romantic poems

Whom love commaundes and holdes as humble thrall
Transformed is each daye to sundry formes
I lyke ytt nott but cannott doo with all
For he that loves must needes endure those stormes
I first of all was chaungde into a harte;
Within whose flancke the murtheringe shafte did lye
Then to a swanne that syngs the dolefull parte,
Which doth presage the tyme that he muste dye
Then to a springe as cleare as cristall glasse
And by myne eyes I dyd unlade the same
The Salamander after that I was

When I complayne I doo butt fayne
my passyon ys noo inwarde griefe
I sporte withall when I doo call
The Gods of love to my releefe

Whylste from myne eyes the forste teares ryse
in secrete to my selfe I smyle
Butt that to lett deepe syghes I fett
as thoughe my harte woulde breake the while

I never fownde so sure a grownde
to purchase grace as newe devyse
To merytt oughte ytt proffitts noughte
butt as a hazard on the deyce

To women kinde a dowble mynde
fitts beste to maintayne sporte and game

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXXXIII

I.

The heavy hours are almost past
That part my love and me;
My longing eyes may hope at last
Their only wish to see.

II.

But how, my Delia! will you meet
The man you 'ave lost so long?
Will love in all your pulses beat,
And tremble on your tongue?

III.

Will you in ev'ry look declare
Your heart is still the same,
And heal each idly anxious care
Our fears in absence frame?

IV.

ON HER PLEADING WANT OF TIME .

I.

On Thames' bank a gentle youth
For Lucy sigh'd with matchless truth
Ev'n when he sigh'd in rhyme;
The lovely maid his flame return'd,
And would with equal warmth have burn'd,
But that she had not time.

II.

Oft' he repair'd with eager feet
In secret shades his fair to meet
Beneath th' accustom'd lime;
She would have fondly met him there,
And heal'd with love each tender care,
But that she had not time.

III.

I.

Fair Nature's sweet simplicity,
With elegance refin'd,
Well in thy feat, my Friend! I see,
But better in thy mind.

II.

To both from courts and all their state
Eager I fly, to prove
Joys far above a courtier's fate,
Tranquillity and love.

Time makes great states decay,
Time doth Maye's pompe disgrace,
Time drawes deepe furrowes in the fairest face,
Time wisdome, force, renowne doth take away,
Time doth consume the yeeres,
Time changes workes in heauen's eternall spheares:
Yet this fierce tyrant, which doth all deuoure,
To lessen loue in mee shall haue no power.

And would yee, louers, know
Why Loue doth naked goe?
Fond, waggish, changeling lad,
Late whilst Thaumantia's voyce
Hee wondring heard, it made him so rejoyce,
That hee o'rejoy'd ran mad,
And in a franticke fit threw cloathes away,
And since from lip and lap hers can not straye.

Beauty, sweet despot! at whose rosy throne,
With fond obeisance, bows the willing earth;
Whose yoke the brave, whose sway the scepter'd, own;
Say, did the gods, in anger, give thee birth?

But to destroy, bright angel, wert thou sent?
The lovely plague, alluring scourge of Heav'n!
Was that soft eye, to scatter torments, meant?
Were those sweet smiles, to kindle anguish, giv'n?

Say, with severe intent, hath Nature fram'd
Of all her works the fairest as the last?
Hath she the lily's white, in vengeance, sham'd?

Who doth presume my Mistress's name to scan,
Goes about more then any way he can,
Since all men think that it is Susan . Echo Ann .

What say'st? Then tell who is as white as Swan,
While others set by her are pale and wan,
Then, Echo , speak, Is it not Susan ? Ec. Ann .

Tell, Echo , yet, whose middle's but a span,
Some being gross as bucket, round as pan;
Say, Echo , then, Is it not Susan ? Ec. Ann .

Say, is she not soft as meal without bran,
Though yet in great hast once from me she ran,

Deep Sighs, Records of my unpitied Grief,
Memorials of my true, though hopeless Love,
Keep time with my sad thoughts, till wish'd Relief
My long despairs for vain and causless prove.

Yet if such hap never to you befall,
I give you leave, break time, break heart and all.