« 上一頁繼續 »
And, if by event the counsels may be seen,
And, since love ne'er will from me fice, This Wisdom 'twas that brought the southern A mistress moderately fair, queen :
And good as guardian-angels are,
Only belov'd, and loving me!
Oh, fountains! when in you shall I
Myself, eas’d of unpeaceful thoughts, espy?
Oh fields ! oh woods! when, when shall I be made She came for that, which more befits all wives, The art of giving, not of saving, lives.
The happy tenant of your shade ?
Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood;
Has coin'd and stamp'd for good.
Pride and ambition here
Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; BCNeath this gloomy shade,
Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs By Nature only for my sorrows made,
scatter, I'll spend this voice in cries;
And nought but Echo flatter. In tears I'll waste these eyes,
The gods, when they descended, hither By love so vainly fed ;
From Heaven did always chuse their way; So Lust, of old, the Deluge punished.
And therefore we may boldly say, “ Ah, wretched youth !” said I;
That 'tis the way too thither. « Ah, wretched youth !” twice did I sadly cry; " Ah, wreched youth !” the fields and floods
How happy here should I,
And one dear she, live, and embracing die ! reply.
She, who is all the world, and can exclude
In deserts solitude.
“ Never,” alas ! that dreadful name Lest men, when tbey my pleasures see,
Should hither throng to live like me, “Never" my time to come must waste;
Aud so make a city here. “ In vain” torments the present and the past. “ In vain, in vain," said I;
MY DIET. “ In vain, in vain!'' twice did I sadly cry; “ In vain, in vain !" the fields and floods reply.
Now, by my Love, the greatest oath that is,
None loves you half so well as 1 : No more shall fields and floods do so;
I do not ask your love for this ; For I to shades more dark and silent go :
But for Heaven's sake believe me, or I die. All this world's noise appears to me
No servant e'er but did deserve A dull, ill acted comedy :
His master should believe that he does serve; No comfort to my wounded sight,
And I'll ask no more wages, though I starve. In the Sun's busy and impertinent light. Then down I laid my head,
'Tis no luxurious diet this, and sure Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
I shall not by 't too lusty prove ; And my freed soul to a strange somewhere fled.
Yet shall it willingly endure,
If’t can but keep together life and love. “ Ah, sottish soul !” said I,
· Being your prisoner and your slave, When back to its cage again I saw it fly;
I do not feasts and banquets look to have; “ Fool, to resume her broken chain,
A little bread and water 's all I crave.
On a sigh of pity I a year can live;
One tear will keep me twenty, at least ; Once dead, how can it be,
Fifty, a gentle look will give; Death should a thing so pleasant seem to thee,
An hundred years on one kind word I'll feast : That thou should’st come to live it o'er again if you an inclination have for me ;
A thousand more will added be, in me?"
And all beyond is vast eternity !
Does of all meats the soonest cloy;
And they, methinks, deserve my pity,
Of this great hive, the city.
Ah, yet, ere I descend to th' grave,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
Of sleep thou robb'st my nights ;
And I, with wild idolatry,
Like an ill conscience, torture us?
And still thy shape does me pursue, As if, not you me, but I had murder'd you. From books I strive some remedy to take,
Bat thy name all the letters make;
For I, as Midas did of old,
Attempt in vain from thee to fly?
The Diviue Presence there too is,
At once, with double course in the same sphere,
He runs the day, and walks the year.
When Sol does to myself refer, 'Tis then my life, and does but slowly move;
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly flies, and then is love. Love's my diurnal course, divided right,
"Twixt hope and fear--my day and night.
ALL-OVER LOVE. 'Tis well, 'tis well with them, say I, Whose short-liv'd passions with themselves can
For none can be unhappy, who,
Midst all his ills, a time does know (Though ne'er so long) when he shall not be so.
Whatever parts of me remain."
For 'twas not only in my heart,
But, like a god, by powerful art 'Twas all in all, and all in every part.
My affection no more perish can Than the first matter that compounds a man.
Hereafter, if one dust of me
Mix'd with another's substance be, 'Twill leaven that whole lump with love of thee.
Let Nature, if she please, disperse My atoms over all the universe ;
At the last they easily shall
Themselves know, and together call; For thy love, like a mark, is stamp'd on all..
THE BARGAIN. Take heed, take heed, thou lovely maid,
Nor be by glittering ills betray'd ; Thyself for money! oh, let no man know
The price of beauty fall’n so low !
What dangers ought'st thou not to dread, When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune led? The foolish Indian, that sells
His precious gold for beads and bells, Does a more wise and gainful traffic hold,
Than thou, who sell'st thyself for gold.
What gains in such a bargain are? He'll in thy mines dig better treasures far,
Can gold, alas ! with thee compare ?
The Sun, that makes it, 's not so fair; The Sun, which can nor make nor ever sec
A thing so beautiful as thee,
In all the journeys he does pass,
Bold was the wretch that cheapen'd thee;
Since Magus, none so bold as he : Thou 'rt so divine a thing, that thee to buy
Is to be counted simony;
Too dear he'll find his sordid price Has forfeited that and the benefice.
If it be lawful thee to buy,
There's none can pay that rate but I; Nothing on Earth a fitting price can be,
But what on Earth's most like to thee;
And that my heart does only bear; For there thyself, thy very self is there.
So much thyself does in me live,
That, when it for thyself I give,
Whose stamp and value equal is;
LOVE AND LIFE. Now, sure, within this twelvemonth past, l'ave lov'd at least some twenty years or more:
Th’ account of love runs much more fast
Than that with which our life does score: So, though my life be short, yet I may prove
The great Methusalem of love.
Not that love's bours or minutes are Shorter than those our being 's measur'd by :
But they 're more close compacted far,
And so in lesser room do lie :
Things solid take up little place.
Yet love, alas ! and life in me,
At once how can there in it be
A double, different motion ?
At once does slow and swiftly run:
Swiftly his daily journey he goes,
And does three hundred rounds enclose
THE LONG LIFE. Love from Time's wings hath stoln the feathers,
He bas, and put them to his own;
And very minutes hours are grown.
Belong not now at all to me:
Each winter's day St. Barnaby.
To look into a glass I fear;
Gray hairs and wrinkles there.
Th' old Patriarchs' 'age, and not their happi- | The needle trembles so, and turns about, ness too,
Till it the northern point find out ; Why does hard Fate to us restore ?
But constant then and fix'd does prove, Why does Love's fire thus to mankind renew,
Fix'd, that his dearest pole as soon may move. What the flood wash'd away hefore?
Then may my vessel torn and shipwreck'd be, Sure those are happy people that complain
If it put forth again to sea ! O'th' shortness of the days of man:
It never more abroad shall roam, Contract mine, Heaven! and bring them back Though 't could next voyage bring the Indies again
home. To th' ordinary span.
But I must sweat in love, and labour yet, If when your gift, long life, I disapprove,
Till I a competency get ; I too ingrateful seem to be ;
They're slothful fools who leave a trade, Punish me justly, Heaven ; make her to love, Till they a moderate fortune by 't have made. And then 'twill be too short for me.
Variety I ask not; give me one
To live perpetually upon.
The person, Love does to us fit,
Like manna, has the taste of all in it.
The wound which you yourself have made ;
For Heaven's sake, what d' you mean to do? For I too weak for purgings grow.
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;
Youth and warm hours let me not idly lose, Do but awhile with patience stay
The little time that Love does chuse, (lor counsel yet will do no good)
If always here I must not stay, Till time, and rest, and Heaven, allay
Let me be gone whilst yet ’tis day;
Lest I, faint and benighted, lose my way.
'Tis dismal, cne so long to love
In vain ; till to love more as vain must prove Perhaps the physic's good you give, But ne'er to me can useful prove ;
To hunt so long on nimble prey, till we
Too weary to take others be;
Alas ! 'tis folly to remain,
And waste our army thus in vain,
Before a city which will ne'er be ta'en. At once I live, am dead, and die.
At several hopes wisely to fly, What new-found rhetoric is thine !
Ought not to be esteem'd inconstancy; Ev'n thy dissuasions me persuade,
'Tis more inconstant always to pursue And thy great power does clearest shine,
A thing that always flies from you ; When thy commands are disobey'd.
For that at last may meet a bound, In vain thou bid'st me to forbear;
But no end can to this be found, Obedience were rebellion here.
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless round. Thy tongue comes in, as if it meant
When it does hardness meet, and pride, Against thine eyes t'assist mine heart:
My love does then rebound t' another side; But different far was his intent,
But, if it aught that's soft and yielding hit, For straight the traitor took their part;
It lodges there, and stays in it. And by this new foe I'm bereit
Whatever 'tis shall first love ine, Of all that little which was left.
That it my Heaven may truly be,
I shall be sure to give 't eternity.
Would be too strong for that and me;
B Heaven, I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she;
To be belov’d by me?
The gods may give their altars o'er, 'Tis true, l’ave lov d already three or four, They'll smoak but seido.n any more,
And shall three four hundred more; If none but happy men must them adore.
l'l love each fair-ove that I see, Till I find one at la t that shall love me.
The lightning, which tall oaks oppose in vain,
To strike suinetimes does not disdaia That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil
Tho bumble kurzes of the plain. That ends my wanderings and my toil :
She being so high, and I so low, I'll settle there, and happy grow;
Her power by this does greater show, The country dues with milk and honey flow. Who at such distance, gives so sure a blow.
Compar'd with her, all things so worthless prove, Yet when I die, my last breath shall
Like covetous men, who ne'er descry
Their dear-bid treasures till they die. She like a deity is grown,
Ah, fairest maid! how will it cheer That must create, or else must be alone.
My ghost, to get from thee a tear! If there be man who thinks himself so high,
But take heed; for if me thou pitiest then, As to pretend equality,
Twenty to une but I shali live again. He deserves her less than 1;
For he would cheat for his relief; And one would give, with lesser grief,
TILE GIVEN HEART. T'an undeserving beggar than a thief.
I wonder what those lovers mean, who say
They’ave given their hearts away:
Some good kind lover, tell me how:
For mine is but a torment to me now.
If so it be one place both hearts contain,
For what do they complain? For a learn'd age is always least devout.
What courtesy can Love do more,
'Twill tear and blow up all within,
Then shall Love keep the ashes and torn parts
Of both our broken hearts; My large ambition ; but 'tis dangerous still,
Shall out of both one new one make, Lest I like the Pellæan prince should be, And weep for other worlds, having conquer'd thee: From her's th’allay, from mine the metal, take, When Love has taken all thou hast away,
For of her heart he from the flames will find His strength by too much riches will decay,
But little left behind :
Mine only will remain entire ;
ch me to love! go teach thyself more wit; Beauty at first moves wonder and delight;
I chief professor am of it. 'Tis Nature's juggling trick to cheat the sight.
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews, W'admire it whilst unknown; but after, more
Teach boldness to the stews;
In tyrants' courts teach, supple flattery;
Teach Jesuits, that have travellid far, to lie; Does over-gorge himself with his own prey;
Teach fire to burn, and winds to blow, Of very hopes a surfeit he'll sustain,
Teach restless fountains how to flow, Unless by fears he cast them up again:
Teach the dull Earth fixt to abide, His spirit and sweetness dangers keep alone;
Teach women-kind inconstancy and pride: If ouce he lose his sting, he grows a drone.
See if your diligence here will useful prore;
But, pr’ythee, teach not me to love.
The god of love, if such a thing there be,
May learn to love from me;
He who does boast that he has been
I'll teach him a receipt, to make
Words that weep, and tears that speak; So tender is my wound, it must not bear
l'll teach him sighs, like those in death, Any salute, though of the kindest air.
At which the souls go out too with the breath : I rould not have her know the pain,
Still the sunl stays, yet still does from me run,
As light and heat does with the Sun.
Who must new worlds in it descry;
Rich worlds, that yield a treasure more
Than all that has been known before. No, let me perish rather with my grief,
Anıl yet like his, I fear, my fate must be, Than, to her disadvantagc, find relief!
To find them out for others, not for me.
Me times to come, I know it, shall
Lust, the scorching dog-star, here Love's last and greatest prophet call;
Rages with immoderate heat; But, ah! what's that, if she refuse
Whilst Pride, the rugged northern bear, To hear the wholesome doctrines of my Muse;
In others makes the cold too great: If to my share the prophet's fate must come
And where these are temperate known, Hereafter fame, here martyrdom?
The soil's all bạrren sand or rocky stone.
A rich, well-govern'd heart,
Like China, it adınitted you
But to the frontier-part. The Devil take those foolish men
From Paradise shut for evermore, Who gave you first such powers;
What good is 't that an angel kept the door? We stvod on even grounds till then; If any odds, creation made it ours.
Well fare the pride, and the disdain,
And vanities, with beauty join'd; For shame, let these weak chains be broke;
I ne'er had seen this heart again, Let 's our slight bonds, like Samson, tear;
If any fair-one had been kind : And nobly cast away that yoke,
My dove, but once let loose, I doubt Which we nor our forefathers e'er could bear,
Would ne'er return, had not the food been out. French laws forbid the female reign; Yet Love does them to slavery draw:
THE HEART FLED AGAIN. Alas! if we'll our rights maintain, 'Tis all mankind must make a Salique law,
False, foolish Heart! didst thou nut say
That thou would'st never leave me more !
Behold! again 'tis fed away,
Fled as far from me as before.
I struve to bring it back again;
I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain.
Ev'n so the gentle Tyrian dame,
When neither grief nor love prevail, But, when you call us so,
Saw the dear object of her flame,
Th’ ingrateful Trojan, hoist his sail :
call’d to him to stay ; Can you the shore inconstant call,
The wind bore him and her lost words away. Which still, as waves pass by, embraces all ;
The doleful Ariadne so, That had as lief the same waves always love,
On the wide shore forsaken stood : Did they not from him move?
“ False Theseus whither dost thou go?" Or can you fault with pilots find
Afar false Theseus cut the fiood. For changing course, yet never blame the wind ?
But Bacchus came to her relief; Since, drunk with vanity,, you fell,
Bacchus himself 's too weak to ease my grief. The things turn'd round to you that stedfast
Ab! senseless Heart, to take no rest, And you yourself, who from us take your flight,
But travel thus eternally! Wonder to find us out of sight.
Thus to be froz'n in every breast ! So the same errour seizes you,
And to be scorch'd in every eye!
Wandering about like wretched Cain,
Well, since thou wilt not here remain,
I'll e'en to live without thee try;
My head shall take the greater pain,
And all thy duties shall supply:
I can more easily live, I know,
Without thee, than without a mistress thou. No more will burn with love or wine; But quite has left his women and his swine.
WOMEN'S SUPERSTITION. Welcome, ah! welcome, my poor Heart ! Or I'm a very dunce, or woman-kind
Welcome! I little thought, I'll swear Is a most unintelligible thing : ('Tis now so long since we did part)
I can no sense nor no contexture find, Ever again to see thee here:
Nor their loose parts to method bring: Dear wanderer! since from me you fled, I know not what the learn'd may see, How often-have I heard that thou wert dead ! Put they ’re strange Hebrew things to me, Hast thou not found each woman's breast By customs and traditions they live, -(The lands where thou hast travelled)
And foolish ceremonies of antique date; Either by savages possest,
We lovers, new and better doctrines give, Or wild, and uninhabited ?
Yet they continue obstinate: What joy could'st take, or what repose, Preach we, Love's prophets, what we will, In countries so unciviliz'd as those ?
Like Jews, they keep their old law still,