1645. ON A GIRDLE THAT which her slender waist confined It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, A narrow compass! and yet there 4 8 12 Edmund Waller. HEAR, YE LADIES From Valentinian HEAR, ye ladies that despise What the mighty Love has done; Fear examples and be wise: Fair Callisto was a nun; Disdain Returned Leda, sailing on the stream Danaë, in a brazen tower, Where no love was, loved a shower. Hear, ye ladies that are coy, What the mighty Love can do; Fear the fierceness of the boy: The chaste Moon he makes to woo; Vesta, kindling holy fires, Circled round about with spies, Never dreaming loose desires, Doting at the altar dies; Ilion, in a short hour, higher He can build, and once more fire. 1647. 10 20 John Fletcher. DISDAIN RETURNED He that loves a rosy cheek, But a smooth and steadfast mind, 1632. Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires:- ... 12 Thomas Carew. 1640. SONG Ask me no more where Jove bestows, Ask me no more whither do stray Ask me no more whither doth haste Ask me no more where those stars light Ask me no more if east or west The Phoenix builds her spicy nest; For unto you at last she flies, Thomas Carew. 4 12 16 20 TO HIS INCONSTANT MISTRESS WHEN thou, poor Excommunicate From all the joys of Love, shalt see Which my strong faith shall purchase me, A fairer hand than thine shall cure That heart which thy false oaths did wound; And to my soul a soul more pure Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound, Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain As mine were then: for thou shalt be 1640. ΙΟ 15 Thomas Carew. ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA You meaner beauties of the night, Which poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light, You common people of the skies, What are you, when the Moon shall rise? 5 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? 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? So when my Mistress shall be seen In form and beauty mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not design'd The eclipse and glory of her kind? 1620? 1624. ΙΟ 15 20 Sir Henry Wotton. GO, LOVELY ROSE Go, lovely Rose Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. 5 Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung |