116. TO HIS MISTRESS, OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING
You say I love not, "cause I do not play Still with your curls, and kiss the time away.
You blame me, too, because I can"t devise Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes; By Love"s religion, I must here confess it, The most I love, when I the least express it.
Shall griefs find tongues; full casks are ever found To give, if any, yet but little sound.
Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know, That chiding streams betray small depth below.
So when love speechless is, she doth express A depth in love, and that depth bottomless.
Now, since my love is tongueless, know me such, Who speak but little, "cause I love so much.
117. IMPOSSIBILITIES: TO HIS FRIEND
My faithful friend, if you can see The fruit to grow up, or the tree; If you can see the colour come Into the blushing pear or plum; If you can see the water grow To cakes of ice, or flakes of snow; If you can see that drop of rain Lost in the wild sea once again; If you can see how dreams do creep Into the brain by easy sleep:-- --Then there is hope that you may see Her love me once, who now hates me.
118. THE BUBBLE: A SONG
To my revenge, and to her desperate fears, Fly, thou made bubble of my sighs and tears!
In the wild air, when thou hast roll"d about, And, like a blasting planet, found her out; Stoop, mount, pa.s.s by to take her eye--then glare Like to a dreadful comet in the air: Next, when thou dost perceive her fixed sight For thy revenge to be most opposite, Then, like a globe, or ball of wild-fire, fly, And break thyself in shivers on her eye!
119. DELIGHT IN DISORDER
A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness; A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction; An erring lace, which here and there Enthrals the crimson stomacher; A cuff neglectful, and thereby Ribbons to flow confusedly; A winning wave, deserving note, In the tempestuous petticoat; A careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild civility;-- Do more bewitch me, than when art Is too precise in every part.
120. TO SILVIA
Pardon my trespa.s.s, Silvia! I confess My kiss out-went the bounds of shamefacedness:-- None is discreet at all times; no, not Jove Himself, at one time, can be wise and love.
121. TO SILVIA TO WED
Let us, though late, at last, my Silvia, wed; And loving lie in one devoted bed.
Thy watch may stand, my minutes fly post haste; No sound calls back the year that once is past.
Then, sweetest Silvia, let"s no longer stay; True love, we know, precipitates delay.
Away with doubts, all scruples hence remove!
No man, at one time, can be wise, and love.
122. BARLEY-BREAK; OR, LAST IN h.e.l.l
We two are last in h.e.l.l; what may we fear To be tormented or kept pris"ners here I Alas! if kissing be of plagues the worst, We"ll wish in h.e.l.l we had been last and first.
123. ON A PERFUMED LADY
You say you"re sweet: how should we know Whether that you be sweet or no?
--From powders and perfumes keep free; Then we shall smell how sweet you be!
124. THE PARCAE; OR, THREE DAINTY DESTINIES: THE ARMILET
Three lovely sisters working were, As they were closely set, Of soft and dainty maiden-hair, A curious Armilet.
I, smiling, ask"d them what they did, Fair Destinies all three?
Who told me they had drawn a thread Of life, and "twas for me.
They shew"d me then how fine "twas spun And I replied thereto; "I care not now how soon "tis done, Or cut, if cut by you."
125. A CONJURATION: TO ELECTRA
By those soft tods of wool, With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain, That swell the golden grain; By all those sweets that be I"th" flowery nunnery; By silent nights, and the Three forms of Hecate; By all aspects that bless The sober sorceress, While juice she strains, and pith To make her philtres with; By Time, that hastens on Things to perfection; And by your self, the best Conjurement of the rest; --O, my Electra! be In love with none but me.
126. TO SAPHO
Sapho, I will chuse to go Where the northern winds do blow Endless ice, and endless snow; Rather than I once would see But a winter"s face in thee,-- To benumb my hopes and me.
127. OF LOVE: A SONNET
How Love came in, I do not know, Whether by th"eye, or ear, or no; Or whether with the soul it came, At first, infused with the same; Whether in part "tis here or there, Or, like the soul, whole every where.
This troubles me; but I as well As any other, this can tell; That when from hence she does depart, The outlet then is from the heart.