Thou best of men and friends! we will create
A genuine summer in each other's breast
And, spite of this cold time and frozen fate,
Thaw us a warm seat to our rest.

Our sacred hearths shall burn eternally,
As Vestal flames; the North-Wind, he

Shall strike his frost-stretch'd wings, dissolve, and fly
This Ætna in epitome.

Dropping December shall come weeping in,
Bewail the usurping of his reign;

But, when in showers of old Greek we begin,
Shall cry he hath his crown again.

Night, as clear Hesper, shall our tapers whip
From the light casements where we play,
And the dark hag from her black mantle strip,
And stick there everlasting day.

Thus richer than untempted kings are we
That, asking nothing, nothing need.
Though lord of all that seas embrace, yet he
That wants himself is poor indeed.

JOSEPH RUTTER

SONG OF VENUS

OME, Lovely Boy! unto my court,

COME

And leave these uncouth woods and all

That feed thy fancy with love's gall But keep away the honey and the sport! CHORUS OF GRACES Come unto me! And with variety

Thou shalt be fed: which Nature loves, and I.

There is no music in a voice

That is but one, and still the same:
Inconstancy is but a name

To fright poor lovers from a better choice. CHORUS- Come then to me!

Orpheus that on Eurydicè

Spent all his love, on others scorn, Now on the banks of Hebrus torn Finds the reward of foolish constancy. CHORUS Come then to me!

And sigh no more for one love lost!

I have a thousand Cupids here
Shall recompense with better cheer
Thy misspent labours and thy bitter cost.
CHORUS — Come then to me!

MARRIAGE HYMN

HYMEN! God of marriage bed!

Be thou ever honoured:
Thou whose torch's purer light
Death's sad tapers did affright,
And instead of funeral fires
Kindled lovers' chaste desires:
May their love

Ever prove

True and constant; let not age

Know their youthful heat to assuage!

Maids! prepare the genial bed:

Then come, Night! and hide that red Which from her cheeks his heart does burn, Till the envious Day return

And the lusty bridegroom say
- I have chased her fears away,
And instead

Of virginhed

Given her a greater good,

Perfection and womanhood.

ANDREW MARVELL

ON THE PICTURE OF T. C.

In a prospect of flowers.

EE! with what simplicity

SEE!

This Nymph begins her golden days.
In the green grass she loves to lie,

And there with her fair aspect tames

The wilder flowers, and gives them names;

But only with the roses plays,

And them does tell

What colour best becomes them, and what smell.

Who can foretell for what high cause

This Darling of the Gods was born?

Yet this is She whose chaster laws
The wanton Love shall one day fear,
And, under her command severe,

See his bow broke and ensigns torn.
Happy who can

Appease this virtuous enemy of man!

( then let me in time compound;

And parley with those conquering eyes
Ere they have tried their force to wound,
Ere with their glancing wheels they drive

In triumph over hearts that strive,

And them that yield but more despise!
Let me be laid

Where I may see the glories from some shade!

Meantime, whilst every verdant thing
Itself does at thy beauty charm,
Reform the errors of the Spring!
Make that the tulips may have share
Of sweetness, seeing they are fair;
And roses of their thorns disarm;
But most procure

That violets may a longer age endure!

But O, Young Beauty of the Woods!

Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers,
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds!
Lest Flora, angry at thy crime

To kill her infants in their prime,
Should quickly make the example yours;
And, ere we see,

Nip in the blossom all our hopes in thee.

A DEFINITION OF LOVE

MY LOVE is of a birth as rare

As 'tis for object strange and high :
It was begotten by Despair
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing,