How know you that the orbs doe move;
With musicke too? since heard of none?
And I will answer why I love.
'Tis not thy vertues, each a starre
Which in thy soules bright spheare doe shine,
Shooting their beauties from a farre,
To make each gazers heart like thine;
Our vertues often meteors are.
'Tis not thy face, I cannot spie,
When poets weepe some virgin's death,
That Cupid wantons in her eye,
Or perfumes vapour from her breath,
And 'mongst the dead thou once must lie.
Nor is't thy birth. For I was ne're
So vaine as in that to delight:
Which, ballance it, no weight doth beare,
Nor yet is object to the sight,
But onely fils the vulgar eare.
Nor yet thy fortunes: since I know
They, in their motion like the sea,
Ebbe from the good, to the impious flow:
And so in flattery betray,
That raising they but overthrow.
And yet these attributes might prove
Fuell enough t'enflame desire;
But there was something from above,
Shot without reason's guide, this fire.
I know, yet know not, why I love.
The dayes, hast nimbly; and while as they flie,
Each of them with their predecessors vie,
Which yeelde most pleasure; you to them dispence,
What Time lost with his cradle, innocence..
So I (if fancie not delude my sight,)
See often the pale monarch of the night,
Diana, 'mong her nimphs. For every quire
Of vulgar starres who lend their weaker fire
To conquer the night's chilnesse, with their queene,
In harmelesse revels tread the happy greene.
But I who am proscrib'd by tyrant Love,
Seeke out a silent exile in some grove,
Where nought except a solitary spring,
Was ever heard, to which the Nimphs did sing
Narcissus' obsequies: For onely there
Is musique apt to catch an am❜rous eare:
Castara! oh my heart! how great a flame
Did even shoot into me with her name?
Castara hath betray'd me to a zeale
Which thus distracts my hopes. Flints may conceale
In their cold veynes a fire. But I whose heart
By love's dissolv'd, ne're practis'd that cold art.
But truce thou warring passion, for I'le now
Maddam to you addresse this solemne vow.
By vertue and your selfe (best friends) I finde
In the interiour province of your minde
Such government: that if great men obey
Th' example of your order, they will sway
Without reproofe; for onely you unite
Honour with sweetenesse, vertue with delight.
LOOKING UPON HIM.
TRANSFIX me with that flaming dart,
I'th' eye, or brest or any part,
So thou, Castara, spare my heart.
The cold Cymerian by that bright
Warme wound i'th' darknesse of his night,
Might both recover heat, and light.
The rugged Scythian gently move,
I'th' whispering shadow of some grove,
That's consecrate to sportive love.
December see the primrose grow,
The rivers in soft murmurs flow,
And from his head shake off his snow.
And crooked age might feele againe
Those heates, of which youth did complaine,
While fresh blood swels each withered veyne.
For the bright lustre of thy eyes,
Which but to warme them would suffice,
May burne me to a sacrifice.
THE COUNTESSE OF AR2.
WING'D with delight, (yet such as still doth beare Chast vertue's stamp) those children of the yeere,
2 Margaret daughter of William Douglas, earl of Morton, wife of Archibald, eighth earl of Argyle.
LEARNED shade of Tycho Brache, who to us,
The stars propheticke language didst impart,
And even in life their mysteries discusse:
Castara hath o'rethrowne thy strongest art.
When custome struggles from her beaten path,
Then accidents must needs uncertaine be,
For if Castara smile; though winter hath
Lock't up the rivers: summer's warme in me.
And Flora by the miracle reviv'd,
Doth even at her owne beauty wondring stand, But should she frowne, the northerne wind arriv'd, In midst of summer, leads his frozen band:
Which doth to yce my youthfull blood congeale, Yet in the midst of yce, still flames my zeale.
IN CASTARA,
ALL FORTUNES.
YE glorious wits, who finde than Parian stone,
A nobler quarry to build trophies on,
Purchast 'gainst conquer'd time, go court loud
He wins it, who but sings Castara's name? [fame,
Aspiring soules, who grow but in a spring,
Fore't by the warmth of some indulgent king:
Know if Castara smile: I dwell in it,
And vie for glory with the favourit.
Ye sonnes of avarice, who but to share
Vncertaine treasure with a certaine care,
Tempt death in th' horrid ocean: I, when ere
I but approach her, find the Indies there,
Heaven brightest saint kinde to my vowes made
Of all ambition courts, th' epitome.
A DIALOGUE BETWEENE HOPE AND PEARE,
VPON THOUGHT CASTARA MAY DYE.
If she should dye, (as well suspect we may,
A body so compact should ne're decay)
Her brighter soule would in the Moone inspire
More chastity, in dimmer starres more fire.
You twins of Læda (as your parents are
In their wild lusts) may grow irregular
Now in your motion: for the marriner
Henceforth shall onely steere his course by her.
And when the zeale of after time shall spie
Her uncorrupt i'th' happy marble lie;
The roses in her cheekes unwithered,
"Twill turne to love, and dote upon the dead.
For he who did to her in life dispence
A Heaven, will banish all corruption thence.
TIME TO THE MOMENTS, ON SIGHT OF
CASTARA.
You younger children of your father stay,
Swift flying moments (which divide the day
And with your number measure out the yeare
In various seasons) stay and wonder here.
For since my cradle, 1 so bright a grace
Ne're saw, as you see in Castara's face;
Whom Nature to revenge some youthfull crime
Would never frame, till age had weakened Time.
Else spight of fate, in some faire forme of clay
My youth I'de' bodied, throwne my sythe away,
And broke my glasse. But since that cannot be,
I'le punish Nature for her injurie.
On nimble moments in your journey flie,
Castara shall like me, grow old, and die.
TO A FRIEND INQUIRING HER NAME, WHOM HE
FOND Love himselfe hopes to disguise
From view, if he but covered lies,
I'th' veile of my transparent eyes.
Though in a smile himselfe he hide,
Or in a sigh, though art so tride
In all his arts, hee'le be descride.
I must confesse (deare friend) my flame,
Whose boasts Castara so doth tame,
That not thy faith, shall know her name.
'Twere prophanation of my zeale,
If but abroad one whisper steale,
They love betray who him reveale.
In a darke cave which never eye
Could by his subtlest ray descry,
It doth like a rich minerall lye.
Which if she with her flame refine,
I'de force it from that obscure mine,
And then it like pure gold should shine.
VPON A DIMPLE IN CASTARA'S CHEEKE.
NIMBLE boy in thy warme flight,
What cold tyrant dimm'd thy sight?
Hadst thou eyes to see my faire,
Thou wouldst sigh thy selfe to ayre:
Fearing to create this one,
Nature had her selfe undone.
But if you when this you heare
Fall downe murdered through your eare,
Begge of love that you may have
In her cheeke a dimpled grave.
Lilly, rose, and violet,
Shall the perfum'd hearse beset
While a beauteous sheet of lawne,
O're the wanton corps is drawne:
And all lovers use this breath;
"Here lies Cupid blest in death."
O're which two bright tapers burne,
To give light to the beauteous vrne.
At the first Castara sinil'd,
Thinking Cupid her beguil'd,
Onely counterfeiting death.
But when she perceiv'd his breath
Quite expir'd: the mournefull girle,
To entombe the boy in pearle,
Wept so long; till pittious Iove,
From the ashes of this Love,
Made ten thousand Cupids rise,
But confin'd them to her eyes:
Where they yet, to show they lacke
No due sorrow, still weare blacke.
But the blacks so glorious are
Which they mourne in, that the faire
Quires of starres, look pale and fret,
Seeing themselves out shin'd by jet.
FLY on thy swiftest wing, ambitious Fame,
And speake to the cold North Castara's name:
Which very breath will, like the East wind, bring,
The temp❜rate warmth, and musicke of the spring.
Then from the articke to th' antarticke pole,
Haste nimbly and inspire a gentler soule,
By naming her, i'th' torrid South; that he
May milde as Zephyrus' coole whispers be.
Nor let the West where Heaven already joynes
The vastest empire, and the wealthiest mines,
Nor th' East in pleasures wanton, her condemne,
For not distributing her gifts on them.
For she with want would have her bounty meet,
Love's noble charity is so discreete.
BETWEENE ARAPHILL AND CASTARA.
DOST not thou Castara read
Am'rous volumes in my eyes?
Doth not every motion plead
What I'de shew, and yet disguise?
Sences act each other's part,
Eyes, as tongues, revcale the heart.
I saw love as lightning breake
From thy eyes, and was content
Oft to heare thy silence speake.
Silent love is eloquent.
So the sence of learning heares
The dumbe musicke of the spheares.
ARAPHILL.
Then there's mercy in your kinde,
Listning to an unfain'd love.
Or strives he to tame the wind,
Who would your compassion move?
No y'are pittious as y're faire.
Heaven relents, o'ercome by prayer.
But loose man too prodigall
Is in the expence of vowes;
And thinks to him kingdomes fall
When the heart of woman bowes;
Frailty to your armes may yeeld; Who resists you wins the field.
Triumph not to see me bleede,
Let the bore chafed from his den,
On the wounds of mankinde feede,
Your softe sexe should pitty men.
Malice well may practise art,
Love hath a transparent heart.
Yet is love all one deceit,
A warme frost, a frozen fire.
She within her selfe is great,
Who is slave to no desire.
Let youth act, and age advise,
And then Love may finde his eyes.
Hymen's torch yeelds a dim light,
When ambition joynes our hands,
A proud day, but mournefull night,
She sustaines, who marries lands.
Wealth slaves man; but for their ore,
Th' Indians had beene free, though poore.
And yet wealth the fuell is
Which maintaines the nuptiall fire,
And in honour there's a blisse,
Th' are immortall who aspire.
But truth sayes no joyes are sweete,
But where hearts united meete.
Roses breath not such a sent,
To perfume the neighb'ring groves;
As when you affirme content,
In no spheare of glory moves.
Glory narrow soules combines:
Noble hearts Love onely joynes.
INTENDING A JOURNEY INTO THE COUNTREY.
WHY haste you hence Castara? can the Earth,
A glorious mother, in her flowry birth,
Show lillies like thy brow? Can she disclose
In emulation of thy cheeke, a rose,
Sweete as thy blush; upon thy selfe then set
Just value, and scorne it thy counterfet.
The spring's still with thee; but perhaps the field.
Not warm'd with thy approach, wants force to yeeld
Her tribute to the plough; O rather let
Th' ingratefull Earth for ever be in debt
To th' hope of sweating Industry, than we [thee.
Should starve with cold, who have no heat but
Nor feare the publike good. Thy eyes can give
A life to all, who can deserve to live.
VPON CASTARA'S DEPARTURE.
I AM engag'd to sorrow, and my heart
Feeles a distracted rage. Though you depart
And leave me to my feares; let love in spite
Of absence, our divided soules unite.
But you must goe. The melancholy doves
Draw Venus' chariot hence: the sportive Loves
Which wont to wanton here hence with you flye,
And like false friends forsake me when I dye.
For but a walking tombe, what can he be;
Whose best of life is forc't to part with thee?
Else Heaven by miracle makes me survive
My selfe, to keepe in me poore love alive.
But I am dead, yet let none question where
My best part rests, and with a sigh or teare,
Prophane the pompe, when they my corps interre,
My soule imparadis'd, for 'tis with her.
VPON A TREMBLING KISSE AT LEPARTURE.
TH' Arabian wind, whose breathing gently blows
Purple to th' violet, blushes to the rose,
Did never yeeld an odour rich as this,
Why are you theu so thrifty of a kisse,
Authoriz'd even by custome? Why doth feare
So tremble on your lip, my lip being neare?
Thinke you I parting with so sad a zeale,
Will act so blacke a mischiefe, as to steale
Thy roses thence? And they, by this device,
Transplanted: somewhere else force Paradice?
Or else you feare, lest you, should my heart skip
Vp to my mouth, t'incounter with your lip,
Might rob me of it: and be judg'd in this,
T have Iudas like betraid me with a kisse.
COMPLAINING HER ABSENCE IN THE COUNTRY.
THE lesser people of the ayre conspire
To keepe thee from me. Philomel with higher
And sweeter notes, wooes thee to weepe her rape,
Which would appease the gods, and change her
shape.
The early larke, preferring 'fore soft rest
Obsequious duty, leaves his downy nest,
And doth to thee harmonious tribute pay;
Expecting from thy eyes the breake of day.
From which the owle is frighted, and doth rove
(As never having felt the warmth of love)
In uncouth vaults, and the chill shades of night,
Not biding the bright lustre of thy sight.
With him my fate agrees. Not viewing thee
I'me lost in mists, at best, but meteors sec.
LOOKING BACKE AT HER DEPARTING.
LOOKE backe Castara. From thy eye
Let yet more flaming arrowes flye:
To live is thus to burne and dye.
For what might glorious hope desire,
But that thy selfe, as 1 expire,
Should bring both death and funerall fire?
Distracted love, shall grieve to see
Such zeale in death: for feare lest he
Himselfe, should be consum'd in me.
And gathering up my ashes, weepe,
That in his teares he then may steepe:
And thus embalm'd, as reliques, keepe.
Thither let lovers pilgrims turne,
And the loose flames in which they burne,
Give up as offerings to my vrne.
That them the vertue of my shrine
By miracle so long refiue;
Till they prove innocent as mine.
VPON CASTARA'S ABSENCE.
T' is madnesse to give physicke to the dead;
Then leave me friends: Yet haply you'd here read
A lecture; but I'le not dissected be,
T' instruct your art by my anatomie.
But still you trust your sense, sweare you descry
No difference in me. All's deceit o'th' eye,
Some spirit hath a body fram'd in th' ayre,
Like mine, which he doth to delude you weare:
SWIFT in thy watry chariot, courteous Thames, Hast by the happy errour of thy streames, To kisse the banks of Marlow, which doth show Faire Seymors', and beyond that never flow. Then summon all thy swans, that who did give Musicke to death, may henceforth sing, and live, For my Castara. She can life restore, Or quicken them who had no life before. How should the poplar else the pine provoke, The stately cedar challenge the rude oke To dance at sight of her? They have no sense From Nature given, but by her influence,
If Orpheus did those senslesse creatures move, He was a prophet and fore sang my love.
THE EARLE OF SHREWES.
My Muse (great lord) when last you heard her sing Did to your vncles vrne, her off'rings bring: And if to fame I may give faith, your eares Delighted in the musicke of her teares. That was her debt to vertue. And when e're She her bright head among the clouds shall reare, And adde to th' wondring Heavens a new flame, Shee'le celebrate the genius of your name. Wilde with another race, inspir'd by love, And while she gives the Cyprian stormes a law, She charmes the myrtles of the Idalian grove. Those wanton doves which Cythereia draw Through th' am'rous ayre: admire what power The ocean, and arrest them in their way. [doth sway
By a subsequent poem, this appears to have been the house where Castara lived.
She sings Castara then. O she more bright,
Than is the starry senate of the night;
Who in their motion did like straglers erre,
Cause they deriv'd no influence from her,
Should she to the cold northerne climates goe,
Force thy affrighted lillies there to grow,
Thy roses in those gelid fields t'appeare,
She absent, I have all their winter here.
Who's constant as she's chaste. The Sunne hath Or if to th' torrid zone her way she bend,
Clad like a neighb'ring shepheard often seene
To hunt those dales, in hope than Daphne's, there
[show
To see a brighter face. Th' astrologer
In th' interim dyed, whose proud art could not
Whence that ecclipse did on the sudden grow.
A wanton satyre eager in the chase
Of some faire nimph, beheld Castara's face,
And left his loose pursuite; who while he ey'd,
Vnchastely, such a beauty, glorified
With such a vertue, by Heaven's great commands,
Turn'd marble, and there yet a statue stands.
As poet thus. But as a Christian now,
And by my zeale to you (my lord) I vow,
She doth a flame so pure and sacred move;
In me impiety 'twere not to love.
WISHING A SPEEDY PASSAGE TO CASTARA. THANKES Cupid, but the coach of Venus moves For me too slow, drawne but by lazie doves. I, lest my journey a delay should finde, Will leape into the chariot of the wind. Swift as the flight of lightning through the ayre, Hee'le hurry me till I approach the faire, But unkinde Seymors. Thus he will proclaime, What tribute winds owe to Castara's name. Viewing this prodigie, astonisht they, Who first accesse deny'd me, will obey,
With feare what love commands: yet censure me
As guilty of the blackest sorcery.
But after to my wishes milder prove:
When they know this the miracle of love.
How fancic mockes me? By th' effect I prove,
'Twas am'rous folly, wings ascrib'd to Love,
And ore th' obedient elements command.
Hee's lame as he is blinde, for here I stand
Fixt as the Earth. Throw then this idoll downe
Yee lovers who first made it; which can frowne
Or smile but as you please. But I'me untame
In rage. Castara call thou on his name,
And though hee'le not beare up my vowes to thee,
Hee'le triumph to bring downe my saint to me.
Her the coole breathing of Favonius lend.
Thither command the birds to bring their quires,
That zone is temp'rate, I have all his fires.
Attend her, courteous Spring, though we should
[here
Lose by it all the treasures of the yeere.
WITH your calme precepts goe, and lay a storme
In some brest flegmaticke which would conforme
Her life to your cold lawes: in vaine y' engage
Your selfe on me, I will obey my rage.
Shee's gone, and I am lost. Some unknowne grove
I'le finde, where by the miracle of Love
I'le turne t'a fountaine, and divide the yeere,
By numbring every moment with a teare.
Where if Castara (to avoyd the beames [streames.
O'th' neigh'bring Sun) shall wandring meete my
And tasting hope her thirst alaid shall be,
Shee'le feele a sudden flame, and burne like me:
"Tell me thou cleere,
And thus distracted cry.
But treach'rous fount, what lover's coffin'd here?"
ANSWERE TO CASTARA'S QUESTION.
'Tis I, Castara, who when thou wert gone,
Did freeze into this melancholly stone,
To weepe the minutes of thy absence. Where
Can greefe have freer scope to mourne than here?
The larke here practiseth a sweeter straine,
Aurora's early blush to entertaine,
And having too deepe tasted of these streames,
He loves, and amorously courts her beames.
The courteous turtle with a wandring zeale,
Saw how to stone I did my selfe congeale, [move,
And murm'ring askt what power this change did
The language of my waters whispered, Love.
And thus transform'd l'le stand, till I shall see
That heart so ston'd and frozen, thaw'd in thee.
VPON THE DISGUISING HIS AFFECTION.
PRONOUNCE me guilty of a blacker crime,
Then c're in the large volume writ by Time,
The sad historian reades, if not my art
Dissembles love, to veile an am'rous heart,
For when the zealous anger of my friend
Checkes my unusuall sadnesse: I pretend
To study vertue, which indeede I doe,
He must court vertue who aspires to you.
Or that some friend is dead, and then a teare,
A sigh or groane steales from me: for I feare
Lest death with love hath strooke my heart, and all
These sorrowes usher but its funerall. [mourner be,
Which should revive, should there you a
And force a nuptiall in an obsequie.
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