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But long in vain did I adore,
At last o'ercome she made me blest,
But let not this, dear CELIA, now
CORINNA cost me many a prayer,
Ere I her heart could gain,
But she ten thousand more should hear
Despair I thought the greatest curse
How blindly then does Cupid carve,
Who does at first his lovers starve,
TAKE, oh take those lips away
That so sweetly were forsworn,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
Hide, oh hide those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
*This sweet and fanciful production of an early age was probably popular at its first appearance, as one stanza of it is given in Shakespear's “Measure for Measure," and both in a play of Beaumont and Fletcher's. It has commonly been attributed to Shakespear, but probably erroneously.
SEND home my long-stray'd eyes to me,
Send home my harmless heart again,
Its word and oath,
Yet send me back my heart and eyes,
And prove as false as thou dost now.*
* Donne is so rugged a versifier, that scarcely any of his productions are reducible to regular measure without some alteration. His language, also, is generally far from elegant or refiued, and his thoughts are extremely strained and artificial. The preceding piece, however, has not required much correction to entitle it to a distinguished place among ingenious songs.
ON A LADY'S GIRDLE.
THAT which her slender waist confined
It was my heav'n's extremest sphere,
A narrow compass! and yet there
Go, lovely Rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
When I resemble her to thee,
How fair and sweet she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired:
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.
Then die; that she
How small a part of time they share,
IF truth can fix thy wavering heart,