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Transcriber's Notes:
  1. This transcription uses _ characters around italic text,
     ^ to indicate superscripted text, and {} around multi-character
     superscripts.

  2. The author's textual notes occur near the end of the book, before
     the Index to First Lines.

     As an aid to the reader this text uses a different style for
     references to those notes than the printed edition used.

     References to the notes are marked within the text as
     "[number:number]" and within the textual notes section as
     "number:number." For example, [2:1] represents the first note in
     the second poem that has notes; [3:2] represents the second note
     in the third poem that has notes.

  3. Additional Transcriber's Notes occur at the end of the book.




LYRICS: THOMAS STANLEY




  Thy numbers carry weight, yet clear and terse,
  And innocent, as becomes the soul of verse.

                    _JAMES SHIRLEY: To his honour'd
                     friend Thomas Stanley, Esquire,
                     upon his Elegant Poems._ [1646.]

[Illustration: _Thomas Stanley (1625-1678)_]




  THOMAS STANLEY:

  HIS ORIGINAL LYRICS, COMPLETE,
  IN THEIR COLLATED READINGS OF
  1647, 1651, 1657.


  WITH AN INTRODUCTION, TEXTUAL NOTES,
  A LIST OF EDITIONS, AN APPENDIX OF
  TRANSLATIONS, AND A PORTRAIT.


  EDITED BY
  L. I. GUINEY



  J. R. TUTIN
  HULL
  1907




  TO
  C. N. G.
  IN MEMORY OF AN OXFORD WINTER




CONTENTS

                                                                    PAGE

PREFATORY NOTE                                                        xi

  I. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1647:
     The Dream                                                         1
     Despair                                                           1
     The Picture                                                       2
     Opinion                                                           2

 II. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1651:
     The Cure                                                          4
     To the Countess of S[underland?] with _The Holy
       Court_                                                          6
     Drawn for Valentine by the L[ady] D[orothy]
       S[pencer?]                                                      7

III. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITION OF 1657 [JOHN
       GAMBLE'S _Ayres and Dialogues_] HAVING NO TITLES:

     'On this swelling bank'                                           9
     'Dear, fold me once more'                                        10
     'The lazy hours'                                                 10

 IV. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITIONS OF 1647 AND 1651:
     Love's Innocence                                                 12
     The Dedication to Love                                           13
     The Glow-Worm                                                    13
     To Chariessa, desiring her to Burn his Verses                    14
     On Mr. Fletcher's Works                                          15
     To the Lady D[ormer]                                             16
     To Mr. W[illiam] Hammond                                         17
     On Mr. Shirley's Poems                                           18
     On Mr. Sherburne's Translation of Seneca's Medea,
       and Vindication of the Author                                  20
     On Mr. Hall's Essays                                             21
     On Sir J[ohn] S[uckling] his Picture and Poems                   22
     Answer [to 'The Union']                                          22

  V. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITIONS OF 1647 AND 1657
      [GAMBLE]:
     The Blush                                                        24
     The Cold Kiss                                                    25
     The Idolater                                                     25
     The Magnet                                                       26
     On a Violet in her Breast                                        27
     Song: 'Foolish Lover, go and seek'                               28
     The Parting                                                      29
     Counsel                                                          29
     Expostulation with Love, in Despair                              30
     Song: 'Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care'                 31
     Expectation                                                      32

 VI. LYRICS PRINTED IN ALL ORIGINAL EDITIONS OF
       STANLEY:
     The Breath                                                       33
     The Night: a Dialogue                                            34
     Unalter'd by Sickness                                            35
     To Celia, Excuse for Wishing her less Fair                       36
     Celia, Sleeping or Singing                                       37
     Palinode                                                         37
     The Return                                                       38
     Chang'd, yet Constant                                            39
     To Chariessa, Beholding Herself in a Glass                       41
     Song: 'When I lie burning in thine eye'                          42
     Song: 'Fool! take up thy shaft again'                            43
     Delay                                                            43
     The Repulse                                                      44
     Song: 'Celinda, by what potent art'                              45
     The Tomb                                                         46
     To Celia, Pleading Want of Merit                                 48
     The Kiss                                                         49
     The Snowball                                                     50
     Speaking and Kissing                                             50
     The Deposition                                                   51
     Love's Heretic                                                   52
     La Belle Confidante                                              54
     La Belle Ennemie                                                 55
     Love Deposed                                                     56
     The Divorce                                                      57
     The Bracelet                                                     58
     The Farewell                                                     59
     The Exchange: Dialogue                                           60
     The Exequies                                                     61
     The Silkworm                                                     62
     Ambition                                                         62
     Song: 'When, dearest Beauty, thou shalt pay'                     63
     Song: 'I will not trust thy tempting graces'                     64
     Song: 'No, I will sooner trust the wind'                         65
     Song: 'I prithee let my heart alone!'                            65
     The Loss                                                         66
     The Self-Cruel                                                   67
     An Answer to a Song, 'Wert thou much [?] fairer
       than thou art,' by Mr. W. M.                                   68
     The Relapse                                                      69

APPENDIX:

A SHEAF OF TRANSLATIONS:
     The Revenge [Ronsard]                                            71
     Claim to Love [Guarini]                                          72
     The Sick Lover [Guarini]                                         72
     Time Recover'd [Casone]                                          73
     Song: 'I languish in a silent flame' [De Voiture]                73
     Apollo and Daphne [Marino]                                       74
     Song: Torment of absence and delay [Montalvan]                   75
     A Lady Weeping [Montalvan]                                       75
     To his Mistress in Absence [Tasso]                               76
     The Hasty Kiss [Secundus]                                        76
     Song: 'When thou thy pliant arms' [Secundus]                     77
     Song: ''Tis no kiss' [Secundus]                                  77
     Translations from Anacreon:
           I. The Chase: 'With a Whip of lilies, Love'                78
          II. 'Vex no more thyself and me'                            78
         III. The Spring: 'See, the Spring herself discloses'         79
          IV. The Combat: 'Now will I a lover be'                     79
           V. 'On this verdant lotus laid'                            80
     E Catalectis Vet[erum] Poet[arum]                                81
     Seven Epigrams [Plato]:
           I. Upon one named Aster                                    81
          II. Upon Aster's Death                                      81
         III. On Dion, engraved on his Tomb at Syracuse               82
          IV. On Alexis                                               82
           V. On Archaeanassa                                         82
          VI. Love Sleeping                                           82
         VII. On a Seal                                               83

TEXTUAL NOTES                                                         85

A LIST OF EDITIONS OF THOMAS STANLEY'S POEMS AND
    TRANSLATIONS                                                     101

INDEX TO FIRST LINES                                                 107




PREFATORY NOTE


Thomas Stanley's quiet life began in 1625, the year of the accession of
that King whom English poets have loved most. He came, though in the
illegitimate line, from the great Stanleys, Earls of Derby. His father,
descended from Edward, third Earl, was Sir Thomas Stanley of
Leytonstone, Essex, and Cumberlow, Hertfordshire; and his mother was
Mary, daughter to Sir William Hammond of St. Alban's Court, Nonington,
near Canterbury. Following the almost unbroken law of the heredity of
genius, Stanley derived his chief mental qualities from his mother; and
through her he was nearly related to the poets George Sandys, William
Hammond, Sir John Marsham the chronologer, Richard Lovelace and his less
famous brother; as, through his father, to a fellow-poet perhaps dearer
to him than any of these, Sir Edward Sherburne.

His tutor, at home, not at College, was William Fairfax, son of the
translator of Tasso. With translation in his own blood, that
accomplished and affectionate gentleman succeeded in inspiring his
forward charge with a taste for the same rather thankless game, and
with a love of modern foreign classics which he never lost. It was
thrown at Stanley, afterwards, that in courting the Muses, he had
profited only too well by Fairfax's aid: but the charge, if ever a
serious one at all, was absurdly ill-founded. It may have been based on
a wrong reading of that very generous acknowledgement beginning: 'If we
are one, dear friend,' which is printed in this volume; for the muddled
misconstruing mind has existed in every intellectual society. Nothing is
plainer than that Stanley, both by right of natural genius and of
fastidious scholarship, was more than capable of beating his music out
alone.

The boy was sent to Pembroke College, Cambridge, before he was fifteen,
and was entered as a gentleman commoner of that University, passing by
no means unmarked among a brilliant generation; and there, in 1641 he
graduated Master of Arts, being incorporated at Oxford in the same
degree. He next set out, like all youths of his rank and age, upon that
'grand tour' which was still a perilous business. He returned to England
in the full fury of the great Civil contest (his family having emigrated
to France, meanwhile), and settled down to work, not forensic, but
literary, in the Middle Temple. There he fell to editing AEschylus,
turning Anacreon into English, and planning the beginnings of his
_History of Philosophy_. Best of all, he wrote, at leisure and by
liking, his charming verses. Contemporaries not a few practised this
same notable detachment, building nests, as it were, in the cannon's
mouth. Choosing the contemplative life, Stanley, like William Habington
and Drummond of Hawthornden, was shut in with his mental activities,
while many others whom they knew and whom we know, poor gay sparks of
Parnassus, were dimming and blunting themselves on bloody fields. Like
Habington and Drummond also in this, he was, though a passive Royalist,
Royalist to the core. His _Psalterium Carolinum_ ([Greek: Eikon
Basilike] in metre), published three years before the Restoration,
proves at least that if he were a non-combatant for the cause he
believed in, he was no timid truckler to the power which crushed it. In
London he seems to have lived throughout the war, suffering and
surviving in the smallpox epidemic. He had married early, and, according
to all evidence, most happily. His wife was Dorothy, daughter and
co-heiress of Sir James Enyon, Baronet, of Flore, or Flower,
Northamptonshire. (It is curious, one may note in passing, that Thomas
Stanley in the Oxford University Register is entered as an incorporated
Cantabrigian 'of Flowre, Northants.' This was in his seventeenth year,
when it is highly improbable that any property there could have been
made over to him, unless with reference to his betrothal to Dorothy
Enyon, then a child.) One of Stanley's devoted poetic circle joyfully
salutes them on the birth of their second son, Sidney,

     'Ere both the parents forty summers told,'

as equal paragons. 'You two,' sings Hammond, 'who are in worthiness so
near allied.' They enjoyed, together, a comfortable fortune, and gave
even more generously, in proportion, than they had received. All
Stanley's tastes and habits were humanistic. He was the loyal and
helpful friend of many English men of letters. To name his familiar
associates is to call up a bright and thoughtful pageant, for they
include, besides Lovelace and Suckling and Sherburne, the Bromes; James
Shirley; John Davies of Kidwelly; John Hall of Durham, better remembered
now as the friend of Hobbes than as the prodigy his generation thought
him; and the genial Edward Phillips, the nephew of Milton. Though
Stanley knew how to protest manfully when the profits of his mental
labours were in danger of being withdrawn from him, yet he sought none
of the usual awards of life, and never increased his patrimony. Indeed,
his relative William Wotton said of him long after, in a Latin notice
written for _Elogia Gallorum_, that Stanley lived engrossed in his
studies, and let his private interests run to seed. He kept his learning
and his liberty, his charity and peace and good repute; and of his
troubles and trials he has left, like the gallant philosopher he was, no
record at all. A little brass in the chancel pavement of Clothall
Church, near Baldock, witnesses to some of these: for there 'Thomas et
Dorothea, parentes moesti,' laid two little sons to rest ... 'sit nomen
Dnyi benedictum.' They lost other children, later; but one son and three
daughters survived their gentle father, when, after a severe illness, he
was called away from a society which bitterly deplored him, in April,
1678. He died in Suffolk Street, London, in the parish of St.
Martin-in-the-Fields.

Stanley was supposed by his contemporaries to have made himself immortal
by his _History of Philosophy_, long a standard book, though hardly an
original one. Indeed, they considered him, chiefly on account of it,
'the glory and admiration of his time': the phrase is that of a careful
critic, Winstanley. The work went into many editions; his prose was used
and read, while his verse was talked of, and passed lightly from hand to
hand. As in the case of Petrarca, whose fine Latin tomes quickly
perished, while his less regarded vernacular _Rime_ rose to shine 'on
the stretched forefinger of all Time,' so here was a little remainder of
lovely English song to embalm an otherwise soon-buried name. Hardly any
poet of his poetic day, to be discovered hereafter, can be appraised on
a more intimate understanding, or can awaken a more endearing interest.
Yet we know that save for one or two of his pieces extant here or there
in anthologies; save for a private reprint in 1814 by that tireless
scholar and 'great mouser,' Sir Egerton Brydges; save for Mr. A. H.
Bullen's valued reproduction of the _Anacreontea_, in 1893, Thomas
Stanley's name is utterly unknown to the modern world.

We have indeed travelled far from the ideals of the seventeenth century.
Perhaps, after all, that is one of our blunders; for every hour,
nowadays, we are busy breaking a backward path through the historic
underbrush, in order to speak with those singing gentlemen of 'the
Warres,' whose art and statecraft and religion some of us (who have seen
the end of so much else), find incredibly attractive to our own. Their
lawless vision, like that of children, and the mysterious trick of
music in all their speech, are things we love instinctively, and never
can regain. Out of their political storm, their hard thought, and high
spirits, they can somehow give us rest: and it is chiefly rest which we
crave of them. We appeal to each of these post-Elizabethans with the
invitatory line of one of them:

     'Charm me asleep with thy delicious numbers!'

The pleasure they can still give is inexhaustible, for unconscious
genius like theirs, however narrow, is a deeper well than Goethe's. Cast
aside, and contemned, and left in the darkness long ago, the greater
number of these English Alexandrians are as alive as the lamp in
Tullia's tomb; and of these Stanley, as a craftsman, is almost first.

He was a born man of letters; he gave his whole life to meditation, to
friendship, and to art; he did his beautiful best, and cared nothing for
results; and though literary dynasties have come and gone, his work has
sufficient vitality to-day to leap abreast of work which has never been
out of the sphere of man's appreciation, and has deserved all the
appreciation which it got. Stanley's fastidious strength, his wayward
but concentrated grace, his spirit of liberty and scorn in writing of
love (which was one of the novel characteristic notes of Wither's
generation, and of Robert Jones's before him); the sunny, fearless
mental motion, like that of a bird flying not far, but high, seem to our
plodding scientific wits as unnatural as a Sibyllic intoxication. He
strikes few notes; he recognises his limits and controls his range; but
within these, he is for the most part as happy as Herrick, as mellow as
Henry King, as free as Carew, and as capable as these were, and as those
deeper natures, Crashaw and Vaughan, were not, of a short poem perfect
throughout. He is the child of his age, moreover, in that his ingenuity
never slumbers, and his speech must ever be concise and knotty. If he
sports in the tangles of Neraea's hair, it is because he likes tangles,
and means to add to them. No Carolian poet was ever an idler!

Carew, perhaps, is Stanley's nearest parallel. The latter shows the very
same sort of golden pertness, masked in languid elegance, which goes to
unify and heighten Carew's memorable enchantment, and the same sheer
singable felicity of phrase. But, unlike Carew, he has no glorious
ungoverned swift-passing raptures; there is in Stanley less fire and
less tenderness. Nor has he anything to repent of. His imagination, as
John Hall discerningly said of it,

     'Makes soft Ionic turn grave Lydian.'

Except Habington's, no considerable body of amatory verse in all that
century, certainly not even Cowley's more artificial sequence of 1647,
is, on the whole, so free from stain. Stanley's exemption did not pass
unnoticed; and William Fairfax ('no man fitter!') is careful to instruct
us that Doris, Celinda, and Chariessa were 'various rays' of 'one orient
sun,' and further, that 'no coy ambitious names may here imagine earthly
flames,' because the poet's professional and deliberate homage was
really paid to inward beauty, and never to 'roses of the cheek' alone.
Here we run up against a sweet and famous moral of Carew's, which not
Carew, but Stanley, bears out as the better symbolist of the two. Our
poet does not appear to have contributed towards the religious
literature of a day when the torrent of intense life in human hearts
bred so much heaven-mounting spray, as well as so much necessary scum
and refuse. But his was a temperament so religious that one almost
expects to find somewhere a manuscript volume of 'pious thoughts,' the
shy fruit of Stanley's Christian 'retirements' at home. It will be
noticed that there is one sad devotional poem in this book, 'The lazy
hours move slow'; and as it appears only in John Gamble's book, 1657, it
may fairly be inferred that it was written later than the other lyrics.
In 1657 Stanley was two-and-thirty, and his singing-time, so far as we
know, was over. He had discharged it well. He fails where any true
artist may ever be expected to fail, in verses occasional and
complimentary. But, to balance this, he is often exceptionally happy
when translating.

His portrait, in middle age, by Faithorne after Lely, commends him to us
all as quite worthy of the affection and applause which surrounded him
from his youth, and never spoiled him. Brown-haired, hazel-eyed,
fresh-cheeked, serene rather than gay, he seems the very incarnation of
the ideal for which many others, less fortunate, hungered in that vexed
England: the man 'innocent and quiet,' whose 'mind to him a kingdom
is,' whose 'treasure is in Minerva's tower,' and 'who in the region of
himself remains.' Through the Civil struggle, the Commonwealth, the
Restoration, he had followed a way of peace, without blame, and he is
almost the only poet of the stormy time who is absolutely unaffected by
it. He, at least, need not be discounted as a pathetic broken crystal:
he can be judged on his own little plot of ground, without allowances,
and by our strictest modern standards. His light bright best, his
_viridaria_, have borne victoriously the lava-drift of nearly three
centuries. An amorist of even temper and of malice prepense, a railer
with a sound heart, an untyrannic master of his Muse, Stanley sings low
to his small jocund lyre, and need not be too curiously questioned about
his sincerity. How can it matter? He gives delight; he deserves the
bays.

This little book is the first complete reprint of Stanley ever
published: it is his original and inclusive output. The text is a new
text, inasmuch as it represents the Editor's choice of readings, among
many variants; but variants are noted throughout, and by their number
and interest tell their own tale of Stanley's exacting and sure taste. A
few translated lyrics are gathered into an Appendix. The title-pages of
his few volumes will be found cited in the accompanying List of
Editions.

But the only issues taken into account here, for textual purposes, are
the three of 1647, 1651, and 1657, of which last a word needs to be
said. (The edition of 1652 is an exact copy of 1651, therefore
negligible in the preparation of this book.) The often-overlooked
_Ayres and Dialogues_, Gamble's and Stanley's, appeared first privately,
in 1656, then in 1657. The earlier issue is rare; it figures in the
British Museum Music Catalogues, but not in those of the Bodleian
Library. There is at Oxford, however, a copy of the later edition, and
on this the present editor bases the readings common both to 1656 and
1657. As a general thing these readings of the Gamble Stanley are
particularly satisfying, and besides having all the advantages in point
of time, may have profited by the author's careful revision. John
Gamble's music-book is devoted wholly to Stanley's poems. It has a
notably affectionate and, as it happens, a not-much-too-obsequious
Preface, in which Gamble well says that he felt it 'a bold Undertaking
to compose words which are so pure Harmonie in themselves, into any
other Musick'; yet that he longed to put it to the test, 'how neer a
whole life spent in the study of Musical Compositions could imitate the
flowing and naturall Graces which you have created by your Fancie.'
Gamble wrote out no accompaniments to his sweet and spirited settings,
nor did he leave Stanley's titles prefixed to the numbered songs, a good
proportion of which are translations, though not indicated as such.

As to the present arrangement, for simplicity's sake, it is nothing if
not frankly chronological. It is divided into six sections; the sixth
contains those poems which must have appeared to Stanley to be his best,
as they were included by him in every successive edition of his work.
Form and method, therefore, are both, after a fashion, novel, but not
without their good inherent justification, nor without fullest obedience
of spirit to the author's individual genius and its posthumous dues. The
spelling has been modernised, and particular pains have been taken with
the punctuation. This reprint is a deferent attempt to set forth Thomas
Stanley as a little latter-day classic, in his old rich singing-coat,
made strong and whole by means of coloured strands of his own weaving.

                                                              L. I. G.

OXFORD, _August 31, 1905_.




The Editor's best acknowledgements are due to Mr. W. BAILEY KEMPLING,
for his painstaking copy, from the 1651 edition of Stanley in the
British Museum, of a large number of the poems collated in this book.




LYRICS: THOMAS STANLEY




I. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1647.


          THE DREAM.

    That I might ever dream thus! that some power
    To my eternal sleep would join this hour!
    So, willingly deceiv'd, I might possess
    In seeming joys a real happiness.
    Haste not away: O do not dissipate                                 5
    A pleasure thou so lately didst create!
    Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin'd:
    Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.


          DESPAIR.

      No, no, poor blasted Hope!
    Since I (with thee) have lost the scope
    Of all my joys, I will no more
                  Vainly implore
    The unrelenting Destinies:                                         5
    He that can equally sustain
    The strong assaults of joy and pain,
    May safely laugh at their decrees.

      Despair, to thee I bow,
    Whose constancy disdains t'allow                                  10
    Those childish passions that destroy
                  Our fickle joy;
    How cruel Fates so e'er appear,
    Their harmless anger I despise,
    And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise,                             15
    Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.


          THE PICTURE.

    Thou that both feel'st and dost admire
    The flames shot from a painted fire,
    Know Celia's image thou dost see:
    Not to herself more like is she.
    He that should both together view                                  5
    Would judge both pictures, or both true.
    But thus they differ: the best part
    Of Nature this is; that of Art.


          OPINION.

    Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays
    That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise?
    Why should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white,
    Which from the sun receives a sparkling light,
    Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth                       5
    Decks the green garment of the richer earth?
    Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice
    Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise?
    Which, melting, show that to impartial sight
    Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright.                      10
    But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn,
    Taking their praise the other to adorn.
    Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave
    To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave;
    Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense,                15
    Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.




II. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1651.


          THE CURE.

          _Nymph._

    What busy cares, too timely born,
      Young swain! disturb thy sleep?
    Thy early sighs awake the morn,
      Thy tears teach her to weep.

          _Shepherd._

    Sorrows, fair nymph, are full alone,                               5
      Nor counsel can endure.

          _Nymph._

    Yet thine disclose; for, until known,
      Sickness admits no cure.

          _Shepherd._

    My griefs are such as but to hear
      Would poison all thy joys;                                      10
    The pity which thou seem'st to bear
      My health, thine own destroys.

          _Nymph._

    How can diseased minds infect?
      Say what thy grief doth move!

          _Shepherd._

    Call up thy virtue to protect                                     15
      Thy heart, and know--'twas love.

          _Nymph._

    Fond swain!

          _Shepherd._

    By which I have been long
      Destin'd to meet with hate.

          _Nymph._

    Fie! shepherd, fie! thou dost love wrong,
      To call thy crime thy fate.                                     20

          _Shepherd._

    Alas! what cunning could decline,
      What force can love repel?

          _Nymph._

    Yet there's a way to unconfine
      Thy heart.

          _Shepherd._

                  For pity, tell.

          _Nymph._

    Choose one whose love may be assur'd                              25
      By thine: who ever knew
    Inveterate diseases cur'd
      But by receiving new?

          _Shepherd._

    All will, like her, my soul perplex.

          _Nymph._

    Yet try.

          _Shepherd._

      Oh, could there be                                              30
    But any softness in that sex,
      I'd wish it were in thee!

          _Nymph._

    Thy prayer is heard: learn now t'esteem
      The kindness she hath shown,
    Who, thy lost freedom to redeem,                                  35
      Hath forfeited her own.


  TO THE COUNTESS OF S[UNDERLAND?] WITH THE HOLY COURT.[1:1]

    Since every place you bless, the name
    This book assumes may justlier claim.
    (What more a court than where you shine?
    And where your soul, what more divine?)
    You may perhaps doubt at first sight                               5
    That it usurps upon your right;
    And praising virtues that belong
    To you, in others, doth you wrong.
    No, 'tis yourself you read, in all
    Perfections earlier ages call                                     10
    Their own; all glories they e'er knew
    Were but faint prophecies of you.
    You then have here sole interest, whom 'tis meant
    As well to entertain, as represent.


  DRAWN FOR VALENTINE BY THE L[ADY] D[OROTHY] S[PENCER?].[2:1]

    Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire,
    Though I must waste in an unpitied fire,
    By the same deity, severe as fair,
    Commanded adoration and despair;
    Though I am mark'd for sacrifice, to tell                          5
    The growing age what dangerous glories dwell
    In this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays,
    Will challenge every heart, and every praise;
    Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim,
    By Fortune's taught indulgence to my flame,                       10
    Great Queen of Chance! unjustly we exclude
    Thy power an interest in beatitude,
    Who with mysterious judgement dost dispense
    The bounties of unerring Providence;
    Whilst we, to whom the causes are unknown,                        15
    Would style that blindness thine, which is our own.
    As kind, in justice to thyself, as me,
    Thou hast redeem'd thy name and votary:
    Nor will I prize this less for being thine,
    Nor longer at my destiny repine.                                  20
    Counsel and choice are things below thy state:
    Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate.




III. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1657 [JOHN GAMBLE'S _AYRES
AND DIALOGUES_] HAVING NO TITLES.


          ON THIS SWELLING BANK.

    On this swelling bank, once proud
      Of its burden, Doris lay:
    Here she smil'd, and did uncloud
      Those bright suns eclipse the day;
    Here we sat, and with kind art                                     5
      She about me twin'd her arms,
    Clasp'd in hers my hand and heart,
      Fetter'd in those pleasing charms.

    Here my love and joys she crown'd,
      Whilst the hours stood still before me,                         10
    With a killing glance did wound,
      And a melting kiss restore me.
    On the down of either breast,
      Whilst with joy my soul retir'd,
    My reclining head did rest,                                       15
      Till her lips new life inspir'd.

    Thus, renewing of these sights
      Doth with grief and pleasure fill me,
    And the thought of these delights
      Both at once revive and kill me!                                20


          DEAR, FOLD ME ONCE MORE.

    Dear, fold me once more in thine arms!
      And let me know
      Before I go
    There is no bliss but in those charms.
      By thy fair self I swear                                         5
      That here, and only here,
    I would for ever, ever stay:
    But cruel Fate calls me away.

    How swiftly the light minutes slide!
      The hours that haste                                            10
      Away thus fast
    By envious flight my stay do chide.
      Yet, Dear, since I must go,
      By this last kiss I vow,
    By all that sweetness which dwells with thee,[3:1]                15
    Time shall move slow, till next I see thee.


          THE LAZY HOURS.

    The lazy hours move slow,
      The minutes stay;
    Old Time with leaden feet doth go,
      And his light wings hath cast away.
    The slow-pac'd spheres above                                       5
      Have sure releas'd
    Their guardians, and without help move,
      Whilst that the very angels rest.

    The number'd sands that slide
      Through this small glass,                                       10
    And into minutes Time divide,
      Too slow each other do displace;
    The tedious wheels of light
      No faster chime,
    Than that dull shade which waits on night:                        15
      For Expectation outruns Time.

    How long, Lord, must I stay?
      How long dwell here?
    O free me from this loathed clay!
      Let me no more these fetters wear!                              20
    With far more joy
      Shall I resign my breath,
    For, to my griev'd soul, not to die
      Is every minute a new death.




IV. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITIONS OF 1647 AND 1651.


          LOVE'S INNOCENCE.[4:1]

    See how this ivy strives to twine[4:2]
    Her wanton arms about the vine,
    And her coy lover thus restrains,
    Entangled in her amorous chains;
    See how these neighb'ring palms do bend                            5
    Their heads, and mutual murmurs send,
    As whispering with a jealous fear[4:3]
    Their loves into each other's ear.
    Then blush not such a flame to own     }
    As, like thyself, no crime hath known; }                          10
    Led by these harmless guides, we may   }[4:4]
    Embrace and kiss as well as they.      }
    And like those blessed souls above,
    Whose life is harmony and love,
    Let us our mutual thoughts betray,                                15
    And in our wills our minds display.
    This silent speech is swifter far
    Than the ears' lazy species are;
    And the expression it affords
    (As our desires,) 'bove reach of words.                           20
    Thus we, my Dear, of these may learn[4:5]
    A passion others not discern;
    Nor can it shame or blushes move,
    Like plants to live, like angels love:
      Since all excuse with equal innocence                           25
      What above reason is, or beneath sense.


          THE DEDICATION.[5:1]

            To Love.

    Thou whose sole name all passions doth comprise:
    Youngest and eldest of the Deities,
    Born without parents, whose unbounded reign
    Moves the firm earth, fixeth the floating main,
    Inverts the course of heaven, and from the deep                    5
    Awakes those souls that in dark Lethe sleep,
    By thy mysterious chains seeking t'unite,
    Once more, the long-since-torn hermaphrodite!
    He who thy willing prisoner long was vow'd,
    And uncompell'd beneath thy sceptre bow'd,                        10
    Returns at last in thy soft fetters bound,
    With victory, though not with freedom, crown'd:
    And, (of his dangers past a grateful sign,)
    Suspends this tablet at thy numerous shrine.


          THE GLOW-WORM.

    Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark
    This animated gem,[6:1] whose fainter spark
    Of fading light, its birth had from the dark:

    A star thought by the erring[6:2] passenger
    Which falling from its native orb, dropped here,                   5
    And makes the earth, its centre, now its sphere.

    Should many of these sparks together be,
    He that the unknown light far off should see
    Would think it a terrestrial galaxy.

    Take 't up, fair Saint; see how it mocks thy fright;              10
    The paler flame doth not yield heat, though light,
    Which thus deceives[6:3] thy reason, through thy sight.

    But see how quickly it, ta'en up, doth fade,
    (To shine in darkness only being made),
    By th' brightness of thy light turn'd to a shade,                 15

    And burnt to ashes by thy flaming eyes!
    On the chaste altar of thy hand it dies,
    As to thy greater light a sacrifice.


          TO CHARIESSA,[7:1]

      _Desiring her to Burn his Verses._

    These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath
    Condemn, thy hand unto the flames bequeath;
    'Tis fit who gave them life, should give them death.

    And whilst[7:2] in curled flames to heaven they rise,
    Each trembling sheet shall, as it upwards flies,                   5
    Present itself to thee a sacrifice.

    Then when above[7:3] its native orb it came,
    And reach'd the lesser lights o' th' sky, this flame,
    Contracted to a star, should wear thy name,

    Or falling down on earth from its bright sphere,                  10
    Shall in a diamond's shape its lustre bear,
    And trouble (as it did before) thine ear.

    But thou wilt cruel even in mercy be,
    Unequal in thy justice, who dost free
    Things without sense from flames, and yet not me!                 15


          ON MR. FLETCHER'S WORKS [1647].[8:1]

    Fletcher, whose fame no age can ever waste,
    (Envy of ours, and glory of the last,)
    Is now alive again; and with his name
    His sacred ashes wak'd into a flame
    Such as before could[8:2] by a secret charm                        5
    The wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm,
    And lend the ladies' eyes a power more bright,
    Dispensing thus, to either, heat and light.
    He to a sympathy those souls betray'd
    Whom love or beauty never could persuade;                         10
    And in each mov'd spectator did[8:3] beget
    A real passion by a counterfeit.
    When first Bellario bled, what lady there
    Did not for every drop let fall a tear?
    And when Aspasia wept, not any eye                                15
    But seem'd to wear the same sad livery;
    By him inspir'd, the feign'd Lucina drew
    More streams of melting sorrow than the true;
    But then The Scornful Lady did[8:4] beguile
    Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile.                   20
    Thus he affections could or raise or lay;
    Love, grief, and mirth thus did his charms obey:
    He Nature taught her passions to out-do,
    How to refine the old, and create new;
    Which such a happy likeness seem'd to bear,                       25
    As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were.
    Yet all had nothing been, obscurely kept
    In the same urn wherein his dust hath slept;
    Nor had he risen[8:5] the Delphic wreath to claim,
    Had with[8:6] the dying scene expir'd his name.                   30
    O the indulgent justice of this age,
    To grant the press what it denies the stage!
    Despair our joy hath doubled: he is come
    Twice welcome by this _post liminium_.
    His loss preserv'd him; they that silenc'd wit                    35
    Are now the authors to eternize it.
    Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv'd,
    And plays, by intermission, longer liv'd.


          TO THE LADY D[ORMER].[9:1]

    Madam! the blushes I betray,
    When at your feet I humbly lay
    These papers, beg you would excuse
    Th' obedience of a bashful Muse,
    Who, bowing to your strict command,                                5
    Trusts her own errors to your hand,
    Hasty abortives, which, laid by,
    She meant, ere they were born, should die:
    But since the soft power of your breath
    Hath call'd them back again from death,                           10
    To your sharp judgement now made known,
    She dares for hers no longer own;
    The worst she must not: these resign'd
    She hath to th' fire; and where you find
    Those your kind charity admir'd,                                  15
    She writ but what your eyes inspir'd.


          TO MR. W[ILLIAM] HAMMOND.

    Thou best of Friendship, Knowledge, and of Art!
    The charm of whose lov'd name preserves my heart
    From female vanities, (thy name, which there
    Till time dissolves the fabric, I must wear!)
    Forgive a crime which long my soul oppress'd,                      5
    And crept by chance in my unwary breast,
    So great, as for thy pardon were unfit,
    And to forgive were worse than to commit,
    But that the fault and pain were so much one,
    The very act did expiate what was done.                           10
    I, who so often sported with the flame,
    Play'd with the Boy, and laugh'd at both as tame,
    Betray'd by idleness and beauty, fell
    At last in love, love both the sin and hell:
    No punishment great as my fault esteem'd,                         15
    But to be that which I so long had seem'd.
    Behold me such: a face, a voice, a lute;
    The sentence in a minute execute.
    I yield, recant; the faith which I before
    Deny'd, profess; the power I scorn'd, implore.                    20
    Alas, in vain! no prayers, no vows can bow
    Her stubborn heart, who neither will allow.
    But see how strangely what was meant no less
    Than torment, prov'd my greatest happiness;
    Delay, that should have sharpen'd, starv'd Desire,                25
    And Cruelty not fann'd, but quench'd my fire.
    Love bound me; now, by kind Disdain set free,
    I can despise that Love as well as she.
    That sin to friendship I away have thrown!
    My heart thou may'st without a rival own,[10:1]                   30
    While such as willingly themselves beguile,
    And sell away their freedoms for a smile,
    Blush to confess our joys as far above
    Their hopes, as friendship's longer-liv'd than love.


          ON MR. SHIRLEY'S POEMS [1646].[11:1]

    When, dearest Friend, thy verse doth re-inspire
    Love's pale decaying torch with brighter fire,
    Whilst everywhere thou dost dilate thy flame,
    And to the world spread thy Odelia's name,
    The justice of all ages must remit                                 5
    To her the prize of beauty, thee of wit.
    Then, like some skilful artist, that to wonder[11:2]
    Framing some[11:3] piece, displeas'd, takes it asunder,
    Thou Beauty dost depose, her charms deny,
    And all the mystic chains of Love untie.                          10
    Thus thy diviner Muse a power 'bove Fate
    May boast, that can both make and uncreate.
    Next, thou call'st back to life that love-sick boy,
    To the kind-hearted nymphs less fair than coy,
    Who, by reflex beams burnt with vain desire,                      15
    Did, phoenix-like, in his own flames expire;
    But should he view his shadow drawn by thee,
    He with himself once more in love would be.
    Echo, (who though she words[11:4] pursue, her haste
    Can only overtake and stop the last,)                             20
    Shall her first speech and human voice[11:5] obtain,
    To sing thy softer numbers o'er again.
    Thus, into dying poetry, thy Muse
    Doth full perfection and new life infuse.
    Each line deserves a laurel, and thy praise                       25
    Asks not a garland, but a grove of bays;
    Nor can ours raise thy lasting trophies higher,
    Who only reach at merit to admire.
    But I must chide thee, friend: how canst thou be
    A patron, yet a foe to Poesy?[11:6]                               30
    For while thou dost this age to verse restore,}
    Thou dost deprive the next of owning more;    }[11:7]
    And hast so far all future times surpass'd,[11:8]
    That none dare write: thus, being first and last,
    All their abortive Muses will suppress,                           35
    And Poetry, by this increase, grow less.


          ON MR. SHERBURNE'S TRANSLATION OF SENECA'S MEDEA,
            AND VINDICATION OF THE AUTHOR [1647-8].[12:1]

    That wise philosopher who had design'd
    To [th'] life the various passions of the mind,
    Did wrong'd Medea's jealousy prefer
    To entertain the Roman theatre;
    Both to instruct the soul, and please the sight,                   5
    At once begetting horror and delight.
    This cruelty thou dost once more express
    Though in a strange, no less becoming dress;
    And her revenge hast robb'd of half its pride,
    To see itself thus by itself outvied,                             10
    That boldest ages past may say, our times
    Can speak, as well as act, their highest crimes.
    Nor was't enough to do his scene this right,
    But what thou gav'st to us, with equal light
    Thou wouldst bestow on him, nor wert more just                    15
    Unto the author's work, than to his dust.
    Thou dost make good his title, aid his claim,
    Both vindicate his poem and his name,
    So shar'st a double wreath; for all that we
    Unto the poet[12:2] owe, he owes to thee.                         20
    Though change of tongues stol'n praise to some afford,
    Thy version hath not borrow'd, but restor'd.


          ON MR. HALL'S ESSAYS [HORAE VACIVAE, 1646].[13:1]

    Wits that matur'd by time have courted praise,
    Shall see their works outdone in these essays,
    And blush to know thy earlier years display
    A dawning clearer than their brightest day.[13:2]
    Yet I'll not praise thee, for thou hast outgrown                   5
    The reach of all men's praises but thine own.
    Encomiums to their objects are exact:
    To praise, and not at full, is to detract.
    And with most justice are the best forgot;
    For praise is bounded when the theme is not:                      10
    Since mine is thus confin'd, and far below
    Thy merit, I forbear it, nor will show
    How poor the autumnal pride of some appears,[13:3]
    To the ripe fruit thy vernal season bears!
    Yet though I mean no praise, I come t'invite                      15
    Thy forward aims still to advance their flight.
    Rise higher yet; what though thy spreading wreath
    Lessen, to their dull sight who stay beneath?
    To thy full learning how can all allow
    Just praise, unless that all were learn'd as thou?                20
    Go on, in spite of such low souls, and may
    Thy growing worth know age, though not decay,
    Till thou pay back thy theft, and live to climb
    As many years as thou hast snatch'd from Time.


          ON SIR J[OHN] S[UCKLING] HIS PICTURE AND
            POEMS [1646].[14:1]

    Suckling, whose numbers could invite
    Alike to wonder and delight,
    And with new spirit did inspire
    The Thespian scene, and Delphic lyre,
    Is thus express'd in either part,                                  5
    Above the humble reach of Art.
    Drawn by the pencil, here you find
    His form; by his own pen, his mind.


          ANSWER [TO "THE UNION," POEM ADDRESSED TO
            STANLEY BY HIS FRIEND AND TUTOR, WILLIAM
            FAIRFAX].[15:1]

    If we are one, dear Friend! why shouldst thou be
    At once unequal to thyself and me?
    By thy release thou swell'st my debt the more,
    And dost but rob thyself to make me poor.
    What part can I have in thy luminous cone,                         5
    What flame, since my love's thine, can call my own,
    (The palest star is less the son of night,)
    Who but thy borrow'd know no native light?[15:2]
    Was't not enough thou freely didst bestow
    The Muse, but thou must[15:3] give the laurel too,                10
    And twice my aims by thy assistance raise,
    Conferring first the merit, then the praise?
    But I should do thee greater injury,
    Did I believe this praise were meant to me,
    Or thought, though thou hast worth enough to spare                15
    T'enrich another soul, that mine should share.
    Thy Muse, seeming to lend, calls home her fame,
    And her due wreath doth, in renouncing, claim.




V. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITIONS OF 1647 AND 1657 [GAMBLE].


          THE BLUSH.

    So fair Aurora doth herself discover
    (Asham'd o' th' aged bed of her cold lover,)
    In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light
    Betrays her early shame to the world's sight.
    Such a bright colour doth the morning rose                         5
    Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose
    Half drown'd in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear
    Of night doth like a dissolv'd pearl appear;
    Yet 'twere in vain a colour out to seek
    To parallel my Chariessa's cheek;                                 10
    Less are compar'd[16:1] with greater, and these seem
    To blush like her, not she to blush like them.
    But whence, fair soul, this passion? what pretence
    Had guilt to stain thy spotless innocence?
    Those only this feel who have guilty been,                        15
    Not any blushes know, but who know[16:2] sin.
    Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame,
    That knows no cause, know no effects of shame.


          THE COLD KISS.

    Such icy kisses, anchorites that live
    Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give;
    And those[17:1] cold maids on whom Love never spent
    His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,
    To their expiring fathers such bequeath,                           5
    Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath:
    The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice
    Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice.

    Fie, Chariessa! whence so chang'd of late,
    As to become in love a reprobate?                                 10
    Quit, quit this dulness, Fairest, and make known
    A flame unto me equal with mine[17:2] own.
    Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon
    Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone,
    Let's once more join our lips,[17:3] and thou shalt see           15
    That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.


          THE IDOLATER.

    Think not, pale lover, he who dies
    Burnt in the flames of Celia's eyes,
    Is unto Love a sacrifice;

    Or, by the merit of this pain,
    Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain!                              5
    Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain.

    For when, by death, from[18:1] these flames free,
    To greater thou condemn'd shalt be,
    And punish'd for idolatry,

    Since thou, Love's votary before,                                 10
    (Whilst she[18:2] was kind,) dost him no more,
    But, in his shrine, Disdain adore.

    Nor will this fire the gods prepare
    To punish scorn, that cruel Fair,
    Though now from flames exempted, spare;                           15

    But as together both shall die,
    Both burnt alike in flames shall lie,
    She in thy heart,[18:3] thou in her eye.


          THE MAGNET.

    Ask the empress of the night
      How the Hand which guides her sphere,
    Constant in unconstant light,
      Taught the waves her yoke to bear,
    And did thus by loving force                                       5
    Curb or tame the rude sea's course.

    Ask the female palm how she
      First did woo her husband's love;
    And the magnet, ask how he[19:1]
      Doth th' obsequious iron move;                                  10
    Waters, plants, and stones know this:
    That they love; not what Love is.

    Be not thou[19:2] less kind than these,
      Or from Love exempt alone!
    Let us twine like amorous trees,                                  15
      And like rivers melt in one.
    Or, if thou more cruel prove,
    Learn of steel and stones to love.


          ON A VIOLET IN HER BREAST.

    See how this violet, which before
      Hung sullenly her drooping head,
    As angry at the ground that bore
      The purple treasure which she spread,
    Doth smilingly erected grow,                                       5
    Transplanted to those hills of snow.

    And whilst the pillows of thy breast
      Do her reclining head sustain,
    She swells with pride to be so blest,
      And doth all other flowers disdain;                             10
    Yet weeps that dew which kissed her last,
    To see her odours so surpass'd.

    Poor flower! how far deceiv'd thou wert,
      To think the riches of the morn
    Or all the sweets she can impart.                                 15
      Could these or sweeten or adorn,
    Since thou from them dost borrow scent,
    And they to thee lend ornament!


          SONG.

    Foolish Lover, go and seek
      For the damask of the rose,
      And the lilies white dispose
    To adorn thy mistress' cheek;

    Steal some star out of the sky,                                    5
      Rob the phoenix, and the east
      Of her wealthy sweets divest,
    To enrich her breath or eye!

    We thy borrow'd pride despise:
      For this wine to which we are                                   10
      Votaries, is richer far
    Than her cheek, or breath, or eyes.

    And should that coy fair one view
      These diviner beauties, she
      In this flame would rival thee,                                 15
    And be taught to love thee too.

    Come, then, break thy wanton chain,
      That when this brisk wine hath spread
      On thy paler cheek a red,
    Thou, like us, may'st Love disdain.                               20

    Love, thy power must yield to wine!
      And whilst thus ourselves we arm,
      Boldly we defy thy charm:
    For these flames extinguish[20:1] thine.


          THE PARTING.

          I go, dear Saint, away,
              Snatch'd from thy arms
          By far less pleasing charms,
          Than those I did[21:1] obey;
      But if hereafter thou shalt know                                 5
          That grief hath kill'd me, come,[21:2]
              And on my tomb
          Drop, drop a tear or two;
    Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep,
    And I shall smile in death to see thee weep.                      10

          Thy tears may have the power
              To reinspire
          My ashes with new fire,
          Or change me to some flower,
      Which, planted 'twixt thy breasts, shall grow:                  15
          Veil'd in this shape, I will
          Dwell with thee still,
      Court, kiss, enjoy thee too:
    Securely we'll contemn[21:3] all envious force,
    And thus united be by death's divorce.                            20


          COUNSEL.

    When deceitful lovers lay
      At thy feet their suppliant hearts,
    And their snares spread to betray
      Thy best treasure[22:1] with their arts,
    Credit not their flatt'ring vows:                                  5
    Love such perjury allows.

    When they with the[22:2] choicest wealth
      Nature boasts of, have possess'd thee;
    When with flowers (their verses' stealth),
      Stars, or jewels they invest thee,[22:3]                        10
    Trust not to their borrow'd store:
    'Tis but lent to make thee poor.

    When with poems[22:4] they invade thee,
      Sing thy praises or disdain;
    When they weep, and would persuade thee                           15
      That their flames beget that rain;
    Let thy breast no baits let in:
    Mercy's only here a sin!

    Let no tears or offerings move thee,
      All those cunning charms avoid;                                 20
    For that wealth for which they love thee,
      They would slight if once enjoy'd.
    Guard thy unrelenting mind!  }
    None are cruel but the kind. }[22:5]


          EXPOSTULATION WITH LOVE, IN DESPAIR.

    Love! what tyrannic laws must they obey    }
    Who bow beneath thy uncontrolled sway!     }
    Or how unjust will that harsh empire prove }[23:1]
    Forbids to hope and yet commands to love!  }
    Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain                         5
    A double torture of despair and pain?
    Is't not enough vainly to hope and woo,
    That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?
    It were some joy,[23:2] Ixion-like, to fold
    The empty air, or feed on thoughts as cold;[23:3]                 10
    But if thou to my passion this deny,
    Thou may'st be starv'd to death as well as I;
    For how can thy pale sickly flame burn clear
    When death and cold despair inhabit here?[23:4]
    Then let thy dim heat warm, or else expire;[23:5]                 15
    Dissolve this frost, or let that quench the[23:6] fire.
    Thus let me not desire, or else possess!
    Neither, or both, are equal happiness.[23:7]


          SONG.

    Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care
            To seek t'ensnare
        A heart so poor as mine:[24:1]
            Some fools there be
            Hate liberty,                                              5
    Who[m] with more ease thou may'st confine.

    Alas! when with much charge thou hast
            Brought it at last
        Beneath thy power to bow,
            It will adore                                             10
            Some twenty more,
    And that, perhaps, you'd[24:2] not allow.

    No, Chloris, I no more will prove
            The curse of love,
        And now can boast a heart                                     15
            Hath learn'd of thee
            Inconstancy,
    And cozen'd women of their art.


          EXPECTATION.

      Chide, chide no more away
    The fleeting daughters of the day,
    Nor with impatient thoughts outrun
            The lazy sun,
    Nor[25:1] think the hours do move too slow;                        5
            Delay is kind,
        And we too soon shall find
    That which we seek, yet fear to know.

      The mystic dark decrees
    Unfold not of the Destinies,                                      10
    Nor boldly seek to antedate
            The laws of Fate;
    Thy anxious search awhile forbear,
            Suppress thy haste,
        And know that Time at last                                    15
    Will crown thy hope, or fix thy fear.




VI. LYRICS PRINTED IN ALL ORIGINAL EDITIONS OF STANLEY.


          THE BREATH.

    Favonius, the milder breath o' th' Spring,
    When proudly bearing on his softer wing
    Rich odours, which from the Panchean groves
    He steals, as by the phoenix-pyre he moves,
    Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispense                          5
    To the next rose's blushing innocence;
    But from the grateful flower, a richer scent
    He doth receive[26:1] than he unto it lent.
    Then, laden with his odour's richest store,
    He to thy breath hastes, to which these are poor;                 10
    Which, whilst the amorous wind[26:2] to steal essays,
    He like a wanton lover 'bout thee plays,
    And sometimes cooling thy soft cheek doth lie,
    And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye:
    Drawn in at last by that breath we implore,                       15
    He now[26:3] returns far sweeter than before,
    And rich by being robb'd, in thee he finds
    The burning sweets of pyres, the cool of winds.


          THE NIGHT: A DIALOGUE.

    _Chariessa._[27:1]  What if Night
            Should betray us, and reveal
                    To the light
            All the pleasures that we steal?

    _Philocharis._  Fairest! we                                        5
            Safely may this fear despise:
                    How can she
            See our actions, who wants eyes?

    _Chariessa._    Each dim star,
            And the clearer lights, we know,                          10
                    Night's eyes are:
            They were blind that thought her so!

    _Philocharis._  Those pale fires
            Only burn to yield a light
                    T' our desires;                                   15
            And, though blind, to give us sight.

    _Chariessa._    By this shade
            That surrounds us, might our flame
                    Be betray'd!
            And the day disclose its name.                            20

    _Philocharis._  Dearest Fair!
            These dark witnesses, we find,
                    Silent are:
            Night is dumb, as well as blind.

          _Chorus._

        Then whilst these black shades conceal us,                    25
              We will scorn
              Th' envious morn,
        And the sun that would reveal us.
    Our flames shall thus their mutual light betray,
    And night, with these joys crown'd, outshine the day.             30


          UNALTER'D BY SICKNESS.

    Pale envious Sickness, hence! no more }
    Possess her breast, too cold before.  }
    In vain, alas, thou dost invade       }[28:1]
    A beauty that can never fade.         }
    Could all thy malice but impair                                    5
    One o' th' sweets which crown her fair;[28:2]
    Or steal the spirits from her eye;
    Or kiss into a paler dye
    The blooming[28:3] roses of her cheek;
    Our suffering[28:4] hopes might justly seek                       10
    Redress from thee, and thou mightst save
    Thousands of lovers from the grave.
    But such assaults are vain, for she
    Is too divine to stoop to thee,
    Blest with a form as much too high                                15
    For any change, as[28:5] Destiny,
    Which no attempt can violate:
    For what's her beauty is our fate.


          TO CELIA.

    EXCUSE FOR WISHING HER LESS FAIR.[29:1]

    Why thy passion should it move
      That I wished thy beauty less?
    Fools desire what is above
      Power of nature to express;
    And to wish it had been more                                       5
    Had been to outwish her store.

    If the flames within thine eye
      Did not too great heat inspire,
    Men might languish, yet not die, }[29:2]
      At thy less ungentle fire,     }                                10
    And might on thy weaker light
    Gaze, and yet not lose their sight.

    Nor wouldst thou less fair appear,
      For detraction adds to thee;
    If some parts less beauteous were,                                15
      Others would much fairer be;
    Nor can any part we know
    Best be styl'd, when all are so.

    Thus this great excess of light,
      Which now dazzles our weak eyes,                                20
    Would, eclips'd, appear more bright;
      And the only way to rise,
    Or to be more fair, for[29:3] thee,
    Celia! is less fair to be.


          CELIA, SLEEPING OR SINGING.[30:1]

    Roses, in breathing forth their scent,
    Or stars their borrowed ornament;
    Nymphs in the watery sphere that move,
    Or angels in their orbs above;
    The winged chariot of the light,                                   5
    Or the slow silent wheels of night;
    The shade which from the swifter sun
    Doth in a circular motion run,
    Or souls that their eternal rest do keep,
    Make far more[30:2] noise than Celia's breath in sleep.           10

    But if the angel which inspires
    This subtle frame[30:3] with active fires,
    Should mould this[30:4] breath to words, and those
    Into a harmony dispose,
    The music of this heavenly sphere                                 15
    Would steal each soul out at the ear,
    And into plants and stones infuse
    A life that cherubim[30:5] would choose,
    And with new powers[30:6] invert the laws of fate:
    Kill those that live, and dead things animate.                    20


          PALINODE.[31:1]

    Beauty, thy harsh imperious chains
    As a scorn'd weight, I here untie,
    Since thy proud empire those disdains
    Of reason or philosophy,
    That would[31:2] within tyrannic laws                              5
    Confine the power of each free cause.

    Forc'd by the potent[31:3] influence
    Of thy disdain, I back return:
    Thus with those flames I do dispense
    Which, though they would not light, did burn,                     10
    And rather will through cold expire,
    Than languish at[31:4] a frozen fire.

    But whilst I the insulting pride
    Of thy vain beauty do despise,
    Who gladly wouldst be deified                                     15
    By making me thy sacrifice,
    May Love thy heart which to his charm
    Approach'd, seem'd cold, at distance warm!


          THE RETURN.

    Beauty, whose soft magnetic chains
    Nor time nor absence can untie,[32:1]
    Thy power the narrow bound[32:2] disdains
    Of Nature or Philosophy;
    Thou[32:3] canst by unconfined laws                                5
    A motion, though at distance, cause.

    Drawn by the powerful[32:4] influence
    Of thy bright eyes, I back return;
    And since I nowhere can dispense
    With flames that[32:5] do in absence burn,                        10
    I rather choose 'twixt[32:6] them t'expire,
    Than languish by a hidden fire.

    But if thou th'[32:7] insulting pride
    Of vulgar beauties dost despise,
    Who, by vain triumphs deified,                                    15
    Their votaries do sacrifice,
    Then let those flames, whose magic charm
    At distance scorch'd, approach'd, but warm.


          CHANG'D, YET CONSTANT.

        Wrong me no more
          In thy complaint,
      Blam'd for inconstancy:
        I vow'd t' adore
          The fairest Saint,                                           5
      Nor chang'd whilst thou wert she:
    But if another thee outshine,
    Th' inconstancy is only thine!

        To be by such
          Blind fools admir'd                                         10
      Gives thee but small esteem,
        By whom as much
          Thou'dst be desir'd,
      Didst thou less beauteous seem.
    Sure, why they love they know not well,                           15
    Who why they should not, cannot tell!

        Women are by
          Themselves betray'd,
      And to their short joys cruel,
        Who foolishly                                                 20
          Themselves persuade
      Flames can outlast their fuel;
    None (though platonic their pretence),
    With reason love, unless by sense.

        And he,[33:1] by whose                                        25
          Command to thee
      I did my heart resign,
        Now bids me choose
          A deity
      Diviner far than thine;                                         30
    No power can Love from Beauty sever:
    I'm still Love's subject; thine was, never.

        The fairest she
          Whom none surpass,
      To love hath only right;                                        35
        And such to me
          Thy beauty was,
      Till one I found more bright;
    But 'twere as impious to adore
    Thee now, as not to have done 't before.                          40

        Nor is it just
          By rules of Love,
      Thou shouldst deny to quit
        A heart that must
          Another's prove                                             45
      Even in thy right to it;
    Must not thy subjects captives be
    To her who triumphs over thee?

        Cease, then, in vain
          To blot my name                                             50
      With forg'd apostasy!
        Thine is that stain
          Who dar'st to claim
      What others ask of thee.
    Of lovers they are only true                                      55
    Who pay their hearts where hearts[33:2] are due.


          TO CHARIESSA,

    _Beholding herself in a Glass._[34:1]

    Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away;
    Not in its crystal face thine own survey.
    What can be free from Love's imperious laws,
    When painted shadows real flames can cause?
    The fires may burn thee from this mirror rise,                     5
    By the reflected beams of thine own eyes;
    And thus at last fall'n with thyself in love,
    Thou wilt my rival, thine own[34:2] martyr, prove.
    But if thou dost desire thy form to view,
    Look in my heart, where Love thy picture drew,                    10
    And then, if pleas'd with thine own shape thou be,
    Learn how to love thyself by[34:3] loving me.


          SONG.

    When I lie burning in thine eye,
      Or freezing in thy breast,
    What martyrs, in wish'd flames that die,
      Are half so pleas'd or blest?

    When thy soft accents through mine ear                             5
      Into my soul do fly,
    What angel would not quit his sphere,
      To hear such harmony?

    Or when the kiss thou gav'st me last
      My soul stole in its breath,                                    10
    What life would sooner be embrac'd
      Than so desir'd a death?

    When I commanded am by thee,      }
      (Or by thine eye or hand,)      }
    What monarch would not prouder be }[35:1]                         15
      To serve than to command?       }

    Then think not[35:2] freedom I desire,
      Or would my fetters leave,
    Since, phoenix-like, I from this fire
      Both life and youth receive.                                    20


          SONG.

    Fool! take up thy shaft again.
                        If thy store
    Thou profusely spend in vain,
      Who can furnish thee with more?
    Throw not then away thy darts                                      5
    On impenetrable hearts.

    Think not thy pale flame can warm
                        Into tears,
    Or dissolve the snowy charm
      Which her frozen bosom wears,                                   10
    That expos'd unmelted lies
    To the bright suns of her eyes.

    But since thou thy power hast lost,
                        Nor canst fire
    Kindle in that breast, whose frost                                15
      Doth these flames in mine inspire;
    Not to thee but her I'll sue,
    That disdains both me and you!


          DELAY.

    Delay! Alas, there cannot be
    To Love a greater tyranny:
    Those cruel beauties that have slain
    Their votaries by their disdain,
    Or studied torments sharp and witty.                               5
    Will be recorded for their pity,
    And after-ages be misled
    To think them kind, when this is spread.
    Of deaths the speediest is despair;
    Delays the slowest tortures are;                                  10
    Thy cruelty at once destroys,
    But expectation starves my joys.
    Time and Delay may bring me past
    The power of Love to cure, at last;
    And shouldst thou wish to ease my pain,                           15
    Thy pity might be lent in vain.
    Or if thou hast decreed that I
    Must fall[36:1] beneath thy cruelty,
    O kill me soon! Thou wilt express
    More mercy, ev'n in showing less.                                 20


          THE REPULSE.

      Not that by this disdain
              I am releas'd,
    And, freed from thy romantic[37:1] chain,
      Do I myself think blest;

      Not that thy flame shall burn                                    5
              No more; for know
    That I shall into ashes turn
      Before this fire doth so.

      Nor yet that unconfin'd
              I now may rove,                                         10
    And with new beauties please my mind;
      But that thou ne'er didst love!

      For since thou hast no part
              Felt of this flame,
    I only from thy tyrant heart                                      15
      Repuls'd, not banish'd, am.

      To lose what once was mine
              Would grieve me more
    Than those inconstant sweets of thine
      Had pleas'd my soul before.                                     20

      Now I've not lost that[37:2] bliss
              I ne'er possessed;
    And, spite of Fate, am blest in this:
      That I was never blest.


          SONG.

    Celinda, by what potent art
      Or unresisted charm,
    Dost thou thine ear and frozen heart
      Against my passion arm?

    Or by what hidden influence                                        5
      Of powers in one combin'd,
    Dost thou rob Love of either sense,
      Made deaf as well as blind?

    Sure thou as friends[38:1] united hast
      Two distant deities,                                            10
    And scorn within thy heart hast plac'd,
      And love within thine eyes;

    Or those soft fetters of thy hair,
      (A bondage that disdains
    All liberty,) do guard thine ear                                  15
      Free from all other chains.

    Then my complaint how canst thou hear,
      Or I this passion fly,
    Since thou imprison'd hast thine ear,
      And not confin'd thine eye?                                     20


          THE TOMB.

    When, cruel fair one, I am slain
            By thy disdain,
    And as a trophy of thy scorn
        To some old tomb am borne,
    Thy fetters must their power bequeath                              5
            To those of Death;
        Nor can thy flame immortal burn
    Like monumental fires within an urn.
    Thus freed from thy proud empire, I shall prove
    There is more liberty in Death than Love.                         10

    And when forsaken lovers come
            To see my tomb,
    Take heed thou mix not with the crowd,
        And, as a victor, proud
    To view the spoils thy beauty made,                               15
            Press near my shade!
        Lest thy too cruel breath, or name,
    Should fan my ashes back into a flame.
    And thou, devour'd by this revengeful fire, }[39:1]
    His sacrifice, who died as thine, expire.   }                     20

    Or should my dust thy pity move
            That could not, love,
    Thy sighs might wake me, and thy tears
        Renew my life and years;
    Or should thy proud insulting scorn                               25
            Laugh at my urn,
        Kindly deceiv'd by thy disdain,
    I might be smil'd into new life again.
    Then come not near: since both thy love and hate
    Have equal power to kill[39:2] or animate.                        30

    But if cold earth or marble must
            Conceal my dust,
    Whilst, hid in some dark ruins, I
        Dumb and forgotten lie,
    The pride of all thy victory                                      35
            Will sleep with me;
        And they who should attest thy glory
    Will or forget, or not believe this story.
    Then, to increase thy triumph, let me rest,
    (Since by thine eye slain,) buried in thy breast!                 40


          TO CELIA.

      PLEADING WANT OF MERIT.[40:1]

        Dear, urge no more the killing cause
                      Of our divorce:
        Love is not fetter'd by such laws,
                      Nor bows to any force.
        Though thou deniest I should be thine,                         5
    Yet say not thou deserv'st not to be mine!

        Oh, rather frown away my breath
                      With thy disdain,
        Or flatter me with smiles to death;
                      By joy or sorrow slain,                         10
        'Tis less crime to be kill'd by thee,
    Than I thus cause of mine[40:2] own death should be.

        Thyself of beauty to divest,
                      And me of love,
        Or from the worth of thine own breast                         15
                      Thus to detract, would prove
        In us a blindness, and in thee
    At best a sacrilegious modesty.

        But, Celia,[40:3] if thou wilt despise
                      What all admire,                                20
        Nor rate thyself at the just price
                      Of beauty or desire,
        Yet meet my flames! and thou shalt see
    That equal love knows no disparity.


          THE KISS.[41:1]

        When on thy lip my soul I breathe,
                Which there meets thine,
        Freed from their fetters by this death,
            Our subtle forms[41:2] combine:
        Thus without bonds of sense they move,                         5
    And like two cherubim converse by[41:3] love.

        Spirits to chains of earth confin'd
                Discourse by sense;
        But ours, that are by flames refin'd,
            With those weak ties dispense.                            10
        Let such in words their minds display:
    We in a kiss our mutual thoughts convey.[41:4]

        But since my soul from me doth fly,
                To thee retir'd,
        Thou canst not both retain; for I                             15
            Must be with one inspir'd;
        Then, Dearest,[41:5] either justly mine
    Restore, or in exchange let me have thine.

        Yet if thou dost return mine own,
                O tak't again!                                        20
        For 'tis this pleasing death alone
            Gives ease unto my pain.
        Kill me once more, or I shall find
    Thy pity than thy cruelty less kind.


          THE SNOWBALL.

    Doris, I that could repel
    All those darts about thee dwell,
    And had wisely learn'd to fear
    'Cause I saw a foe so near;
    I that my deaf ear did arm                                         5
    'Gainst thy voice's powerful charm;
    And the lightning of thine eye
    Durst, by closing mine, defy;
    Cannot this cold snow withstand
    From the winter[42:1] of thy hand.                                10
    Thy deceit hath thus done more
    Than thy open force before:
    For who could suspect or fear
    Treason in a face so clear,
    Or the hidden fires descry                                        15
    Wrapt in this cold outside lie?
    Flames might thus, involv'd in ice,
    The deceiv'd world sacrifice;
    Nature, ignorant of this
    Strange antiperistasis,                                           20
    Would her falling frame admire,
    That by snow were set on fire!


          SPEAKING AND KISSING.

    The air which thy smooth voice doth break
      Into my soul like lightning flies;
    My life retires whilst thou dost speak,
      And thy soft breath its room supplies.

    Lost in this pleasing ecstasy,                                     5
      I join my trembling lips to thine,
    And back receive that life from thee,
      Which I so gladly did resign.

    Forbear, platonic fools! t'inquire
      What numbers do the soul compose:                               10
    No harmony can life inspire,
      But that which from these accents flows.


          THE DEPOSITION.[43:1]

    Though when I lov'd thee thou wert[43:2] fair,
      Thou art no longer so:
    Those glories do[43:3] the pride they wear
      Unto opinion owe.
    Beauties, like stars, in borrow'd lustre shine;                    5
    And 'twas my love that gave thee thine.

    The flames that dwelt within thine eye
      Do now with mine expire;
    Thy brightest graces[43:4] fade and die
      At once, with my desire.                                        10
    Love's fires thus mutual influence return:
    Thine cease to shine when mine to burn.

    Then, proud Celinda, hope no more
      To be implor'd or woo'd,
    Since by thy scorn thou dost restore                              15
      The wealth my[43:5] love bestow'd;
    And thy despis'd disdain too late shall find
    That none are fair but who are kind.


          LOVE'S HERETIC.

    He whose active thoughts disdain
      To be captive to one foe,
    And would break his single chain,
      Or else more would undergo,
    Let him learn the art of me,                                       5
    By new bondage to be free!

    What tyrannic mistress dare
      To one beauty Love confine?
    Who, unbounded as the air,
      All may court, but none decline.                                10
    Why should we the heart deny
    As many objects as the eye?

    Wheresoe'er I turn or move,
      A new passion doth detain me:
    Those kind beauties that do love,                                 15
      Or those proud ones that disdain me.
    This frown melts, and that smile burns me;
    This to tears, that, ashes, turns me.

    Soft fresh virgins not full-blown
      With their youthful sweetness take me;                          20
    Sober matrons that have known,
      Long since, what these prove, awake me;
    Here, staid coldness I admire,
    There, the lively active fire.

    She that doth by skill dispense                                   25
      Every favour she bestows,
    Or the harmless innocence
      Which nor court nor city knows;--
    Both alike my soul inflame,
    That wild beauty, and this tame.                                  30

    She that wisely can adorn
      Nature with the wealth of Art,
    Or whose rural sweets do scorn
      Borrow'd helps to[44:1] take a heart;--
    The vain care of that's my pleasure;                              35
    Poverty of this, my treasure.

    Both the wanton and the coy
      Me with equal pleasure[44:2] move;
    She whom I by force enjoy,
      Or who forceth me to love:                                      40
    This, because she'll not confess,
    That, not hide, her happiness.

    She whose loosely flowing hair,
      (Scatter'd like the beams o' th' morn.)
    Playing with the sportive air,                                    45
      Hides the sweets it doth adorn,
    Captive in that net restrains me,
    In those golden fetters chains me;

    Nor doth she with power less bright
      My divided heart invade,                                        50
    Whose soft tresses spread, like night,
      O'er her shoulders a black shade;
    For the starlight of her eyes
      Brighter shines through those dark skies.

    Black, or fair, or tall, or low,                                  55
      I alike with all can sport,
    The bold sprightly Thais woo,
      Or the frozen vestal court:
    Every beauty takes my mind,
    Tied to all, to none confin'd.                                    60


          LA BELLE CONFIDANTE.

    You earthly souls that court a wanton flame,
        Whose pale weak influence
    Can rise no higher than the humble name
        And narrow laws of sense!
      Learn by our friendship to create                                5
        An immaterial fire,
      Whose brightness angels may admire
        But cannot emulate.

    Sickness may fright the roses from her cheek,
        Or make the lilies fade,                                      10
    But all the subtle ways that Death doth seek
        Cannot my love invade.
      Flames that are kindled by the eye
        Through time and age expire,
      But ours, that boast a reach far higher,                        15
        Cannot decay or die.[45:1]

    For[45:2] when we must resign our vital breath,
        Our loves by Fate benighted,[45:3]
    We by this friendship shall survive in death,
        Even in divorce united:                                       20
      Weak love, through fortune or distrust,
        In time forgets to burn,
      But this pursues us to the urn,
        And marries either's dust.


          LA BELLE ENNEMIE.

    I yield, dear enemy, nor know
    How to resist so fair a foe.
    Who would not thy soft yoke sustain,
    And bow beneath thy easy chain,
    That with a bondage blest might be                                 5
    Which far transcends all liberty?
    But since I freely have resign'd,
    At first assault, my willing mind,
    Insult not o'er my captiv'd heart
    With too much tyranny and art,                                    10
    Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prize
    Gain'd by the power of thy bright eyes;
    And thou this conquest thus shalt prove,
    Though got by beauty, kept by love.


          LOVE DEPOSED.

        You that unto your mistress' eyes
              Your hearts do sacrifice,
    And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine,
                    Renounce with me
                    Th' idolatry,                                      5
    Nor this infernal power esteem divine!

        The brand, the quiver, and the bow,
              Which we did first bestow,
    And he as tribute wears from every lover,
                    I back again                                      10
                    From him have ta'en,
    And the impostor now unveil'd discover.

        I can the feeble Child disarm,
              Untie his mystic charm,
    Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow;                     15
                    We will obey
                    No more his sway,
    Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow

        And you, bright Beauties, that inspire
              The Boy's pale torch with fire,                         20
    We safely now your subtle power despise,
                    And unscorch'd may,
                    Like atoms, play
    And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.

        Nor think hereafter by new arts                               25
              You can bewitch our hearts,
    Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm:
                    We will no more
                    His power implore,
    Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm.                         30


          THE DIVORCE.

    Dear, back my wounded heart restore,
      And turn away thy powerful eyes;
    Flatter my willing soul no more:
      Love must not[46:1] hope what Fate denies.

    Take, take away thy smiles and kisses!                             5
      Thy love wounds deeper than disdain;
    For he that sees the heaven he misses,
      Sustains two hells of loss and pain.

    Shouldst thou some other's suit prefer,
      I might return thy scorn to thee,                               10
    And learn apostasy of her
      Who taught me, first, idolatry.[46:2]

    Or in thy unrelenting breast
      Should I[46:3] disdain or coyness move,
    He by thy hate might be releas'd,  }                              15
      Who now is prisoner to thy love. }[46:4]

    Since, then, unkind Fate will divorce
      Those whom affection long united,
    Be thou as cruel as this force,
      And I in death shall be delighted.                              20

    Thus whilst so many suppliants woo, }
      And beg they may thy pity prove,  }[46:5]
    I only for thy scorn do sue:
      'Tis charity here not to love.


          THE BRACELET.

      Rebellious fools that scorn to bow
        Beneath Love's easy sway,
      Whose stubborn wills no laws allow,
        Disdaining to obey,
    Mark but this wreath of hair, and you shall see                    5
    None that might wear such fetters would be free.

      I once could boast a soul like you,
        As unconfin'd as air;
      But mine, which force could not subdue,
        Was caught within this snare;                                 10
    And by myself betray'd, I for this gold
    Have to mine enemy my freedom sold.[47:1]

      No longer now, wise Art, inquire,
        (With this vain search delighted,)
      How souls that human[47:2] breasts inspire                      15
        Are to their frames united:
    Material chains such spirits well may bind,
    When this soft braid can tie both arm and mind.

      Now, Beauties, I defy your charm,
        Rul'd by more powerful art:                                   20
      This mystic wreath which crowns my arm
        Defends my vanquish'd heart;[47:3]
    And I, subdu'd by one more fair, shall be
    Secur'd from conquest by captivity.


          THE FAREWELL.

    Since Fate commands me hence, and I
    Must leave my soul with thee, and die,
    Dear, spare one sigh, or else let fall
    A tear to crown my funeral,
    That I may tell my grieved heart                                   5
    Thou art unwilling we should part;
    And martyrs that embrace the fire
    Shall with less joy than I expire.

    With this last kiss I will bequeath
    My soul, transfus'd into thy breath,                              10
    Whose active heat shall gently slide
    Into thy breast, and there reside,
    And may, (in spite of Fate thus blest,)
    Be, in this death, of heaven possess'd.[48:1]
    Then prove but kind; and thou shalt see                           15
    Love hath more power than Destiny.


          THE EXCHANGE: DIALOGUE.[49:1]

        _Phil[ocharis]._

    That kiss which last thou gav'st me, stole
      My fainting life away;
    Yet, though to thy breast fled, my soul
      Still in mine own doth stay.
    Weak Nature no such power doth know: }                             5
    Love only can these wonders show.    }[49:2]

        _Char[iessa]._

    And with the same warm breath did mine
      Into thy bosom slide,
    There dwell, contracted unto thine,
      Yet still with me reside.                                       10
    Weak Nature no such power doth know:
    Love only can these wonders show.

        _Chor[us]._

    Both souls thus in desire are one,
      And each is two in skill,
    Doubled in intellect alone,                                       15
      United in the will.
    Weak Nature no such power doth know:
    Love only can these wonders show.


          THE EXEQUIES.

            Draw near,
          You lovers, that complain
          Of Fortune or Disdain,
        And to my ashes lend a tear.
        Melt the hard marble with your groans,                         5
        And soften the relentless stones,
    Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide     }
    Of all Love's cruelties, and Beauty's pride. }[50:1]

            No verse,
          No epicedium, bring;                                        10
          Nor peaceful requiem sing,
        To charm the terrors of my hearse;
        No profane numbers must flow near
        The sacred silence that dwells here.
    Vast griefs are dumb: softly, oh softly mourn!                    15
    Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.

            Yet strew
          Upon my dismal grave
          Such offerings as you have:
        Forsaken cypress, and sad yew;                                20
        For kinder flowers can take no birth
        Or growth from such unhappy earth.
    Weep only o'er my dust, and say: "Here lies
    To Love and Fate an equal sacrifice."


          THE SILKWORM.

    The[51:1] silkworm, to long sleep retir'd,
    The early year hath re-inspir'd,
    Who now to pay to thee prepares
    The tribute of her pleasing cares;
    And hastens with industrious toil                                  5
    To make her ornament thy spoil.[51:2]
    See with what pains[51:3] she spins for thee
    The thread of her own destiny,
    Then, (growing proud in death, to know
    That all her curious labours thou[51:4]                           10
    Wilt, as in triumph, deign to wear!)
    Retires to her soft sepulchre.

      Such, Dearest, is that hapless state
    To which I am design'd by Fate,
    Who, by thee willingly o'ercome,                                  15
    Work mine own fetters and my tomb.


          AMBITION.

        I must no longer now admire
            The coldness which possess'd
                Thy snowy breast,
    That can by other flames be set on fire;
        Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray'd,                          5
        Is by Ambition thus outweigh'd.

        Hadst thou but known the vast extent
            Of constant faith, how far
                'Bove all that are
    Born slaves to wealth, or honours' vain ascent;[52:1]             10
        No richer treasure couldst thou find
        Than hearts with mutual chains combin'd.

        But Love is too despis'd a name,
            And must not hope to rise
                Above these ties.                                     15
    Honours[52:2] and wealth outshine his paler flame!
        These unite souls, whilst true desire
        Unpitied dies in its own fire.

        Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim
            With no less justice too,                                 20
                Than those that sue
    For other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim.
        Wealth honours, honours wealth, approve;
        But Beauty's only meant for Love.


          SONG.

    When, dearest Beauty, thou shalt pay
    Thy faith and my vain hope away
    To some dull soul that cannot know
    The worth of that thou dost bestow;
    Lest[53:1] with my sighs and tears I might                         5
    Disturb thy unconfin'd delight,
    To some dark shade I will retire,
    And there, forgot by all, expire.

    Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove
    Betwixt a feign'd and real love,                                  10
    Whilst he, more happy, but less true,
    Shall reap those joys I did pursue,
    And with those pleasures crowned be
    By Fate, which Love design'd for me,
    Then thou perhaps thyself wilt find                               15
    Cruel too long, or too soon kind.


          SONG.

    I will not trust thy tempting graces,
      Or thy deceitful charms,
    Nor prisoner be to thy embraces,
      Or fetter'd in thy arms;
    No, Celia, no: not all thy art                                     5
    Can wound or captivate my heart.

    I will not gaze upon thy eyes,
      Or wanton with thy hair,
    Lest those should burn me by surprise,
      Or these my soul ensnare;                                       10
    Nor with those smiling dangers play,
    Or fool my liberty away.

    Since, then, my wary heart is free
      And unconfin'd as thine,
    If thou wouldst mine should captiv'd[54:1] be,                    15
      Thou must thine own resign;
    And gratitude may thus move more
    Than love or beauty could before.


          SONG.

      No, I will sooner trust the wind,
              When, falsely kind,
    It courts the pregnant sails into a storm,
      And when the smiling waves persuade,
          Be willingly betray'd,                                       5
      Than thy deceitful vows or form.

      Go, and beguile some easy heart
              With thy vain art;
    Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow
      Who only see the calms that sleep                               10
          On this smooth flattering deep,
      But not the hidden dangers know.

      They that, like me, thy falsehood prove,
              Will scorn thy love,
    Some may, deceiv'd at first, adore thy shrine;                    15
      But he that as thy sacrifice
          Doth willingly fall twice,
      Dies his own martyr, and not thine.


          SONG.

    I prithee let my heart alone!
      Since now 'tis raised above thee:
    Not all the beauty thou dost own
      Again can make me love thee.

    He that was shipwreck'd once before                                5
      By such a Siren's call,
    And yet neglects to shun the[55:1] shore,
      Deserves his second fall!

    Each flattering kiss, each tempting smile
      Thou dost in vain bestow,                                       10
    Some other lovers might beguile
      Who not thy falsehood know.

    But I am proof against all art:
      No vows shall e'er persuade me
    Twice to present a wounded heart                                  15
      To her that hath betray'd me.

    Could I again be brought to love
      Thy form, though more divine,
    I might thy scorn as justly move
      As now thou sufferest mine.                                     20


          THE LOSS.

        Yet ere I go,
    Disdainful Beauty, thou shalt be
        So wretched as to know
    What joys thou fling'st away with me:

        A faith so bright,                                             5
    As Time or Fortune could not rust,
        So firm, that lovers might
    Have read thy story in my dust,

        And crown'd thy name
    With laurel verdant as thy youth.                                 10
        Whilst the shrill voice of Fame
    Spread wide thy beauty and my truth.

        This thou hast lost!
    For all true lovers, when they find
        That my just aims were crossed,                               15
    Will speak thee lighter than the wind;

        And none will lay
    Any oblation on thy shrine,
        But such as would betray
    Their[56:1] faith to faiths as false as thine.                    20

        Yet if thou choose
    On such thy freedom to bestow,
        Affection may excuse:
    For love from sympathy doth flow.


          THE SELF-CRUEL.[57:1]

    Cast off, for shame, ungentle maid,
      That misbecoming joy thou wear'st!
    For in my death (though long delay'd),
      Unwisely cruel thou appear'st.
    Insult o'er captives with disdain:                                 5
    Thou canst not triumph o'er the slain.

    No, I am now no longer thine;
      Nor canst thou take delight to see
    Him whom thy love did once confine
      Set, though by death, at liberty;                               10
    For if my fall a smile beget,
    Thou gloriest in thy own defeat.

    Behold how thy unthrifty pride
      Hath murthered him that did maintain it;
    And wary souls who never tried                                    15
      Thy tyrant beauty, will disdain it:
    But I am softer, and, (though[57:2] me
    Thou wouldst not pity,) pity thee.


          AN ANSWER TO A SONG, "WERT THOU MUCH [?] FAIRER
            THAN THOU ART," BY MR. W. M.[58:1]

    Wert thou by all affections sought,
    And fairer than thou wouldst be thought,
    Or had thine eyes as many darts
    As thou believ'st they shoot at hearts,
    Yet if thy love were paid to me,                                   5
    I would not offer mine to thee.

    I'd sooner court a fever's heat,
    Than her that owns a flame as[58:2] great.
    She that my love will entertain
    Must meet it with no less disdain;                                10
    For mutual fires themselves destroy,
    And willing kisses yield no joy.

    I love thee not because alone
    Thou canst all beauty call thine own,
    Nor doth my passion fuel seek                                     15
    In thy bright eye or softer cheek.
    Then, Fairest! if thou wouldst know why:
    I love thee 'cause thou canst deny.


          THE RELAPSE.[59:1]

    O turn away those cruel eyes,
      The stars of my undoing!
    Or death, in such a bright disguise,
      May tempt a second wooing.

    Punish their blindly impious[59:2] pride,                          5
      Who dare contemn thy glory!
    It was my fall[59:3] that deified
      Thy name, and seal'd thy story.

    Yet no new sufferings can prepare
      A higher praise to crown thee;                                  10
    Though my first death proclaim thee fair,
      My second will unthrone thee.

    Lovers will doubt thou canst entice
      No other for thy fuel,
    And if thou burn one victim twice,                                15
      Both think thee poor and cruel!




APPENDIX


A SHEAF OF TRANSLATIONS.


          THE REVENGE.

            [Ronsard.]

    Fair rebel to thyself and Time,
      Who laugh'st at all my tears,
    When thou hast lost thy youthful prime,
      And Age his trophy rears,

    Weighing thy inconsiderate pride,                                  5
      Thou shalt in vain accuse it:
    'Why beauty am I now denied,
      Or knew not then to use it?'

    Then shall I wish, ungentle Fair,
      Thou in like flames may'st burn!                                10
    Venus, if just, will hear my prayer,
      And I shall laugh my turn.


          CLAIM TO LOVE.

            [Guarini.]

    Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vain
      Thy beauteous face away,
    Which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a pain
      Above its power to lay.

    Love moves not as thou turn'st thy[60:1] look,                     5
      But here doth firmly rest:
    He long ago thine[60:2] eyes forsook
      To revel in my breast.

    Thy power on him why hop'st thou more
      Than his on me should be?                                       10
    The claim thou lay'st to him is poor
      To that he owns from me.

    His substance in my heart excels,
      His shadow, in thy sight:
    Fire where it burns more truly dwells                             15
      Than where it scatters light.


          THE SICK LOVER.

            [Guarini.]

        My sickly breath
      Wastes in a double flame,
        Whilst Love and Death
      To my poor life lay claim;
    The fever in whose heat I melt                                     5
    By her that causeth it[61:1] not felt.

        Thou who alone
      Canst, yet wilt grant no ease,
        Why slight'st thou one,
      To feed a new disease?                                          10
    Unequal Fair! the heart is thine:
    Ah, why then should the pain be mine?


          TIME RECOVER'D.

            [Casone.]

    Come, my Dear, whilst youth conspires
    With the warmth of our desires!
    Envious Time about thee watches,
    And some grace each minute snatches:
    Now a spirit, now a ray                                            5
    From thy eye he steals away;
    Now he blasts some blooming rose
    Which upon thy fresh cheek grows;
    Gold now plunders in a hair;
    Now the rubies doth impair                                        10
    Of thy lips; and with sure haste
    All thy wealth will take at last;
    Only that of which thou mak'st
    Use in time, from Time thou tak'st.


          SONG.

        [De Voiture.]

    I languish in a silent flame:
        For she to whom my vows incline
        Doth own perfections so divine,
    That but to speak were to disclose her name.
    If I should say that she the store                                 5
        Of Nature's graces doth comprise,
        (The love and wonder of all eyes,)
    Who will not guess the Beauty I adore?

    Or though I warily conceal
        The charms her looks and soul possess,                        10
        Should I her cruelty express,
    And say she smiles at all the pains we feel,
    Among such suppliants as implore
        Pity, distributing her hate,
        Inexorable as their fate,--                                   15
    Who will not guess the Beauty I adore?


          APOLLO AND DAPHNE.

            [Marino.]

    When Phoebus saw a rugged bark beguile
      His love, and his embraces intercept,
    The leaves, instructed by his grief to smile,
      Taking fresh growth and verdure as he wept,
    'How can,' saith he, 'my woes expect release,                      5
    When these,[62:1] the subject of my tears, increase?'

    His chang'd yet scorn-retaining Fair he kiss'd,
      From the lov'd trunk plucking a little bough,
    And though the conquest which he sought he miss'd,
      With that triumphant spoil adorns his brow.                     10
    Thus this disdainful maid his aim deceives:
    Where he expected fruit he gathers leaves.


          SONG: TORMENT OF ABSENCE AND DELAY.

            [Montalvan.]

    Torment of absence and delay
      That thus afflicts my memory!
    Why dost thou kill me every day,
      Yet will not give me leave to die?
    Why dost thou suffer me to live                                    5
      All hope of life in life denying,
    Or to my patience tortures give
      Never to die, yet ever dying?

    To fair Narcissa's brighter eyes
      I was by Love's instruction guided,                             10
    (A happiness I long did prize,)
      But now am from their light divided.
    Favours and gifts my suit obtain'd,
      But envious Fate would now destroy them,
    Which if to lose I only gain'd,                                   15
      What greater pain than to enjoy them?


          A LADY WEEPING.

            [Montalvan.]

    As when some brook flies from itself away,
    The murmuring crystal loosely runs astray,
    And, as about the verdant plain it winds,
    The meadows with a silver ribbon binds,
    Printing a kiss on every flower she meets,                         5
    Losing herself to fill them with new sweets,
    To scatter frost upon the lily's head.
    And scarlet on the gilliflower to spread,--
    So melting sorrow, in the fair disguise
    Of humid stars,[63:1] flow'd from bright Chloris' eyes,           10
    Which, watering every flower her cheek discloses,
    Melts into jasmines here, there into roses.


          TO HIS MISTRESS IN ABSENCE.

            [Tasso.]

    Far from thy dearest self, the scope
            Of all my aims,
        I waste in secret flames;
    And only live because I hope.

    O when will Fate restore                                           5
            The joys, in whose bright fire
        My expectation shall expire,
    That I may live because I hope no more!


          THE HASTY KISS.

            [Secundus.]

    A kiss I begg'd, and thou didst[64:1] join
          Thy[64:2] lips to mine;
    Then, as afraid, snatch'd[64:3] back their treasure,
          And mock'd[64:4] my pleasure.
    Again, my Dearest![64:5]--for in this                              5
    Thou only gav'st[64:6] desire, and not a kiss.


          SONG: WHEN THOU THY PLIANT ARMS.

            [Secundus.]

    When thou thy pliant arms dost wreathe
    About my neck, and gently breathe
    Into my breast that soft sweet air
    With which thy soul doth mine repair;
    When my faint life thou draw'st away,                              5
    (My life which scorching flames decay,)
    O'ercharg'd, my panting bosom boils,
    Whose fever thy kind art beguiles,
    And with the breath that did inspire
    Doth mildly fan my glowing fire.                                  10
    Transported, then I cry: 'Above
    All other deities is Love!
    Or if a deity there be
    Greater than Love, 'tis only thee.'


          SONG: 'TIS NO KISS.

            [Secundus.]

    'Tis no kiss my Fair bestows!
    Nectar 'tis, whence new life flows.
    All the sweets which nimble bees
    In their osier treasuries
    With unequall'd art repose,                                        5
    In one kiss, her lips disclose.
    These, if I should many take,
    Soon would me immortal make,
    Rais'd to the divine abodes,
    And the banquets of the gods.                                     10
    Be not, then, too lavish, Fair!
    But this heavenly treasure spare,
    'Less thou'lt, too, immortal be:
    For without thy company
    What to me were the abodes                                        15
    Or the banquets of the gods?


        TRANSLATED FROM ANACREON.

          I. _The Chase._

    With a whip of lilies, Love
    Swiftly me before him drove:
    On we cours'd it through deep floods,
    Hollow valleys, and rough woods,
    Till a snake that lurking lay                                      5
    Chanc'd to sting me by the way.

    Now my soul was nigh to death,
    Ebbing, flowing, with my breath,
    When Love, fanning with his wings,
    Back my fleeting spirit brings:                                   10
    'Learn,' saith he, 'another day,
    Love without constraint t'obey!'

          II.

    Vex no more thyself and me
    With demure philosophy,
    Hollow precepts, only fit
    To amuse the busy wit.
    Teach me brisk Lyaeus' rites;                                       5
    Teach me Venus' blithe delights.
    Jove[65:1] loves water: give me wine,
    That my soul ere I resign
    May this cure of sorrow have.
    There's no drinking in the grave!                                 10

          III. _The Spring._

    See, the Spring herself discloses,
    And the Graces gather roses;
    See how the becalmed seas
    Now their swelling waves appease;
    How the duck swims; how the crane                                  5
    Comes from 's winter home again;
    See how Titan's cheerful ray
    Chaseth the dark clouds away!

    Now in their new robes of green
    Are the ploughman's labours seen;                                 10
    Now the lusty teeming earth
    Springs, each hour, with a new birth;
    Now the olive blooms; the vine
    Now cloth with plump pendants shine,
    And with leaves and blossoms now                                  15
    Freshly bourgeons every bough.

          IV. _The Combat._

    Now will I a lover be!
    Love himself commanded me.
    Full at first of stubborn pride,
    To submit, my soul denied.                                        20
    He his quiver takes, and bow,
    Bids defiance: forth I go.
    Armed with spear and shield we meet:
    On he charges: I retreat,

    Till, perceiving in the fight                                     25
    He had wasted every flight,
    Into me, with fury hot,
    Like a dart himself he shot.
    And my cold heart melts; my shield
    Useless, no defence could yield;                                  30
    For what boots an outward screen,
    When, alas, the fight's within?

          V.

    On this verdant lotus laid,
    Underneath the myrtle's shade,
    Let us drink our sorrows dead,
    Whilst Love plays the Ganymed.

    Life like to[66:1] a wheel runs round:                             5
    And, ere long, we underground
    Ta'en by death asunder, must
    Moulder in forgotten dust.

    Why then graves should we bedew,
    Why the ground with odours strew?                                 10
    Better, whilst alive, prepare
    Flowers and unguents for our hair.

    Come, my Fair,[66:2] and come away!
    All our cares behind us lay,
    That these pleasures we may know,                                 15
    Ere we come to those below.


          E. CATALECTIS VET[ERUM] POET[ARUM].

    A small well-gotten stock, and country seat
    I have, yet my content makes both seem great.
    My quiet soul to fears is not inur'd,
    And from the sins of idleness secur'd.
    Others may seek the camp, others the town,                         5
    And fool themselves with pleasure or renown;
    Let me, unminded in the common crowd,
    Live, master of the time that I'm allow'd!


          SEVEN EPIGRAMS.[67:1]

            [Plato.]

          I. _Upon One named Aster._

    The stars, my Star! thou view'st: heaven I would be,
    That I with thousand eyes might gaze on thee.

          II. _Upon Aster's Death._

    A Phosphor 'mongst the living late wert thou,
    But shin'st, among the dead, a Hesper now.

          III. _On Dion, engraved on his Tomb at Syracuse._

    Old Hecuba, the Trojan matron's, years
    Were interwoven by the Fates with tears,
    But thee, with blooming hopes, my Dion! deck'd,
    Gods did a trophy of their power erect.
    Thy honour'd relics in thy country rest,                           5
    Ah, Dion! whose love rages in my breast.

          IV. _On Alexis._

    'Fair is Alexis,' I no sooner said,
    When every one his eyes that way convey'd.
    My soul, as when some dog a bone we show
    Who snatcheth it,--lost we not Phaedrus so?

          V. _On Archaeanassa._

    To Archaeanassa, on whose furrow'd brow
    Love sits in triumph, I my service vow.
    If her declining graces shine so bright,
    What flames felt you who saw her noon of light?

          VI. _Love Sleeping._

    Within the covert of a shady grove
    We saw the little red-cheek'd god of Love:
    He had nor bow nor quiver: these among
    The neighbouring trees upon a bow were hung.
    Upon a bank of tender rosebuds laid,                               5
    He smiling slept; bees with their noise invade
    His rest, and on his lips their honey made.

          VII. _On a Seal._

    Five oxen, grazing in a flowery mead,
    A jasper seal, (done to the life,) doth hold;
    The little herd away long since had fled,
    Were't not enclos'd within a pale of gold.




TEXTUAL NOTES


      1:1. _To the Countess of S. with 'The Holy Court'_ (p. 6).

This is most probably Dorothy Spencer, born Sidney, Countess of
    Sunderland, Waller's 'Saccharissa,' then a widow: a woman entirely
    worthy of Stanley's admiration, and within his circle of personal
    friends. _The Holy Court_, a practical and devotional treatise by
    Nicolas Caussin, S.J., was first translated into English by Sir
    Thomas Hawkins, and published in London in 1626. There was a fine
    five-volume edition printed in 1650. A copy of this may, very
    likely, have been Stanley's gift. The poem, 1651, is preceded by
    'Madam' in formal address.



      2:1. _Drawn for Valentine, etc._ (p. 7).

The Editor guesses this young lady, the 'bright dawn,' who will
    'challenge every heart,' later, to be the future Marchioness of
    Halifax, the little Dorothy, daughter of the Earl of Sunderland (who
    was killed at Newbury when she was three years old), and
    'Saccharissa.' She was eleven in 1651. Waller, Sedley, and others,
    have left happier poems addressed to children, in the same forced
    tone, which was quite characteristic of the time.



      '_Dear, fold me once more in thine arms_' (p. 10).

3:1. P. 10, line 15. A final couplet difficult to scan. If correctly
    printed, it has a dissyllable rhyme, with the accentual stress on
    '_wi_' thee.'



      _Love's Innocence_ (p. 12).

4:1. P. 12. The 1647 title is 'The Innocence of Love.'

4:2. P. " line 1. 1647 reads:

    'See how this ivy, Dear, doth twine.'

4:3. P. " line 7. 1647: 'To one another whispering there.'

4:4. P. " lines 9-12. 1647:

     'Then blush not, Fair, that flame to show,
      Which, like thyself, no crime can know.
      Thus, led by those chaste guides, we may
      Embrace and kiss as free as they.'

4:5. Pp. 12-13, lines 20-21. 1647:

     'As are our flames, 'bove reach of words.
      Thus, Doris, we of these may learn.'



      5:1. _The Dedication_ (p. 13).

This, in the edition of 1647, is followed by twenty-seven lines of
    citations from the Greek poets, giving the origins of the epithets
    applied here to Love.



      _The Glow-Worm_ (p. 13).

6:1. P. 13, line 2. 1647 has:

      'This living star of earth.'

    But Stanley's sensitive sequence, 'A star _thought_,' etc., seems to
    forbid our recurring to the 'living star' as better than the
    'animated gem.'

6:2. P. 14, line 4. 1647: 'deceiv'd.'

6:3. P. " line 12. 1647:

      'Which doth deceive.'



      7:1. _To Chariessa_ (p. 14).

The title, 1651, is simply: 'Desiring her to Burn his Verses.'

7:2. P. 14, line 4. 1647: 'as.'

7:3. P. 15, line 7. 1651: 'about.'



      8:1. _On Mr. Fletcher's Works_ (p. 15).

Title, in Stanley, 1651, reads: 'On the Edition of Mr. Fletcher's
    Works.'

8:2. P. 15, line 5. 1651: 'did.'

8:3. P. " line 11. 1651: 'could.'

8:4. P. 16, line 19. 1647: 'doth.'

8:5. P. " line 29. 1647 has 'ris''; 1651, 'rise.'

8:6. P. " line 30. 'With' reads 'not' in all texts: clearly a misprint.



      9:1. _To the Lady D[ormer]._ _Sic_ 1651 (p. 16).

This poem, under the title, 'To my most honour'd Aunt, the Lady Dormer,'
    is the dedication of 1647. Who this lady was is not clear to the
    Editor, unless she was Alice, daughter to Sir Richard Molyneux,
    Bart., of Sefton, Lancashire, widow of Sir William Dormer, and
    mother of the splendid first Earl of Carnarvon, killed in the King's
    cause at Newbury, 1643. It is rather noticeable that many of
    Stanley's friends and kinsfolk, like the Dormers, were Catholics.



      _To Mr. W. Hammond_ (p. 17).

10:1. P. 18, line 30. 1647 reads:

      'Nor any flame but what is thine will own.'



      11:1. _On Mr. Shirley's Poems_ (p. 18).

Title in Stanley, 1647: 'On Mr. I. S. his Poems.'

11:2. P. 18, line 7. 1647:

      'Next like some skilful artist, who to wonder.'

11:3. P. " line 8. 1651 has 'a piece.'

11:4. P. 19, line 19. 1647: 'speech.'

11:5. P. " line 21. 'Voice' tentative. Original texts have 'veil.'

11:6. P. " line 30. 1651: 'poetry.'

11:7. P. 19, lines 31-32 omitted in 1647.

11:8. P. " line 33. Thus, 1647. 1651, erroneously:

      'And hast so far even future aims surpass'd.'



      12:1. _On Mr. Sherburne's Translation, etc._ (p. 20).

In Stanley, 1647, entitled: 'To Mr. E. S. on his Translation of Medea,
    with the other Tragedies of Seneca the philosopher, and vindication
    of the Author.' Sherburne was not knighted until 1682, four years
    after Stanley's death.

12:2. P. 20, line 20. 1647: 'author.'



      13:1. _On Mr. Hall's Essays_ (p. 21).

In Stanley, 1647: 'To Mr. I. H. on his Essays.'

13:2. P. 21, line 4. Here ends the prologue-like poem, in the edition of
    1647. Then, as a separate piece on another page, under a new title,
    'To Mr. I. H.,' follow these lines:

     'I'll not commend thee; for thou hast outgrown
      The reach of all men's praises but thine own.
      Encomiums to their full objects are exact:
      To praise, and not at full, is to detract.
      And with most justice,' etc.

    The rest as in the present edition. 'Full,' in the third line just
    quoted, is certainly a misprint, crept up from the line below.

13:3. P. 21, line 13. 1647 has:

      'The pride of others' autumns poor appears.'

    John Hall of Durham was but nineteen years old in 1646.



      14:1. _On Sir John Suckling, etc._ (p. 22).

_Fragmenta Aurea_, the posthumous collection of Suckling's poetry, came
    out in 1646, with a fine portrait engraving by Marshall.



      15:1. _Answer._

The verses by Stanley's tutor and friend are reproduced in the editions
    both of 1647 and of 1651.

          THE UNION.

        [Greek: Mia psyche, duo somata]

        By Mr. William Fairfax.

    As in the crystal-centre of the sight
    Two subtle beams make but one cone of light,
    Or, when one flame twin'd with another is,
    They both ascend in one bright pyramis;
    Our spirits thus into each other flow,                             5
    One in our being, one in what we know,
    In what we will, desire, dislike, approve,
    In what we love; and one is that pure love.
    As in a burning glass the aerial flame
    With the producing ray is still the same,                         10
    We to love's purest quintessence refin'd,
    Do both become one undivided mind.
    This sacred fire into itself converts
    Our yielding spirits and our melting hearts,
    Till both our lines into one spirit run;                          15
    So several lines are in their centre one.
    And when thy fair idea is impress'd
    In the soft tablet of my easier breast,
    The sweet reflexion brings such sympathy,
    That I my better self behold in thee;                             20
    And all perfections that in thee combine,
    By this resultance are entirely mine.
    Thy rays disperse my shades, who only live
    Bright in the lustre thou art pleas'd to give,

15:2. P. 22, line 8. _i.e._ 'I [who] know no native light but light
    borrowed from thee.' The rather obscure phrase is obscured the more
    by its slovenly original punctuation.

15:3. P. 22, line 10. 'Wouldst': 1651.



      _The Blush_ (p. 24).

16:1. P. 24, line 11. 'Conferr'd' in 1647; 'comferd' in Gamble's
    _Ayres_, 1657. The right word is obvious.

16:2. P. 24, line 16. 'Knows': 1647.


_The Cold Kiss_ (p. 25).

17:1. P. 25, line 3. 'These': 1657.

17:2. P. " line 12. 'My': 1657.

17:3. P. " line 15. 'Lip': 1657.



      _The Idolater_ (p. 25).

18:1. P. 26, line 7. 'By' in other texts, but 'from' in Gamble, 1856.

18:2. P. " line 11. 'He' in 1647: the later text must be right.

18:3. P. " line 18. 'Breast': 1647.



      _The Magnet_ (p. 26).

19:1. P. 26, line 9. 'She': 1657.

19:2. P. 27, line 13. 'Then': 1647.



      _Song: 'Foolish Lover'_ (p. 28).

20:1. P. 28, line 24. 'Distinguish,' by printer's error, in 1657.



      _The Parting_ (p. 29).

21:1. P. 29, line 4. 'Do': 1647.

21:2. P. " lines 5-6. 1647:

     'But when hereafter thou shalt know
      That grief hath slain me, come.'

21:3. P. " line 19. 'Condemn': 1647; 'contain': 1657. 'Contemn' is
    Stanley's word, if one is to judge from the context.



      _Counsel_ (p. 29).

22:1. P. 29, line 4. 'Creature': 1647.

22:2. P. 30, line 7. 'Their': 1657.

22:3. P. " line 10. This line is a tangle of misprints in 1657, viz.:

      'Stars to jewels they divest thee.'

22:4. P. " line 13. 'Powers': a misprint of 1647.

22:5. P. " lines 23-24. The final couplet in 1647 is:

     'Who would keep another's heart,
      With her own must never part.'



      _Expostulation with Love, in Despair_ (p. 30).

The text here given is a composite. The variants follow:

23:1. P. 30, lines 1-4. 1647:

     'Love, with what strange tyrannic laws must they
      Comply, which are subjected to thy sway!
      How far all justice thy commands decline
      Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoin!'

    The elision of the relative pronoun between lines 3 and 4 of the
    present text, and again in the course of line 5, is an irritating
    mannerism of the time, nowhere more frequent than in Stanley.

23:2. P. 31, line 9. 1657: 'hope.'

23:3. P. " line 10. 1647: 'hopes as cold'; 1657: 'thoughts that's cold.'

23:4. P. 31, line 14. 1647:

      'When death and cold despair inhabit near?'

    And 1657:

      'When death and old despair inhabit here?'

23:5. P. 31, line 15. 1647:

      'Rule in my breast alone, or else retire.'

23:6. P. " line 16. 1647: 'thy.'

23:7. P. " lines 17-18. The closing couplet of 1647 reads:

     'Or let me not desire, or else possess!
      Neither, or both, are equal happiness.'

    And 1657:

     'Thus let me ...
      Either, or both ...'



      _Song: 'Faith, 'tis not worth your pains'_ (p. 31).

24:1. P. 31, lines 2-3. 1657, blunderingly:

     'To seek t'inspire
      A heart so pure as mine.'

24:2. P. " line 12. 1647: 'you'll.'



      _Expectation_ (p. 32).

25:1. P. 32, line 5. 1647: 'or.'



      _The Breath_ (p. 33).

26:1. P. 33, line 8. _Sic_ in 1647 and 1657. 'He back receives': 1651.

26:2. P. " line 11. 1647 and 1657 have: 'Which, while he sportively.'

    Gamble evidently had the 1647 copy of this song before him, as he
    follows it throughout, slighting Stanley's corrections of 1651.

26:3. P. 33, line 16. 1647 and 1657: 'back.'



      _The Night: a Dialogue_ (p. 34).

27:1. P. 34, line 1. 'Chariessa' is misprinted, in 1651, 'Charissa.' The
    names are placed over the speeches. 1647 has for title: 'Amori
    Notturni: A Dialogue between Philocharis and Chariessa.'



      _Unalter'd by Sickness_ (p. 35).

28:1. P. 35, lines 1-4. The editions of 1647 and 1651 start off:

     'Sickness, in vain thou dost invade
      A beauty that can never fade.'

    The additional opening lines figure only in 1657; there, however,
    'her' in the second line is misprinted 'our,' and line 4 reads:

      'Those beauties which can never fade.'

28:2. P. 35, line 6. 1647, 1651:

      'One o' th' sweets which crown this Fair.'

    But 1657:

      'On those sweets which crown her fair.'

28:3. P. 35, line 9. 'Blushing' in the earlier versions.

28:4. P. " line 10. 'Drooping' in the earlier versions.

28:5. P. " line 16. 'But' in 1657, to the confusion of the sense.



      29:1. _To Celia: Excuse for Wishing her less Fair_ (p. 36).

'To Celia' is omitted in 1651.

29:2. P. 36, lines 9-10. 1647:

     'Men might languish, and not die
      At thy then less scorching fire.'

29:3. P. " line 23. 'Than': 1657.



      30:1. _Celia, Sleeping or Singing_ (p. 37).


'Celia Singing' is the title except in 1647, and the whole is there
    printed as one stanza.

30:2. P. 37, line 10. By a wickedly diverting mishap, 'more' reads
    'less' in 1651 and 1657!

30:3. P. 37, line 12. 'Flame,' by error, in 1651 and 1657.

30:4. P. " line 13. 'His': 1647.

30:5. P. " line 18. 'Cherubins' in all three texts.

30:6. P. " line 19. 'Power': 1647.



      31:1. _Palinode_ (p. 37).

Not in the edition of 1651. The poem is printed in this section on
    account of its relation to 'The Return,' which follows. 'The Return'
    is possibly but another version of 'Palinode.'

31:2. P. 38, line 5. The Editor has ventured to print 'That would,'
    though against all three texts, which give 'That wouldst.' The
    meaning seems to be that the 'proud empire' of Beauty is rebellions
    to Reason or Philosophy, the restraints of which, ('chains') 'would
    within tyrannic laws confine,' etc.

31:3. P. 38, line 7. 'Powerful': 1657.

31:4. P. " line 12. 'In': 1657.



      _The Return_ (p. 38).

32:1. P. 38, line 2. 'Unite,' by a misprint: 1651.

32:2. P. " line 3. 'Bounds': 1651, 1657.

32:3. P. " line 5. 'That': 1647.

32:4. P. " line 7. 'Sacred': 1647, 1651.

32:5. P. " line 10. 'Which': 1657.

32:6. P. 39, line 11. 'Midst': 1647, 1651.

32:7. P. " line 13. 'Th'' dropped out in 1651.



      _Chang'd, yet Constant_ (p. 39).

33:1. P. 40, line 25. Eros.

33:2. P. 41, line 56. May the Editor be forgiven for altering, with no
    explicit help from printed texts, one word of this splendid lyric,
    in the very best impudent spirit of the time? The second 'hearts' in
    the closing line reads 'they' in all editions of Stanley. It is
    possible that this word 'they' has been caught from the line just
    before, after a fashion only too familiar to copyists and printers.
    Even so, it would mean not 'lovers' but 'hearts.' The word 'hearts,'
    one is tempted to think, may be the right word.



      34:1. _To Chariessa: Beholding herself, etc._ (p. 41).

The edition of 1651 omits 'To Chariessa.' The Editor regrets having
    included it, by an oversight, in this section.

34:2. P. 41, line 8. 'One': 1657.

34:3. P. " line 12. The reading of 1657. 'In': 1647.



      _Song: 'When I lie burning'_ (p. 42).

35:1. P. 42, lines 13-16. This stanza, probably by inadvertence, is not
    included in the edition of 1651. 'Eye,' line 14, is 'eyes' in 1657;
    and 'than,' line 16, is misprinted 'them' in 1647.

35:2. P. 42. line 17. 'No': 1651 and 1657.



      _Delay_ (p. 43).

36:1. P. 44, line 18. 'Be': 1657.



      _The Repulse_ (p. 44).

37:1. P. 44, line 3. The reading of 1657. 'Tyrannic': 1647, 1651.

37:2. P. 45, line 21. 'The': 1651, 1657.



      _Song: 'Celinda, by what potent art?'_ (p. 45).

38:1. P. 45, line 9. 'Friend': 1647, 1651.



      _The Tomb_ (p. 46).

39:1. P. 47. lines 19-20. In the version of 1647, these lines read:

     'And (thou in this flame sacrific'd to me),
      We might each other's mutual martyr be.'

    The whole third stanza is reproduced from 1647; it figures neither
    in 1651 nor in 1657.

39:2. P. 47, line 30. 'Love': 1647; a manifest befogging duplication of
    the 'love' in the preceding line. 'Kill' seems to be called for, or
    perhaps 'slay,' a word less in favour with Stanley.



      40:1. _To Celia, pleading want of merit_ (p. 48).

1647: 'To One that pleaded her own Want of Merit.'

40:2. P. 48, line 12. 'My': 1647.

40:3. P. " line 19. The name in 1651, 1657; but 'Dearest' in 1647.



      41:1. _The Kiss_. (p. 49).

1647: 'The Killing Kiss.'

41:2. P. 49, line 4. 'Forms' may be a misprint of 1651, 1657. This line
    in 1647 reads:

      'They both unite and join.'

41:3. P. 49, line 6. 'And': 1651; 'by' (which carries out the context)
    in the others.

41:4. P. 49, line 12. 1647:

      'Our lips, our tongues, each other's thoughts betray.'

41:5. P. 49, line 17. 1647: 'Doris.'



      _The Snowball_ (p. 50).

42:1. P. 50, line 10. 'Whiter' in all; but 'winter' must be the word.



      43:1. _The Deposition_ (p. 50).

1647: 'A Deposition from Beauty.'

43:2. P. 51, line 1. 'Were': 1651.

43:3. P. " line 3. 'Do': 1647; somewhat clearer than 'all,' in the texts
    of 1651, 1657.

43:4. P. 51, line 9. 'Glories': 1651.

43:5. P. " line 16. 'Which': 1647.



      _Love's Heretic_ (p. 52).

44:1. P. 53, line 34. 'That': 1647.

44:2. P. " line 38. 'Pleasures': 1651, 1657.



      _La Belle Confidante_ (p. 54).

45:1. P. 55, line 16. 'Can nor decay nor die': 1651.

45:2. P. 55, line 17. 'And': 1647.

45:3. P. " lines 18, 20. 1647:

     'Even in divorce delighted,
       .     .     .     .     .
      Still in the grave united.'



      _The Divorce_ (p. 57).

46:1. P. 57, line 4. 1657: 'cannot.'

46:2. P. " line 12. 1647:

      'That taught me such idolatry.'

    The line as printed in this book follows 1657.

46:3. P. 57, line 14. 'Cold': 1647.

46:4. P. " lines 15-16. 1647:

     'I by thy hate might be releas'd,
      Who now am prisoner to thy love.'

46:5. P. 58. lines 21-22. 1647:

     'Thus whilst so many suppliants do
      Implore thy pity they may prove.'



      _The Bracelet_ (p. 58).

47:1. P. 58, line 12. 1651 and 1657 have the line revised to its
    detriment:

      'A heart that many storms withstood, have sold.'

47:2. P. 58, line 15. 1647: 'souls that do our life inspire.' 'Human' in
    1651, but 'humane,' in the commoner spelling of the time, in 1657.

47:3. P. 59, line 22. Thus in 1651, 1657. 1647 has:

      'Guards and defends my heart.'



      _The Farewell_ (p. 59).

48:1. P. 59, lines 13-14. The text as given is 1657 only. 1647 has:

     'And may, in spite of Fate, thus blest,
      Be, by this death, of heaven possess'd.'

    And 1651:

     'And be, in spite of Fate, thus blest,
      By this sad death, of heaven possess'd.'



      49:1. _The Exchange: Dialogue_ (p. 60).

'Exchange of Souls': 1647.

49:2. P. 60, lines 5-6. This refrain is omitted after the speeches in
    1651, but figures in other editions, earlier and later.



      _The Exequies_ (p. 61).

50:1. P. 61, lines 7-8. Text as given in 1651, 1657. 1647 has:

     'Whose cold embraces do a victim hide
      That, paid to Beauty, on Love's altar died.'



      _The Silkworm_ (p. 62).

51:1. P. 62, line 1. 'This': 1651, 1657.

51:2. P. " line 6. All editions read:

      'To make thy ornament her spoil.'

    Facts, and the context, force one to reverse the possessive
    pronouns.

51:3. P. 62, line 7. 1651: 'pain.'

51:4. P. " line 10. 1647:

     'That her rich work and labours, thou
      Wilt,' etc.



      _Ambition_ (p. 62).

52:1. P. 63, line 10. Misspelt 'assent' in 1657.

52:2. P. " line 16. 'Honour,' in all texts, obviously wrong.



      _Song: 'When, dearest Beauty'_ (p. 63).

53:1. P. 63, line 5. 'Left': 1651; 'least': 1657.



      _Song: 'I will not trust'_ (p. 64).

54:1. P. 64, line 15. 'Captive': 1657; the older form in 1647, 1651.



      _Song: 'I prithee'_ (p. 65).

55:1. P. 66, line 7. 'That,' 1647, 1651.



      _The Loss_ (p. 66).

56:1. P. 67, line 20. This word reads 'thy' in all editions of Stanley.
    The right reading is almost certainly 'their.'



      57:1. _The Self-Cruel_ (p. 67).

Entitled 'Song': 1647.

57:2. P. 68, line 17. 'That' in all texts: but presumably a misprint.



      58:1. _An Answer to a Song: 'Wert thou much [?] Fairer'_ (p. 68).

Stanley gives the title inaccurately.

Mr. W. M.'s Wither-like song (the author of which the Editor has not
    identified), appears only in the edition of 1651:--

      Wert thou yet fairer than thou art,
      (Which lies not in the power of art,)
      Or hadst thou in thine eyes more darts
      Than ever Cupid shot at hearts;
      Yet if they were not thrown at me,                               5
      I would not cast a thought on thee.

      I'd rather marry a disease,
      Than court the thing I cannot please:
      She that will cherish my desires
      Must meet my flames with equal fires.                           10
      What pleasure is there in a kiss,
      To him that doubts the heart's not his?

      I love thee not because thou'rt fair,
      Softer than down, smoother than air;
      Nor for the Cupids that do lie                                  15
      In either corner of thine eye.
      Wouldst thou then know what it might be?
      'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me.

58:2. P. 68, line 8. 'So': 1647, 1651.



      59:1. _The Relapse_ (p. 69).

Entitled simply 'Song' in 1647.

59:2. P. 69, line 5. 'Blind and impious': 1647.

59:3. P. 69, line 7. 'Fall': 1657; in the earlier versions 'name,'
    caught up by the compositor, in error, from the succeeding line. But
    the 1647 copy of Stanley in the Bodleian Library, which belonged to
    William Fairfax, has 'name' erased, and 'fall' written, in a
    seventeenth-century hand, above it.



TRANSLATIONS.



      _Claim to Love._ Guarini. [1651, 1657] (p. 72).

60:1. P. 72, line 5. 'To': 1651.

60:2. P. " line 7. 'Thy': 1651.



      _The Sick Lover._ Guarini. [1647, 1651, 1657] (p. 72).

61:1. P. 72, line 6. 'It' in all texts, possibly a misprint for 'is.'



      _Apollo and Daphne._ Marino. [1651] (p. 74).

62:1. P. 74, line 6. 'Tears,' manifestly wrong, in the text; 'these' as
    relating to 'leaves,' is inserted at a venture, and may or may not
    be the right word.



      _A Lady Weeping._ Montalvan. [1651, 1657] (p. 75).

63:1. P. 76, line 10. 'Stars' in both texts; but this may be in error
    for 'tears.'



      _The Hasty Kiss._ Secundus. [1647, 1651, 1657] (p. 76).

64:1. P. 76, line 1. 1647: 'she did.'

64:2. P. " line 2. 1647: 'her.'

64:3. P. 76, line 3. 1651: 'snatch.'

64:4. P. " line 4. 1651: 'mock.'

64:5. P. " line 5. 1647: 'my Chariessa!'

64:6. P. " line 6. 1651: 'gavest.'



      _Translations from Anacreon._ [1651, 1657.]

65:1. No. II. P. 79, line 7. 'Love,' in both originals, is
    self-contradictory.

66:1. No. V. P. 80, line 5. 'To' omitted in 1657.

66:2. No. V. P. 81, line 13. So 1657. 'My fair one' elsewhere.


67:1. _Seven Epigrams: Plato._ From Laertius and the Anthology. (p.
    81.)




A LIST OF EDITIONS OF THOMAS STANLEY'S POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS

[NOTE.--The present 'List' may be looked upon as an _apology_ for a
Stanley Bibliography, which, on the present occasion, is an
impossibility to the compiler, who has, to some extent, had to satisfy
himself with the sparse details of the ordinary bibliographical works;
in addition, he has been aided by the Editor of the present edition of
Stanley's Poems.--J. R. TUTIN.]

1. [Anonymous lines[A] to Sir John Suckling occurring beneath Marshall's
    portrait of him in edd. 1646-1696 of Suckling's Works.

    [Footnote A: Commencing: 'Suckling, whose numbers could invite.']]

2. Poems and Translation. By Thomas Stanley, Esquire. Quae mea culpa
    tamen, nisi si lusisse vocari Culpa potest: nisi culpa potest &
    amasse, vocari? Tout vient a poinct qui peut attendre. Printed for
    the Author, and his friends, 1647. Collation--[13 pp.] 49 pp. [+8
    pp.]

    In a copy of this edition in the Bodleian Library, Oxford [Mason cc.
    297], is the following Note:--

    'Privately printed for presents only; afterwards reprinted in 1649
    and 1650 for sale. The only other copy of this first edition I can
    trace was in Isaac Reed's Sale.'

    This 1647 edition has half-titles for Europa, Cupid Crucified, and
    Venus Vigils; but for Oronta and for Aurora, etc., a title: Oronta,
    The Cyprian Virgin, by Sig^r Girolamo Preti. London. Printed by F.
    B. for Humphrey Moseley at the Signe of the Princes Armes in St.
    Pauls Churchyard, 1637.

    Aurora, Ismenia. By Don Juan Perez de Montalvan, 1648.

3. Europa, Cupid Crucified, Venus Vigils. With Annotations by Tho:
    Stanley, Esq. Printed by W. W. for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be
    sold at his shop at the Signe of the Princes Armes in St. Pauls
    Churchyard. 1649 [2], 61 pp.

4. Aurora, Ismenia, and the Prince, by Don Juan Perez de Montalvan.
    Oronta the Cyprian Virgin, by Sign^r Girolamo Preti. Tout vient a
    poinet qui peut attendre. Translated by Thomas Stanley, Esq.; The
    Second Edition, with additions. London. Printed by W. Wilson for
    Humphrey Moseley at the Signe of Princes Armes in St. Pauls
    Churchyard. 1650 [8 pp.], 87 p.

    Considered by bibliographers part of succeeding (_i.e._ Poems of
    1651), though the pagination begins anew and the date is 1650.

5. Poems, By Thomas Stanley, Esquire. Quae mea culpa tamen, nisi si
    lusisse vocari Culpa potest: nisi culpa potest & amasse, vocari?
    Printed in the Year 1651. 86 pp.

6. Anacreon, Bion, Moschus: Kisses by Secundus: Cupid Crucified by
    Ausonius: Venus Vigils. Incerto authore. [Translated by Thomas
    Stanley.] Printed in the year 1651. 164 pp.

7. Sylvias Park by Theophile, Acanthus Complaint by Tristran, Oronto by
    Preti, Echo by Marino, Loves Embassy by Boscan, The Solitude by
    Gongora. [Translated by Thomas Stanley.] Printed in the year 1651.
    Pp. 167-212. (Paged continuously with Anacreon, Bion, etc.)

8. A Platonick Discourse upon Love. Written in Italian by John Picus
    Mirandula, in Explication of Sonnet by Hieronimo Benvieni.
    [Translated by Thomas Stanley.] Printed in the year 1651. Pp.
    215-260. (Paged continuously with Sylvias Park, etc.)

9. Poems by Thomas Stanley, Esquire. Quae mea culpa tamen, nisi si
    lusisse vocari Culpa potest: nisi culpa potest et amasse, vocari.
    London: Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his Shop
    at the Signe of the Princes Armes in S. Pauls Church Yard, 1652.

10. Ayres and Dialogues (To be Sung to the Theorbo-Lute or Bass-Violl).
    By John Gamble. Horat. Od. 2. 10.--Quondam cithara tacentem Suscitat
    Musam, neque semper arcum Tendit Apollo. London. Printed by William
    Godbid for the Author. 1656. [10 pp.] 83 pp. Fo.

    Containing a full-page portrait of Gamble engraved by T. Cross. The
    Prefaces precede the complimentary Poems.

11. Ayres and Dialogues (To be Sung to the Theorbo-Lute or Bass-Violl).
    By John Gamble. Horat. Ode II., 10.--Quondam cithara tacentem
    Suscitat Musam, neque semper arcum Tendit Apollo. London: Printed by
    W. Godbid for Humphry Moseley at the Princes-Arms in St. Pauls
    Church-yard, 1657. [10 pp.] 78 pp. [+ 1]. F^o.

    Followed by twenty very complimentary lines by Alexander Broome
    [Brome] addressed 'To His Friend Thomas Stanley, Esq., On his Odes
    set and Published by Mr. John Gamble'; by twenty-two lines 'On my
    Friend Mr. John Gamble his Excellent Composition of the Songs and
    Dialogues of Thomas Stanley, Esq.,' signed Jo: Tatham; and a Preface
    of Gamble's own, reproduced herewith. Then another Preface, To the
    Noble Few Lovers of Musick (Gamble's); and poems, in order, by
    Richard Lovelace, Jo: Redmayne, Dudley Lovelace, and Eldred Revet.

    [Gamble's Preface, 1657.]

    To the Worthy of all Honour, Thomas Stanley, Esq.

    SIR,--You have been a merciful Creditor in the trust of these
    inestimable Poems so long with me, a person inconsiderable. But, I
    beseech you, think I have been sensible of the great obligation, and
    alwayes thought it a lesse trespass to break with all the world,
    then, by the least forgetfulness, make an unhappy forfeit of myself
    to your displeasure. Sir, I have brought home your Principal; and
    though it be a thing beneath your generous expectation to look at
    profit, yet I thought it became my justice to tender you a small
    interest, the endevours of my poor Art, to wait upon it: I
    acknowledge it a bold Undertaking to compose your Words, (which are
    so pure Harmonie in themselves,) into any other Musick. But it was
    not in my ambition or hope to mend the least Accent or Emphasis
    w^{ch} they received from your own numerous Soul, but to essay how
    neer a whole life spent in the study of Musical Compositions could
    imitate the flowing and naturall Graces which you have created by
    your Fancie. I have onely to say, if my zeal have not stained what
    you have excellently made, I will not despair of your pardon; and if
    any thing herein, (the wel-meant tender of my service,) may obtain
    your smile and permission, I shalbe confirmed in my thoughts that I
    may stil write myself,--Sir, The most humble and faithful of your
    Servants,
                                                           JOHN GAMBLE.

    In this collection of Stanley's verse, 1656, 1657, the lyrics have
    no titles of any sort, but are numbered.

12. Psalterium Carolinum: the Devotions of His Sacred Majestie in his
    Solitudes and Sufferings rendred in Verse [from the Eikon Basilike
    by T. Stanley]. Set to Musick for 3 Voices and an Organ or Theorbo
    by John Wilson, Dr. and Music Professor of Oxford, London. Printed
    for John Martin and James Allestrey, and are to be sold at the Bell
    in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1657. Folio.

13. Psalterium Carolinum: the Devotions of His Sacred Majesty Charles
    the First in his Solitudes and Sufferings. Rendred in Verse. London.
    Printed for John Martin, James Allestry, and Thomas Dicas, and are
    to be sold at the Bell in St. Pauls Church-yard, 1660.

    The Dedication, to King Charles the Second, is signed Tho: Stanley.
    The twenty-seven paraphrases here are without the music. F^o.

14. Poems, by Thomas Stanley, Esq. Quae mea culpa tamen, nisi si lucisse
    [sic] vocari Culpa potest: nisi culpa potest et amasse, vocans
    [sic]. Reprinted from the Edition of 1651. London: From the Private
    Press of Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown. Printed by T.
    Davison, Whitefriars. 1814. Pp. xxiv, 107. crown 8vo.

    Edited, with Preface, etc., by Sir Egerton Brydges.

    The edition contained about 100 copies.

15. Anacreon, Bion, and Moschus, with Other Translations. By Thomas
    Stanley, Esq. First Printed 1651. A New Edition, with a Preface,
    Critical and Biographical. London: From the Private Press of
    Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown. Printed by T. Davison,
    Whitefriars. 1815. Pp. xxvii. 276. crown 8vo.

    Edited by Sir Egerton Brydges; about 100 copies only.

    Pp. 133-276 comprise a large number of "excitations," by Stanley,
    upon the authors dealt with in these translations.

16. The Elegies of Propertius, &c. London: H. G. Bohn. 1854. cr. 8vo
    [Bohn's Classical Library].

    Contains The Kisses of Secundus, translated into English verse by T.
    Stanley.

17. The Poems of Catullus, &c. London: H. G. Bohn. 1854. cr. 8vo [Bohn's
    Classical Library].

    Contains The Vigil of Venus, translated into English Verse by T.
    Stanley.

18. Anacreon: with Thomas Stanley's Translation. Edited by A. H. Bullen.
    Illustrated by J. R. Weguelin. London: Lawrence & Bullen, 16
    Henrietta Street, Covent Garden. MDCCCXCIII. 4to. Collation: Pp.
    xxix. 224. Contains twelve photogravures. 1000 copies only were
    printed for England and America.

    [It may be here noted that many of Stanley's Verse-Translations
    appeared in his _History of Philosophy_, of which there are many
    editions, dating from 1655 to 1743, the best edition of which is
    said to be the latter.]

19. Anacreon, Translated by Thomas Stanley. With a Preface and Notes by
    A. H. Bullen, and Illustrations by J. R. Weguelin. London: A. H.
    Bullen, 47, Great Russell Street, W.C. 1906. Pp. xxiv+92.

20. Thomas Stanley: His Original Lyrics, Complete, in their Collated
    Readings of 1647, 1651, 1657. With an Introduction, Textual Notes, A
    List of Editions, An Appendix of Translations, and a Portrait.
    Edited by L. I. Guiney, J. R. Tutin, Hull, 1907.

    _Collation._ Titles, Dedication, Contents, and Prefatory Note, pp.
    i-xxi; Original Lyrics, pp. 1-69; Appendix of Translations, pp.
    71-83; Textual Notes, pp. 85-100; List of Editions, pp. 101-105;
    Index to First Lines, pp. 107-110.

    The present edition.





INDEX TO FIRST LINES
                                                                    PAGE

A kiss I begg'd, and thou didst join [Secundus]                       76

A Phosphor 'mongst the living late wert thou [Plato]                  81

A small well-gotten stock, and country seat [E. Cat[alectis]
  Vet[erum] Poet[arum.]]                                              81

Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vain [Guarini]                            72

As in the crystal-centre of the sight [Fairfax]                       89

As when some brook flies from itself away [Montalvan]                 75

Ask the empress of the night                                          26


Beauty, thy harsh imperious chains                                    37

Beauty, whose soft magnetic chains                                    38


Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away                                 41

Cast off, for shame, ungentle maid                                    67

Celinda, by what potent art                                           45

Chide, chide no more away                                             32

Come, my Dear, whilst youth conspires [Casone]                        73


Dear, back my wounded heart restore                                   57

Dear, fold me once more in thine arms                                 10

Dear, urge no more the killing cause                                  48

Delay! Alas, there cannot be                                          43

Doris, I that could repel                                             50

Draw near                                                             61


'Fair is Alexis,' I no sooner said [Plato]                            82

Fair rebel to thyself and Time [Ronsard]                              71

Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care                              31

Far from thy dearest self, the scope [Tasso]                          76

Favonius, the milder breath o' th' Spring                             33

Five oxen, grazing in a flowery mead [Plato]                          83

Fletcher, whose fame no age can ever waste                            15

Fool! take up thy shaft again                                         43

Foolish Lover, go and seek                                            28


He whose active thoughts disdain                                      52


I go, dear Saint, away                                                29

I languish in a silent flame [De Voiture]                             73

I must no longer now admire                                           62

I prithee let my heart alone                                          65

I will not trust thy tempting graces                                  64

I yield, dear enemy, nor know                                         55

If we are one, dear Friend! why shouldst thou be                      22


Love! what tyrannic laws must they obey                               30


Madam! the blushes I betray                                           16

My sickly breath [Guarini]                                            72


No, I will sooner trust the wind                                      65

No, no, poor blasted Hope!                                             1

Not that by this disdain                                              44

Now will I a lover be [Anacreon]                                      79


O turn away those cruel eyes                                          69

Old Hecuba, the Trojan matron's, years [Plato]                        82

On this swelling bank, once proud                                      9

On this verdant lotus laid [Anacreon]                                 80


Pale envious Sickness, hence! no more                                 35


Rebellious fools that scorn to bow                                    58

Roses, in breathing forth their scent                                 37


See how this ivy strives to twine                                     12

See how this violet, which before                                     27

See, the Spring herself discloses [Anacreon]                          79

Since every place you bless, the name                                  6

Since Fate commands me hence, and I                                   59

So fair Aurora doth herself discover                                  24

Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark                                13

Such icy kisses, anchorites that live                                 25

Suckling, whose numbers could invite                                  22


That I might ever dream thus! that some power                          1

That kiss which last thou gav'st me, stole                            60

That wise philosopher who had design'd                                20

The air which thy smooth voice doth break                             50

The lazy hours move slow                                              10

The silkworm, to long sleep retir'd                                   62

The stars, my Star! thou view'st: heaven I would be [Plato]           81

These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath                               14

Think not, pale lover, he who dies                                    25

Thou best of Friendship, Knowledge and of Art!                        17

Thou that both feel'st and dost admire                                 2

Thou whose sole name all passions doth comprise                       13

Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire                            7

Though when I lov'd thee thou wert fair                               51

'Tis no kiss my Fair bestows [Secundus]                               77

To Archaeanassa, on whose furrow'd brow [Plato]                       82

Torment of absence and delay [Montalvan]                              75


Vex no more thyself and me [Anacreon]                                 78


Wert thou by all affections sought                                    68

Wert thou yet fairer than thou art ['Mr. W. M.']                      98

What busy cares too timely born                                        4

What if Night                                                         34

When, cruel fair one, I am slain                                      46

When, dearest Beauty, thou shalt pay                                  63

When, dearest Friend, thy verse doth re-inspire                       18

When deceitful lovers lay                                             29

When I lie burning in thine eye                                       42

When on thy lip my soul I breathe                                     49

When Phoebus saw a rugged bark beguile [Marino]                       74

When thou thy pliant arms dost wreathe [Secundus]                     77

Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays                       2

Why thy passion should it move                                        36

With a whip of lilies, Love [Anacreon]                                78

Within the covert of a shady grove [Plato]                            82

Wits that matur'd by time have courted praise                         21

Wrong me no more                                                      39


Yet ere I go                                                          66

You earthly souls that court a wanton flame                           54

You that unto your mistress' eyes                                     56




_Printed by_ MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED, _Edinburgh_


       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

1.  Obvious punctuation errors in the preface and textual notes have
    been fixed without further note, but punctuation within poems
    remains as printed in the original book.

2.  Line numbers in the poems are as printed in the original book,
    even in cases where they may seem inconsistent.

3.  Page xiii: In the quote by Hammond, "you too" has been corrected
    to "you two".

4.  Page 36: The reference to note 2 was missing and has been added.

5.  Page 79: In IV. The Combat, the line numbering should probably
    restart at 1, rather than continuing from III. The printed
    numbering has been retained.

6.  Page 81: The text note reference on line 13 of V was missing and
    has been added.

7.  Page 100: The reference in text note 66:1 to line 5 of No. IV has
    been corrected to refer to No. V instead.

8.  Page 100: The note numbers in the notes for 'Translations from
    Anacreon' were inconsistent with the numbers actually used in the
    poems, and have been corrected.

9.  The book has a number of inconsistencies in spelling, word usage,
    or style of citation in the List of Editions, all of which have
    been retained. Some of them are noted here:
      church yard, church-yard, and churchyard
      Princes-Arms and Princes Armes
      St. Pauls and S. Pauls
      Fo. and F^o. (Folio)
      re-inspire and reinspire
      James Allestrey and James Allestry

10. The book uses some possibly obscure abbreviations, such as:
      cr. 8vo, crown octavo
      4to, quarto
      Dnyi, Domini
      edd., editions
      Horat., Horatius (Horace)
      Jo:, John
      Od., Ode
      Tho:, Thomas





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Thomas Stanley:  His Original Lyrics,
Complete, In Their Collated Readings of 1647, 1651, 1657., by Thomas Stanley

*** 