WILLIAM BROWNE

Lo, I the man that whilom loved and lost,
Not dreading loss, do sing again of love;
And like a man but lately tempest-tost
Try if my stars still inauspicious prove;
Not to make good that poets never can

Long time without a chosen mistress be,
Do I sing thus ; or my affections ran
Within the maze of mutability;
What last I loved was beauty of the mind,
And that lodged in a temple truly fair,
Which ruined now by death, if I can find
The Saint that lived therein some otherwhere,

I

may adore it there, and love the cell

For entertaining what I loved so well.

ROBERT HERRICK

(1591-1674)

TO HIS MISTRESS, OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING

You say I love not, 'cause I do not play

Still with your curls, and kiss the time away.
You blame me, too, because I can't devise
Some sport to please those babies in your eyes ;-

By Love's religion, I must here confess it,

The most I love, when I the least express it.
Small griefs find tongues; full casks are ever found
To give, if any, yet but little sound.

Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depth below.
So when love speechless is, she doth express
A depth in love, and that depth bottomless.
Now, since my love is tongueless, know me such,
Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much.

ROBERT HERRICK

TO THE GENIUS OF HIS HOUSE

COMMAND the roof, great Genius, and from thence
Into this house pour down thy influence,
That through each room a golden pipe may run
Of living water by thy benizon;

Fulfil the larders, and with strengthening bread
Be evermore these bins replenished.

Next, like a Bishop consecrate my ground,
That lucky fairies here may dance their round ;
And, after that, lay down some silver pence,

The master's charge and care to recompense.
Charm then the chambers; make the beds for ease,
More than for peevish pining sicknesses;

Fix the foundation fast, and let the roof

Grow old with time, but yet keep weather-proof.

GEORGE HERBERT

(1593-1633)

LOVE

I.

IMMORTAL Love, author of this great frame,

Sprung from that beauty which can never fade; How hath man parcel'd out thy glorious name, And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, While mortal love doth all the title gain!

Which siding with invention, they together Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain (Thy workmanship), and give thee share in neither. Wit fancies beauty, beauty raiseth wit:

The world is theirs; they two play out the game, Thou standing by: and though thy glorious name Wrought out deliverance from the infernal pit, Who sings thy praise? only a scarf or glove

Doth warm our hands, and make them write of love,

GEORGE HERBERT

LOVE

II.

IMMORTAL Heat, O let thy greater flame
Attract the lesser to it: let those fires

Which shall consume the world, first make it tame,
And kindle in our hearts such true desires
As may consume our lusts, and make thee way.
Then shall our hearts pant thee; then shall our brain
All her inventions on thine altar lay,

And there in hymns send back thy fire again : Our eyes shall see thee, which before saw dust;

Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blind :
Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kind,
Who were disseized by usurping lust:

All knees shall bow to thee; all wits shall rise,

And praise Him who did make and mend our eyes.