And when this dust falls to the urn,
In that state I came, return.

Henry Vaughan

99

TO MR. LAWRENCE

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son,
Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won
From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire
The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

John Milton

100

TO CYRIACK SKINNER

Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws,
Which others at their bar so often wrench,
To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench.
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,

And what the Swede intend, and what the French.

To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way,
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
John Milton

101*

A HYMN IN PRAISE OF NEPTUNE

Of Neptune's empire let us sing,

At whose command the waves obey;
To whom the rivers tribute pay,

Down the high mountains sliding;
To whom the scaly nation yields
Homage for the crystal fields
Wherein they dwell,

And every sea-god pays a gem
Yearly out of his watery cell,
To deck great Neptune's diadem.

The Tritons, dancing in a ring
Before his palace gates, do make
The water with their echoes quake,
Like the great thunder sounding:

The sea-nymphs chaunt their accents shrill,
And the Syrens taught to kill

With their sweet voice,

Make every echoing rock reply,
Unto their gentle murmuring noise,

The praise of Neptune's empery.

Thomas Campion

102*

HYMN TO DIANA

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,

Seated in thy silver chair,

State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made

Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wishéd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart

And thy crystal shining quiver;

Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever:

Thou that mak'st a day of night,

Goddess excellently bright!

Ben Jonson

103

WISHES FOR THE SUPPOSED MISTRESS

Whoe'er she be,

That not impossible She

That shall command my heart and me;

Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth

And teach her fair steps tread our earth;

Till that divine

Idea take a shrine

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:

-Meet you her, my Wishes,

Bespeak her to my blisses,

And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.

I wish her beauty

That owes not all its duty

To gaudy tire, or glist 'ring shoe-tie:

Something more than

Taffata or tissue can,

Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

A face that's best

By its own beauty drest,

And can alone commend the rest:

A face made up

Out of no other shop

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.

Sidneian showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Whate'er delight

Can make day's forehead bright

Or give down to the wings of night:

Soft, silken hours,

Open suns, shady bowers;

'Bove all, nothing within that lowers;

Days that need borrow

No part of their good morrow

From a fore-spent night of sorrow:

Days, that in spite

Of darkness, by the light

Of a clear mind are day all night.

Life, that dares send

A challenge to his end,

And when it comes, say, "Welcome, friend."

I wish her store

Of worth may leave her poor

Of wishes; and I wish-no more.

Now, if Time knows

That Her, whose radiant brows
Weave them a garland of my vows:

Her that dares be

What these lines wish to see:

I seek no further, it is She.

'Tis She, and here

Lo! I unclothe and clear

My wishes' cloudy character:

Such worth as this is

Shall fix my flying wishes,

And determine them to kisses.