Poems (1686) Part 4

_On_ GALLA.

Now liquid Streams by the fierce Cold do grow As solid as the Rocks from whence they flow; Now _Tibers_ Banks with Ice united meet, And it's firm Stream may well be term'd its Street; Now Vot'ries 'fore the Shrines like Statues show, And scarce the Men from Images we know; Now Winters Palsey seizes ev'ry Age, And none's so warm, but feels the Seasons Rage; Even the bright Lillies and triumphant Red Which o're _Corinna_'s youthful cheeks are spred, Look pale and bleak, and shew a purple hew, And Violets staine, where Roses lately grew.

_Galla_ alone, with wonder we behold, Maintain her Spring, and still out-brave the Cold; Her constant white does not to Frost give place, Nor fresh Vermillion fade upon her face: Sure Divine beauty in this Dame does shine?

Not Humane, one reply'd, yet not Divine.

A Farewel

To Worldly Joys.

Farewel ye Unsubstantial Joyes, Ye Gilded Nothings, Gaudy Toyes, Too long ye have my Soul misled, Too long with Aiery Diet fed: But now my Heart ye shall no more Deceive, as you have heretofore: For when I hear such _Sirens_ sing, Like _Ithacas_'s fore-warned King, With prudent Resolution I Will so my Will and Fancy tye, That stronger to the Mast not he, Than I to Reason bound will be: And though your Witchcrafts strike my Ear, Unhurt, like him, your Charms I'll hear.

THE Complaint of a Lover.

Seest thou younder craggy Rock, Whose Head o'er-looks the swelling Main, Where never Shepherd fed his Flock, Or careful Peasant sow'd his Grain.

No wholesome Herb grows on the same, Or Bird of Day will on it rest; 'Tis Barren as the Hopeless Flame, That scortches my tormented Breast.

Deep underneath a Cave does lie, Th'entrance hid with dismal Yew, Where _Phebus_ never shew'd his Eye, Or cheerful Day yet pierced through.

In that dark Melancholy Cell, (Retreate and Sollace to my Woe) Love, sad Dispair, and I, do dwell, The Springs from whence my Griefs do flow.

Treacherous Love that did appear, (When he at first approach't my Heart) Drest in a Garb far from severe, Or threatning ought of future smart.

So Innocent those Charms then seem'd, When _Rosalinda_ first I spy'd, Ah! Who would them have deadly deem'd?

But Flowrs do often Serpents hide.

Beneath those sweets conceal'd lay, To Love the cruel Foe, Disdain, With which (alas) she does repay My Constant and Deserving Pain.

When I in Tears have spent the Night, With Sighs I usher in the Sun, Who never saw a sadder sight, In all the Courses he has run.

Sleep, which to others Ease does prove, Comes unto me, alas, in vain: For in my Dreams I am in Love, And in them too she does Disdain.

Some times t'Amuse my Sorrow, I Unto the hollow Rocks repair, And loudly to the _Eccho_ cry, Ah! gentle Nimph come ease my Care.

Thou who, times past, a Lover wer't, Ah! pity me, who now am so, And by a sense of thine own smart, Alleviate my Mighty Woe.

Come Flatter then, or Chide my Grief; Catch my last Words, and call me Fool; Or say, she Loves, for my Relief; My Pa.s.sion either sooth, or School.

Love, the Soul of Poetry.

When first _Alexis_ did in Verse delight, His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk't, And now and then a little Proudly stalk't; But never aim'd at any n.o.ble Flight: The Herds, the Groves, the gentle purling Streams, Adorn'd his Song, and were his highest Theams.

But Love these Thoughts, like Mists, did soon disperse, Enlarg'd his Fancy, and set free his Muse, Biding him more Ill.u.s.trious Subjects choose; The Acts of G.o.ds, and G.o.d-like Men reherse.

From thence new Raptures did his Breast inspire, His scarce Warm-Heart converted was to Fire.

Th' exalted Poet rais'd by this new Flame, With Vigor flys, where late he crept along, And Acts Divine, in a Diviner Song, Commits to the eternal Trompe of Fame.

And thus _Alexis_ does prove Love to be, As the Worlds Soul, the Soul of Poetry.

To my Lady Berkeley,

Afflicted upon her Son, My Lord BERKELEY's Early Engaging in the Sea-Service.

So the renown'd _Ithacensian_ Queen In Tears for her _Telemachus_ was seen, When leaving Home, he did attempt the Ire Of rageing Seas, to seek his absent Sire: Such bitter Sighs her tender Breast did rend; But had she known a G.o.d did him attend, And would with Glory bring him safe again, Bright Thoughts would then have dispossess't her Pain.

Ah n.o.blest Lady! You that her excel In every Vertue, may in Prudence well Suspend your Care; knowing what power befriends Your Hopes, and what on Vertue still attends.

In b.l.o.o.d.y Conflicts he will Armour find, In strongest Tempests he will rule the Wind, He will through Thousand Dangers force a way, And still Triumphant will his Charge convey.

And the All-ruling power that can act thus, Will safe return your Dear _Telemachus_.

Alas, he was not born to live in Peace, Souls of his Temper were not made for Ease, Th'Ign.o.ble only live secure from Harms, The Generous tempt, and seek out fierce Alarms.

Huge Labours were for _Hercules_ design'd, _Jason_, to fetch the Golden Fleece, enjoyn'd, The _Minotaure_ by n.o.ble _Theseus_ dy'd, In vain were Valour, if it were not try'd, Should the admir'd and far-sought Diamond lye, As in its Bed, unpolisht to the Eye, It would be slighted like a common stone, It's Value would be small, its Glory none.

But when't has pa.s.s'd the Wheel and Cutters hand, Then it is meet in Monarchs Crowns to stand.

Upon the n.o.ble Object of your Care Heaven has bestow'd, of Worth, so large a share, That unastonisht none can him behold, Or credit all the Wonders of him told!

When others, at his Years were turning o're, The Acts of Heroes that had liv'd before, Their Valour to excite, when time should fit, He then did Things, were Worthy to be writ!

Stayd not for Time, his Courage that out-ran In Actions, far before in Years, a Man.

Two _French_ Campagnes he boldly courted Fame, While his Face more the Maid, than Youth became Adde then to these a Soul so truly Mild, Though more than Man, Obedient as a Child.

And (ah) should one Small Isle all these confine, Vertues created through the World to shine?

Heaven that forbids, and Madam so should you; Remember he but bravely does pursue His n.o.ble Fathers steps; with your own Hand Then Gird his Armour on, like him he'll stand, His Countries Champion, and Worthy be Of your High Vertue, and his Memory.

_St._ John Baptist _Painted by her self in the Wilderness, with Angels appearing to him, and with a Lamb by him_.

The Sun's my Fire, when it does shine, The hollow Spring's my Cave of Wine, The Rocks and Woods afford me Meat; This Lamb and I on one Dish eat: The neighbouring Herds my Garments send, My Pallet the kind Earth doth lend: Excess and Grandure I decline, M'a.s.sociates onely are Divine.

HERODIAS _Daughter presenting to her Mother St._ JOHN_'s Head in a Charger, also Painted by her self_.

Behold, dear Mother, who was late our Fear, Disarm'd and Harmless, I present you here; The Tongue ty'd up, that made all _Jury_ quake, And which so often did our Greatness shake; No Terror sits upon his Awful Brow, Where Fierceness reign'd, there Calmness triumphs now; As Lovers use, he gazes on my Face, With Eyes that languish, as they sued for Grace; Wholly subdu'd by my Victorious Charms, See how his Head reposes in my Arms.

Come, joyn then with me in my just Transport, Who thus have brought the Hermite to the Court.