One in whose gentle bosom I

Could pour my secret heart of woes,
Like the care-burthen'd honey-fly,
That hides his murmurs in the rose.

My earthly comforter, whose love
So indefensible might be,
That when my spirit won above,
Her's could not stay for sympathy!

ON A GIRDLE.

EDMUND WALLER.

Born 1605--Died 1687.

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

It was my heav'n's extremest sphere,
The pale which held my lovely dear:
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Do all within this circle move.

A narrow compass and yet there
Dwelt all that's good and all that's far:
Give me but what this riband bound,
Take all the rest the sun goes round.

GO LOVELY ROSE.

EDMUND WALLER.

Go, lovely Rose !

Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows

When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young,

And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung

In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retired:

Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,

And not blush so to be admired.

Then die! that she

The common fate of all things rare

May read in thee,

How small a part of time they share

That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

[The following verse was added by Kirke White in a copy of Waller's Poems:

Yet though thou fade

From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise;

And teach the maid

That goodness time's rude hand defies

That virtue lives when beauty dies.]

TO CHLORIS.

EDMUND WALLER.

Chloris! farewell; I now must go;
For if with thee I longer stay,
Thy eyes prevail upon me so,

I shall prove blind and lose my way.

Fame of thy beauty and thy youth,
Among the rest, me hither brought :
Finding this fame fall short of truth,
Made me stay longer than I thought.

For I'm engaged by word and oath
A servant to another's will;
Yet for thy love I'd forfeit both,
Could I be sure to keep it still.

But what assurance can I take,
When thou, foreknowing this abuse,

For some more worthy lover's sake
May'st leave me with so just excuse?

For thou may'st say, 'twas not thy fault
That thou didst thus inconstant prove,
Being by my example taught

To break thy oath to mend thy love.

No, Chloris! no: I will return,
And raise thy story to that height,
That strangers shall at distance burn,
And she distrust me reprobate.

Then shall my love this doubt displace, And gain such trust, that I may come And banquet sometimes on thy face,

But make my constant meals at home.

WHILE I LISTEN TO THY VOICE.

EDMUND WALLER.

While I listen to thy voice,

Chloris, I feel my life decay :

That powerful noise

Calls my flitting soul away.
Oh! suppress that magic sound,
Which destroys without a wound.

Peace, Chloris, peace! or singing die,
That together you and I

To heaven may go;

For all we know

Of what the blessed do above,

Is that they sing and that they love.

THE SELF BANISHED.

EDMUND WALLER.

It is not that I love you less
Than when before your feet I lay :
But, to prevent the sad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away.

In vain (alas) for every thing,

Which I have known belong to you, Your form does to my fancy bring,

And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

Who in the spring, from the new sun,
Already has a fever got,

Too late begins those shafts to shun,

Which Phoebus through his veins has shot.

Too late he would the pain assuage,
And to thick shadows does retire;
About with him he bears the rage,
And in his tainted blood the fire.

But vow'd I have, and never must
Your banish'd servant trouble you;
For if I break, you may mistrust

The vow I made to love you too.