Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

Her eyes like angels watch them still ;

Her brows like bended bows do stand, Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill

All that approach with eye or hand These sacred cherries to come nigh, -Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry!

ANON.

92. THE POETRY OF DRESS.

1.

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction,
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher,-
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly,-
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat,-
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility,-
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part.

R. HERRICK

93. --II.

Whenas in silks my Julia goes
Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free ;
O how that glittering taketh me!

R. HERRICK. 94.-III.

My Love in her attire doth shew her wit,

It doth so well become her ;
For every season she hath dressings fit,

For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on :
But Beauty's self she is
When all her robes are gone.

ANON.

95. ON A GIRDLE.

That which her slender waist confined
Shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my Heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer:
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love
Did all within this circle move.

A narrow compass ! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair :
Give me but what this ribband bound,
Take all the rest the Sun goes round.

E. WALLER.

96. TO ANTHEA WHO MAY COMMAND

HIM ANY THING,

Bid me to live, and I will live

Thy Protestant to be:
Or bid me love, and I will give

A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,

A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,

That heart I'll give to thee.
Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,

To honour thy decree :
Or bid it languish quite away,

And 't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep

While I have eyes to see :
And having none, yet I will keep

A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I'll despair,

Under that cypress tree :
Or bid me die, and I will dare

E'en Death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,

The very eyes of me,
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.

R. HERRICK

97.
Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart,-
For those may fail, or turn to ill,

So thou and I shall sever :
Keep therefore a true woman's eye,
And love me still, but know not why-
So hast thou the same reason still
To doat upon me ever!

ANON. 98.

Not, Celia, that I juster am

Or better than the rest ;
For I would change each hour, like them,

Were not my heart at rest.

But I am tied to very thee

By every thought I have;
Thy face I only care to see,

Thy heart I only crave.

All that in woman is adored

In thy dear self I find-
For the whole sex can but afford

The handsome and the kind,

Why then should I seek further store,

And still make love anew ?
When change itself can give no more,
'Tis easy to be true.

SIR C. SEDLEY,

99. 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.

When flowing cups run swiftly round

With no allaying Thames,
Our careless heads with roses crown'd,

Our hearts with loyal flames;

When thirsty grief in wine we steep,

When healths and draughts go free-
Fishes that tipple in the deep

Know no such liberty.

When, linnet-like confined, I

With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty

And glories of my King ;
When I shall voice aloud how good

He is, how great should be,
Enlarged winds, that curl the flood,

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.

Colonel LOVELACE,

100. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING BEYOND

THE SEAS.

If to be absent were to be

Away from thee ;
Or that when I am gone

You or I were alone ;

Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave.

Though seas and land betwixt us both,

Our faith and troth,

« НазадПродовжити »