Thomas Stanley: His Original Lyrics Part 3

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 h.e.l.l: 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 surpa.s.s'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 pa.s.sions 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 t.i.tle, 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 s.n.a.t.c.h'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 a.s.sistance 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 pa.s.sion? 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 pa.s.sion, 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.