Part 90 (1/2)

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

FROM ROBERT HEATH.

WHAT IS LOVE?

1 Tis a child of fancy's getting, Brought up between hope and fear, Fed with smiles, grown by uniting Strong, and so kept by desire: 'Tis a perpetual vestal fire Never dying, Whose smoke like incense doth aspire, Upwards flying.

2 It is a soft magnetic stone, Attracting hearts by sympathy, Binding up close two souls in one, Both discoursing secretly: 'Tis the true Gordian knot, that ties Yet ne'er unbinds, Fixing thus two lovers' eyes, As well as minds.

3 Tis the spheres' heavenly harmony, Where two skilful hands do strike; And every sound expressively Marries sweetly with the like: 'Tis the world's everlasting chain That all things tied, And bid them, like the fixed wain, Unmoved to bide.

PROTEST OF LOVE.

When I thee all o'er do view I all o'er must love thee too.

By that smooth forehead, where's expressed The candour of thy peaceful breast, By those fair twin-like stars that s.h.i.+ne, And by those apples of thine eyne: By the lambkins and the kids Playing 'bout thy fair eyelids: By each peachy-blossomed cheek, And thy satin skin, more sleek And white than Flora's whitest lilies, Or the maiden daffodillies: By that ivory porch, thy nose: By those double-blanched rows Of teeth, as in pure coral set: By each azure rivulet, Running in thy temples, and Those flowery meadows 'twixt them stand: By each pearl-tipt ear by nature, as On each a jewel pendent was: By those lips all dewed with bliss, Made happy in each other's kiss.

TO CLARASTELLA.

Oh, those smooth, soft, and ruby lips, * * * * *

Whose rosy and vermilion hue Betrays the blus.h.i.+ng thoughts in you: Whose fragrant, aromatic breath Would revive dying saints from death, Whose siren-like, harmonious air Speaks music and enchants the ear; Who would not hang, and fixed there Wish he might know no other sphere?

Oh for a charm to make the sun Drunk, and forget his motion!

Oh that some palsy or lame gout Would cramp old Time's diseased foot!

Or that I might or mould or clip His speedy wings, whilst on her lip I quench my thirsty appet.i.te With the life-honey dwells on it!

Then on his holy altar, I Would sacrifice eternally, Offering one long-continued mine Of golden pleasures to thy shrine.

BY VARIOUS AUTHORS.

MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS.

(FROM BYRD'S 'PSALMS, SONNETS,' ETC. 1588.)

1 My mind to me a kingdom is, Such perfect joy therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That G.o.d or nature hath a.s.signed: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

2 No princely port, nor wealthy store, Nor force to win a victory; No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to win a loving eye; To none of these I yield as thrall, For why, my mind despise them all.

3 I see that plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soonest fall; I see that such as are aloft, Mishap doth threaten most of all; These get with toil, and keep with fear: Such cares my mind can never bear.

4 I press to bear no haughty sway; I wish no more than may suffice; I do no more than well I may.

Look what I want, my mind supplies; Lo, thus I triumph like a king, My mind's content with anything.