Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and Sir John Denham Part 11

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 appet.i.tes; (She would our care, as well as thirst, redress), And with divinity rewards excess.

Deserted Ariadne, thus supplied, Did perjured Theseus' cruelty deride; Bacchus embraced, from her exalted thought Banish'd the man, her pa.s.sion, and his fault. 10 Bacchus and Phoebus are by Jove allied, And each by other's timely heat supplied; All that the grapes owe to his rip'ning fires Is paid in numbers which their juice inspires.

Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood To give our friends a t.i.tle to our blood; Who, naming me, doth warm his courage so, Shows for my sake what his bold hand would do.

OF MY LADY ISABELLA, PLAYING ON THE LUTE.

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 ear, Empties his quiver on the list'ning deer. 10 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.

OF MRS ARDEN.[1]

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 9 To conquer, though from heaven it came; But if the winds with that conspire, Men strive not, but deplore the fire.

[1] 'Mrs. Arden': some suggest that this lady was probably either a maid of honour, or a gentlewoman of the bed-chamber to King Charles the First's Queen.

OF THE MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS.[1]

Design, or chance, makes others wive; But Nature did this match contrive; Eve might as well have Adam fled, As she denied her little bed To him, for whom Heaven seemed 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; 10 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 severed us; 20 Creating for ourselves us two, As love has me for only you!

[1] 'Dwarfs': Gibson and Shepherd, each three feet ten inches in height.

They were pages at Court, and Charles I. gave away the female infinitesimal.

LOVE'S FAREWELL.

1 Treading the path to n.o.bler ends, A long farewell to love I gave, Resolved my country, and my friends, All that remain'd of me should have.

2 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.

3 Thus the tall oak, which now aspires Above the fear of private fires, Grown and design'd for n.o.bler use, Not to make warm, but build the house, Though from our meaner flames secure, Must that which falls from heaven endure.

FROM A CHILD.

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 Wrapp'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; 10 That I might ever such indulgence find, And you not blush, nor 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 fallen snow.

ON A 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 compa.s.s! 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.

THE FALL.

See! how the willing earth gave way, To take th'impression where she lay.

See! how the mould, as both to leave So sweet a burden, still doth cleave Close to the nymph's stain'd garment. Here The coming spring would first appear, And all this place with roses strow, If busy feet would let them grow.

Here Venus smiled to see blind chance Itself before her son advance, 10 And a fair image to present, Of what the boy so long had meant.

'Twas such a chance as this, made all The world into this order fall; Thus the first lovers, on the clay, Of which they were composed, lay; So in their prime, with equal grace, Met the first patterns of our race.

Then blush not, fair! or on him frown, Or wonder how you both came down; 20 But touch him, and he'll tremble straight, How could he then support your weight?

How could the youth, alas! but bend, When his whole heaven upon him lean'd?