Next, when those lawny films I see
Play with a wild civility,

And all those airy silks to flow,
Alluring me, and tempting so;
I must confess mine eye and heart
Dotes less on Nature than on Art.

152

UPON THE LOSS OF HIS FINGER

ONE of the five straight branches of my hand

Is lopp'd already, and the rest but stand Expecting when to fall, which soon will be; First dies the leaf, the bough next, next the tree.

153

UPON ELECTRA'S TEARS

UPON her cheeks she wept, and from those showers

Sprang up a sweet nativity of flowers.

154

A HYMN TO THE GRACES

WHEN I love (as some have told,
Love I shall when I am old),

O ye Graces! make me fit
For the welcoming of it.

Clean my rooms, as temples be,
T'entertain that deity.

Give me words wherewith to woo,
Suppling and successful too;
Winning postures, and, withal,
Manners each way musical;
Sweetness to allay my sour
And unsmooth behavior.
For I know you have the skill

Vines to prune, though not to kill,
And of any wood ye see,

You can make a Mercury.

155

THE POET HATH LOST HIS PIPE

I CANNOT pipe as I was wont to do;
Broke is my reed, hoarse is my singing, too;
My wearied oat I'll hang upon the tree,
And give it to the sylvan deity.

156

HOW THE WALLFLOWER CAME FIRST, AND
WHY SO CALLED

WHY this flower is now call'd so,
List, sweet maids, and you shall know.

Understand, this firstling was

Once a brisk and bonny lass,
Kept as close as Danaë was,
Who a sprightly springal lov'd,
And to have it fully prov'd,
Up she got upon a wall,

Tempting down to slide withal:
But the silken twist untied,
So she fell, and bruis'd, she died.
Love, in pity of the deed,
And her loving, luckless speed,
Turn'd her to this plant we call
Now the Flower of the Wall.

157

THE APPARITION OF HIS MISTRESS CALLING HIM TO ELYSIUM

Desunt nonnulla—

COME, then, and like two doves with silvery wings,

Let our souls fly to th' shades where ever springs

Sit smiling in the meads; where balm and

oil,

Roses and cassia crown the untill'd soil; Where no disease reigns, or infection comes To blast the air, but ambergris and gums.

This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire More sweet than storax from the hallow'd

fire,

Where ev'ry tree a wealthy issue bears
Of fragrant apples, blushing plums, or

pears;

And all the shrubs, with sparkling span-
gles, show

Like morning sunshine tinseling the dew.
Here in green meadows sits eternal May,
Purfling the margents, while perpetual day
So double gilds the air, as that no night
Can ever rust th' enamel of the light.
Here, naked younglings, handsome strip-
lings, run

Their goals for virgins' kisses; which when done,

Then unto dancing forth the learned round Commix'd they meet, with endless roses

crown'd.

And here we 'll sit on primrose-banks, and

see

Love's chorus led by Cupid; and we 'll be Two loving followers, too, unto the grove Where poets sing the stories of our love. There thou shalt near divine Musæus sing Of Hero and Leander. Then I'll bring Thee to the stand where honor'd Homer reads

His Odysseys and his high Iliads;

About whose throne the crowd of poets
throng

To hear the incantation of his tongue.
To Linus, then to Pindar; and that done,
I'll bring thee, Herrick, to Anacreon,
Quaffing his full-crown'd bowls of burning
wine,

And in his raptures speaking lines of thine,
Like to his subject; and as his frantic
Looks show him truly Bacchanalian-like
Besmear'd with grapes, welcome he shall
thee thither,

Where both may rage, both drink and
dance together.

Then stately Vergil, witty Ovid, by
Whom fair Corinna sits, and doth comply
With ivory wrists his laureate head, and

steeps

His eye in dew of kisses while he sleeps; Then soft Catullus, sharp-fang'd Martial, And towering Lucan, Horace, Juvenal, And snaky Persius, these, and those, whom rage

(Dropp'd for the jars of Heaven) fill'd t'engage All times unto their frenzies; thou shalt

there

Behold them in a spacious theater.

Among which glories, crown'd with sacred bays

And flattering ivy, two recite their plays