Such was the sweet converse 'twixt her and you, As that she holds with her associates now.
How false is Hope, and how regardless Fate, That such a love should have so short a date! Lately I saw her sighing part from thee: (Alas, that such the last farewell should be!) So look'd Astræa, her remove design'd, On those distressed friends she left behind. Consent in virtue knit your hearts so fast, That still the knot, in spite of death, does last: For, as your tears, and sorrow-wounded soul, Prove well, that on your part this bond is whole: So, all we know of what they do above, Is, that they happy are, and that they love. Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave, Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have: Well-chosen love is never taught to die, But with our nobler part invades the sky. Then grieve no more, that one so heavenly shap'd The crooked hand of trembling age escap'd. Rather, since we beheld her not decay, But that she vanish'd so entire away, Her wondrous beauty, and her goodness, merit, We should suppose, that some propitious spirit In that celestial form frequented here; And is not dead, but ceases to appear.
BATTLE OF THE SUMMER-ISLANDS. CANTO L
What fruits they have, and how Heaven smiles
Upon those late-discover'd isles.
AID me, Bellona! while the dreadful fight,
Betwixt a nation, and two whales, I write :
Seas stain'd with gore I sing, adventurous toil!
And how these monsters did disarm an isle.
Bermuda, wall'd with rocks, who does not know?
That happy island! where huge lemons grow,
And orange-trees, which golden fruit do bear;
Th' Hesperian garden boasts of none so fair:
Where shining pearl, coral, and many a pound,
On the rich shore, of ambergris is found.
The lofty cedar, which to heaven aspires,
The prince of trees! is fuel for their fires:
The smoke, by which their loaded spits do turn,
For incense might on sacred altars burn:
Their private roofs on odorous timber borne,
Such as might palaces for kings adorn.
The sweet palmitoes a new Bacchus yield,
With leaves as ample as the broadest shield:
Under the shadow of whose friendly boughs
They sit, carousing where their liquor grows.
Figs there unplanted through the fields do grow,
Such as fierce Cato did the Romans show;
With the rare fruit inviting them to spoil
Carthage, the mistress of so rich a soil.
The naked rocks are not unfruitful there,
But, at some constant seasons, every year,
Their barren tops with luscious food abound;
And with the eggs of various fowls are crown'd.
Tobacco is the worst of things, which they
To English landlords, as their tribute, pay.
Such is the mould, that the blest tenant feeds
On precious fruits, and pays his rent in weeds.
With candy'd plantains, and the juicy pine,
On choicest melons, and sweet grapes, they dine:
And with potatoes fat their wanton swine.
Nature these cates with such a lavish hand
Pours out among them, that our coarser land
Tastes of that bounty, and does cloth return,
Which not for warmth, but ornament, is worn:
For the kind Spring, which but salutes us here,
Inhabits there, and courts them all the year:
Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live;
At once they promise, what at once they give.
So sweet the air, so moderate the clime,
None sickly lives, or dies before his time.
Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncurst,
To show how all things were created first.
The tardy plants, in our cold orchards plac'd,
Reserve their fruit for the next age's taste:
There, a small grain, in some few months, will be
A firm, a lofty, and a spacious tree.
The palma-christi, and the fair papà,
Now but a seed (preventing Nature's law)
In half the circle of the hasty year
Project a shade, and lovely fruits do wear.
And as their trees, in our dull region set,
But faintly grow, and no perfection get;
So, in this northern tract, our hoarser throats
Utter unripe and ill-constrained notes:
While the supporter of the poet's style,
Phœbus, on them eternally does smile.
Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay
Under the plantain's shade; and all the day
With amorous airs my fancy entertain;
Invoke the muses, and improve my vein!
No passion there in my free breast should move
None but the sweet, and best of passions, love.
There will I sing, if gentle Love be by,
That tunes my lute, and winds the string so high;
With the sweet sound of Sacharissa's name,
I'll make the listening savages grow tame.
But while I do these pleasing dreams indite,
I am diverted from the promis'd fight.
Of their alarm, and how their foes Discover'd were, this canto shows. THOUGH rocks so high about this island rise, That well they may the numerous Turk despise; Yet is no human fate exempt from fear; Which shakes their hearts, while through the isle A lasting noise, as horrid and as loud [they hear
As thunder makes, before it breaks the cloud.
Three days they dread this murmur, ere they know
From what blind cause th' unwonted sound may
At length two monsters of unequal size,
Hard by the shore, a fisherman espies;
Two mighty whales! which swelling seas had tost,
And left them prisoners on the rocky coast.
One, as a mountain vast; and with her came
A cub, not much inferior to his dam.
Here, in a pool among the rocks engag'd,
They roar'd, like lions caught in toils, and rag'd.
The man knew what they were, who heretofore
Had seen the like lie murther'd on the shore:
By the wild fury of some tempest cast,
The fate of ships, and shipwreck'd men, to taste.
As careless dames, whom wine and sleep betray
To frantic dreams, their infants overlay :
So there sometimes the raging ocean fails,
And her own brood exposes; when the whales,
Against sharp rocks, like reeling vessels, quash'd,
Though huge as mountains, are in pieces dash'd:
Along the shore their dreadful limbs lie scatter'd ;
Like hills with earthquakes shaken, torn, and shatter'd.
Hearts, sure, of brass they had, who tempted first Rude seas, that spare not what themselves have
The welcome news, through all the nation spread,
To sudden joy, and hope, converts their dread:
What lately was their public terrour, they
Behold with glad eyes as a certain prey:
Dispose already of th' untaken spoil;
And, as the purchase of their future toil,
These share the bones, and they divide the oil.
So was the huntsman by the bear opprest,
Whose hide he sold--before he caught the beast!
They man their boats, and all the young men
With whatsoever may the monsters harm; [arm
Pikes, halberts, spits, and darts that wound so far;
The tools of peace, and instruments of war.
Now was the time for vigorous lads to show
What love, or honour, could invite them to:
A goodly theatre! where rocks are round
With reverend age, and lovely lasses, crown'd.
Such was the lake which held this dreadful pair,
Within the bounds of noble Warwick's share :
Warwick's bold earl! than which no title bears
A greater sound among our British peers.
And worthy he the memory to renew,
The fate and honour, to that title due;
Whose brave adventures have transfer'd his name,
And through the new world spread his growing
fame.
[gain'd,
But how they fought, and what their valour
Shall in another canto be contain'd.
The bloody fight, successless toil, And how the fishes sack'd the isle. THE boat, which on the first assault did go, Strook with a harping-ir'n the younger foe: Who, when he felt his side so rudely goar'd, Lond, as the sea that nourish'd him, he roar'd, As a broad bream to please some curious taste, While yet alive, in boiling water cast, Vex'd with unwonted heat, he flings about The scorching brass, and hurls the liquor out: So, with the barbed javelin stung, he raves, And scourges with his tail the suffering waves. Like Spenser's Talus with his iron flail, He threatens ruin with his ponderous tail; Dissolving at one stroke the batter'd boat, And down the men fall drenched in the moat: With every fierce encounter they are forc'd To quit their boats, and fare like men unhors'd.
The bigger whale like some huge carack lay, Which wanteth sea-room with her foes to play: Slowly she swims, and when provok'd she would Advance her tail, her head salutes the mud: The shallow water doth her force infringe, And renders vain her tail's impetuous swinge: The shining steel her tender sides receive, And there, like bees, they all their weapons leave. This sees the cub, and does himself oppose Betwixt his cumber'd mother and her foes: With desperate courage he receives her wounds, And men and boats his active tail confounds. Their forces join'd, the seas with billows fill, And make a tempest, though the winds be still. Now would the men with half their hoped prey Be well content; and wish this cub away: Their wish they have; he (to direct his dam Unto the gap through which they thither came)
Before her swims, and quits the hostile lake;
A prisoner there, but for his mother's sake.
She, by the rocks compell'd to stay behind,
Is by the vastness of her bulk confin'd.
They shout for joy! and now on her alone
Their fury falls, and all their darts are thrown.
Their lances spent, one, bolder than the rest,
With his broad sword provok'd the sluggish beast;
Her oily side devours both blade and heft:
And there his steel the bold Bermudan left.
Courage the rest from his example take,
And now they change the colour of the lake:
Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side,
As if they would prevent the tardy tide,
And raise the flood to that propitious height,
As might convey her from this fatal streight :
She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw
To Heaven, that Heaven men's cruelties might know.
Their fixed javelins in her sides she wears,
And on her back a grove of pikes appears :
You would have thought, had you the monster seen
Thus drest, she had another island been.
Roaring she tears the air with such a noise,
As well resembled the conspiring voice
Of routed armies, when the field is won;
To reach the ears of her escaped son.
He, though a league removed from the foe,
Hastes to her aid: the pious Trojan 'so,
Neglecting for Creüsa's life his own,
Repeats the danger of the burning town.
The men amazed blush'd to see the seed
Of monsters, human piety exceed.
Well proves this kindness what the Grecian sung,
That Love's bright mother from the ocean sprung.
Their courage droops, and hopeless now they wish
For composition with th' unconquer'd fish:
So she their weapons would restore, again
Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main.
But how instructed in each other's mind?
Or what commerce can men with monsters find?
Nor daring to approach their wounded foe,
Whom her courageous son protected so ;
They charge their musquets, and with hot desire
Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire:
Standing aloof, with lead they bruise the scales,
And tear the flesh, of the incensed whales.
But no success their fierce endeavours found,
Nor this way could they give one fatal wound.
Now to their fort they are about to send,.
For the loud engines, which their isle defend:
But what those pieces, fram'd to batter walls,
Would have effected on those mighty whales,
Great Neptune will not have us know; who sends
A tide so high, that it relieves his friends.
And thus they parted with exchange of harms;
Much blood the monsters lost, and they their arms.
PEACE, babbling muse!
I dare not sing what you indite;
Her eyes refuse
To read the passion which they write:
She strikes my lute, but, if it sound,
Threatens to hurl it on the ground:
And I no less her anger dread,
Than the poor wretch that feigns him dead,
OF LOVE...TO PHYLLIS...TO MY LORD OF FALKLAND.
While some fierce lion does embrace
His breathless corpse, and lick his face: Wrapp'd up in silent fear he lies,
Torn all in pieces if he cries.
ANGER, in hasty words, or blows,
Itself discharges on our foes;
And sorrow too finds some relief
In tears, which wait upon our grief:
So every passion, but fond love,
Unto its own redress does move:
But that alone the wretch inclines
To what prevents his own designs;
Makes him lament, and sigh, and weep,
Disorder'd, tremble, fawn, and creep;
Postures which render him despis'd,
Where he endeavours to be priz'd:
For women, born to be control'd,
Stoop to the forward and the bold;
Affect the haughty and the proud,
The gay, the frolic, and the loud.
Who first the generous steed opprest;
Not kneeling did salute the beast;
But with high courage, life, and force,
Approaching, tam'd th' unruly horse.
Unwisely we the wiser East
Pity, supposing them opprest,
With tyrants' force, whose law is will,
By which they govern, spoil, and kill:
Each nymph, but moderately fair,
Commands with no less rigour here.
Should some brave Turk, that walks among
His twenty lasses, bright and young,
And beckons to the willing dame,
Preferr'd to quench his present flame,
Behold as many gallants here,
With modest guise, and silent fear,
All to one female idol bend,
While her high pride does scarce descend
To mark their follies, he would swear,
That these her guard of eunuchs were;
And that a more majestic queen,
Or humbler slaves, he had not seen.
All this with indignation spoke,
In vain I struggled with the yoke
Of mighty love: that conquering look,`
When next beheld, like lightning strook
My blasted soul, and made me bow
Lower than those I pity'd now.
So the tall stag, upon the brink
Of some smooth stream, about to drink,
Surveying there his armed head,
With shame remembers that he fled
The scorned dogs, resolves to try
The combat next: but, if their cry
Invades again his trembling ear,
He strait resumes his wonted care;
Leaves the untasted spring behind,
And, wing'd with fear, outflies the wind.
Beauty like a shadow flies, And our youth before us dies. Or, would youth and beauty stay, Love hath wings, and will away. Love hath swifter wings than Time: Change in love to Heaven does climb; Gods, that never change their state, Vary oft their love and hate. Phyllis! to this truth we owe All the love betwixt us two: Let not you and I inquire, What has been our past desire; On what shepherd you have smil'd, Or what nymphs I have beguil❜d: Leave it to the planets too, What we shall hereafter do: For the joys we now may prove, Take advice of present love.
TO MY LORD OF FALKLAND. BRAVE Holland leads, and with him Falkland goes. Who hears this told, and does not strait suppose We send the Graces and the Muses forth,
To civilize and to instruct the North?
Not that these ornaments make swords less sharp:
Apollo bears as well his bow as harp;
And though he be the patron of that spring,
Where in calm peace the sacred virgins sing,
He courage had to guard th' invaded throne
Of Jove, and cast the ambitious giants down.
Ah, noble friend! with what impatience all
That know thy worth, and know how prodigal
Of thy great soul thou art, (longing to twist
Bays with that ivy, which so early kiss'd
Thy youthful temples) with what horrour we
Think on the blind events of war and thee!
To Fate exposing that all-knowing breast
Among the throng, as cheaply as the rest;
Where oaks and brambles (if the copse be burn'd)
Confounded lie, to the same ashes turn'd.
Some happy wind over the ocean blow
This tempest yet, which frights our island so!
Guarded with ships, and all the sea our own,
From Heaven this mischief on our heads is thrown.
In a late dream, the Genius of this land,
Amaz'd, I saw, like the fair Hebrew 2 stand;
When first she felt the twins begin to jar,
And found her womb the seat of civil war.
Inclin'd to whose relief, and with presage
Of better fortune for the present age,
Heaven sends, quoth I, this discord for our good;
To warm, perhaps, but not to waste our blood:
To raise our drooping spirits, grown the scorn
Of our proud neighbours; who ere long shall mourn
(Though now they joy in our expected harms)
We had occasion to resume our arms.
A lion, so with self-provoking smart,
(His rebel tail scourging his nobler part)
Calls up his courage; then begins to roar,
And charge bis foes, who thought him mad before.
PHYLLIS! why should we delay Pleasures shorter than the day? Could we (which we never can!) Stretch our lives beyond their span, VOL. VIII.
FOR DRINKING OF HEALTHS. LET brutes and vegetals, that cannot think, So far as drought and nature urges, drink:
A more indulgent mistress guides our sp'rits,
Reason, that dares beyond our appetites:
She would our care, as well as thirst, redress,
And with divinity rewards excess.
Deserted Ariadne, thus supply'd,
Did perjur'd Theseus' cruelty deride:
Bacchus embrac'd, from her exalted thought
Banish'd the man, her passion, and his fault.
Bacchus and Phoebus are by Jove ally'd,
And each by other's timely heat supply'd:
All that the grapes owe to his ripening fires,
Is paid in numbers which their juice inspires.
Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood
To give our friends a title to our blood:
Who, naming me, doth warm his courage so,
Shows for my sake what his bold hand would do.
CHLORIS farewell! I now must go:
For if with thee I longer stay,
Thy eyes prevail upon me so,
I shall prove blind, and lose my way.
Fame of thy beauty, and thy youth,
Among the rest, me hither brought: Finding this fame fall short of truth, Made me stay longer than I thought.
For I'm engag'd, by word and oath,
A servant to another's will:
Yet, for thy love, I'd forfeit both,
Could I be sure to keep it still.
But what assurance can I take?
When thou, foreknowing this abuse,
For some more worthy lover's sake,
May'st leave me with so just excuse. For thou may'st say, 'twas not thy fault, That thou didst thus inconstant prove; Being by my example taught,
To break thy oath, to mend thy love.
No, Chloris, no: I will return,
And raise thy story to that height,
That strangers shall at distance burn,
And she distrust me reprobate.
Then shall my love this doubt displace,
And gain such trust, that I may come
And banquet sometimes on thy face,
But make my constant meals at home.
SUCH moving sounds, from such a careless touch!
So unconcern'd herself, and we so much;
What art is this, that, with so little pains,
Transports us thus, and o'er our spirits reigns?
The trembling strings about her fingers crowd,
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud:
Small force there needs to make them tremble so;
Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too?
Here Love takes stand, and, while she charms the
Empties his quiver on the listening deer:
Music so softens and disarms the mind,
That not an arrow does resistance find.
Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes:
So Nero once, with harp in hand, survey'd
His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd.
SINGING A SONG OF HIS COMPOSING.
CHLORIS, yourself you so excel,
When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought, That, like a spirit, with this spell
Of my own teaching, I am caught.
That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espy'd a feather of his own,
Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
Had Echo with so sweet a grace
Narcissus' loud complaints return'd,
Not for reflection of his face,
But of his voice, the boy had burn'd.
OF MRS. ARDEN.
BEHOLD, and listen, while the fair
Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air,
And, with her own breath, fans the fire
Which her bright eyes do first inspire.
What reason can that love control,
Which more than one way courts the soul?
So, when a flash of lightning falls
On our abodes, the danger calls
For human aid, which hopes the flame
To conquer, though from Heaven it came:
But, if the winds with that conspire,
Men strive not, but deplore the fire.
MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS.
DESIGN OF Chance make others wive,
But Nature did this match contrive:
Eve might as well have Adam fled,
As she deny'd her little bed
To him, for whom Heav'n seem'd to frame,
And measure out this only dame.
Thrice happy is that humble pair,
Beneath the level of all care!
Over whose heads those arrows fly
Of sad distrust and jealousy :
Secured in as high extreme,
As if the world held none but them.
To him the fairest nymphs do show
Like moving mountains topp'd with snow;
And every man a Polypheme
Does to his Galatea seem:
None may presume her faith to prove;
He proffers death, that proffers love.
Ah! Chloris! that kind Nature thus
From all the world had sever'd us:
Creating for ourselves us two,
As Love has me for only you!
LOVE'S FAREWELL...FROM A CHILD...ON A GIRDLE.
LOVE'S FAREWELL.
TREADING the path to nobler ends,
A long farewell to love I gave:
Resolv'd my country, and my friends,
All that remain'd of me should have.
And this resolve, no mortal dame,
None but those eyes, could have o'erthrown: The nymph I dare not, need not, name,
So high, so like herself alone.
Thus the tall oak, which now aspires
Above the fear of private fires,
Grown and design'd for nobler use,
Not to make warm, but build the house,
Though from our meaner flames secure,
Must that which falls from Heaven endure.
MADAM, as, in some climes, the warmer sun
Makes it full summer ere the spring's begun,
And with ripe fruit the bending boughs can load,
Before our violets dare look abroad:
So, measure not, by any common use,
The early love your brighter eyes produce.
When lately your fair hand in woman's weed
Wrap'd my glad head, I wish'd me so indeed,
That hasty time might never make me grow
Out of those favours you afford me now;
That I might ever such indulgence find,
And you not blush, or think yourself too kind,
Who now, I fear, while I these joys express,
Begin to think how you may make them less:
The sound of love makes your soft heart afraid,
And guard itself, though but a child invade,
And innocently at your white breast throw
A dart as white, a ball of new-fall'n snow.
THAT, which her slender waist confin'd,
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.
TO THE MUTABLE FAIR. HERE, Cælia! for thy sake I part With all that grew so near my heart; The passion that I had for thee, The faith, the love, the constancy! And, that I may successful provė, Transform myself to what you love. Fool that I was! so much to prize Those simple virtues you despise : Fool! that with such dull arrows strove, Or hop'd to reach a flying dove.
For you, that are in motion still,
Decline our force, and mock our skill;
Who, like Don Quixote, do advance
Against a windmill our vain lance.
Now will I wander through the air,
Mount, make a stoop at every fair;
And, with a fancy unconfin'd,
(As lawless as the sea or wind)
Pursue you wheresoe'er you fly,
And with your various thoughts comply.
The formal stars do travel so,
As we their names and courses know;
And he that on their changes looks,
Would think them govern'd by our books:
But never were the clouds reduc'd
To any art: the motions us'd
By those free vapours are so light,
So frequent, that the conquer'd sight
Despairs to find the rules, that guide
Those gilded shadows as they slide,
And therefore of the spacious air
Jove's royal consort had the care,
And by that power did once escape,
Declining bold Ixion's rape;
She with her own resemblance grac'd
A shining cloud, which he embrac'd.
Such was that image, so it smil'd
With seeming kindness, which beguil'd
Your Thyrsis lately, when he thought
He had his fleeting Cælia caught.
'Twas shap'd like her; but for the fair,
He fill'd his arms with yielding air.
A fate for which he grieves the less,
Because the gods had like success.
For in their story, one, we see,
Pursues a nymph, and takes a tree:
A second, with a lover's haste,
Soon overtakes whom he had chas'd;
But she, that did a virgin seem,
Possest, appears a wandering stream:
For his supposed love, a third
Lays greedy hold upon a bird;
And stands amaz'd to find his dear
A wild inhabitant of th' air.
To these old tales, such nymphs as you
Give credit, and still make them new;
The amorous now like wonders find,
In the swift changes of your mind.
But, Cælia, if you apprehend
The Muse of your incensed friend,
Nor would that he record your blame,
And make it live, repeat the same;
Again deceive him, and again,
And then he swears he'll not complain:
For still to be deluded so,
Is all the pleasure lovers know;
Who, like good falconers, take delight,
Not in the quarry, but the flight.
'Tis not your beauty can engage
My wary heart:
The Sun, in all his pride and rage,
Has not that art;
And yet he shines as bright as you,
If brightness could our souls subdue.
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