No whisper now nor glance shall pass
Through wickets or through panes of glass,
For our windows and doors are shut and barred.
Lie close in the church, and in the churchyard!
In every grave make room, make room!

The world's at an end, and we come, we come!

The State is now Love's foe, Love's foe:
'T has seized on his arms, his quiver and bow,
Has pinioned his wings, and fettered his feet,
Because he made way for lovers to meet.
But, O sad chance, his judge was old!
Hearts cruel grow, when blood grows cold.
No man being young his process would draw.
O heavens, that love should be subject to law !
Lovers go woo the dead, the dead!

Lie two in a grave, and to bed, to bed!

William Davenant.

229

TO ROSES IN THE BOSOM OF CASTARA

YE blushing virgins happy are

In the chaste nunn'ry of her breasts,

For he'd profane so chaste a fair,

Who ere should call them Cupid's nests.

Transplanted thus how bright ye grow!
How rich a perfume do ye yield!
In some close garden, cowslips so
Are sweeter than i'th' open field.

In those white cloisters live secure
From the rude blasts of wanton breath,
Each hour more innocent and pure,
Till you shall wither into death.

Then that which living gave you room,

Your glorious sepulchre shall be.
There wants no marble for a tomb,
Whose breast hath marble been to me.

William Habington.

GO,

230

LOVELY ROSE

Go, lovely Rose

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 :
Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.

Then die-that she

The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee :

How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

Edmund Waller.

ON A

231

GIRDLE

THAT which her slender waist confined
Shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my Heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer :
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love
Did all within this circle move.

A narrow compass! And yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair!
Give me but what this ribband bound,
Take all the rest the Sun goes round.

Edmund Waller.

232

THE ART OF LOVE

HONEST lover whosoever,

If in all thy love there ever

Was one wav'ring thought, if thy flame
Were not still ever, still the same :

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when she appears i' th' room,

Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb, And in striving this to cover

Dost not speak thy words twice over :

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If fondly thou dost not mistake,

And all defects for graces take;

Persuad'st thy self that jests are broken,
When she hath little or nothing spoken:
Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thou appear'st to be within,
Thou lett'st not men ask and ask again;
And when thou answer'st, if it be

To what was ask'd thee properly:

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thy stomach calls to eat,
Thou cutt'st not fingers 'stead of meat,

And with much gazing on her face

Dost not rise hungry from the place:

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If by this thou dost discover
That thou art no perfect lover,
And desiring to love true,

Thou dost begin to love anew:
Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss;

And to love true,

Thou must begin again, and love anew.

John Suckling.

233

OUT UPON IT! I HAVE LOVED

OUT upon it! I have loved
Three whole days together,
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather!

Time shall moult away his wings,
Ere he shall discover

In the whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.

But the spite on 't is, no praise
Is due at all to me:

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 e'er this

A dozen dozen in her place!

John Suckling.

234

I PRITHEE, SEND ME BACK MY HEART

I PRITHEE, send me back my heart,

Since I cannot have thine :

For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shouldst thou have mine?

Yet now I think on 't-let it lie!

To find it were in vain :

For thou 'st a thief in either eye
Would steal it back again.

Why should two hearts in one breast lie,
And yet not lodge together?

O Love, where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts thou sever?

But love is such a mystery

I cannot find it out;

For when I think I'm best resolved,

I then am in most doubt.

Then farewell care, and farewell woe!

I will no longer pine:

For I'll believe I have her heart,

As much as she has mine.

John Suckling.

235

WHEN, DEAREST, I BUT THINK OF THEE

WHEN, dearest, I but think of thee,
Methinks all things that lovely be

Are present, and my soul delighted;
For beauties that from worth arise
Are like the grace of deities,

Still present with us, tho' unsighted.

Thus, whilst I sit, and sigh the day
With all his borrow'd lights away,

Till night's black wings do overtake me,
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleepy men,

So they by their bright rays awake me.

Thus absence dies, and dying proves
No absence can subsist with loves

That do partake of fair perfection:
Since in the darkest night they may,
By love's quick motion, find a way
To see each other by reflection.