Sidor som bilder

She holds that day's pleasure best
Where sin waits not on delight;
Without mask, or ball, or feast,
Sweetly spends a winter's night :

O'er that darkness, whence is thrust

Prayer and sleep, oft governs lust.
She her throne makes reason climb,
While wild passions captive lie;
And each article of time
Her pure thoughts to Heaven fly:

All her vows religious be,
And her love she vows to me.


Forsake me not so soon ; Castara, stay,
And as I break the prison of my clay
I'll fill the canvas with my expiring breath,
And sail with thee o'er the vast main of Death.
Some cherubin thus, as we pass, shall play:
‘Go, happy twins of love !'—the courteous sea
Shall smooth her wrinkled brow ; the winds shall sleep,
Or only whisper music to the deep;
Every ungentle rock shall melt away,
The sirens sing to please, not to betray;
The indulgent sky shall smile ; each starry quire
Contend, which shall afford the brighter fire.

While Love, the pilot, steers his course so even
Ne'er to cast anchor till we reach at Heaven.


Castara weep not, tho' her tomb appear
Sometime thy grief to answer with a tear :
The marble will but wanton with thy woe.
Death is the sea, and we like rivers flow
To lose ourselves in the insatiate main,
Whence rivers may, she ne’er, return again.

Nor grieve this crystal stream so soon did fall
Into the ocean ; since she perfum'd all
The banks she past, so that each neighbour field
Did sweet flowers cherish'd by her watering yield,
Which now adorn her hearse. The violet there
On her pale cheek doth the sad livery wear,
Which Heaven's compassion gave her : and since she
'Cause clothed in purple, can no mourner be,
As incense to the tomb she gives her breath,
And fading on her lady waits in death :
Such office the Ægyptian handmaids did
Great Cleopatra, when she dying chid
The asp's slow venom, trembling she should be
By fate robb'd even of that black victory.
The flowers instruct our sorrows. Come, then, all
Ye beauties, to true beauty's funeral,
And with her to increase death's pomp, decay.
Since the supporting fabric of your clay
Is fallen, how can ye stand ? How can the night
Show stars, when Fate puts out the day's great light ?



They meet but with unwholesome springs,

And summers which infectious are ;
They hear but when the mermaid sings,
And only see the falling star,

Who ever dare
Affirm no woman chaste and fair.

Go, cure your fevers; and you'll say

The dog-days scorch not all the year :
In copper mines no longer stay,
But travel to the west, and there

The right ones see,
And grant all gold's not alchemy.

What madman, 'cause the glow-worm's flame

Is cold, swears there's no warmth in fire ? 'Cause some make forfeit of their name, And slave themselves to man's desire,

Shall the sex, free
From guilt, damn'd to the bondage be?

Nor grieve, Castara, though t were frail ;

Thy virtue then would brighter shine,
When thy example should prevail,
And every woman's faith be thine :

And were there none, 'Tis majesty to rule alone.


Why doth the ear so tempt the voice
That cunningly divides the air ?
Why doth the palate buy the choice
Delights o'th' sea, to enrich her fare?

As soon as I my ear obey,
The echo's lost even with the breath ;
And when the sewer takes away,
I'm left with no more taste than death.

Be curious in pursuit of eyes
To procreate new loves with thine ;
Satiety makes sense despise
What superstition thought divine.
Quick fancy! how it mocks delight!
As we conceive, things are not such ;
The glowworm is as warm as bright,
Till the deceitful flame we touch.

When I have sold my heart to lust,
And bought repentance with a kiss ;
I find the malice of my dust,
That told me hell contained a bliss.

The rose yields her sweet blandishment
Lost in the fold of lovers' wreaths ;
The violet enchants the scent,
When early in the spring she breathes.
But winter comes, and makes each flower
Shrink from the pillow where it grows ;
Or an intruding cold hath power
To scorn the perfume of the rose.
Our senses, like false glasses, show
Smooth beauty, where brows wrinkled are,
And makes the cozen'd fancy glow ;
Chaste virtue's only true and fair.


When I survey the bright

Celestial sphere :
So rich with jewels hung, that night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear :
My soul her wings doth spread

And heaven-ward flies,
The Almighty's mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.
For the bright firmament

Shoots forth no flame
So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator's name.
No unregarded star

Contracts its light,
Into so small a character,
Remov'd far from our human sight,

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But if we steadfast look

We shall discern
In it as in some holy book,
How man may heavenly knowledge learn.

It tells the conqueror,

That far-stretched power, Which his proud dangers traffic for, Is but the triumph of an hour. That from the farthest north

Some nation may Yet undiscovered issue forth, And o'er his new got conquest sway.

Some nation yet shut in

With hills of ice,
May be let out to scourge his sin,
Till they shall equal him in vice.
And then they likewise shall

Their ruin have;
For as yourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.
Thus those celestial fires,

Though seeming mute,
The fallacy of our desires
And all the pride of life, confute.
For they have watched since first

The world had birth :
And found sin in itself accursed,
And nothing permanent on earth.

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