HERRICK

HAT I FANCY I approve:

WH

No dislike there is in love.
Be my Mistress short or tall,
And distorted therewithal,
Be She likewise one of those
That an acre hath of no: e,
Be her forehead and her eyes
Full of incongruities,

Be her cheeks so shallow too

As to show her tongue wag through,

Be her lips ill hung or set,

And her grinders black as jet,

Hath She thin hair, hath She none,

She's to me a paragon.

67

PANSIES

ROLIC VIRGINS once these were,

FR

Over-loving, living here,

Being here their ends denied,

Ran for Sweethearts mad, and died.
Love, in pity of their tears,

And their loss in blooming years,

For their restless here-spent hours Gave them hearts' ease, turn'd to Flowers.

TO DAISIES

HUT NOT so soon! the dull-eyed Night

SHUT

Has not as yet begun

To make a seizure on the light

Or to seal up the sun.

No marigolds yet closed are,

No shadows great appear,

Nor doth the early shepherd's star

Shine like a spangle here.

Stay but until my Julia close

Her life-begetting eye:

And let the whole world then dispose

Itself to live or die.

JAMES SHIRLEY

THE LOOKING-GLASS

WHEN this crystal shall present

Your beauty to your eye,

Think! that lovely face was meant
To dress another by.

For not to make them proud
These glasses are allow'd

To those are fair,

But to compare

The inward beauty with the outward grace, And make them fair in soul as well as face.

I

ON HER DANCING

STOOD and saw my Mistress dance,
Silent, and with so fix'd an eye,

Some might suppose me in a trance:

But being asked why,

By One that knew I was in love,
I could not but impart

My wonder, to behold her move
So nimbly with a marble heart.

TO ONE SAYING SHE WAS OLD

TELL

ELL ME NOT Time hath play'd the thief
Upon her beauty! My belief

Might have been mock'd, and I had been

An heretic, if I had not seen

My Mistress is still fair to me,

And now I all those graces see

That did adorn her virgin brow.

Her eye hath the same flame in 't now,
To kill or save, the chemist's fire
Equally burns,- so my desire;

Not any rose-bud less within

Her cheek; the same snow on her chin;
Her voice that heavenly music bears
First charm'd my soul, and in my ears
Did leave it trembling; her lips are
The self-same lovely twins they were;-
After so many years I miss

No flower in all my paradise.

Time! I despise thy rage and thee:

Thieves do not always thrive, I see.

WILLIAM HABINGTON

QUI QUASI FLOS EGREDITUR

AIR MADAM! you

FA

May see what's man in yon bright rose: Though it the wealth of Nature owes,

It is oppress'd and bends with dew.

Which shows, though Fate
May promise still to warm our lips,
And keep our eyes from an eclipse,

It will our pride with tears abate.

Poor silly flower!

Though on thy beauty thou presume,

And breath which doth the Spring perfume,

Thou may'st be cropp'd this very hour.

And though it may

Then thy good fortune be to rest

On the pillow of some Lady's breast,
Thou 'lt wither and be thrown away.

For 'tis thy doom,

However, that there shall appear
No memory that thou grew'st here,

Ere the tempestuous winter come.