To Cynthia! Some asked how pearls did grow, and where; To part her lips, and showed them there, The quarrelets of pearl. Robert Herrick [1591-1674] UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES WHENAS in silks my Julia goes, --O how that glittering taketh me! Robert Herrick [1591-1674] TO CYNTHIA ON CONCEALMENT OF HER BEAUTY Do not conceal those radiant eyes, Lest, wanting of their heavenly light, Do not conceal those tresses fair, Do not conceal those breasts of thine, Do not conceal that fragrant scent, : Do not conceal thy heavenly voice, Do not conceal, nor yet eclipse, Thy pearly teeth with coral lips; Lest that the seas cease to bring forth Gems which from thee have all their worth. Do not conceal no beauty, grace, "That's either in thy mind or face; Lest virtue overcome by vice Make men believe no Paradise. Francis Kynaston [1587-1642] SONG Ask me no more where Jove bestows, Ask me no more whither do stray Ask me no more whither doth haste Ask me no more where those stars 'light Ask me no more if east or west Thomas Carew [1598?-1639?] ! I HAVE a mistress, for perfections rare ON A GIRDLE THAT which her slender waist confined It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair! Take all the rest the sun goes round! Edmund Waller [1606-1687] LIKE the violet, which alone My Castara lives unknown, For she's to herself untrue Such is her beauty as no arts Have enriched with borrowed grace. Her high birth no pride imparts, For she blushes in her place. Folly boasts a glorious blood; Cautious, she knew never yet What a wanton courtship meant; Nor speaks loud to boast her wit, In her silence, eloquent. Of herself survey she takes, But 'tween men no difference makes. She obeys with speedy will Her grave parents' wise commands; And so innocent, that ill She nor acts, nor understands. Women's feet run still astray She sails by that rock, the court, Where vice is enthroned for wit. She holds that day's pleasure best 1 O'er that darkness whence is thrust She her throne makes reason climb, William Habington [1605-1654] Chloe Divine 533 TO ARAMANTHA THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVEL HER HAIR ARAMANTHA, Sweet and fair, Ah, braid no more that shining hair! Let it fly as unconfined As its calm ravisher the wind, Every tress must be confessed; Do not, then, wind up that light Like the sun in's early ray; But shake your head and scatter day. Richard Lovelace [1618-1658] CHLOE DIVINE CHLOE'S a Nymph in flowery groves, A Nereid in the streams; Love steals artillery from her eyes, Never so happily in one Did heaven and earth combine; And yet 'tis flesh and blood alone That makes her so divine. Thomas D'Urfey [1653-1723] |