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If love come, he will enter
You may esteem him
Some think to lose him
You may train the eagle
81. CHILD AND MAIDEN.
Ah, Chloris ! could I now but sit
As unconcern'd as when Your infant beauty could beget
No happiness or pain !
When I the dawn used to admire,
And praised the coming day, I little thought the rising fire
Would take my rest away.
Your charms in harmless childhood lay
Like metals in a mine;
Than youth conceal'd in thine.
To their perfection prest,
And center'd in my breast.
My passion with your beauty grew,
While Cupid at my heart
Threw a new flaming dart:
To make a lover, he
SIR C. SEDLEY
82. COUNSEL TO GIRLS.
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying :
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting
And nearer he's to setting.
is best which is the first,
Times, still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry:
83. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
That from the nunnery
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field ;
A sword, a horse, a shield,
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
84. ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA.
You meaner beauties of the night,
Which poorly satisfy our eyes
You common people of the skies,
Ye violets that first appear,
By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year
As if the spring were all your own, What are you, when the Rose is blown ? Ye curious chanters of the wood
That warble forth dame Nature's lays, Thinking your passions understood
By your weak accents; what's your praise When Philomel her voice doth raise ?
So when my Mistress shall be seen
In sweetness of her looks and mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen,
Tell me, if she were not design'd Th' eclipse and glory of her kind ?
SIR H. WOTTON.
85. TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. Daughter to that good earl, once President Of England's council and her treasury, Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee, And left them both, more in himself content,
Till the sad breaking of that parliament
So well your words his noble virtues praise,
J. Milton. 86. THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE.
It is not Beauty I demand,
Tell me not of your starry eyes,
A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks
These are but gauds : nay what are lips ?
And what are cheeks, but ensigns oft That wave hot youth to fields of blood ? Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft, Do Greece or Ilium any good ?
Eyes can with baleful ardour burn; Poison can breath, that erst perfumed ; There's many a white hand holds an urn With lovers' hearts to dust consumed.
For crystal brows there's nought within ;