DAMON

Grass withers and the flowers too fade.

CLORINDA

Seize the short joys then ere they vade! Seest thou that unfrequented cave?

That den?

DAMON

CLORINDA

Love's shrine.

DAMON

But virtue's grave.

CLORINDA

In whose cool bosom we may lie,

Safe from the sun.

DAMON

Not heaven's eye.

CLORINDA

Near this a fountain's liquid bell
Tinkles within the concave shell.

DAMON

Might a soul bathe there and be clean,
Or slake its drought?

CLORINDA

What is't you mean?

DAMON

Clorinda! pastures, caves, and springs,— These once had been enticing things.

DAMON

Words that transcend poor shepherds' skill;
But he e'er since my songs does fill,
And his name swells my slender oat.

CLORINDA

Sweet must Pan sound in Damon's note.

DAMON

Clorinda's voice might make it sweet.

CLORINDA

Who would not in Pan's praises meet?

CHORUS

Of Pan the flowery pastures sing!
Caves echo, and the fountains ring.
Sing then while he doth us inspire!
For all the world is our Pan's quire.

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,
Where feeble Hope could ne'er have flown
But vainly flapp'd its tinsel wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended soul is fix'd:
But Fate does iron wedges drive,

And always crowds itself betwixt.

For Fate with jealous eye does see

Two perfect loves, nor lets them close :

Their union would her ruin be

And her tyrannic power depose.

And therefore her decrees of steel

Us as the distant poles have placed— Though Love's whole world on us doth wheel, Not by themselves to be embraced :

Unless the giddy heaven fall

And earth some new convulsion tear,
And, us to join, the world should all
Be cramp'd into a planisphere.

As lines, so loves oblique may well
Themselves in every angle greet:
But ours, so truly parallel,

Though infinite can never meet.

Therefore the love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debars,

Is the conjunction of the mind
And opposition of the stars.

HENRY VAUGHAN.

1621-1695.

EPITHALAMIUM

TO THE BEST AND MOST ACCOMPLISHED COUPLE.

Blessings as rich and fragrant crown your heads As the mild heaven on roses sheds

When at their cheeks like pearls they wear The clouds that court them in a tear!

And may they be fed from above

By Him which first ordain'd your love!

Fresh as the Hours may all your pleasures be,
And healthful as Eternity!

Sweet as the flowers' first breath, and close
As the unseen spreadings of the Rose
When she unfolds her curtain'd head
And makes her bosom the Sun's bed!

Soft as yourselves run your whole lives, and clear As your own glass, or what shines there! Smooth as Heaven's face, and bright as he When without mask or tiffany,

In all your time not one jar meet,

But peace as silent as his feet!

Like the Day's warmth may all your comforts be,
Untoil'd for and serene as he,

Yet free and full as is that sheaf
Of sunbeams gilding every leaf
When now the tyrant heat expires

And his cool'd locks breathe milder fires!

And as the parcel'd glories he doth shed
Are the fair issues of his head,
Which, ne'er so distant, are soon known
By the heat and lustre for his own,
So may each branch of yours we see
Your copies and our wonders be!

And when no more on earth you may remain,
Invited hence to heaven again,

Then may your virtuous virgin-flames
Shine in those heirs of your fair names,
And teach the world that mystery-
Yourselves in your posterity!

So you to both worlds shall rich presents bring;
And, gather'd up to heaven, leave here a Spring.

THOMAS STANLEY.

1625-1678.

LOVE NOT TO BE Renewed.

I prithee let my heart alone!

Since now 'tis raised above thee:
Not all the beauty thou dost own
Again can make me love thee.

He that was shipwreck'd once before

By such a Syren's call,

And yet neglects to shun that shore,
Deserves his second fall.

Each flattering kiss, each tempting smile,
Thou dost in vain bestow,
Some other lovers might beguile
Who not thy falsehood know.

But I am proof against all art:
No vows shall e'er persuade me
Twice to present a wounded heart
To her that hath betray'd me.

Could I again be brought to love
Thy form, though more divine,
I might thy scorn as justly move
As now thou sufferest mine.

JOHN HALL.
1627-1656.

EPITAPH

ON A GENTLEMAN AND HIS WIFE WHO DIED BOTH WITHIN A VERY FEW DAYS.

Thrice happy Pair! who had and have

Living one bed, now dead one grave:
Whose love being equal, neither could
A life unequal wish to hold ;

But left a question, whether one
Did follow 'cause her mate was gone,
Or the other went before to stay
Till that his fellow came away:
So that one pious tear now must
Besprinkle either parent's dust,
And two great sorrows jointly run
And close into a larger one,
Or rather turn to joy, to see
The burial but the wedding be.