102. SIR JOHN SUCKLING. 1609-1641. (Manual, p. 169) SONG. Out upon it, I have loved Three whole days together; Time shall melt away his wings. Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again But the spite on't is, no praise Love with me had made no stays, Had it any been but she. Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place. 103. SIR RICHARD LOVELACE. 1618-1658. (Manual, p. 169.) TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON. When love with unconfinéd wings Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses crowned, When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, Fishes, that tipple in the deep, When, linnet-like, confinéd I With shriller note shall sing The mercy, sweetness, majesty, When I shall voice aloud how good He is, how great should be, Th' enlarged winds that curl the flood, Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage, Minds innocent and quiet, take That for an hermitage: 104. THOMAS CAREW. 1589-1639. (Manual, pp. 170 and 86.) SONG. Ask me no mo.e, where Jove bestows, Ask me no more, whither do stray Ask me no more, whither doth haste Ask me no more, where those stars light, Ask me no more, if east or west, And in your fragrant bosom dies. 105. WILLIAM BROWNE. 1590-1645. (Manual, p. 171.) EVENING. As in an evening when the gentle air I oft have sat on Thames' sweet bank to hear My friend with his sweet touch to charm mine ear. So in this differing key though I could well Yet lest mine own delight might injure you (Though loath so soon) I take my song anew. 106. WILLIAM HABINGTON. 1605-1654. (Manual, p. 171) CUPIO DISSOLVI. My God! if 'tis thy great decree Wherein I breathe this air; My heart obeys, joyed to retreat And treachery of the fair. When thou shalt please this soul t' enthrone What should I grieve or fear, To think this breathless body must For in the fire when ore is tried, Do we deplore the loss? And when thou shalt my soul refine, That it thereby may purer shine, Shall I grieve for the dross? 107. EDMUND WALLER. 1605-1687. (Manual, p. 171.) Go, lovely rose! SONG. Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung 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 The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share ON A GIRDLE. That which her slender waist confined It was my heaven's extremest sphere, A narrow compass! and yet there 108. SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. 1605-1668. (Manual p. 172.) From "Gondibert." CHARACTER OF BIRTHA. To Astragon, heaven for succession gave She ne'er saw courts, yet courts could have undone Her nets, the most prepared could never shun; She never had in busy cities been, Ne'er warmed with hopes, nor e'er allayed with fears; Not seeing punishment, could guess no sin; And sin not seeing, ne'er had use of tears. |