste desire Steer thee to me, and think, me gone, In having all, that thou hast none.

Nor so immured would I have Thee live, as dead and in thy grave; But walk abroad, yet wisely well Stand for my coming, sentinel.

And think, as thou do'st walk the street, Me or my shadow thou do'st meet.

I know a thousand greedy eyes Will on thy feature tyrannise In my short absence, yet behold Them like some picture, or some mould Fashion'd like thee, which, though 't have ears And eyes, it neither sees or hears.

Gifts will be sent, and letters, which Are the expressions of that itch, And salt, which frets thy suitors; fly Both, lest thou lose thy liberty; For, that once lost, thou't fall to one, Then prostrate to a million.

But if they woo thee, do thou say, As that chaste Queen of Ithaca Did to her suitors, this web done, (Undone as oft as done), I'm won; I will not urge thee, for I know, Though thou art young, thou canst say no, And no again, and so deny Those thy l.u.s.t-burning incubi.

Let them enstyle thee fairest fair, The pearl of princes, yet despair That so thou art, because thou must Believe love speaks it not, but l.u.s.t; And this their flattery does commend Thee chiefly for their pleasure's end.

I am not jealous of thy faith, Or will be, for the axiom saith: He that doth suspect does haste A gentle mind to be unchaste.