Lucasta [62]
It is still known under the same name.
<68.2> i.e. THAT meant me, which was intended for me.
A LOOSE SARABAND.
I. Nay, prethee, dear, draw nigher, Yet closer, nigher yet; Here is a double fire, A dry one and a wet. True lasting heavenly fuel Puts out the vestal jewel, When once we twining marry Mad love with wild canary.
II. Off with that crowned Venice,<69.1> 'Till all the house doth flame, Wee'l quench it straight in Rhenish, Or what we must not name. Milk lightning still asswageth; So when our fury rageth, As th' only means to cross it, Wee'l drown it in love's posset.
III. Love never was well-willer Unto my nag or mee, Ne'r watter'd us ith' cellar, But the cheap buttery. At th' head of his own barrells, Where broach'd are all his quarrels, Should a true noble master Still make his guest his taster.
IV. See, all the world how't staggers, More ugly drunk then we, As if far gone in daggers And blood it seem'd to be. We drink our glass of roses, Which nought but sweets discloses: Then in our loyal chamber Refresh us with love's amber.
V. Now tell me, thou fair cripple, That dumb canst scarcely see Th' almightinesse of tipple, And th' ods 'twixt thee and thee, What of Elizium's missing, Still drinking and still kissing; Adoring plump October; Lord! what is man, and<69.2> sober?
VI. Now, is there such a trifle As honour, the fools gyant, What is there left to rifle, When wine makes all parts plyant? Let others glory follow, In their false riches wallow, And with their grief be merry: Leave me but love and sherry.
<69.1> QU. a crowned goblet of Venice glass.
<69.2> i.e. if.
THE FALCON.
Fair Princesse of the spacious air, That hast vouchsaf'd acquaintance here, With us are quarter'd below stairs, That can reach heav'n with nought but pray'rs; Who, when our activ'st wings we try, Advance a foot into the sky.
Bright heir t' th' bird imperial, From whose avenging penons fall Thunder and lightning twisted spun! Brave cousin-german to the Sun! That didst forsake thy throne and sphere, To be an humble pris'ner here; And for a pirch of her soft hand, Resign the royal woods' command.
How often would'st thou shoot heav'ns ark, Then mount thy self into a lark; And after our short faint eyes call, When now a fly, now nought at all! Then stoop so swift unto our sence, As thou wert sent intelligence!
Free beauteous slave, thy happy feet In silver fetters vervails<70.1> meet, And trample on that noble wrist, The gods have kneel'd in vain t' have kist. But gaze not, bold deceived spye, Too much oth' lustre of her eye; The Sun thou dost out stare, alas! Winks at the glory of her face.
Be safe then in thy velvet helm, Her looks are calms that do orewhelm, Then the Arabian bird more blest, Chafe in the spicery of her breast, And loose you in her breath a wind Sow'rs the delicious gales of Inde.
But now a quill from thine own wing I pluck, thy lofty fate to sing; Whilst we behold the varions fight With mingled pleasure and affright; The humbler hinds do fall to pray'r, As when an army's seen i' th' air, And the prophetick spannels run, And howle thy epicedium.
The heron mounted doth appear On his own Peg'sus a lanceer, And seems, on earth when he doth hut, A proper halberdier on foot; Secure i' th' moore, about to sup, The dogs have beat his quarters up.
And now he takes the open air, Drawes up his wings with tactick care; Whilst th' expert falcon swift doth climbe In subtle mazes serpentine; And to advantage closely twin'd She gets the upper sky and wind, Where she dissembles to invade, And lies a pol'tick ambuscade.
The hedg'd-in heron, whom the foe Awaits above, and dogs below, In his fortification lies, And makes him ready for surprize; When roused with a shrill alarm, Was shouted from beneath: they arm.
The falcon charges at first view With her brigade of talons, through Whose shoots, the wary heron beat With a well counterwheel'd
<68.2> i.e. THAT meant me, which was intended for me.
A LOOSE SARABAND.
I. Nay, prethee, dear, draw nigher, Yet closer, nigher yet; Here is a double fire, A dry one and a wet. True lasting heavenly fuel Puts out the vestal jewel, When once we twining marry Mad love with wild canary.
II. Off with that crowned Venice,<69.1> 'Till all the house doth flame, Wee'l quench it straight in Rhenish, Or what we must not name. Milk lightning still asswageth; So when our fury rageth, As th' only means to cross it, Wee'l drown it in love's posset.
III. Love never was well-willer Unto my nag or mee, Ne'r watter'd us ith' cellar, But the cheap buttery. At th' head of his own barrells, Where broach'd are all his quarrels, Should a true noble master Still make his guest his taster.
IV. See, all the world how't staggers, More ugly drunk then we, As if far gone in daggers And blood it seem'd to be. We drink our glass of roses, Which nought but sweets discloses: Then in our loyal chamber Refresh us with love's amber.
V. Now tell me, thou fair cripple, That dumb canst scarcely see Th' almightinesse of tipple, And th' ods 'twixt thee and thee, What of Elizium's missing, Still drinking and still kissing; Adoring plump October; Lord! what is man, and<69.2> sober?
VI. Now, is there such a trifle As honour, the fools gyant, What is there left to rifle, When wine makes all parts plyant? Let others glory follow, In their false riches wallow, And with their grief be merry: Leave me but love and sherry.
<69.1> QU. a crowned goblet of Venice glass.
<69.2> i.e. if.
THE FALCON.
Fair Princesse of the spacious air, That hast vouchsaf'd acquaintance here, With us are quarter'd below stairs, That can reach heav'n with nought but pray'rs; Who, when our activ'st wings we try, Advance a foot into the sky.
Bright heir t' th' bird imperial, From whose avenging penons fall Thunder and lightning twisted spun! Brave cousin-german to the Sun! That didst forsake thy throne and sphere, To be an humble pris'ner here; And for a pirch of her soft hand, Resign the royal woods' command.
How often would'st thou shoot heav'ns ark, Then mount thy self into a lark; And after our short faint eyes call, When now a fly, now nought at all! Then stoop so swift unto our sence, As thou wert sent intelligence!
Free beauteous slave, thy happy feet In silver fetters vervails<70.1> meet, And trample on that noble wrist, The gods have kneel'd in vain t' have kist. But gaze not, bold deceived spye, Too much oth' lustre of her eye; The Sun thou dost out stare, alas! Winks at the glory of her face.
Be safe then in thy velvet helm, Her looks are calms that do orewhelm, Then the Arabian bird more blest, Chafe in the spicery of her breast, And loose you in her breath a wind Sow'rs the delicious gales of Inde.
But now a quill from thine own wing I pluck, thy lofty fate to sing; Whilst we behold the varions fight With mingled pleasure and affright; The humbler hinds do fall to pray'r, As when an army's seen i' th' air, And the prophetick spannels run, And howle thy epicedium.
The heron mounted doth appear On his own Peg'sus a lanceer, And seems, on earth when he doth hut, A proper halberdier on foot; Secure i' th' moore, about to sup, The dogs have beat his quarters up.
And now he takes the open air, Drawes up his wings with tactick care; Whilst th' expert falcon swift doth climbe In subtle mazes serpentine; And to advantage closely twin'd She gets the upper sky and wind, Where she dissembles to invade, And lies a pol'tick ambuscade.
The hedg'd-in heron, whom the foe Awaits above, and dogs below, In his fortification lies, And makes him ready for surprize; When roused with a shrill alarm, Was shouted from beneath: they arm.
The falcon charges at first view With her brigade of talons, through Whose shoots, the wary heron beat With a well counterwheel'd