--Forbear, therefore, And lull asleep Thy woes, and weep No more.
*218*
ORPHEUS
Orpheus he went, as poets tell, To fetch Eurydice from hell;
And had her, but it was upon This short, but strict condition;
Backward he should not look, while he Led her through hell's obscurity.
But ah! it happen'd, as he made His passage through that dreadful shade, Revolve he did his loving eye, For gentle fear or jealousy;
And looking back, that look did sever Him and Eurydice for ever.
*219*
A REQUEST TO THE GRACES
Ponder my words, if so that any be Known guilty here of incivility;
Let what is graceless, discomposed, and rude, With sweetness, smoothness, softness be endued:
Teach it to blush, to curtsey, lisp, and show Demure, but yet full of temptation, too.
Numbers ne'er tickle, or but lightly please, Unless they have some wanton carriages:--
This if ye do, each piece will here be good And graceful made by your neat sisterhood.
*220*
A HYMN TO VENUS AND CUPID
Sea-born goddess, let me be By thy son thus graced, and thee, That whene'er I woo, I find Virgins coy, but not unkind.
Let me, when I kiss a maid, Taste her lips, so overlaid With love's sirop, that I may In your temple, when I pray, Kiss the altar, and confess There's in love no bitterness.
*221*
TO BACCHUS: A CANTICLE
Whither dost thou hurry me, Bacchus, being full of thee?
This way, that way, that way, this,--
Here and there a fresh Love is;
That doth like me, this doth please;
--Thus a thousand mistresses I have now: yet I alone, Having all, enjoy not one!
*222*
A HYMN TO BACCHUS
Bacchus, let me drink no more!
Wild are seas that want a shore!
When our drinking has no stint, There is no one pleasure in't.
I have drank up for to please Thee, that great cup, Hercules.
Urge no more; and there shall be Daffadils giv'n up to thee.
*223*
A CANTICLE TO APOLLO
Play, Phoebus, on thy lute, And we will sit all mute;
By listening to thy lyre, That sets all ears on fire.
Hark, hark! the God does play!
And as he leads the way Through heaven, the very spheres, As men, turn all to ears!
*224*
TO MUSIC, TO BECALM A SWEET SICK YOUTH
Charms, that call down the moon from out her sphere, On this sick youth work your enchantments here!
Bind up his senses with your numbers, so As to entrance his pain, or cure his woe.
Fall gently, gently, and a-while him keep Lost in the civil wilderness of sleep:
That done, then let him, dispossess'd of pain, Like to a slumbering bride, awake again.
*225*
TO MUSIC: A SONG
Music, thou queen of heaven, care-charming spell, That strik'st a stillness into hell;
Thou that tam'st tigers, and fierce storms, that rise, With thy soul-melting lullabies;
Fall down, down, down, from those thy chiming spheres To charm our souls, as thou enchant'st our ears.
*226*
SOFT MUSIC
The mellow touch of music most doth wound The soul, when it doth rather sigh, than sound.
*227*
TO MUSIC
Begin to charm, and as thou strok'st mine ears With thine enchantment, melt me into tears.
Then let thy active hand scud o'er thy lyre, And make my spirits frantic with the fire;
That done, sink down into a silvery strain, And make me smooth as balm and oil again.
*228*
THE VOICE AND VIOL
Rare is the voice itself: but when we sing To th' lute or viol, then 'tis ravishing.
*229*
TO MUSIC, TO BECALM HIS FEVER
Charm me asleep, and melt me so With thy delicious numbers;
That being ravish'd, hence I go Away in easy slumbers.
Ease my sick head, And make my bed, Thou Power that canst sever From me this ill;--
And quickly still, Though thou not kill My fever.
Thou sweetly canst convert the same From a consuming fire, Into a gentle-licking flame, And make it thus expire.
Then make me weep My pains asleep, And give me such reposes, That I, poor I, May think, thereby, I live and die 'Mongst roses.
Fall on me like a silent dew, Or like those maiden showers, Which, by the peep of day, do strew A baptism o'er the flowers.
Melt, melt my pains With thy soft strains;
That having ease me given, With full delight, I leave this light, And take my flight For Heaven.
