Wishes to His Supposed Mistress

Fears, fond and slight

As the coy bride's, when night,
First does the longing lover right.

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.

Nights, sweet as they,

Made short by lovers' play,

Yet long by the absence of the day.

Life, that dares send

A challenge to his end,

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

Sydneian showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Soft silken hours,

Open suns, shady bowers;

'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

Whate'er delight

Can make Day's forehead bright,

Or give down to the wings of Night.

In her whole frame

Have Nature all the name;

Art and Ornament, the shame!

Her flattery,

Picture and Poesy:

Her counsel her own virtue be.

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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, whose just bays

My future hopes can raise,

A trophy to her present praise;

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.

May She enjoy it.

Whose merit dare apply it,

But modesty dares still deny it!

Such worth as this is

Shall fix my flying Wishes,

And determine them to kisses.

Let her full glory,

My fancies, fly before ye;

Be ye my fictions-but her Story!

Richard Crashaw [1613?-1649]

THE CHRONICLE

MARGARITA first possessed,

If I remember well, my breast,

Margarita first of all;

But when awhile the wanton maid

With my restless heart had played,

Martha took the flying ball.

The Chronicle

Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catherine.
Beauteous Catherine gave place
(Though loath and angry she to part
With the possession of my heart)
To Eliza's conquering face.

Eliza till this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta'en;
Fundamental laws she broke,
And still new favorites she chose,
Till up in arms my passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.

Mary then, and gentle Ann,
Both to reign at once began;

Alternately they swayed;

And sometimes Mary was the fair,

And sometimes Ann the crown did wear;
And sometimes both I obeyed.

Another Mary then arose,
And did rigorous laws impose;
A mighty tyrant she!
Long, alas! should I have been
Under that iron-sceptered Queen,
Had not Rebecca set me free.

When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden time with me:
But soon those pleasures filed;

For the gracious princess died
In her youth and beauty's pride,

And Judith reignèd in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour
Judith held the sovereign power:
Wondrous beautiful her face!
But so weak and small her wit,
That she to govern was unfit,

And so Susanna took her place.

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But when Isabella came,
Armed with a resistless flame,
And the artillery of her eye;
Whilst she proudly marched about,
Greater conquests to find out,
She beat out Susan, by the by.

But in her place I then obeyed
Black-eyed Bess, her viceroy-maid,
To whom ensued a vacancy:
Thousand worse passions then possessed
The interregnum of my breast;
Bless me from such an anarchy!

Gentle Henrietta then,

And a third Mary, next began;

Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria;

And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Catherine,

And then a long et cetera.

But should I now to you relate
The strength and riches of their state,
The powder, patches, and the pins,
The ribbons, jewels, and the rings,
The lace, the paint, and warlike things
That make up all their magazines;

If I should tell the politic arts
To take and keep men's hearts,

The letters, embassies, and spies, The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries, Numberless, nameless mysteries!

And all the little lime-twigs laid
By Matchavil, the waiting-maid;
I more voluminous should grow

The Resolve

(Chiefly if I like them should tell All change of weathers that befell) Than Holinshed or Stow.

But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me.
An higher and a nobler strain
My present Empress does claim,
Eleanora, first o' the name,

Whom God grant long to reign!

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Abraham Cowley [1618–1667]

THE RESOLVE

TELL me not of a face that's fair, )
Nor lip and cheek that's red,
Nor of the tresses of her hair,
Nor curls in order laid,
Nor of a rare seraphic voice
That like an angel sings;
Though if I were to take my choice
I would have all these things:
But if that thou wilt have me love,
And it must be a she,

The only argument can move
Is that she will love me.

The glories of your ladies be
But metaphors of things,
And but resemble what we see

Each common object brings.
Roses out-red their lips and cheeks,
Lilies their whiteness stain;
What fool is he that shadows seeks
And may the substance gain?
Then if thou'lt have me love a lass,
Let it be one that's kind:

Else I'm a servant to the glass

That's with Canary lined.

Alexander Brome [1620-1666]