Part 30 (1/2)

1 Heart-tearing cares and quiv'ring fears, Anxious sighs, untimely tears, Fly, fly to courts, Fly to fond worldling's sports; Where strain'd sardonic smiles are glozing still, And Grief is forced to laugh against her will; Where mirth's but mummery, And sorrows only real be.

2 Fly from our country pastimes, fly, Sad troop of human misery!

Come, serene looks, Clear as the crystal brooks, Or the pure azured heaven, that smiles to see The rich attendance of our poverty.

Peace and a secure mind, Which all men seek, we only find.

3 Abused mortals, did you know Where joy, heart's ease, and comforts grow, You'd scorn proud towers, And seek them in these bowers; Where winds perhaps our woods may sometimes shake, But bl.u.s.tering care could never tempest make, Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, Saving of fountains that glide by us.

4 Blest silent groves! oh, may ye be For ever mirth's best nursery!

May pure contents, For ever pitch their tents Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains, And peace still slumber by these purling fountains, Which we may every year Find when we come a-fis.h.i.+ng here.

THE SILENT LOVER.

1 Pa.s.sions are liken'd best to floods and streams, The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; So when affection yields discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come; They that are rich in words must needs discover They are but poor in that which makes a lover.

2 Wrong not, sweet mistress of my heart, The merit of true pa.s.sion, With thinking that he feels no smart That sues for no compa.s.sion.

3 Since if my plaints were not t' approve The conquest of thy beauty, It comes not from defect of love, But fear t' exceed my duty.

4 For not knowing that I sue to serve A saint of such perfection As all desire, but none deserve A place in her affection,

5 I rather choose to want relief Than venture the revealing; Where glory recommends the grief, Despair disdains the healing.

6 Silence in love betrays more woe Than words, though ne'er so witty; A beggar that is dumb, you know, May challenge double pity.

7 Then wrong not, dearest to my heart, My love for secret pa.s.sion; He smarteth most who hides his smart, And sues for no compa.s.sion.

A VISION UPON 'THE FAIRY QUEEN.'

Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay, Within that temple where the vestal flame Was wont to burn: and pa.s.sing by that way To see that buried dust of living fame, Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept, All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen, At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept; And from thenceforth those Graces were not seen, For they this Queen attended; in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hea.r.s.e.

Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed, And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce, Where Homer's sprite did tremble all for grief, And cursed the access of that celestial thief.

LOVE ADMITS NO RIVAL.

1 Shall I, like a hermit, dwell, On a rock, or in a cell, Calling home the smallest part That is missing of my heart, To bestow it where I may Meet a rival every day?

If she undervalue me, What care I how fair she be?

2 Were her tresses angel gold, If a stranger may be bold, Unrebuked, unafraid, To convert them to a braid, And with little more ado Work them into bracelets, too; If the mine be grown so free, What care I how rich it be?

3 Were her hand as rich a prize As her hairs, or precious eyes, If she lay them out to take Kisses, for good manners' sake, And let every lover skip From her hand unto her lip; If she seem not chaste to me, What care I how chaste she be?

4 No; she must be perfect snow, In effect as well as show; Warming but as snow-b.a.l.l.s do, Not like fire, by burning too; But when she by change hath got To her heart a second lot, Then if others share with me, Farewell her, whate'er she be!

JOSHUA SYLVESTER.

Joshua Sylvester is the next in the list of our imperfectly-known, but real poets. Very little is known of his history. He was a merchant- adventurer, and died at Middleburg, aged fifty-five, in 1618. He is said to have applied, in 1597, for the office of secretary to a trading company in Stade, and to have been, on this occasion, patronised by the Earl of Ess.e.x. He was at one time attached to the English Court as a pensioner of Prince Henry. He is said to have been driven abroad by the severity of his satires. He seems to have had a sweet flow of conversational eloquence, and hence was called 'The Silver-tongued.' He was an eminent linguist, and wrote his dedications in various languages.