Lost to all music now, since everything
Puts on the semblance here of sorrow-

ing.

Sick is the land to the heart, and doth endure

More dangerous faintings by her desperate

cure.

But if that golden age would come again, And Charles here rule, as he before did

reign;

If smooth and unperplex'd the seasons

were,

As when the sweet Maria lived here:
I should delight to have my curls half
drown'd

In Tyrian dews, and head with roses
crown'd;

And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,

Knock at a star with my exalted head.

167

TO VULCAN

THY Sooty godhead I desire
Still to be ready with thy fire;
That should my book despised be,
Acceptance it might find of thee.

168

PURPOSES

No wrath of men or rage of seas
Can shake a just man's purposes:
No threats of tyrants or the grim
Visage of them can alter him;
But what he doth at first intend,
That he holds firmly to the end.

169

TO THE MAIDS TO WALK ABROAD

COME, sit we under yonder tree,
Where merry as the maids we 'll be;
And as on primroses we sit,
We'll venture, if we can, at wit.
If not, at draw-gloves we will play;
So spend some minutes of the day;
Or else spin out the thread of sands,
Playing at questions and commands;
Or tell what strange tricks love can do,
By quickly making one of two.
Thus we will sit and talk, but tell
No cruel truths of Philomel,

Or Phyllis, whom hard fate forc'd on
To kill herself for Demophon.

But fables we 'll relate: how Jove
Put on all shapes to get a love;
As now a satyr, then a swan,

A bull but then, and now a man.
Next we will act how young men woo,
And sigh, and kiss as lovers do;

And talk of brides, and who shall make
That wedding-smock, this bridal cake,
That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine,
That smooth and silken columbine.
This done, we 'll draw lots who shall buy
And gild the bays and rosemary;
What posies for our wedding-rings;
What gloves we 'll give and ribandings;
And smiling at ourselves, decree
Who then the joining priest shall be;
What short, sweet prayers shall be said;
And how the posset shall be made
With cream of lilies, not of kine,
And maiden's blush for spiced wine.
Thus, having talk'd, we 'll next commend
A kiss to each, and so we 'll end.

170

ON HIMSELF

LIVE by thy muse thou shalt, when others

die

Leaving no fame to long posterity.

When monarchies transshifted are, and

gone,

Here shall endure thy vast dominion.

171

THE NIGHT PIECE, TO JULIA

HER eyes the glow-worm lend thee;
The shooting-stars attend thee;
And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow

Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No will-o'-th'-wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,

Not making a stay,

Since ghost there 's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber:

What though the moon does slumber?

The stars of the night

Will lend thee their light

Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet

Thy silv'ry feet

My soul I'll pour into thee..

172

TO HIS VERSES

WHAT will ye, my poor orphans, do
When I must leave the world and you?
Who 'll give ye then a sheltering shed,
Or credit ye when I am dead?

Who 'll let ye by their fire sit,
Although ye have a stock of wit
Already coin'd to pay for it?

I cannot tell, unless there be
Some race of old humanity

Left, of the large heart and long hand,
Alive, as noble Westmoreland,

Or gallant Newark, which brave two
May fostering fathers be to you.
If not, expect to be no less

Ill us'd than babes left fatherless.

173

TO HIS LOVELY MISTRESSES

ONE night i' th' year, my dearest beauties,

come

And bring those dew drink-offerings to my

tomb.

When thence ye see my reverend ghost to

rise,