Chapter 3 This pointed if cynical conclusion was changed in 1657 to the much feebler

Guard thy unrelenting mind;

None are cruel but the kind.

Expostulation with Love in Despair.

Love, with what strange tyrannic laws must they

Comply, which are subjected to thy sway!

How far all justice thy commands decline,

Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoin!

Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain

A double torture of despair and pain?

Is 't not enough vainly to hope and woo,

That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?

It were some joy, Ixion-like, to fold

10The empty air, or feed on hopes as cold;

But if thou to my passion this deny,

Thou mayst be starv'd to death as well as I;

For how can thy pale sickly flame burn clear

When death and cold despair inhabit near?

Rule in my breast alone, or thence retire;

Dissolve this frost, or let that quench thy fire.

Or let me not desire, or else possess!

Neither, or both, are equal happiness.

Expostulation, &c.] The texts of 1647 and 1656 differ considerably here, and Miss Guiney has attempted a 'composite text'-a thing for which I have small fancy. That given above is from 1647: 1656 runs as follows in the first quatrain:

Love, what tyrannic laws must they obey

Who bow beneath thy uncontrolled sway;

Or how unjust will that harsh empire prove

Forbids to hope, and yet commands to love.

and reads in l. 9 'hope' for 'joy'; l. 10 'thought that's cold'; l. 14 'old' and 'here' for 'cold' and 'near'; l. 15 (entirely different)

Then let thy dim heat warm, or else expire.

l. 16 'the' for 'thy'; and in the closing distich 'Thus let me not' and 'Either or both'. The interest of this piece is almost wholly centred on the penultimate line, which, being an evident and intended contradiction to

Amare liceat si potiri non licet,

gives us at once the connexion, in Stanley's mind, with that strange, Mrs. Grundy-shocking, but 'insolent and passionate' piece which is attributed, credibly enough, to Apuleius, but rather less credibly as a latinizing of Menander's ?νεχ?μενο?. The contrast of the sensuous fire of this with Stanley's rather vapid and languid metaphysicalities is a notable one.

Song.

Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care

To seek t' ensnare

A heart so poor as mine:

Some fools there be

Hate liberty,

Whom with more ease thou mayst confine.

Alas! when with much charge thou hast

Brought it at last

Beneath thy power to bow,

10It will adore

Some twenty more,

And that, perhaps, you'll not allow.

No, Chloris, I no more will prove

The curse of love,

And now can boast a heart

Hath learn'd of thee

Inconstancy,

And cozen'd women of their art.

Song.] 2, 3. The quality and value of 1656 are again well illustrated by its readings of 'inspire' for 'ensnare' and 'pure' for 'poor'.

Expectation.

Chide, chide no more away

The fleeting daughters of the day,

Nor with impatient thoughts outrun

The lazy sun,

Or think the hours do move too slow;

Delay is kind,

And we too soon shall find

That which we seek, yet fear to know.

The mystic dark decrees

10Unfold not of the Destinies,

Nor boldly seek to antedate

The laws of Fate;

Thy anxious search awhile forbear,

Suppress thy haste,

And know that Time at last

Will crown thy hope or fix thy fear.

Expectation.] There is a suggestion here of John Hall's beautiful Call ('Romira, stay'), and the two pieces appeared so close together that it is difficult to say which may have been the first. Perhaps the resemblance was what made Stanley omit it in 1651. In l. 5 1656 reads 'Nor'.

1651 POEMS

THE DEDICATION

To Love.

Thou, whose sole name all passions doth comprise,

Youngest and oldest of the Deities;

Born without parents, whose unbounded reign

Moves the firm earth, fixeth the floating main,

Inverts the course of heaven; and from the deep

Awakes those souls that in dark Lethe sleep,

By thy mysterious chains seeking t' unite,

Once more, the long-since torn Hermaphrodite.

He, who thy willing pris'ner long was vow'd,

10And uncompell'd beneath thy sceptre bow'd,

Returns at last in thy soft fetters bound,

With victory, though not with freedom crown'd:

And, of his dangers pass'd a grateful sign,

Suspends this tablet at thy numerous shrine.

The Dedication. In 1647 printed at p. 49 with the title 'Conclusion, to Love', and obviously intended to end that collection, but a number of unpaged leaves were subsequently added containing the complimentary verses addressed to Fletcher and others. The following variants occur: 11 'by thy kind power unbound'. 12 'At least with freedom, though not conquest crown'd'. 14 'Suspends these papers'. Stanley also appended a list of Greek quotations justifying the cento. There is an intrinsic interest attaching to them in that they may have suggested a similar process to Gray. A further comparison-contrast may also interest some as to the lines themselves-that of the famous and magnificent opening of Mr. Swinburne's Tristram of Lyonesse.

The notes annotate the following phrases:-1 '(a) all passions', 2 '(b) Youngest and (c) oldest', 3 '(d) Born', 4 '(e) Moves', 7 '(f) By thy mysterious ...' The Greek has been slightly corrected in spelling and accents.

(a) Alexis apud Athenaeum:

συνενηνεγμ?νο?

Πανταχ?θεν ?ν ?ν? τ?π? π?λλ' ε?δη φ?ρων,

? τ?λμα μ?ν γ?ρ ?νδρ??, ? δ? δειλ?α

Γυναικ??, &c.

Sophocles:

Κ?πρι? ο? Κ?πρι? μ?νον,

?λλ' ?στι π?ντων ?νομ?των ?π?νυμο?.

(b) Plato, Sympos.: Φημ? νε?τατον α?τ?ν ε?ναι θε?ν, κα? ?ε? ν?ον.

(c. d) Plato: Τ? γ?ρ ?ν το?? πρεσβυτ?τοι? ε?ναι τ?ν θε?ν τ?μιον. Τεκμ?ριον δ? το?του?

γονε?? γ?ρ ?ρωτο? ο?τ' ε?σ?ν, ο?τε λ?γονται ?π' ο?δεν?? ο?τε ?δι?του ο?τε ποιητο?.

(e) Oppian. Cyneg. 2:

Γα?α π?λει σταθερ?, βελ?εσσι δ? σο?σι δονε?ται?

?στατο? ?πλετο π?ντο?, ?τ?ρ σ? γε κα? τ?ν ?πηξα??

?λυθε? ε?? α?θ?ρ', ο?δεν δ? σε μακρ?? ?λυμπο?.

Δειμα?νει δ? σε π?ντα, κα? ο?ραν?? ε?ρ?? ?περθε

Γα?η? ?σσα τ' ?νερθε κα? ?θνεα λυγρ? καμ?ντων

Ο? λ?θη? μ?ν ?φυσσαν ?π? στ?μα νηπαθ?? ?δωρ.

(f) Plato: Πρ?τον μ?ν γ?ρ τρ?α ?ν τ? γ?νη τ? τ?ν ?νθρ?πων (sc. ?ρρεν, θ?λυ, κα? ?νδρ?γυνον). Mox addit, ?στι δ? ο?ν ?κ τ?σου ? ?ρω? ?μφυτο? ?λλ?λων το?? ?νθρ?ποι? κα? τ?? ?ρχα?α? φ?σεω? συναγωγε?? κα? ?πιχειρ?ν ποι?σαι ?ν ?κ δυο?ν, ?κα?? ??σασθαι τ?ν φ?σιν τ?ν ?νθρωπ?νην. Phil. Jud. περ? τ?? κοσμοποι?α?. ?πε? δ? ?πλ?σθη ? γυν? θεασ?μενο? ?δελφ?ν ε?δο? κα? συγγεν? μορφ?ν ?σμ?νισε τ? θ?? ?ρω? δ? ?πιγιν?μενο? καθ?περ ?ν?? ζ?ον διττ? τμ?ματα διεστηκ?τα συναγωγ?ν ε?? τα?τ?ν ?ρμ?ττεται.

POEMS

The Glow-worm.

Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark

This animated gem, whose fainter spark

Of fading light its birth had from the dark.

A Star thought by the erring passenger,

Which falling from its native orb dropt here,

And makes the earth (its centre) now its sphere.

Should many of these sparks together be,

He that the unknown light far off should see,

Would think it a terrestrial Galaxy.

10Take 't up, fair Saint; see how it mocks thy fright!

The paler flame doth not yield heat, though light,

Which thus deceives thy reason, through thy sight.

But see how quickly it (ta'en up) doth fade,

To shine in darkness only being made,

By th' brightness of thy light turn'd to a shade;

And burnt to ashes by thy flaming eyes,

On the chaste altar of thy hand it dies,

As to thy greater light a sacrifice.

The Glow-worm.] Sir Egerton Brydges thought that 'A stile of poetry so full of quaint and far-fetched conceits cannot be commended as the most chaste and classical'; but that, 'among trifles of this kind, The Glow-worm is singularly elegant and happy'. Perhaps a later judgement, while waiving the indispensableness, or even pre-eminence, of chastity and classicality in verse, may doubt whether The Glow-worm itself is not rather too 'elegant' to be as 'happy' as some other things even of its author's. The last verse redeems it, though, to some extent.

2 1647 'This living star of earth'. I suppose Stanley did not like the recurrence of 'star', or he may have thought that the same sound (-ar) recurred still more excessively in the rhymes. In itself the earlier reading is certainly the better.

4 erring] deceiv'd 1647.

12 'Which doth deceive' 1647.

15 thy] the 1647.

The Breath.

Favonius the milder breath o' th' Spring,

When proudly bearing on his softer wing

Rich odours, which from the Panchean groves

He steals, as by the Phoenix' pyre he moves,

Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispense

To the next rose's blushing innocence,

But from the grateful flower, a richer scent

He back receives than he unto it lent.

Then laden with his odours' richest store,

10He to thy breath hastes; to which these are poor!

Which whilst the amorous wind to steal essays,

He like a wanton Lover 'bout thee plays,

And sometimes cooling thy soft cheek doth lie,

And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye:

Drawn in at last by that breath we implore,

He now returns far sweeter than before,

And rich by being robb'd, in thee he finds

The burning sweets of Pyres, the cool of Winds.

The Breath.] This appears in all three editions, 1656 following 1647 in the following variants: l. 8 'He doth receive'; l. 11 'while he sportively'; l. 16 'back' for 'now'.

Desiring her to burn his Verses.

These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath

Condemn; thy hand unto the flames bequeath;

'Tis fit, who gave them life, should give them death.

And whilst in curled flames to Heaven they rise,

Each trembling sheet shall as it upwards flies,

Present itself to thee a sacrifice.

Then when about its native orb it came,

And reach'd the lesser lights o' th' sky, this flame

Contracted to a star should wear thy name.

10Or falling down on earth from its bright sphere,

Shall in a diamond's shape its lustre bear,

And trouble (as it did before) thine ear.

But thou wilt cruel even in mercy be,

Unequal in thy justice, who dost free

Things without sense from flames, and yet not Me.

Desiring her to burn his Verses.] Title, 1647 'To Chariessa, desiring', &c.

4 whilst] as 1647.

7 about] above 1647.

14 who] that 1647.

The Night.

A DIALOGUE.

Chariessa.

What if Night

Should betray us, and reveal

To the light

All the pleasures that we steal?

Philocharis.

Fairest, we

Safely may this fear despise;

How can She

See our actions who wants eyes?

Chariessa.

Each dim star

10And the clearer lights, we know,

Night's eyes are;

They were blind that thought her so!

Philocharis.

Those pale fires

Only burn to yield a light

T' our desires,

And though blind, to give us sight.

Chariessa.

By this shade

That surrounds us might our flame

Be betray'd,

20And the day disclose its name.

Philocharis.

Dearest Fair,

These dark witnesses we find

Silent are;

Night is dumb as well as blind.

Chorus.

Then whilst these black shades conceal us,

We will scorn

Th' envious Morn,

And the Sun that would reveal us.

Our flames shall thus their mutual light betray,

30And night, with these joys crown'd, outshine the day.

The Night.] Entitled in 1647 'Amori Notturni. A Dialogue between Philocharis and Chariessa'.

2 and] or 1647.

8 who] that 1647.

18 surrounds] conceals 1647.

The metrical arrangement here is very delightful, and the Chorus-adjustment particularly happy.

Excuse for wishing her less Fair.

Why thy passion should it move

That I wish'd thy beauty less?

Fools desire what is above

Power of nature to express;

And to wish it had been more.

Had been to outwish her store!

If the flames within thine eye

Did not too great heat inspire,

Men might languish yet not die,

10At thy less ungentle fire;

And might on thy weaker light

Gaze, and yet not lose their sight.

Nor wouldst thou less fair appear,

For detraction adds to thee;

If some parts less beauteous were,

Others would much fairer be:

Nor can any part we know

Best be styl'd, when all are so.

Thus this great excess of light,

20Which now dazzles our weak eyes,

Would, eclips'd, appear more bright;

And the only way to rise,

Or to be more fair, for thee,

Celia, is less fair to be.

Excuse for wishing her less Fair.] 1647 prefixes 'To Celia'.

7 the] thy 1647.

9 yet] and 1647.

10 less ungentle] then less scorching 1647.

23 for] 1656 'than', which, like much else in this edition, is pure nonsense.

Brydges thought that 'one cannot avoid admiring the ingenuity exercised in this continual play upon words'. But surely

In things like this the play of words became

A play of thought, and therefore shames all shame.

Chang'd, yet Constant.

Wrong me no more

In thy complaint,

Blam'd for inconstancy;

I vow'd t' adore

The fairest Saint,

Nor chang'd whilst thou wert she:

But if another thee outshine,

Th' inconstancy is only thine.

To be by such

10Blind fools admir'd,

Gives thee but small esteem,

By whom as much

Thou'dst be desir'd,

Didst thou less beauteous seem:

Sure why they love they know not well,

Who why they should not cannot tell.

Women are by

Themselves betray'd,

And to their short joys cruel,

20Who foolishly

Themselves persuade

Flames can outlast their fuel;

None (though Platonic their pretence)

With reason love unless by sense.

And He, by whose

Command to thee

I did my heart resign,

Now bids me choose

A Deity

30Diviner far than thine;

No power can Love from Beauty sever;

I'm still Love's subject, thine was never.

The fairest She

Whom none surpass

To love hath only right,

And such to me

Thy beauty was

Till one I found more bright;

But 'twere as impious to adore

40Thee now, as not t' have done 't before.

Nor is it just

By rules of Love

Thou shouldst deny to quit

A heart that must

Another's prove,

Ev'n in thy right to it;

Must not thy subjects captives be

To her who triumphs over Thee?

Cease then in vain

50To blot my name

With forg'd Apostasy,

Thine is that stain

Who dar'st to claim

What others ask of Thee.

Of Lovers they are only true

Who pay their hearts where they are due.

Chang'd, yet Constant.] Here, perhaps for the first time, we get the fire of the period communicating to the verse its own glow and flicker. It is a pity he allowed himself double rhymes in stanza 3, which break the note (those at the end of st. 4 do not). There are no variants; the poem is not in 1647. But Miss Guiney has proposed to substitute 'hearts' for 'they' in the last line.

The Self-deceiver.

MONTALVAN.

Deceiv'd and undeceiv'd to be

At once I seek with equal care,

Wretched in the discovery,

Happy if cozen'd still I were:

Yet certain ill of ill hath less

Than the mistrust of happiness.

But if when I have reach'd my aim

(That which I seek less worthy prove),

Yet still my love remains the same,

10The subject not deserving love;

I can no longer be excus'd,

Now more in fault as less abus'd.

Then let me flatter my desires,

And doubt what I might know too sure,

He that to cheat himself conspires,

From falsehood doth his faith secure;

In love uncertain to believe

I am deceiv'd, doth undeceive.

For if my life on doubt depend,

20And in distrust inconstant steer,

If I essay the strife to end

(When Ignorance were Wisdom here),

All thy attempts how can I blame

To work my death? I seek the same.

The Self-deceiver.] (On Stanley's translations see Introduction.) Juan Perez de Montalvan (1602-1638) belonged to the best age of Spanish literature, and was, in proportion, almost as prolific in plays and autos as his master Lope. He was accused of 'Gongorism', and this piece is one somewhat of 'conviction'.

The Cure.

Nymph.

What busy cares too timely born

(Young Swain!) disturb thy sleep?

Thy early sighs awake the Morn,

Thy tears teach her to weep.

Shepherd.

Sorrows, fair Nymph, are full alone;

Nor counsel can endure.

Nymph.

Yet thine disclose, for until known

Sickness admits no cure.

Shepherd.

My griefs are such as but to hear

10Would poison all thy joys,

The pity which thou seem'st to bear

My health, thine own destroys.

Nymph.

How can diseaséd minds infect?

Say what thy grief doth move!

Shepherd.

Call up thy virtue to protect

Thy heart, and know 'twas love.

Nymph.

Fond Swain!

Shepherd.

By which I have been long

Destin'd to meet with hate.

Nymph.

Fy, Shepherd, fy: thou dost love wrong,

20To call thy crime thy fate.

Shepherd.

Alas what cunning could decline

What force can love repel?

Nymph.

Yet, there 's a way to unconfine

Thy heart.

Shepherd.

For pity tell.

Nymph.

Choose one whose love may be allur'd

By thine: who ever knew

Inveterate diseases cur'd

But by receiving new?

Shepherd.

All will like her my soul perplex.

Nymph.

Yet try.

Shepherd.

30 Oh could there be,

But any softness in that sex,

I'd wish it were in thee.

Nymph.

Thy prayer is heard: learn now t' esteem

The kindness she hath shown,

Who thy lost freedom to redeem

Hath forfeited her own.

The Cure. As this appears only in 1651 there are no variants. The 'common measure' has little of the magic common at the time, and is sometimes banal to eighteenth-century level. But we rise in the next.

Celia Singing.

Roses in breathing forth their scent,

Or stars their borrowed ornament;

Nymphs in the wat'ry sphere that move,

Or Angels in their orbs above;

The wingéd chariot of the light,

Or the slow silent wheels of night;

The shade, which from the swifter sun

Doth in a circular motion run;

Or souls that their eternal rest do keep,

10Make far more noise than Celia's breath in sleep.

But if the Angel, which inspires

This subtile flame with active fires,

Should mould this breath to words, and those

Into a harmony dispose,

The music of this heavenly sphere

Would steal each soul out at the ear,

And into plants and stones infuse

A life that Cherubins would choose;

And with new powers invert the laws of Fate,

20Kill those that live, and dead things animate.

Celia Singing.] 1647 'Celia sleeping or singing', and printed without stanza-break.

10 more] Some imp of the press altered 'more' to 'less' in the later 'edition'. 1647 has 'more', which has been restored in text.

12 1647 'frame'-tempting, but perhaps not certain.

13 1647 'his'-again nescio an recte.

19 1647 'power'.

A la Mesme.

Belle voix, dont les charmes desrobent mon ame,

Et au lieu d'un esprit m'animent d'une flamme,

Dont je sens la subtile et la douce chaleur

Entrer par mon oreille et glisser dans mon c?ur;

Me faisant esprever par cette aimable vie,

Nos ames ne consistent que d'une harmonie;

Que la vie m'est douce, la mort m'est sans peine,

Puisqu'on les trouve toutes deux dans ton haleine:

Ne m'espargne donc pas; satisfais tes rigueurs;

10Car si tu me souffres de vivre, je me meurs.

A la Mesme] 1647 'A une Dame qui chantoit'. Stanley does not, like some more modern English writers of French verse, neglect his final e's, but he takes remarkable liberties with the caesura. 'Esprever' (l. 5) is not wrong necessarily.

The Return.

Beauty, whose soft magnetic chains

Beauty, thy harsh imperious chains

Nor time nor absence can untie,

As a scorned weight I here untie,

Thy power the narrow bounds disdains

Since thy proud empire those disdains

Of Nature or philosophy,

Of reason or philosophy,

That canst by unconfinéd laws

That wouldst within tyrannic laws

A motion, though at distance, cause.

Confine the power of each free cause.

Drawn by the sacred influence

Forced by the potent influence

Of thy bright eyes, I back return;

Of thy disdain I back return,

And since I nowhere can dispense

Thus with those flames I do dispense,

10With flames that do in absence burn,

Which, though they would not light, did burn;

I rather choose 'midst them t' expire

And rather will through cold expire

Than languish by a hidden fire.

Than languish at a frozen fire.

But if thou the insulting pride

But whilst I the insulting pride

Of vulgar Beauties dost despise,

Of thy vain beauty do despise,

Who by vain triumphs deified,

Who gladly wouldst be deified,

Their votaries do sacrifice,

By making me thy sacrifice;

Then let those flames, whose magic charm

May love thy heart, which to his charm

At distance scorch'd, approach'd but warm.

Approached seemed cold, at distance warm.

The Return-(Palinode.)] The 1647 edition contains two poems, The Return and Palinode, which stand to each other in a curious relation. In 1651 Palinode has disappeared. I have thought it best to print them together. The lines in roman type are those of The Return, those in italic belong to Palinode. The latter reappeared in 1657, with slight alterations as below. In Pal. 5 Miss Guiney reads 'would' for 'wouldst', evidently not quite understanding the sense or the grammar of the time. The second person connects itself with the vocative in 'Beauty' and the 'thou' twice implied in 'thy'.

In Palinode, l. 7, 1657 reads 'powerful' for 'potent'; l. 12 'in' for 'at'.

In The Return, l. 2, 1651 'unite'-an obvious misprint; l. 3, 1647 'bound'; l. 5, 1647 'That', 1651 'Thou'; l. 10, 1657 'which' for 'that'; l. 11, 'twixt'-not so well; l. 13, 'the' is dropped by mere accident in 1651-'the', not 'th',' is required.

Song.

When I lie burning in thine eye.

Or freezing in thy breast,

What Martyrs, in wish'd flames that die,

Are half so pleas'd or blest?

When thy soft accents through mine ear

Into my soul do fly,

What Angel would not quit his sphere,

To hear such harmony?

Or when the kiss thou gav'st me last

10My soul stole in its breath,

What life would sooner be embrac'd

Than so desir'd a death?

[When I commanded am by thee,

Or by thine eye or hand,

What monarch would not prouder be

To serve than to command?]

Then think no freedom I desire,

Or would my fetters leave,

Since Phoenix-like I from this fire

20Both life and youth receive.

Song.] Sir Egerton thought this (which, by the way, Lovelace may have seen, or vice versa) 'a very elegant little song, with all the harmony of modern rhythm'. One might perhaps substitute 'with more of the harmony of contemporary rhythm than Stanley always attains'. It is certainly much better than The Cure. The bracketed stanza was dropped in 1651, but it seemed better to restore it thus in text than to degrade it hither. One or two extremely unimportant misprints occur in one or other version, but are not worth noting.

The Sick Lover.

GUARINI.

My sickly breath

Wastes in a double flame;

Whilst Love and Death

To my poor life lay claim;

The fever, in whose heat I melt,

By her that causeth it not felt.

Thou who alone

Canst, yet wilt grant no ease,

Why slight'st thou one

10To feed a new disease?

Unequal fair! the heart is thine;

Ah, why then should the pain be mine?

The Sick Lover.] Not a great thing. In l. 6, Miss Guiney thinks 'it', which is in all texts, should be 'is'. But 'it' is wanted and 'is' is not. 'The fever not [being] felt' is no excessively 'absolute' construction.

Song.

Celinda, by what potent art

Or unresisted charm,

Dost thou thine ear and frozen heart

Against my passion arm?

Or by what hidden influence

Of powers in one combin'd,

Dost thou rob Love of either sense,

Made deaf as well as blind?

Sure thou, as friends, united hast

10Two distant Deities;

And scorn within thy heart hast plac'd,

And love within thine eyes.

Or those soft fetters of thy hair,

A bondage that disdains

All liberty, do guard thine ear

Free from all other chains.

Then my complaint how canst thou hear,

Or I this passion fly,

Since thou imprison'd hast thine ear,

20And not confin'd thine eye?

Song-Celinda, &c.] Again, mere commonplace common measure. 'Those soft fetters of thy hair' (l. 13) is at least as good as 'mobled queen', but otherwise the phrase rather sinks to the measure. 'friends' (l. 9) is misprinted 'friend' in 1647, and Sir Egerton has mispunctuated 'friends united'.

Song.

Fool, take up thy shaft again;

If thy store

Thou profusely spend in vain,

Who can furnish thee with more?

Throw not then away thy darts

On impenetrable hearts.

Think not thy pale flame can warm

Into tears,

Or dissolve the snowy charm

10Which her frozen bosom wears,

That expos'd, unmelted lies

To the bright suns of her eyes.

But since thou thy power hast lost,

Nor canst fire

Kindle in that breast, whose frost

Doth these flames in mine inspire,

Not to thee but her I'll sue,

That disdains both me and you.

Song-Fool, &c.] An extremely pretty measure, not ill-parted with phrase and imagery. The 'Take, oh! take' motive reappears.

Delay.

Delay! Alas, there cannot be

To Love a greater tyranny:

Those cruel beauties that have slain

Their votaries by their disdain,

Or studied torments, sharp and witty,

Will be recorded for their pity,

And after-ages be misled

To think them kind, when this is spread.

Of deaths the speediest is despair,

10Delays the slowest tortures are;

Thy cruelty at once destroys,

But Expectation starves my joys.

Time and Delay may bring me past

The power of Love to cure, at last;

And shouldst thou wish to ease my pain,

Thy pity might be lent in vain;

Or if thou hast decreed, that I

Must fall beneath thy cruelty,

O kill me soon! Thou wilt express

20More mercy, ev'n in showing less.

Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her.

MARINO.

Strange kind of love! that knows no president,

A faith so firm as passeth Faith's extent,

By a tyrannic beauty long subdu'd,

I now must sue for her to whom I su'd,

Unhappy Orator! who, though I move

For pity, pity cannot hope to prove:

Employing thus against myself my breath,

And in another's life begging my death.

But if such moving powers my accents have,

10Why first my own redress do I not crave?

What hopes that I to pity should incline

Another's breast, who can move none in thine?

Or how can the griev'd patient look for ease,

When the physician suffers the disease?

If thy sharp wounds from me expect their cure,

'Tis fit those first be heal'd that I endure.

Ungentle fair one! why dost thou dispense

Unequally thy sacred influence?

Why pining me, offer'st the precious food

20To one by whom nor priz'd, nor understood;

So some clear brook to the full main, to pay

Her needless crystal tribute hastes away,

Profusely foolish; whilst her niggard tide

Starves the poor flowers that grow along her side.

Thou who my glories art design'd to own,

Come then, and reap the joys that I have sown:

Yet in thy pride acknowledge, though thou bear

The happy prize away, the palm I wear.

Nor the obedience of my flame accuse,

30That what I sought, myself conspir'd to lose:

The hapless state where I am fix'd is such,

To love I seem not, 'cause I love too much.

Commanded by his Mistress, &c.] Marino[i]'s name is so frequent in books on literature, and his work so little known to the ordinary reader, that this example may be welcome. The rather snip-snap antithesis, and the somewhat obvious conceit, show the famous Italian really at his worst. 'President' (l. 1), though not impossible, is probably for 'precedent'. The whole piece has a special interest as showing how this 'conceit' and 'false wit' actually encouraged the growth of the stopped antithetic couplet which was to be turned against both.

The Repulse.

Not that by this disdain

I am releas'd,

And freed from thy tyrannic chain,

Do I myself think bless'd;

Nor that thy flame shall burn

No more; for know

That I shall into ashes turn,

Before this fire doth so.

Nor yet that unconfin'd

10I now may rove,

And with new beauties please my mind,

But that thou ne'er didst love:

For since thou hast no part

Felt of this flame,

I only from thy tyrant heart

Repuls'd, not banish'd am.

To lose what once was mine

Would grieve me more

Than those inconstant sweets of thine

20Had pleas'd my soul before.

Now I have not lost the bliss

I ne'er possest;

And spite of fate am blest in this,

That I was never blest.

The Repulse.] In the third line of this rather fine poem 1656 reads 'romantic' for 'tyrannic', and Miss Guiney adopts it. To me it seems quite inappropriate, and one of the errors of dictation so common in that 'edition'.

21 1647 reads 'that bliss'.

The Tomb.

When, cruel fair one, I am slain

By thy disdain,

And, as a trophy of thy scorn,

To some old tomb am borne,

Thy fetters must their power bequeath

To those of Death;

Nor can thy flame immortal burn,

Like monumental fires within an urn;

Thus freed from thy proud empire, I shall prove

10There is more liberty in Death than Love.

And when forsaken Lovers come,

To see my tomb,

Take heed thou mix not with the crowd

And (as a Victor) proud

To view the spoils thy beauty made

Press near my shade,

Lest thy too cruel breath or name

Should fan my ashes back into a flame,

And thou, devour'd by this revengeful fire,

20His sacrifice, who died as thine, expire.

[Or should my dust thy pity move

That could not love,

Thy sighs might wake me, and thy tears

Renew my life and years.

Or should thy proud insulting scorn

Laugh at my urn,

Kindly deceived by thy disdain,

I might be smil'd into new life again.

Then come not near, since both thy love and hate

30Have equal power to love or animate.]

But if cold earth, or marble, must

Conceal my dust,

Whilst hid in some dark ruins, I

Dumb and forgotten lie,

The pride of all thy victory

Will sleep with me;

And they who should attest thy glory,

Will, or forget, or not believe this story.

Then to increase thy triumph, let me rest,

40Since by thine eye slain, buried in thy breast.

The Tomb.] Brydges, though thinking the end of this poem 'a feeble conceit', admits that 'there are passages in it that are more than pretty'. It is certainly one of Stanley's best, and he seems to have taken some trouble with it. In 1651 he dropped the bracketed stanza 3 and substituted the text for the last couplet of stanza 2, which reads in 1647:

And (thou in this fire sacrificed to me)

We might each other's mutual martyr be.

In the last line of the omitted stanza 'love' is certainly wrong, and Miss Guiney's suggestion of 'kill' is almost certissima. But she seems to have had a different copy of 1647 before her from that which I collated, for she does not notice a variant, or set of variants, in ll. 37-9:

And they that should this triumph know

Will or forget or not believe it so,

Then to increase thy glories, &c.

In l. 5 1647 reads 'thy power'.

The Enjoyment.

ST.-AMANT.

Far from the court's ambitious noise

Retir'd, to those more harmless joys

Which the sweet country, pleasant fields,

And my own court, a cottage, yields;

I liv'd from all disturbance free,

Though prisoner (Sylvia) unto thee;

Secur'd from fears, which others prove,

Of the inconstancy of Love;

A life, in my esteem, more blest,

10Than e'er yet stoop'd to Death's arrest.

My senses and desires agreed,

With joint delight each other feed:

A bliss, I reach'd, as far above

Words, as her beauty, or my love;

Such as compar'd with which, the joys

Of the most happy seem but toys:

Affection I receive and pay,

My pleasures knew not Grief's allay:

The more I tasted I desir'd,

20The more I quench'd my thirst was fir'd.

Now, in some place where Nature shows

Her naked beauty, we repose;

Where she allures the wand'ring eye

With colours, which faint art outvie;

Pearls scatter'd by the weeping morn,

Each where the glitt'ring flowers adorn;

The mistress of the youthful year

(To whom kind Zephyrus doth bear

His amorous vows and frequent prayer)

30Decks with these gems her neck and hair.

Hither, to quicken Time with sport,

The little sprightly Loves resort,

And dancing o'er the enamel'd mead,

Their mistresses the Graces lead;

Then to refresh themselves, repair

To the soft bosom of my fair;

Where from the kisses they bestow

Upon each other, such sweets flow

As carry in their mixéd breath

40A mutual power of life and death.

Next in an elm's dilated shade

We see a rugged Satyr laid,

Teaching his reed, in a soft strain,

Of his sweet anguish to complain;

Then to a lonely grove retreat,

Where day can no admittance get,

To visit peaceful solitude;

Whom seeing by repose pursu'd,

All busy cares, for fear to spoil

50Their calmer courtship, we exile.

There underneath a myrtle, thought

By Fairies sacred, where was wrought

By Venus' hand Love's mysteries,

And all the trophies of her eyes,

Our solemn prayers to Heaven we send,

That our firm love might know no end;

Nor time its vigour e'er impair:

Then to the wingéd God we sware,

And grav'd the oath in its smooth rind,

60Which in our hearts we deeper find.

Then to my dear (as if afraid

To try her doubted faith) I said,

'Would in thy soul my form as clear,

As in thy eyes I see it, were.'

She kindly angry saith, 'Thou art

Drawn more at large within my heart;

These figures in my eye appear

But small, because they are not near,

Thou through these glasses seest thy face,

70As pictures through their crystal case.'

Now with delight transported, I

My wreathéd arms about her tie;

The flattering Ivy never holds

Her husband Elm in stricter folds:

To cool my fervent thirst, I sip

Delicious nectar from her lip.

She pledges, and so often past

This amorous health, till Love at last

Our souls did with these pleasures sate,

80And equally inebriate.

Awhile, our senses stol'n away,

Lost in this ecstasy we lay,

Till both together rais'd to life,

We re-engage in this kind strife.

Cythaera with her Syrian boy

Could never reach our meanest joy.

The childish God of Love ne'er tried

So much of love with his cold bride,

As we in one embrace include,

90Contesting each to be subdu'd.

The Enjoyment.] La Jouissance, one of Saint-Amant's early lyric pieces, which is here translated, was not so famous as his Solitude, which will be found (Englished by the matchless Orinda a little after Stanley's time) in vol. i, p. 601, of this collection; but it was popular and much imitated. Stanley has cut it down considerably, for the original has nineteen stanzas-some of them, I suppose, too 'warm' for the translator's modest muse.

59 Brydges misprints 'kind'

To Celia Pleading Want of Merit.

Dear, urge no more that killing cause

Of our divorce;

Love is not fetter'd by such laws,

Nor bows to any force:

Though thou deniest I should be thine,

Yet say not thou deserv'st not to be mine.

Oh rather frown away my breath

With thy disdain,

Or flatter me with smiles to death;

10By joy or sorrow slain,

'Tis less crime to be kill'd by thee,

Than I thus cause of mine own death should be.

Thyself of beauty to divest,

And me of love,

Or from the worth of thine own breast

Thus to detract, would prove

In us a blindness, and in thee

At best a sacrilegious modesty.

But, Celia, if thou wilt despise

20What all admire,

Nor rate thyself at the just price

Of beauty or desire,

Yet meet my flames, and thou shalt see

That equal love knows no disparity.

To Celia Pleading, &c.] 1647 has in title 'To One that Pleaded her own', and 'Dearest' for 'Celia' in l. 19.

Love's Innocence.

See how this Ivy strives to twine

Her wanton arms about the Vine,

And her coy lover thus restrains,

Entangled in her amorous chains;

See how these neighb'ring Palms do bend

Their heads, and mutual murmurs send,

As whispering with a jealous fear

Their loves, into each other's ear.

Then blush not such a flame to own,

10As like thyself no crime hath known;

Led by these harmless guides, we may

Embrace and kiss as well as they.

And like those blesséd souls above,

Whose life is harmony and love,

Let us our mutual thoughts betray,

And in our wills our minds display;

This silent speech is swifter far

Than the ears' lazy species are;

And the expression it affords,

As our desires, 'bove reach of words.

20Thus we, my dear, of these may learn

A passion others not discern;

Nor can it shame or blushes move,

Like plants to live, like Angels love:

Since all excuse with equal innocence,

What above reason is, or beneath sense.

Love's Innocence.] In 1647 the following differences occur: Title, 'The Innocence of Love'; l. 1, '(Dear) doth twine' for 'strives to twine'; l. 7, 'To one another whispering there'; ll. 9-10, 'Then blush not, Fair, that flame to show, Which like thyself no crime can know'; ll. 11-12, 'Thus led by those chaste guides, we may Embrace and kiss as free as they'; l. 20, 'As are our flames'; l. 21, 'Thus, Doris, we'.

The Bracelet.

TRISTAN.

Now Love be prais'd! that cruel fair,

Who my poor heart restrains

Under so many chains,

Hath weav'd a new one for it of her hair.

These threads of amber us'd to play

With every courtly wind;

And never were confin'd;

But in a thousand curls allow'd to stray.

Cruel each part of her is grown;

10Nor less unkind than she

These fetters are to me,

Which to restrain my freedom, lose their own.

The Bracelet.] Little survives, even in literary memories, of Fran?ois Tristan l'Hermite (1601-1655), except the success of his Marianne (Mariamne), 1636, one of the most famous French tragedies of the period outside Corneille. M. Ed. Fournier gave him a niche in Crépet's Poètes Fran?ais (Paris, 1861), ii. 539-52, but did not include the original of this piece. The In Memoriam rhyme-order, though the line lengths are different, is interesting. Stanley had perhaps borrowed, before translating it, the 'soft fetters of her hair', noted above, though the fancy is of course primaeval and perennial.

The Kiss.

When on thy lip my soul I breathe,

Which there meets thine,

Freed from their fetters by this death

Our subtle forms combine;

Thus without bonds of sense they move,

And like two Cherubins converse by love.

Spirits, to chains of earth confin'd,

Discourse by sense;

But ours, that are by flames refin'd,

10With those weak ties dispense.

Let such in words their minds display;

We in a kiss our mutual thoughts convey.

But since my soul from me doth fly,

To thee retir'd,

Thou canst not both retain: for I

Must be with one inspir'd.

Then, dearest, either justly mine

Restore, or in exchange let me have thine.

Yet, if thou dost return mine own,

20Oh tak't again!

For 'tis this pleasing death alone

Gives ease unto my pain.

Kill me once more, or I shall find

Thy pity, than thy cruelty, less kind.

The Kiss.] Title in 1647 'The killing Kiss', and several other variants. An answer to this poem appears in Jordan's Claraphi and Clarinda.

4 1647 'They both unite and join'. But Miss Guiney's suspicion that 'forms' may be a misprint obviously shows forgetfulness of the philosophical sense of the word = 'ideas', 'immortal parts'. Cf. Spenser, 'For soul is form'.

6 by] 1647 'and'-perhaps better.

12 1647 'Our lips, not tongues, each other's thoughts betray'. (Miss Guiney's copy seems to have 'our tongues', which cannot be right.)

15 for I] and I 1647.

17 dearest] 1647 'Doris'. This is the second time (v. sup., p. 126) that poor Doris has been disestablished.

Apollo and Daphne.

GARCILASSO MARINO.

When Phoebus saw a rugged bark beguile

His love, and his embraces intercept,

The leaves, instructed by his grief to smile,

Taking fresh growth and verdure as he wept:

'How can', saith he, 'my woes expect release,

When tears the subject of my tears increase!'

His chang'd, yet scorn-retaining Fair he kiss'd,

From the lov'd trunk plucking a little bough;

And though the conquest which he sought he miss'd,

10With that triumphant spoil adorns his brow.

Thus this disdainful maid his aim deceives:

Where he expected fruit he gathers leaves.

Apollo and Daphne.] Why Garcilasso I do not know. Marini's name was Giambattista.

6 The first 'tears' certainly looks odd, and Miss Guiney conjectures 'leaves'. But the ways of Marinism are not thus. Apollo's tears watered the laurel and so made it grow. His tears increased their subject, the vapid vegetable substitute for Daphne's flesh and blood.

Speaking and Kissing.

The air, which thy smooth voice doth break,

Into my soul like lightning flies;

My life retires whilst thou dost speak,

And thy soft breath its room supplies.

Lost in this pleasing ecstasy,

I join my trembling lips to thine;

And back receive that life from thee,

Which I so gladly did resign.

Forbear, Platonic fools, t' inquire

What numbers do the soul compose!

No harmony can life inspire,

But that which from these accents flows.

Speaking and Kissing.] This is smarter than Stanley's usual style.

The Snow-ball.

Doris, I that could repel

All those darts about thee dwell,

And had wisely learn'd to fear,

'Cause I saw a foe so near;

I that my deaf ear did arm

'Gainst thy voice's powerful charm,

And the lightning of thine eye

Durst (by closing mine) defy,

Cannot this cold snow withstand

10From the whiter of thy hand.

Thy deceit hath thus done more

Than thy open force before:

For who could suspect or fear

Treason in a face so clear;

Or the hidden fires descry

Wrapt in this cold outside lie?

Flames might thus involv'd in ice

The deceiv'd world sacrifice;

Nature, ignorant of this

20Strange antiperistasis,

Would her falling frame admire,

That by snow were set on fire.

The Snow-ball.] Doris maintains here the place she lost above. The tripping seventeenth-century 'sevens' are well spent on her. In l. 10 Miss Guiney thinks that 'whiter', the sole reading, must be 'winter'. ?κιστα: that Stanley meant 'the whiter snow' is, to me, certain.

20 'Antiperistasis' = 'reaction' or 'topsyturvyfication' (Thackeray).

The Deposition.

Though when I lov'd thee thou wert fair,

Thou art no longer so;

Those glories all the pride they wear

Unto opinion owe;

Beauties, like stars, in borrow'd lustre shine;

And 'twas my love that gave thee thine.

The flames that dwelt within thine eye

Do now, with mine, expire;

Thy brightest graces fade and die

10At once with my desire;

Love's fires thus mutual influence return;

Thine cease to shine, when mine to burn.

Then, proud Celinda, hope no more

To be implor'd or woo'd,

Since by thy scorn thou dost restore

The wealth my love bestow'd;

And thy despis'd disdain too late shall find

That none are fair but who are kind.

The Deposition.] In 1647 'A Deposition from Beauty'. Also l. 3, 'do' for 'all'; l. 9, 'glories' for 'graces'; l. 16, 'That' for 'The' and 'which' for 'my'.

To his Mistress in Absence.

TASSO.

Far from thy dearest self, the scope

Of all my aims,

I waste in secret flames;

And only live because I hope.

Oh, when will Fate restore

The joys, in whose bright fire

My expectation shall expire,

That I may live because I hope no more!

Love's Heretic.

He whose active thoughts disdain

To be captive to one foe,

And would break his single chain,

Or else more would undergo;

Let him learn the art of me,

By new bondage to be free!

What tyrannic mistress dare

To one beauty love confine,

Who, unbounded as the air,

10All may court but none decline?

Why should we the heart deny

As many objects as the eye?

Wheresoe'er I turn or move,

A new passion doth detain me:

Those kind beauties that do love,

Or those proud ones that disdain me;

This frown melts, and that smile burns me;

This to tears, that ashes turns me.

Soft fresh Virgins, not full blown,

20With their youthful sweetness take me;

Sober Matrons, that have known

Long since what these prove, awake me;

Here staid coldness I admire;

There the lively active fire.

She that doth by skill dispense

Every favour she bestows,

Or the harmless innocence,

Which nor court nor city knows,

Both alike my soul enflame,

30That wild Beauty, and this tame.

She that wisely can adorn

Nature with the wealth of Art,

Or whose rural sweets do scorn

Borrow'd helps to take a heart,

The vain care of that's my pleasure,

Poverty of this my treasure.

Both the wanton and the coy,

Me with equal pleasures move;

She whom I by force enjoy,

40Or who forceth me to love:

This, because she'll not confess,

That not hide, her happiness.

She whose loosely flowing hair,

Scatter'd like the beams o' th' morn,

Playing with the sportive air,

Hides the sweets it doth adorn,

Captive in that net restrains me,

In those golden fetters chains me.

Nor doth she with power less bright

50My divided heart invade,

Whose soft tresses spread like night

O'er her shoulders a black shade;

For the starlight of her eyes

Brighter shines through those dark skies.

Black, or fair, or tall, or low,

I alike with all can sport;

The bold sprightly Thais woo,

Or the frozen Vestal court;

Every Beauty takes my mind,

60Tied to all, to none confin'd.

Love's Heretic.] This, for Stanley, longish piece has few vv. ll. But 1647 reads in l. 34 'that' instead of 'to', and the singular 'pleasure' in l. 38. The piece is rather in the Suckling vein; but Stanley did not play the light-o'-love quite successfully.

La Belle Confidente.

You earthly souls that court a wanton flame,

Whose pale weak influence

Can rise no higher than the humble name,

And narrow laws of sense,

Learn by our friendship to create

An immaterial fire,

Whose brightness Angels may admire,

But cannot emulate.

Sickness may fright the roses from her cheek,

10Or make the lilies fade;

But all the subtile ways that Death doth seek,

Cannot my love invade.

Flames that are kindled by the eye,

Through time and age expire;

But ours, that boast a reach far higher,

Can nor decay nor die.

For when we must resign our vital breath,

Our loves by Fate benighted,

We by this friendship shall survive in death,

20Even in divorce united.

Weak Love, through fortune or distrust,

In time forgets to burn,

But this pursues us to the urn,

And marries either's dust.

La Belle Confidente.] On this Sir Egerton: 'However far-fetched these ideas may be, there is uncommon elegance and ingenuity in the expression, and polish in the versification.' There is also something more than polish-a concerted effect which 'elegance and ingenuity' do not often reach. In l. 16, 'Cannot' appears in 1647 for 'Can nor'; 'And' for 'For' in l. 17; and ll. 18, 20 are changed over and run:

Even in divorce delighted,

. . . . . .

Still in the grave united.

La Belle Ennemie.

I yield, dear enemy, nor know

How to resist so fair a foe!

Who would not thy soft yoke sustain,

And bow beneath thy easy chain,

That with a bondage bless'd might be,

Which far transcends all liberty?

But since I freely have resign'd

At first assault my willing mind,

Insult not o'er my captiv'd heart

10With too much tyranny and art,

Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prize

Gain'd by the power of thy bright eyes,

And thou this conquest thus shalt prove,

Though got by Beauty, kept by Love!

The Dream.

LOPE DE VEGA.

To set my jealous soul at strife,

All things maliciously agree,

Though sleep of Death the image be,

Dreams are the portraiture of life.

I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes,

Celinda stoop t' another's will;

If specious Apprehension kill,

What would the truth without disguise?

The joys which I should call mine own,

10Methought this rival did possess:

Like dreams is all my happiness;

Yet dreams themselves allow me none.

The Dream.] The actual and full In Memoriam arrangement is the point of interest here. Stanley, however, is even less successful than the few other seventeenth-century practitioners in getting the full rhythmical sweep of the form into operation. He breaks the circle and so loses the charm.

To the Lady D.

Madam,

The blushes I betray,

When at your feet I humbly lay

These papers, beg you would excuse

Th' obedience of a bashful Muse,

Who, bowing to your strict command,

Trusts her own errors to your hand,

Hasty abortives, which, laid by,

She meant, ere they were born should die:

But since the soft power of your breath

10Hath call'd them back again from Death,

To your sharp judgement now made known,

She dares for hers no longer own;

The worst she must not, these resign'd

She hath to th' fire, and where you find

Those your kind Charity admir'd,

She writ but what your eyes inspir'd.

To the Lady D.] This in 1647 is the Dedication 'To my most honour'd Aunt the Lady Dormer'. She was a daughter of Sir William Hammond and wife of Sir Robert Dormer, Knight, of Chearsley, Bucks. In 1647 Stanley added to the poem 'Madam, Your Ladyships Greatest admirer and most humble Servant, Tho. Stanley'.

Love Deposed.

You that unto your mistress' eyes

Your hearts do sacrifice,

And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine,

Renounce with me

Th' idolatry,

Nor this infernal Power esteem divine.

The brand, the quiver, and the bow,

Which we did first bestow,

And he as tribute wears from every lover,

10I back again

From him have ta'en,

And the impostor, now unveil'd, discover.

I can the feeble child disarm,

Untie his mystic charm,

Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow;

We will obey

No more his sway,

Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow.

20And you, bright Beauties, that inspire

The Boy's pale torch with fire,

We safely now your subtle power despise,

And unscorch'd may

Like atoms play,

And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.

Nor think hereafter by new arts

You can bewitch our hearts,

Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm;

We will no more

His power implore,

30Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm.

The Divorce.

Dear, back my wounded heart restore,

And turn away thy powerful eyes;

Flatter my willing soul no more!

Love must not hope what Fate denies.

Take, take away thy smiles and kisses!

Thy love wounds deeper than disdain;

For he that sees the heaven he misses,

Sustains two hells, of loss and pain.

Shouldst thou some other's suit prefer,

10I might return thy scorn to thee,

And learn apostasy of her,

Who taught me first idolatry.

Or in thy unrelenting breast

Should I disdain or coyness move,

He by thy hate might be releas'd,

Who now is prisoner to thy love.

Since then unkind Fate will divorce

Those whom Affection long united,

Be thou as cruel as this force,

20And I in death shall be delighted.

Thus while so many suppliants woo.

And beg they may thy pity prove,

I only for thy scorn do sue:

'Tis charity here not to love.

The Divorce.] A rise from one or two preceding pieces.

12 Who] That 1647.

14 I] cold 1647.

15 He] I 1647.

16 is] am 1647.

21 while] whilst 1647. woo] do 1647.

22 'Implore thy pity they may prove' 1647.

Time Recovered.

CASONE.

Come, my dear, whilst youth conspires

With the warmth of our desires;

Envious Time about thee watches,

And some grace each minute snatches;

Now a spirit, now a ray,

From thy eye he steals away;

Now he blasts some blooming rose,

Which upon thy fresh cheek grows;

Gold now plunders in a hair;

10Now the rubies doth impair

Of thy lips; and with sure haste

All thy wealth will take at last;

Only that of which thou mak'st

Use in time, from time thou tak'st.

Time Recovered.] This 'very light and good' version is from Guido Casoni (so more usually), a poet of the Trevisan March (1587-1640), and founder of the Academy of the Incogniti at Venice, to the Transactions of which he contributed most of his work.

The Bracelet.

Rebellious fools that scorn to bow

Beneath Love's easy sway,

Whose stubborn wills no laws allow,

Disdaining to obey,

Mark but this wreath of hair, and you shall see,

None that might wear such fetters would be free!

I once could boast a soul like you,

As unconfin'd as air;

But mine, which force could not subdue,

10Was caught within this snare;

And, by myself betray'd, I, for this gold,

A heart that many storms withstood, have sold.

No longer now wise Art inquire,

With this vain search delighted,

How souls, that human breasts inspire,

Are to their frames united;

Material chains such spirits well may bind,

When this soft braid can tie both arm and mind

Now, Beauties, I defy your charm,

20Rul'd by more powerful art:

This mystic wreath which crowns my arm,

Defends my vanquish'd heart;

And I, subdu'd by one more fair, shall be

Secur'd from Conquest by Captivity.

The Bracelet.] Almost certainly suggested by Donne. If so the suggestion was very rashly taken, but the result might have been worse.

7 soul] heart 1647. l. 12 is an alteration-as Miss Guiney very rightly says to its detriment-of 1647, which reads-

Have to mine enemy my freedom sold.

15 1647 'that do our life inspire'.

22 1647 'Guards and defends my heart'.

The Farewell.

Since Fate commands me hence, and I

Must leave my soul with thee, and die,

Dear, spare one sigh, or else let fall

A tear to crown my funeral,

That I may tell my grievéd heart,

Thou art unwilling we should part,

And Martyrs, that embrace the fire,

Shall with less joy than I expire.

With this last kiss I will bequeath

10My soul transfus'd into thy breath,

Whose active heat shall gently slide

Into thy breast, and there reside,

And be in spite of Fate, thus bless'd

By this sad death, of Heaven possess'd.

Then prove but kind, and thou shalt see

Love hath more power than Destiny.

The Farewell.] In lines 13 and 14 of this all editions vary slightly. 1647 has 'may' for 'be', which latter word opens the next line, turning out 'sad'. The text is 1651, 1656, keeping l. 13 of 1647, has for l. 14 the text of 1651.

Claim to Love.

GUARINI.

Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vain

Thy beauteous face away,

Which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a pain

Above its power to lay.

Love moves not, as thou turn'st thy look,

But here doth firmly rest;

He long ago thy eyes forsook,

To revel in my breast.

Thy power on him why hop'st thou more

10Than his on me should be?

The claim thou lay'st to him is poor,

To that he owns from me.

His substance in my heart excels

His shadow in thy sight;

Fire, where it burns, more truly dwells,

Than where it scatters light.

To his Mistress, who dreamed he was wounded.

GUARINI.

Thine eyes, bright Saint, disclose,

And thou shalt find

Dreams have not with illusive shows

Deceiv'd thy mind:

What sleep presented to thy view,

Awake, and thou shalt find is true.

Those mortal wounds I bear,

From thee begin,

Which though they outward not appear,

10Yet bleed within.

Love's flame like active lightning flies,

Wounding the heart, but not the eyes.

But now I yield to die

Thy sacrifice,

Nor more in vain will hope to fly

From thy bright eyes:

Their killing power cannot be shunn'd,

Open or closed alike they wound.

To his Mistress, &c.] 1647 'To Doris dreaming he was wounded'. Guarini is not there mentioned.

The Exchange.

DIALOGUE.

Phil.

That kiss, which last thou gav'st me, stole

My fainting life away,

Yet, though to thy breast fled, my soul

Still in mine own doth stay;

Char.

And with the same warm breath did mine

Into thy bosom slide;

There dwell contracted unto thine,

Yet still with me reside.

Chor.

Both souls thus in desire are one,

10And each is two in skill;

Doubled in intellect alone,

United in the will.

Weak Nature no such power doth know:

Love only can these wonders show.

The Exchange.] 1647 'Exchange of Souls'. In editions other than 1651 there is a refrain after each stanza-speech:

Weak Nature no such power doth know,

Love only can these wonders show.

Unaltered by Sickness.

Sickness, in vain thou dost invade

A Beauty that can never fade!

Could all thy malice but impair

One of the sweets which crown this fair,

Or steal the spirits from her eye,

Or kiss into a paler dye

The blushing roses of her cheek,

Our drooping hopes might justly seek

Redress from thee, and thou might'st save

10Thousands of lovers from the grave:

But such assaults are vain, for she

Is too divine to stoop to thee;

Blest with a form as much too high

For any change, as Destiny,

Which no attempt can violate;

For what's her Beauty, is our Fate.

Unaltered by Sickness.] Lines 1 and 2 are expanded in 1656 to:

Pale, envious Sickness, hence! no more

Possess our breast, too cold before.

In vain, alas! thou dost invade

Those beauties which can never fade.

4 'On those sweets which crown the fair' 1656.

7 blushing] blooming 1657.

8 drooping] dropping 1647: suffering 1656.

14 For any] 1656 But any-nonsensically.

On his Mistress's Death.

PETRARCH.

Love the ripe harvest of my toils

Began to cherish with his smiles,

Preparing me to be indued

With all the joys I long pursued,

When my fresh hopes, fair and full blown,

Death blasts, ere I could call my own.

Malicious Death! why with rude force

Dost thou my Fair from me divorce?

False Life! why in this loathéd chain

10Me from my Fair dost thou detain?

In whom assistance shall I find?

Alike are Life and Death unkind.

Pardon me, Love; thy power outshines,

And laughs at their infirm designs.

She is not wedded to a tomb,

Nor I to sorrow in her room.

They, what thou join'st, can ne'er divide

She lives in me, in her I died.

The Exequies.

Draw near,

You Lovers that complain

Of Fortune or Disdain,

And to my ashes lend a tear;

Melt the hard marble with your groans,

And soften the relentless stones,

Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide,

Of all Love's cruelties, and Beauty's pride!

No verse,

10No epicedium bring,

Nor peaceful requiem sing,

To charm the terrors of my hearse;

No profane numbers must flow near

The sacred silence that dwells here.

Vast griefs are dumb; softly, oh! softly mourn,

Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.

Yet strew

Upon my dismal grave

Such offerings as you have,

20Forsaken cypress and sad yew;

For kinder flowers can take no birth,

Or growth, from such unhappy earth.

Weep only o'er my dust, and say, Here lies

To Love and Fate an equal sacrifice.

The Exequies.] A very good stanza, the rhythm rising and swelling admirably. In the final couplet of the first, 1647 reads-

do a victim hide,

That, paid to Beauty, on Love's altar died.

The Silkworm.

This silkworm, to long sleep retir'd,

The early year hath re-inspir'd,

Who now to pay to thee prepares

The tribute of her pleasing cares;

And hastens with industrious toil

To make thy ornament, her spoil:

See with what pains she spins for thee

The thread of her own destiny;

Then growing proud in Death, to know

10That all her curious labours thou

Wilt, as in triumph, deign to wear,

Retires to her soft sepulchre.

Such, dearest, is that hapless state,

To which I am design'd by Fate,

Who by thee, willingly, o'ercome,

Work mine own fetters and my tomb.

The Silkworm.] 1 This] The 1647.

6 Miss Guiney insists, in the teeth of all texts, upon changing over 'thy' and 'her', saying that 'facts and the context force' the reversal. I am afraid that the genius of seventeenth-century poetry did not care much for facts or context at any time. But here no violence is done to either. Nine men out of ten wishing to say 'to make out of the spoil of herself an ornament for thee' would have probably put it in the same way, especially if they wanted the rhyme 'spoil'.

10 'That her rich work and labours' 1647.

14 'I destined am' 1647.

A Lady Weeping.

MONTALVAN.

As when some brook flies from itself away,

The murmuring crystal loosely runs astray;

And as about the verdant plain it winds,

The meadows with a silver riband binds,

Printing a kiss on every flower she meets,

Losing herself to fill them with new sweets,

To scatter frost upon the lily's head,

And scarlet on the gilliflower to spread;

So melting sorrow, in the fair disguise

10Of humid stars, flow'd from bright Cloris' eyes,

Which wat'ring every flower her cheek discloses,

Melt into jasmines here, there into roses.

A Lady Weeping.] Few people, I think, will accept Miss Guiney's suggestion of 'tears' for 'stars' in l. 10, especially after 'humid'. The shooting star, which dissolved on reaching earth into dew or 'jelly', is very common with Carolines.

Ambition.

I must no longer now admire

The coldness which possess'd

Thy snowy breast,

That can by other flames be set on fire.

Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray'd,

Is by Ambition thus out-weigh'd.

Hadst thou but known the vast extent

Of constant faith, how far

'Bove all that are

10Born slaves to Wealth, or Honour's vain ascent;

No richer treasure couldst thou find

Than hearts with mutual chains combin'd.

But Love is too despis'd a name,

And must not hope to rise

Above these ties;

Honour and Wealth outshine his paler flame;

These unite souls, whilst true desire

Unpitied dies in its own fire.

Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim

20With no less justice too,

Than those that sue

For other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim.

Wealth honours, honours wealth approve,

But Beauty's only meant for Love.

Ambition.] 16 Miss Guiney thinks that the singular 'Honour', though in all texts, is obviously wrong. I should say that the plural would be more obviously wronger. The mistake, of course, comes from importing a modern distinction.

Song.

When, dearest beauty, thou shalt pay

Thy faith and my vain hope away

To some dull soul that cannot know

The worth of that thou dost bestow;

Lest with my sighs and tears I might

Disturb thy unconfin'd delight,

To some dark shade I will retire,

And there, forgot by all, expire.

Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove

10Betwixt a feign'd and real love,

Whilst he, more happy, but less true,

Shall reap those joys I did pursue,

And with those pleasures crownéd be

By Fate, which Love design'd for me,

Then thou, perhaps, thyself wilt find

Cruel too long, or too soon kind.

Song.] Not one of Stanley's worst.

The Revenge.

RONSARD.

Fair Rebel to thyself and Time,

Who laugh'st at all my tears,

When thou hast lost thy youthful prime,

And Age his trophy rears,

Weighing thy inconsiderate pride

Thou shalt in vain accuse it,

Why beauty am I now denied,

Or knew not then to use it?

Then shall I wish, ungentle fair,

10Thou in like flames mayst burn;

Venus, if just, will hear my prayer,

And I shall laugh my turn.

The Revenge.] Not one of his best, even as a translation. The suspicion of flatness which occurs too often in him could not be more fatal than in connexion with Ronsard's famous and beautiful sonnet. But Stanley has handicapped himself almost inconceivably. He has thrown away the half-sad, half-scornful burst of the opening 'Quand vous serez bien vieille'-the vivid picture of the crone half boasting, half regretting her love and her disdain, by the flicker of fire and candle, to the listening handmaiden, and the final touch as to the use of life. In fact I have sometimes wondered whether he really meant this masterpiece.

Song.

I will not trust thy tempting graces,

Or thy deceitful charms;

Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces,

Or fetter'd in thy arms;

No, Celia, no, not all thy art

Can wound or captivate my heart.

I will not gaze upon thy eyes,

Or wanton with thy hair,

Lest those should burn me by surprise,

10Or these my soul ensnare;

Nor with those smiling dangers play,

Or fool my liberty away.

Since then my wary heart is free,

And unconfin'd as thine,

If thou wouldst mine should captiv'd be,

Thou must thine own resign,

And gratitude may thus move more

Than Love or Beauty could before.

Song.] Another capital stanza-mould, especially in 1. The next is even better.

This Song is also in Select Airs and Dialogues, set by Mr. Jeremy Savill, 1659.

Song.

No, I will sooner trust the wind,

When falsely kind

It courts the pregnant sails into a storm,

And when the smiling waves persuade,

Be willingly betray'd,

Than thy deceitful vows or form.

Go, and beguile some easy heart

With thy vain art;

Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow,

10Who only see the calms that sleep

On this smooth flatt'ring deep,

But not the hidden dangers know.

They that like me thy falsehood prove,

Will scorn thy love.

Some may, deceiv'd at first, adore thy shrine;

But he that, as thy sacrifice,

Doth willingly fall twice,

Dies his own martyr, and not thine.

Song. 12 the] thy 1647.

To a Blind Man in Love.

MARINO.

Lover, than Love more blind, whose bold thoughts dare

Fix on a woman is both young and fair!

If Argus, with a hundred eyes, not one

Could guard, hop'st thou to keep thine, who hast none?

To a Blind Man in Love.] 2 The ellipsis of 'who' before 'is' is one of the few grammatical licences which are really awkward in poetry. In Oronta 1647, where this poem also appeared with two other translations from Marino, the reading is 'woman that is young'; and in 7 'Senses too'.

Answer.

I'm blind, 'tis true, but, in Love's rules, defect

Of sense is aided by the intellect;

And senses by each other are supplied:

The touch enjoys what's to the sight denied.

Song.

I Prithee let my heart alone,

Since now 'tis rais'd 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 flatt'ring kiss, each tempting smile,

10Thou 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,

20As now thou sufferest mine.

Song.] Pretty, and the double rhymes in stanzas 1 and 4 well brought off.

7 1656 'the shore'.

The Loss.

Yet ere I go,

Disdainful Beauty, thou shall be

So wretched, as to know

What joys thou fling'st away with me.

A faith so bright,

As Time or Fortune could not rust;

So firm, that lovers might

Have read thy story in my dust,

And crown'd thy name

10With laurel verdant as thy youth,

Whilst the shrill voice of Fame

Spread wide thy beauty and my truth.

This thou hast lost;

For all true lovers, when they find

That my just aims were crost,

Will speak thee lighter than the wind.

And none will lay

Any oblation on thy shrine,

But such as would betray

20Thy faith, to faiths as false as thine.

Yet, if thou choose

On such thy freedom to bestow,

Affection may excuse,

For love from sympathy doth flow.

The Loss.] Still good. But I have once more to demur to Miss Guiney's opinion that 'Thy' in l. 20, though found in all texts, should 'almost certainly' be 'Their'. In the first place, conjectural emendations in the teeth of text-agreement are never to be made without absolute necessity. In the second, the hackneyed observation about the less obvious reading is never so true as of the Caroline poets. In the third, this particular correction, if obvious in one sense, is but specious in another, and 'Their faith' will be found on examination to make less, not more, sense than 'Thy'. The meaning is, 'Such faith as thou mightest repose in them after being false to me', i.e. 'They would leave thee for other light-o'-loves'.

The Self-Cruel.

Cast off, for shame, ungentle Maid,

That misbecoming joy thou wear'st;

For in my death, though long delay'd,

Unwisely cruel thou appear'st.

Insult o'er captives with disdain,

Thou canst not triumph o'er the slain.

No, I am now no longer thine,

Nor canst thou take delight to see

Him whom thy love did once confine,

10Set, though by Death, at liberty;

For if my fall a smile beget,

Thou gloriest in thy own defeat.

Behold how thy unthrifty pride

Hath murder'd him that did maintain it!

And wary souls, who never tried

Thy tyrant beauty, will disdain it:

But I am softer, and that me

Thou wouldst not pity, pity thee.

The Self-Cruel.] Merely 'Song' in 1647.

The observations in the preceding note apply to Miss Guiney's supposition that 'that' in the penultimate line is a misprint for 'though'. 'I pity thee in (or 'for') that thou wouldst not pity me.'

Song.

BY M. W. M.

Wert thou yet fairer than thou art,

Which lies not in the power of Art;

Or hadst thou in thine eyes more darts

Than ever Cupid shot at hearts;

Yet if they were not thrown at me,

I would not cast a thought on thee,

I'd rather marry a disease,

Than court the thing I cannot please;

She that will cherish my desires,

10Must meet my flames with equal fires.

What pleasure is there in a kiss

To him that doubts the heart's not his?

I love thee not because th' art fair,

Softer than down, smoother than air;

Nor for the Cupids that do lie

In either corner of thine eye:

Wouldst thou then know what it might be?

'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me.

Song.] In 1647 the song itself is not given, and the title of Stanley's piece is 'In Answer to a Song, Wert thou much fairer than thou art, &c.' I do not know who Master W. M. was-possibly Walter Montagu, Abbé de Saint-Martin, whom we have met once or twice in commendatory poems, and who was of the Cavalier literary set.

Answer.

Wert thou by all affections sought,

And fairer than thou wouldst be thought;

Or had thine eyes as many darts

As thou believ'st they shoot at hearts;

Yet if thy love were paid to me,

I would not offer mine to thee.

I'd sooner court a fever's heat,

Than her that owns a flame as great;

She that my love will entertain,

10Must meet it with no less disdain;

For mutual fires themselves destroy,

And willing kisses yield no joy.

I love thee not because alone

Thou canst all beauty call thine own

Nor doth my passion fuel seek

In thy bright eye or softer cheek:

Then, fairest, if thou wouldst know why

I love thee, 'cause thou canst deny.

The Relapse.

Oh, turn away those cruel eyes,

The stars of my undoing!

Or Death, in such a bright disguise,

May tempt a second wooing.

Punish their blindly impious pride,

Who dare contemn thy glory;

It was my fall that deified

Thy name, and seal'd thy story.

Yet no new sufferings can prepare

10A higher praise to crown thee;

Though my first Death proclaim thee fair,

My second will unthrone thee.

Lovers will doubt thou canst entice

No other for thy fuel,

And if thou burn one victim twice,

Both think thee poor and cruel.

The Relapse.] One of the author's best. Double rhymes often brought him luck. It was reprinted in Lawes's Airs and Dialogues, the Second Book, 1655, p. 7, with the heading 'He would not be tempted'. In 1647 called 'Song' only. This edition also reads in l. 5 'blind and impious', and in l. 7 'thy name' for 'my fall'. This last, which doubtless is a slip, seems to occur in some copies of 1651, but Brydges prints it correctly.

To the Countess of S. with the Holy Court.

Madam,

Since every place you bless, the name

This book assumes may justlier claim,

(What more a court than where you shine?

And where your soul, what more divine?)

You may, perhaps, doubt at first sight,

That it usurps upon your right;

And praising virtues, that belong

To you, in others, doth yours wrong;

No; 'tis yourself you read, in all

10Perfections earlier ages call

Their own; all glories they e'er knew

Were but faint prophecies of you.

You then have here sole interest whom 'tis meant

As well to entertain, as represent.

To the Countess of S.] This lady has been supposed, probably enough, to be Dorothy Sidney or Spencer, Countess of Sunderland, and Waller's 'Sacharissa'. The Holy Court was a manual of devotion by the Jesuit Caussin, translated into English as early as 1626.

Song.

DE VOITURE.

I languish in a silent flame;

For she, to whom my vows incline,

Doth own perfections so divine,

That but to speak were to disclose her name

If I should say that she the store

Of Nature's graces doth comprise,

The love and wonder of all eyes,

Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

Or though I warily conceal

10The charms her looks and soul possess;

Should I her cruelty express,

And say she smiles at all the pains we feel;

Among such suppliants as implore

Pity, distributing her hate,

Inexorable as their fate,

Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

Song.] Stanley was less impar congressus with Voiture than with Ronsard, and this is well done. The stanza is well framed and is different from the French ('Je me tais et me sens br?ler', Chanson LIV, ?uvres de Voiture, ed. Ubicini, Paris, 1855, ii. 336).

Drawn for Valentine by the L. D. S.

Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire,

Though I must waste in an unpitied fire,

By the same Deity, severe as fair,

Commanded adoration and despair;

Though I am mark'd for sacrifice, to tell

The growing age what dangerous glories dwell

In this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays,

Will challenge every heart, and every praise;

Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim,

10By Fortune's taught indulgence to my flame.

Great Queen of Chance! unjustly we exclude

Thy power an interest in beatitude,

Who, with mysterious judgement, dost dispense

The bounties of unerring Providence,

Whilst we, to whom the causes are unknown,

Would style that blindness thine, which is our own;

As kind in justice to thyself as me,

Thou hast redeem'd thy name and votary;

Nor will I prize this less for being thine,

20Nor longer at my destiny repine:

Counsel and choice are things below thy state;

Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate.

The Modest Wish.

BARCLAY.

Reach incense, boy! thou pious Flamen, pray!

To genial Deities these rites we pay.

Fly far from hence, such as are only taught

To fear the Gods by guilt of crime or thought!

This is my suit; grant it, Celestial Powers,

If what my will affects, oppose not yours.

First, pure before your altars may I stand,

And practise studiously what you command;

My parents' faith devoutly let me prize,

10Nor what my ancestors esteem'd, despise;

Let me not vex'd inquire (when thriving ill

Depresseth good) why thunder is so still?

No such ambitious knowledge trouble me;

Those curious thoughts advance not Piety:

Peaceful my house, in wife and children bless'd,

Nor these beyond my fortunes be increas'd:

None cozen me with Friendship's specious gloss;

None dearly buy my friendship with their loss:

To suits nor wars my quiet be betray'd;

20My quiet, to the Muses justly paid:

Want never force me court the rich with lies,

And intermix my suit with flatteries:

Let my sure friends deceive the tedious light,

And my sound sleeps, with debts not broke, the night:

Cheerful my board, my smiles shar'd by my wife,

O Gods! yet mindful still of human life,

To die nor let me wish nor fear; among

My joys mix griefs, griefs that not last too long:

My age be happy; and when Fate shall claim

30My thread of life, let me survive in fame.

Enough: the gods are pleas'd; the flames aspire,

And crackling laurel triumphs in the fire.

E Catalectis Vet[erum] Poet[arum]

A small well-gotten stock and country seat

I have, yet my content makes both seem great.

My quiet soul to fears is not inur'd,

And from the sins of Idleness secur'd.

Others may seek the camp, others the town,

And fool themselves with pleasure or renown;

Let me, unminded in the common crowd,

Live master of the time that I'm allow'd.

On the Edition of Mr. Fletcher's Works.

Fletcher (whose fame no age can ever waste;

Envy of ours, and glory of the last)

Is now alive again; and with his name

His sacred ashes wak'd into a flame;

Such as before did by a secret charm

The wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm,

And lend the ladies' eyes a power more bright,

Dispensing thus to either, heat and light.

He to a sympathy those souls betray'd,

10Whom Love or Beauty never could persuade;

And in each mov'd spectator could beget

A real passion by a counterfeit:

When first Bellario bled, what lady there

Did not for every drop let fall a tear?

And when Aspasia wept, not any eye

But seem'd to wear the same sad livery.

By him inspir'd, the feign'd Lucina drew

More streams of melting sorrow than the true;

But then the Scornful Lady did beguile

20Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile.

Thus he affections could or raise or lay;

Love, Grief, and Mirth thus did his charms obey:

He Nature taught her passions to outdo,

How to refine the old, and create new;

Which such a happy likeness seem'd to bear,

As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were.

Yet all had nothing been, obscurely kept

In the same urn wherein his dust hath slept,

Nor had he ris' the Delphic wreath to claim,

30Had not the dying scene expir'd his name.

Oh the indulgent justice of this age,

To grant the Press, what it denies the Stage!

Despair our joy hath doubled; he is come

Twice welcome by this post-liminium;

His loss preserv'd him; they that silenc'd wit

Are now the authors to eternize it:

Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv'd,

And plays, by intermission, longer liv'd.

On [the Edition of Mr.] Fletcher's Works.] The bracketed words omitted in 1647, when, as the book itself (the first folio of Beaumont and Fletcher) had just appeared, they were unnecessary. The variants are slight: 'could' and 'did' in lines 5 and 11 are changed over; in l. 19, 'doth' (again reflecting the immediate presentation). In l. 29 'rise': the form 'ris'' is recognized by Ben Jonson. In l. 30 Miss Guiney thinks 'not' 'clearly a misprint' for 'with'. But this is clearly a misunderstanding of 'expir'd', which is used with its proper transitive force as in Latin. 'Had not the dying stage [the suppressed and decadent theatre of 1647] expired [uttered with its passing breath] his name, the book would not have been published [and so made him rise and claim the crown].' ll. 31, 32 were omitted in the Beaumont and Fletcher Folio, 1647.

It can hardly be necessary to annotate the well-known characters of 'the twins' that Stanley introduces. Brydges, by printing 'Scornful Lady' without capitals, unnecessarily obscured one of them.

To Mr. W. Hammond.

Thou best of friendship, knowledge, and of art!

The charm of whose lov'd name preserves my heart

From female vanities (thy name, which there,

Till Time dissolves the fabric, I must wear),

Forgive a crime which long my soul opprest,

And crept by chance in my unwary breast,

So great, as for thy pardon were unfit,

And to forgive were worse than to commit,

But that the fault and pain were so much one,

10The very act did expiate what was done.

I, who so often sported with the flame,

Play'd with the Boy, and laugh'd at both as tame,

Betray'd by Idleness and Beauty, fell

At last in love, love, both the sin and hell:

No punishment great as my fault esteem'd,

But to be that which I so long had seem'd.

Behold me such, a face, a voice, a lute,

The sentence in a minute execute!

I yield; recant; the faith which I before

20Denied, profess; the power I scorn'd, implore.

Alas, in vain! no prayers, no vows can bow

Her stubborn heart, who neither will allow.

But see how strangely what was meant no less

Than torment, prov'd my greatest happiness:

Delay, that should have sharpen'd, starv'd Desire,

And Cruelty not fann'd, but quench'd my fire;

Love bound me: now by kind Disdain set free,

I can despise that Love as well as she.

That sin to friendship I away have thrown:

30My heart thou mayst without a rival own,

While such as willingly themselves beguile,

And sell away their freedoms for a smile,

Blush to confess our joys as far above

Their hopes, as Friendship's longer liv'd than Love.

To Mr. W. Hammond.] In 1647, as usually, initials only. His relation (see Introduction) and the author of the poems in vol. ii. As in some other cases, this poem shows the nisus of the more or less stopped couplet-the way in which it was communicating energy to writers of the time even when they mainly belong to the older division.

30 1647 'Nor any flame, but what is thine, will own'.

On Mr. Shirley's Poems.

When, dearest friend, thy verse doth re-inspire

Love's pale decaying torch with brighter fire,

Whilst everywhere thou dost dilate thy flame,

And to the world spread thy Odelia's name,

The justice of all ages must remit

To her the prize of Beauty, thee of Wit.

Then, like some skilful artist, that to wonder

Framing a piece, displeas'd, takes it asunder,

Thou Beauty dost depose, her charms deny,

10And all the mystic chains of Love untie:

Thus thy diviner Muse a power 'bove Fate

May boast, that can both make and uncreate.

Next thou call'st back to life that love-sick boy,

To the kind-hearted nymphs less fair than coy,

Who, by reflex beams burnt with vain desire,

Did, Phoenix-like, in his own flames expire:

But should he view his shadow drawn by thee,

He with himself once more in love would be.

Echo (who though she words pursue, her haste

20Can only overtake and stop the last)

Shall her first speech and human veil obtain

To sing thy softer numbers o'er again.

Thus, into dying poetry, thy Muse

Doth full perfection and new life infuse;

Each line deserves a laurel, and thy praise

Asks not a garland, but a grove of bays;

Nor can ours raise thy lasting trophies higher,

Who only reach at merit to admire.

But I must chide thee, friend: how canst thou be

30A patron, yet a foe to poetry?

For while thou dost this age to verse restore,

Thou dost deprive the next of owning more;

And hast so far e'en future aims surpast,

That none dare write: thus being first and last,

All, their abortive Muses will suppress,

And poetry by this increase grow less.

On Mr. Shirley's Poems.] 1647 initials (I. S.), as usual. The same remark applies here as to the last piece. Shirley's Poems (which include a reciprocal compliment to our author's) appear at the end of the sixth volume of Dyce's standard edition of his plays, and therefore are not included in this collection. They are, however, interesting, though there is nothing in them so good as the famous 'Glories of our blood and state'. 'Odelia' (a curious and rather suspicious name) appears pretty frequently in them. Shirley was a friend not merely of Stanley, but of Hammond and Prestwich (v. inf.) and others of the set. Some of the poems usually attributed to Carew appear to be really his. His Poems were published in 1646, a year before Stanley's.-There are some quite unimportant variants between 1647 and 1651: 'that' and 'who' in l. 7; 'a' and 'some' in l. 8; 'words' and 'speech' in l. 19; and l. 30 has the absurd reading 'A patron, yet a friend to poesy'. 1647 omits lines 31 and 32, and reads

Thou hast so far all future times surpassed

in l. 33. Miss Guiney suggests 'voice' for 'veil' in l. 21. But 'veil' is far more poetical as = The body of her disguise and humiliation after her aerial enfranchisement.

On Mr. Sherburn's Translation of Seneca's Medea, and Vindication of the Author.

That wise philosopher, who had design'd

To life the various passions of the mind,

Did wrong'd Medea's jealousy prefer

To entertain the Roman theatre;

Both to instruct the soul, and please the sight,

At once begetting horror and delight.

This cruelty thou dost once more express,

Though in a strange, no less becoming dress;

And her revenge hast robb'd of half its pride,

10To see itself thus by itself outvied,

That boldest ages past may say, our times

Can speak, as well as act their highest crimes.

Nor was 't enough to do his scene this right,

But what thou gav'st to us, with equal light

Thou wouldst bestow on him, nor wert more just

Unto the author's work, than to his dust;

Thou dost make good his title, aid his claim,

Both vindicate his poem and his name,

So shar'st a double wreath; for all that we

Unto the poet owe, he owes to thee. 20

Though change of tongues stol'n praise to some afford,

Thy version hath not borrow'd, but restor'd.

On Mr. Sherburn's Translation, &c.] Title in 1647 rather longer, but with initials, 'To Mr. E. S. on his Translation of Medea, with the other Tragedies of Seneca the Philosopher and vindicating of their Author'. Sherburn (afterwards Sir Edward) had the rather capriciously adjudged honour of appearing in Chalmers's Poets, which accounts for his absence here.

20 1647 reads 'author' for 'poet', an obvious overlooking of the occurrence of the word just before.

On Mr. Hall's Essays.

Wits that matur'd by time have courted praise,

Shall see their works outdone in these Essays;

And blush to know, thy earlier years display

A dawning, clearer than their brightest day.

Yet I'll not praise thee, for thou hast outgrown

The reach of all men's praises, but thine own.

Encomiums to their objects are exact;

To praise, and not at full, is to detract.

And with most justice are the best forgot,

10For praise is bounded when the theme is not:

Since mine is thus confin'd, and far below

Thy merit, I forbear it, nor will show

How poor the autumnal pride of some appears,

To the ripe fruit thy vernal season bears.

Yet though I mean no praise, I come t'invite

Thy forward aims still to advance their flight;

Rise higher yet, what though thy spreading wreath

Lessen to their dull sight who stay beneath?

To thy full learning how can all allow

20Just praise, unless that all were learn'd as thou?

Go on in spite of such low souls, and may

Thy growing worth know age, though not decay,

Till thou pay back thy theft; and live to climb

As many years as thou hast snatch'd from Time.

On Mr. Hall's Essays.] 1647 'To Mr. I. H. on his Essays'. These were the much-praised Horae Vacivae (see Introduction to Hall, vol. ii). Besides the slight difference in general title the 1647 version divides itself. The first division consists of the first four lines only. A second, to Mr. I. H., appears elsewhere, beginning:

I'll not commend thee, for thou hast outgrown-

and going on as above, except that 'full' is foisted up from l. 8 to l. 7 ('full objects'), to the destruction of sense and metre.

3 earlier] early 1647.

13 'The pride of others' autumns poor appears' 1647.

On S[ir] J[ohn] S[uckling], his Picture and Poems.

Suckling, whose numbers could invite

Alike to wonder and delight,

And with new spirit did inspire

The Thespian scene and Delphic lyre,

Is thus express'd in either part,

Above the humble reach of Art.

Drawn by the pencil, here you find

His form, by his own pen, his mind.

On Sir John Suckling, his Picture and Poems.] Initials only in original titles. These poems were the Fragmenta Aurea of 1646.

The Union.

Μ?α ψυχ? δ?ο σ?ματα.

BY MR. WILLIAM FAIRFAX.

As in the crystal centre of the sight,

Two subtle beams make but one cone of light,

Or when one flame twin'd with another is,

They both ascend in one bright pyramis;

Our spirits thus into each other flow,

One in our being, one in what we know,

In what we will, desire, dislike, approve,

In what we love, and one is that pure love,

As in a burning glass th' a?rial flame,

10With the producing ray, is still the same:

We to Love's purest quintessence refin'd,

Do both become one undefilèd mind.

This sacred fire into itself converts

Our yielding spirits, and our melting hearts,

Till both our souls into one spirit run,

So several lines are in their centre one.

And when thy fair idea is imprest

In the soft tablet of my easier breast,

The sweet reflection brings such sympathy,

20That I my better self behold in thee;

And all perfections that in thee combine,

By this resultance are entirely mine;

Thy rays disperse my shades, who only live

Bright in the lustre thou art pleas'd to give.

The Union] 12 undefiled] undivided 1647.

18 tablet] table 1647.

Answer.

If we are one, dear friend! why shouldst thou be

At once unequal to thyself and me?

By thy release thou swell'st my debt the more,

And dost but rob thyself to make me poor.

What part can I have in thy luminous cone?

What flame, since my love's thine, can call my own?

The palest star is less the son of night,

Who, but thy borrow'd, know no native light:

Was 't not enough thou freely didst bestow

10The Muse, but thou wouldst give the laurel too?

And twice my aims by thy assistance raise,

Conferring first the merit, then the praise?

But I should do thee greater injury,

Did I believe this praise were meant to me,

Or thought, though thou hast worth enough to spare,

T' enrich another soul, that mine should share.

Thy Muse, seeming to lend, calls home her fame,

And her due wreath doth in renouncing claim.

Answer.] In l. 10 of the 'Answer' 1647 has 'must'. At the end of the poem in 1647 is the couplet

Δ?σμορε θηλυμαν?ν γλυκ? μ? λ?γε κ?ντρον ?ρ?των?

Μο?νο? ΤΑΣ ΜΟΥΣΑΣ ?λβι?? ?στι ΘΕΛΩΝ.

Pythagoras, his Moral Rules.

First to immortal God thy duty pay,

Observe thy vow, honour the saints: obey

Thy prince and rulers, nor their laws despise:

Thy parents reverence, and near allies:

Him that is first in virtue make thy friend;

And with observance his kind speech attend:

Nor, to thy power, for light faults cast him by;

Thy power is neighbour to necessity.

These know, and with intentive care pursue;

10But Anger, Sloth, and Luxury subdue.

In sight of others, or thyself, forbear

What 's ill; but of thyself stand most in fear.

Let Justice all thy words and actions sway,

Nor from the even course of reason stray;

For know that all men are to die ordain'd,

And riches are as quickly lost as gain'd.

Crosses that happen by divine decree,

If such thy lot, bear not impatiently.

Yet seek to remedy with all thy care,

20And think the just have not the greatest share.

'Mongst men discourses good and bad are spread,

Despise not those, nor be by these misled.

If any some notorious falsehood say,

Thou the report with equal judgement weigh.

Let not men's smoother promises invite,

Nor rougher threats from just resolves thee fright.

If ought thou wouldst attempt, first ponder it,

Fools only inconsiderate acts commit.

Nor do what afterward thou mayst repent,

30First learn to know the thing on which th'art bent.

Thus thou a life shalt lead with joy replete.

Nor must thou care of outward health forget;

Such temperance use in exercise and diet,

As may preserve thee in a settled quiet.

Meats unprohibited, not curious, choose,

Decline what any other may accuse:

The rash expense of vanity detest,

And sordidness: a mean in all is best.

Hurt not thyself; act nought thou dost not weigh;

40And every business of the following day

As soon as by the morn awak'd, dispose;

Nor suffer sleep at night thy eyes to close,

Till thrice that diary thou hast o'errun;

How slipt? what deeds, what duty left undone?

Thus thy account summ'd up from first to last,

Grieve for the ill, joy for what good hath past.

These, if thou study, practise, and affect,

To sacred Virtue will thy steps direct.

Nature's eternal fountain I attest,

50Who did the soul with fourfold power invest.

Ere thou begin, pray well thy work may end,

Then shall thy knowledge to all things extend,

Divine and human; where enlarg'd, restrain'd;

How Nature is by general likeness chain'd.

Vain Hope nor Ignorance shall dim thy sight:

Then shalt thou see that hapless men invite

Their ills; to good, though present, deaf and blind;

And few the cure of their misfortunes find:

This only is the fate that harms, and rolls,

60Through miseries successive, human souls.

Within is a continual hidden fight,

Which we to shun must study, not excite:

Good God! how little trouble should we know,

If thou to all men wouldst their genius show!

But fear not thou; men come of heav'nly race,

Taught by diviner Nature what t' embrace;

Which, if pursued, thou all I nam'd shalt gain,

And keep thy soul clear from thy body's stain:

In time of prayer and cleansing meats denied

70Abstain from; thy mind's reins let reason guide:

Then rais'd to Heaven, thou from thy body free,

A deathless saint, no more shalt mortal be.

Pythagoras, his Moral Rules.] Stanley's three vocations of poet, translator, and philosopher come well together in this closing piece, and the prose commentary completes the exposition in little.

The common received opinion that Pythagoras is not the author of these verses, seems to be defended by Chrysippus in Agellius, Plutarch, Laertius, and Iamblichus, who affirm that the rules and sense only were his, digested into verse by some of his scholars. But it is not improbable that they did no more than collect the verses, and so gave occasion to the mistake; for Laertius confesseth that Pythagoras used to deliver his precepts to his disciples in verse, one of which was

Π? παρ?βην; τ? δ' ?ρεξα; τ? μοι δ?ον ο?κ ?τελ?σθη;

How slipt? what deeds, what duty left undone?

Of this opinion I believe Clemens Alexandrinus, who cites one of these lines under his name, and Proclus, when he calls him τ?ν χρυσ?ν ?π?ν πατ?ρα, the father of the golden verses.

[thy duty pay]

Ν?μ? ?? δι?κειται; though Hierocles in another sense read δι?κεινται.

[thy vow]

?ρκο?. Hierocles, τ?ρησι? τ?ν θε?ων ν?μων, observance of religious rules.

[honour the saints]

?ρωα?. Laertius on these words explains souls whereof the air is full. Hierocles, angels, the sons of God, &c.

[Thy prince and rulers]

Καταχθον?ου? δα?μονα?, Hierocles, Το?? ?π? γ?? πολιτε?εσθαι δυναμ?νου?; capable of government.

[nor their laws despise]

?ννομα ??ζειν. Hierocles Πε?θεσθαι ο?? ?πολελο?πασιν ?μ?ν παραγγ?λμασι; to obey their commands.

[with observance]

?ργα ?πωφ?λιμα, that is, ε?εργεσ?α, θεραπε?α: yet, Hierocles otherwise.

[Thy power is neighbour to necessity]

Whatsoever necessity can force thee to bear, it is in thy power to bear voluntarily. If thy friend have wronged thee, how canst thou say, thou art not able to endure his company, when imprisonment might constrain thee to it? See Hierocles.

['Mongst men discourses good and bad are spread;

Despise not these,1 nor be by those misled.]

So Hierocles; Marcilius reads ?ν (that is, ο?ν) for ?ν which best agrees with this sense.

[what any other may accuse]

φθ?νον. Hierocles interprets μ?μψιν, invidia, so taken sometimes by Cicero, Marcell.

[And every business of the following day

As soon as by the morn awak'd, dispose]

These two lines I have inserted upon the authority of Porphyrius,

Πρ? μ?ν ο?ν το? ?πνου τα?τα ?αυτ? τ? ?πη ?π?δειν ?καστον.

Μηδ' ?πνον μαλακο?σιν, &c.

Πρ? δ? τ?? ?ξαναστ?σεω? ?κε?να?

Πρ?τα μ?ν ?ξ ?πνοιο μελ?φρονο? ?ξυπανιστ??

Ε? μ?λα ποιπνε?ειν ?σ' ?ν ?ματι ?ργα τελ?σσει.

He advised every one before he slept to repeat these verses to himself,

Nor suffer sleep at night, &c.

And before he rose these,

And every business, &c.

How much this confirms Pythagoras the author, and his scholars but disposers of the verses (who, as it appears, forgot these two), is evident enough. The main argument they insist upon, who labour to prove the contrary, is derived from these words,

[Nature's eternal fountain I attest,

Who did the soul with fourfold power invest]

Where Marcilius expounds παραδ?ντα τετρακ?ν2 illum a quo scientiam τετρακτ?ο?, acceperant, is autem doctor eorum Pythagoras, as if it were

Him who the Tetrad to our souls exprest,

(Nature's eternal fountain) I attest;

And then takes pains to show that his scholars used to swear by him. But παραδιδ?ναι ψυχ? μαθητ?ν for διδ?σκειν is not without a little violence to ?μετ?ρ? ψυχ? (which makes Iamblic[h]us read ?μετ?ρα? σοφ?α?) Marcilius in this being the less excusable for confessing immediately, Animae vero nostrae dixerunt Pythagorei quoniam quaternarius animae numerus est, an explanation inconsistent with the other, but (as I conceive) truer; Macrobius expressly agreeth with it; Iuro tibi per eum qui dat animae nostrae quaternarium numerum; or, as others,

Per qui nostrae animae numerum dedit ipse quaternum.

By him who gave us life-God. In which sense, παγ?ν ?ενν?ου φ?σεω?, much more easily will follow παραδ?ντα than τετρακ?ν. The four powers of the soul are, mens, scientia, opinio, sensus, which Aristotle calls the four instruments of judgement, Hierocles, κριτικ?? δυν?μει?. The mind is compared to a unit, in that of many singulars it makes one. Science to the number two (which amongst the Pythagoreans is numerus infinitatis), because it proceeds from things certain and granted to uncertain and infinite. Opinion to three, a number of indefinite variety. Sense to four, as furnishing the other three. In this exposition I am the more easily persuaded to dissent from Plutarch, Hierocles, Iamblichus, and other interpreters, since they differ no less amongst themselves.

[Within is a continual hidden fight]

Betwixt Reason and Appetite.

[how little trouble]

As Marcilius reads, ? πολλ?ν, &c.

[their genius]

Ο?? δα?μονι, Hierocles expounds ο?? ψυχ?. Genius includes both.

[what t' embrace]

Hierocles π?ντα τ? δ?οντα, all that they ought to do.

[from the3 body's stain]

Hierocles from the infection of the body.

[In times3 of prayer]

?ν τε λ?σει ψυχ??, Meditation. See Plato in Phaedone.

[and cleansing]

Which extended (saith Hierocles) ?ω? σιτ?ων κα? ποτ?ν κα? τ?? ?λη? δια?τη? το? θνητο? ?μ?ν σ?ματο? to meat and drink, &c.

[meats denied]

What they were is expressed by Laertius, Suidas, Hierocles, Agellius, &c. Hierocles affirms that in these words ?ν ε?πομεν, he cites his sacred Apothegms: τ? δ? ?π? μ?ρου? ?ν το?? ?ερο?? ?ποφθ?γμασιν, ?ν ?πορρ?τ? παρεδ?δοιτο, Concerning meat is particularly delivered in his holy Apothegms, that which was not lawful to make known to every one. Which is a great testimony that Pythagoras, and not any of his disciples, writ these verses; for if the author had cited him before in the third person (as they argue from παραδ?ντα τετρακ?ν4), he would have cited him now in the first.

1 'These' and 'those' are originally 'crossed over' in text and note.

2 τετρακ?ν should, as indeed the context proclaims, be τετρακτ?ν.

3 Slight alteration of text in notes again original.

4 See above. The mistake is an odd one because the original oath is in hexameters and τετρακτ?ν is absolutely necessary as the last word.

FINIS.

POEMS APPEARING ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1656

On this swelling bank, once proud

Of its burden, Doris lay:

Here she smil'd, and did uncloud

Those bright suns eclipse the day;

Here we sat, and with kind art

She about me twin'd her arms,

Clasp'd in hers my hand and heart,

Fetter'd in those pleasing charms.

Here my love and joys she crown'd,

10Whilst the hours stood still before me,

With a killing glance did wound,

And a melting kiss restore me.

On the down of either breast,

Whilst with joy my soul retir'd,

My reclining head did rest,

Till her lips new life inspir'd.

Thus, renewing of these sights

Doth with grief and pleasure fill me,

And the thought of these delights

20Both at once revive and kill me!

Dear, fold me once more in thine arms!

And let me know

Before I go

There is no bliss but in those charms.

By thy fair self I swear

That here, and only here,

I would for ever, ever stay:

But cruel Fate calls me away.

How swiftly the light minutes slide!

10The hours that haste

Away thus fast

By envious flight my stay do chide.

Yet, Dear, since I must go,

By this last kiss I vow,

By all that sweetness which dwells with thee,

Time shall move slow, till next I see thee.

The lazy hours move slow,

The minutes stay;

Old Time with leaden feet doth go,

And his light wings hath cast away.

The slow-pac'd spheres above

Have sure releas'd

Their guardians, and without help move,

Whilst that the very angels rest.

The number'd sands that slide

10Through this small glass,

And into minutes Time divide,

Too slow each other do displace;

The tedious wheels of light

No faster chime,

Than that dull shade which waits on night:

For Expectation outruns Time.

How long, Lord, must I stay?

How long dwell here?

O free me from this loathèd clay!

20Let me no more these fetters wear!

With far more joy

Shall I resign my breath,

For, to my griev'd soul, not to die

Is every minute a new death.

The three pieces which appear in 1656 only have no great character, and were very likely written for Gamble to tunes-seldom a very satisfactory process.

***

POEMS,

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PARADOXES,

and

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