The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw, Volume I (of 2), by Richard Crashaw

Passenger, who e're thou art1
Stay a while, and let thy heart
Take acquaintance of this stone,
Before thou passest further on.
This stone will tell thee, that beneath,5
Is entomb'd the crime of Death;
The ripe endowments of whose mind
Left his yeares so much behind,
That numbring of his vertues' praise,
Death lost the reckoning of his dayes;10
And believing what they told,
Imagin'd him exceeding old.
In him Perfection did set forth
The strength of her united worth.
Him his wisdome's pregnant growth15
Made so reverend, even in youth,
That in the center of his brest
(Sweet as is the phœnix' nest)
Every reconcilèd Grace
Had their generall meeting-place.20
In him Goodnesse joy'd to see
Learning learne Humility.
The splendor of his birth and blood
Was but the glosse of his owne good.
The flourish of his sober youth25
Was the pride of naked truth.
In composure of his face,
Liv'd a faire, but manly grace.
His mouth was Rhetorick's best mold,
His tongue the touchstone of her gold.30
What word so e're his breath kept warme,
Was no word now but a charme:
For all persuasive Graces thence
Suck't their sweetest influence.
His vertue that within had root,35
Could not chuse but shine without.
And th' heart-bred lustre of his worth,
At each corner peeping forth,
Pointed him out in all his wayes,
Circled round in his owne rayes:40
That to his sweetnesse, all men's eyes
Were vow'd Love's flaming sacrifice.
Him while fresh and fragrant Time
Cherisht in his golden prime;
E're Hebe's hand had overlaid45
His smooth cheekes with a downy shade;
The rush of Death's unruly wave,
Swept him off into his grave.
Enough, now (if thou canst) passe on,
For now (alas!) not in this stone50
(Passenger who e're thou art)
Is he entomb'd, but in thy heart.

AN EPITAPH VPON A YOVNG MARRIED COVPLE

To these, whom Death again did wed,1
This grave's their second marriage-bed;
For though the hand of Fate could force
'Twixt sovl and body, a diuorce,
It could not sunder man and wife,5
'Cause they both liuèd but one life.
Peace, good Reader, Doe not weep.
Peace, the louers are asleep.
They, sweet turtles, folded ly
In the last knott that Loue could ty.10
And though they ly as they were dead,
Their pillow stone, their sheetes of lead;
(Pillow hard, and sheetes not warm)
Loue made the bed; they'l take no harm;
Let them sleep: let them sleep on,15
Till this stormy night be gone,
And the æternall morrow dawn;
Then the curtaines will be drawn
And they wake into a light,
Whose Day shall neuer sleepe in Night.20

In the Sancroft ms. the heading is 'Epitaphium Conjugum vnà mortuor. et sepultor. R. Cr.' It was reprinted in 1648 'Delights' (p. 26), where it is entitled as supra, and 1670 (p. 95). Our text is that of 1648, which yields the five lines (11-14), and which Ellis in his 'Specimens' (iii. 208, 1845) introduced from a ms. copy, but as doubtful from not having appeared in any of the editions; a mistake on his part, as the lines appear in 1648 and 1652. His note is, nevertheless, 'The lines included in brackets are in no printed edition: they were found in a ms. copy, and are perhaps not Crashaw's.' As usual, Turnbull overlooked them. I add a few slight various readings from 1646.

Line 2, 'the.'
" 5, 'sever.'
" 6, 'Because they both liv'd but one life.'
" 10, I accept 'that' in 1646 and Sancroft ms. as it is confirmed by Harleian ms. 6917-18, as before.
Line 17, I adopt 'And' for 'Till' from 1648.
" 19, 'waken with that Light,' and so Sancroft ms.: 1648 reads 'And they wake into that Light:' Harleian ms. as before, 'And they waken with.'
Line 20, 'sleep' for 'dy,' which I adopt as agreeing with the 'wake,' and as being confirmed by Harleian ms. as before. G.

DEATH'S LECTVRE AND THE FVNERAL OF A YOVNG GENTLEMAN.[74]

Dear reliques of a dislodg'd sovl, whose lack1
Makes many a mourning paper put on black!
O stay a while, ere thou draw in thy head
And wind thy self vp close in thy cold bed.
Stay but a little while, vntill I call5
A summon's worthy of thy funerall.
Come then, Youth, Beavty, Blood! all ye soft powres,
Whose sylken flatteryes swell a few fond howres
Into a false æternity. Come man;
Hyperbolizèd nothing! know thy span;10
Take thine own measure here, down, down, and bow
Before thy self in thine idæa; thou
Huge emptynes! contract thy bulke; and shrinke
All thy wild circle to a point. O sink
Lower and lower yet; till thy leane size15
Call Heaun to look on thee with narrow eyes.
Lesser and lesser yet; till thou begin
To show a face, fitt to confesse thy kin,
Thy neighbourhood to Nothing!
Proud lookes, and lofty eyliddes, here putt on20
Your selues in your vnfaign'd reflexion;
Here, gallant ladyes! this vnpartiall glasse
(Through all your painting) showes you your true face.
These death-seal'd lippes are they dare giue the ly
To the lowd boasts of poor Mortality;25
These curtain'd windows, this retirèd eye
Outstares the liddes of larg-look't Tyranny.
This posture is the braue one, this that lyes
Thus low, stands vp (me thinkes) thus and defies
The World. All-daring dust and ashes! only you30
Of all interpreters read Nature true.

Line 7 in our text (1652) is misprinted as two lines, the first ending with 'blood,' a repeated blunder of the Paris printer. It reads also 'the' for 'ye' of 1646. I adopt the latter. I have also cancelled 'and' before 'blood' as a misprint.
Line 8 in 1652 is misprinted 'svlken' for 'sylken.'
" 12, ib. 'thy self,' and so in 1648 and 1670: 'bulke' from 1646 is preferable, and so adopted.
Line 15, 1646 has 'small' for 'lean,' which is inferior.
" 16, our text (1652) misspells 'norrow.'
" 19, in 1646 the readings here are,

'Thy neighbourhood to nothing I here put on
Thy selfe in this unfeign'd reflection.'

1648 and our text as given. 'Nothing' is intended to rhyme with 'kin' and 'begin,' and so to form a triplet.
Line 23, our text (1652), 1648 and 1670 read 'Though ye be painted:' 1646 reads 'Through all your painting,' which is much more powerful, and therefore adopted by us. It reminds us (from line 22, 'gallant ladyes') of Hamlet's apostrophe to the skull of poor Yorick.
Line 25, 1646 reads poorly,

'To the proud hopes of poor Mortality.'

AN EPITAPH VPON DOCTOR BROOKE.[75]

A Brooke, whose streame so great, so good,1
Was lov'd, was honour'd, as a flood:
Whose bankes the Muses dwelt upon,
More than their owne Helicon;
Here at length, hath gladly found5
A quiet passage under ground;
Meane while his lovèd bankes, now dry
The Muses with their teares supply.

ON A FOULE MORNING, BEING THEN TO TAKE A JOURNEY.[76]

Where art thou Sol, while thus the blind-fold Day1
Staggers out of the East, loses her way
Stumbling on Night? Rouze thee illustrious youth,
And let no dull mists choake thy Light's faire growth.
Point here thy beames: O glance on yonder flocks,5
And make their fleeces golden as thy locks.
Vnfold thy faire front, and there shall appeare
Full glory, flaming in her owne free spheare.
Gladnesse shall cloath the Earth, we will instile
The face of things, an universall smile.10
Say to the sullen Morne, thou com'st to court her;
And wilt command proud Zephirus to sport her
With wanton gales: his balmy breath shall licke
The tender drops which tremble on her cheeke;
Which rarified, and in a gentle raine15
On those delicious bankes distill'd againe,
Shall rise in a sweet Harvest, which discloses
Two ever-blushing bed[s] of new-borne roses.
Hee'l fan her bright locks, teaching them to flow,
And friske in curl'd mæanders: hee will throw20
A fragrant breath suckt from the spicy nest
O' th' pretious phœnix, warme upon her breast.
Hee with a dainty and soft hand will trim
And brush her azure mantle, which shall swim
In silken volumes; wheresoe're shee'l tread,25
Bright clouds like golden fleeces shall be spread.
Rise then (faire blew-ey'd maid!) rise and discover
Thy silver brow, and meet thy golden lover.
See how hee runs, with what a hasty flight,
Into thy bosome, bath'd with liquid light.30
Fly, fly prophane fogs, farre hence fly away,
Taint not the pure streames of the springing Day,
With your dull influence; it is for you
To sit and scoule upon Night's heavy brow,
Not on the fresh cheekes of the virgin Morne,35
Where nought but smiles, and ruddy joyes are worne.
Fly then, and doe not thinke with her to stay;
Let it suffice, shee'l weare no maske to day.

In the Sancroft ms. this is headed 'An Invitation to faire weather. In itinere adurgeretur matutinum cœlum tali carmine invitabatur serenitas. R. Cr.' In line 12 the ms. reads 'smooth' for 'proud' (Turnbull here, after 1670, as usual misreads 'demand' for 'command'): line 18 corrects the misreading of all the editions, which is 'To every blushing...:' line 23 reads 'soft and dainty:' line 36, 'is' for 'are:' other orthographic differences only.

The opening lines of this poem seem to be adapted from remembrance of the Friar's in Romeo and Juliet:

'The grey-eyed Morn smiles on the frowning Night
. . . . . .
And flecked Darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth Day's path and Titan's burning wheels.' (ii. 3.)

Line 4, in Harleian ms. 6917-18 reads, as I have adopted,
'thy' for 'the.'
Line 5, ib. 'on yond faire.'
" 7, ib. 'Unfold thy front and then....'
" 9, instile is = instill, used in Latinate sense of drop
into or upon: Harleian ms., as before, is 'enstile.'
Line 14, Harleian ms., as before, 'thy' for 'her.'
" 16, ib. 'these.'
" 17-18, ib.

. . . . . . . 'and disclose
. . . . . . the new-born rose.'

TO THE MORNING:

What succour can I hope my Muse shall send1
Whose drowsinesse hath wrong'd the Muses' friend?
What hope, Aurora, to propitiate thee,
Vnlesse the Muse sing my apologie?
O in that morning of my shame! when I5
Lay folded up in Sleepe's captivity,
How at the sight did'st thou draw back thine eyes,
Into thy modest veyle? how didst thou rise
Twice dy'd in thine owne blushes! and did'st run
To draw the curtaines, and awake the sun!10
Who, rowzing his illustrious tresses, came,
And seeing the loath'd object, hid for shame
His head in thy faire bosome, and still hides
Mee from his patronage; I pray, he chides:
And pointing to dull Morpheus, bids me take15
My owne Apollo, try if I can make
His Lethe be my Helicon: and see
If Morpheus have a Muse to wait on mee.
Hence 'tis, my humble fancie finds no wings,
No nimble rapture starts to Heaven, and brings20
Enthusiasticke flames, such as can give
Marrow to my plumpe genius, make it live
Drest in the glorious madnesse of a Muse,
Whose feet can walke the milky way, and chuse
Her starry throne; whose holy heats can warme25
The grave, and hold up an exalted arme
To lift me from my lazy vrne, to climbe
Vpon the stoopèd shoulders of old Time,
And trace Eternity—But all is dead,
All these delicious hopes are buried30
In the deepe wrinckles of his angry brow,
Where Mercy cannot find them: but O thou
Bright lady of the Morne! pitty doth lye
So warme in thy soft brest, it cannot dye.
Have mercy then, and when he next shall rise35
O meet the angry God, invade his eyes,
And stroake his radiant cheekes; one timely kisse
Will kill his anger, and revive my blisse.
So to the treasure of thy pearly deaw,
Thrice will I pay three teares, to show how true40
My griefe is; so my wakefull lay shall knocke
At th' orientall gates, and duly mocke
The early larkes' shrill orizons, to be
An anthem at the Daye's nativitie.
And the same rosie-finger'd hand of thine,45
That shuts Night's dying eyes, shall open mine.
But thou, faint God of Sleepe, forget that I
Was ever known to be thy votary.
No more my pillow shall thine altar be,
Nor will I offer any more to thee50
My selfe a melting sacrifice; I'me borne
Againe a fresh child of the buxome Morne,
Heire of the sun's first beames. Why threat'st thou so?
Why dost thou shake thy leaden scepter? goe,
Bestow thy poppy upon wakefull Woe,55
Sicknesse, and Sorrow, whose pale lidds ne're know
Thy downie finger; dwell upon their eyes,
Shut in their teares: shut out their miseries.

In 1646, line 1, for 'shall' reads 'will:' ib. in Harleian ms. as before, 'my' for 'the Muse;' which I adopt here, but not in next line: line 9, ib. 'thy:' line 11, illustrious is = lustrous, radiant: Harleian ms. as before, line 19, 'this my humble:' line 20, 1646 misprints 'raptures:' line 27, 1670 has 'and climb:' line 28, 1646 has 'stooped' for 'stooping' of 1648; infinitely superior, and therefore adopted: 1670 misprints 'stopped:' the Sancroft ms. has 'stooping:' line 45, Harleian ms. as before, 'thy altar.' Further: in the Sancroft ms. this poem is headed 'Ad Auroram Somnolentiæ expiatio. R. Cr.,' and it supplies these various readings: line 1, 'will:' line 7, 'call back:' line 16, 'my' for 'mine;' line 20-21, 'winge' and 'bringe:' line 40, 'treasures:' other orthographic differences only. See Essay, as in last poem. G.

LOVE'S HOROSCOPE.[78]

Love, brave Vertue's younger brother,1
Erst hath made my heart a mother;
Shee consults the conscious spheares
To calculate her young son's yeares.
Shee askes, if sad, or saving powers,5
Gave omen to his infant howers;
Shee askes each starre that then stood by,
If poore Love shall live or dy.

Ah, my heart, is that the way?
Are these the beames that rule thy day?10
Thou know'st a face in whose each looke,
Beauty layes ope Love's fortune-booke;
On whose faire revolutions wait
The obsequious motions of man's fate:
Ah, my heart, her eyes, and shee,15
Have taught thee new astrologie.
How e're Love's native houres were set,
What ever starry synod met,
'Tis in the mercy of her eye,
If poore Love shall live or dye.20

If those sharpe rayes putting on
Points of death, bid Love be gon:
(Though the Heavens in counsell sate
To crowne an uncontroulèd fate,
Though their best aspects twin'd upon25
The kindest constellation,
Cast amorous glances on his birth,
And whisper'd the confederate Earth
To pave his pathes with all the good,
That warmes the bed of youth and blood)30
Love hath no plea against her eye:
Beauty frownes, and Love must dye.

But if her milder influence move,
And gild the hopes of humble Love:
(Though Heaven's inauspicious eye35
Lay blacke on Love's nativitie;
Though every diamond in Love's crowne
Fixt his forehead to a frowne:)
Her eye, a strong appeale can giue,
Beauty smiles, and Love shall live.40

O, if Love shall live, O, where
But in her eye, or in her eare,
In her brest, or in her breath,
Shall I hide poore Love from Death?
For in the life ought else can give,45
Love shall dye, although he live.

Or, if Love shall dye, O, where
But in her eye, or in her eare,
In her breath, or in her breast,
Shall I build his funerall nest?50
While Love shall thus entombèd lye,
Love shall live, although he dye.

In line 16 the heavens are the planets. To 'crown' his fate is to invest it with regal power, and so place it beyond control. It is doubtful whether 'uncontrouled' expresses that state or result of crowning, or whether the clause is hyperbolical, and means to put further beyond control an already uncontrolled fate. 'Twin'd' seems a strange word to use, but refers, I presume, to the apparently irregular and winding-like motions of the planets through the constellations until they result in the favourable aspects mentioned. According to astrology, the beneficence or maleficence of the planetary aspects varies with the nature of the constellation in which they occur. Henry Vaughan, Silurist, uses 'wind' very much as Crashaw uses 'twin'd:' see s.v. in our edition.

In line 14 we have accepted the reading 'man's' for 'Loves' from the Sancroft ms.

A SONG:

To thy lover
Deere, discover
That sweet blush of thine that shameth
—When those roses
It discloses—
All the flowers that Nature nameth.

In free ayre,
Flow thy haire;
That no more Summer's best dresses,
Bee beholden
For their golden
Locks, to Phœbus' flaming tresses.

O deliver
Love his quiver;
From thy eyes he shoots his arrowes:
Where Apollo
Cannot follow:
Featherd with his mother's sparrowes.

O envy not
—That we dye not—
Those deere lips whose doore encloses
All the Graces
In their places,
Brother pearles, and sister roses.

From these treasures
Of ripe pleasures
One bright smile to cleere the weather.
Earth and Heaven
Thus made even,
Both will be good friends together.

The aire does wooe thee,
Winds cling to thee;
Might a word once fly from out thee,
Storme and thunder
Would sit under,
And keepe silence round about thee.

But if Nature's
Common creatures,
So deare glories dare not borrow:
Yet thy beauty
Owes a duty,
To my loving, lingring sorrow,

When to end mee
Death shall send mee
All his terrors to affright mee:
Thine eyes' Graces
Gild their faces,
And those terrors shall delight mee.

When my dying
Life is flying,
Those sweet aires that often slew mee
Shall revive mee,
Or reprive mee,
And to many deaths renew mee.

OUT OF THE ITALIAN.

Love now no fire hath left him,1
We two betwixt us have divided it.
Your eyes the light hath reft him,
The heat commanding in my heart doth sit.[80]
O that poore Love be not for ever spoyled,5
Let my heat to your light be reconciled.

So shall these flames, whose worth
Now all obscurèd lyes:
—Drest in those beames—start forth
And dance before your eyes.10

Or else partake my flames
(I care not whither)
And so in mutuall names
Of Love, burne both together.

OUT OF THE ITALIAN.

VPON THE FRONTISPEECE OF MR. ISAACKSON'S CHRONOLOGIE.[81]

Let hoary Time's vast bowels be the grave1
To what his bowels' birth and being gave;
Let Nature die, (Phœnix-like) from death
Revivèd Nature takes a second breath;
If on Time's right hand, sit faire Historie,5
If from the seed of emptie Ruine, she
Can raise so faire an harvest; let her be
Ne're so farre distant, yet Chronologie
(Sharp-sighted as the eagle's eye, that can
Out-stare the broad-beam'd daye's meridian)10
Will have a perspicill to find her out,
And, through the night of error and dark doubt,
Discerne the dawne of Truth's eternall ray,
As when the rosie Morne budds into Day.
Now that Time's empire might be amply fill'd,15
Babel's bold artists strive (below) to build
Ruine a temple; on whose fruitfull fall
History reares her pyramids, more tall
Than were th' Aegyptian (by the life these give,
Th' Egyptian pyramids themselves must live):20
On these she lifts the world; and on their base
Showes the two termes, and limits of Time's race:
That, the creation is; the judgement, this;
That, the World's morning; this, her midnight is.

As explained in preceding Note, I add here the poem so long misassigned to Crashaw.

ON THE FRONTISPIECE OF ISAACSON'S CHRONOLOGIE EXPLAINED.

If with distinctive eye, and mind, you looke1
Vpon the Front, you see more than one Booke.
Creation is God's Booke, wherein He writ
Each creature, as a letter filling it.
History is Creation's Booke; which showes5
To what effects the Series of it goes.
Chronologie's the Booke of Historie, and beares
The just account of Dayes, Moneths, and Yeares.
But Resurrection, in a later Presse,
And New Edition, is the summe of these.10
The Language of these Bookes had all been one,
Had not th' aspiring Tower of Babylon
Confus'd the tongues, and in a distance hurl'd
As farre the speech, as men, o' th' new fill'd world.
Set then your eyes in method, and behold15
Time's embleme, Saturne; who, when store of gold
Coyn'd the first age, devour'd that birth, he fear'd;
Till History, Time's eldest child appear'd;
And Phœnix-like, in spight of Saturne's rage,
Forc'd from her ashes, heyres in every age.20
From th' Rising Sunne, obtaining by just suit,
A Spring's ingender, and an Autumne's fruit.
Who in those Volumes at her motion pend,
Vnto Creation's Alpha doth extend.
Againe ascend, and view Chronology,25
By optick skill, pulling farre History
Neerer; whose Hand the piercing Eagle's eye
Strengthens, to bring remotest objects nigh.
Vnder whose feet, you see the Setting Sunne,
From the darke Gnomon, o're her volumes runne,30
Drown'd in eternall night, never to rise,
Till Resurrection show it to the eyes
Of Earth-worne men; and her shrill trumpet's sound
Affright the Bones of mortals from the ground.
The Columnes both are crown'd with either Sphere,35
To show Chronology and History beare,
No other Culmen than the double Art,
Astronomy, Geography, impart.

AN EPITAPH VPON MR. ASHTON,

The modest front of this small floore,1
Beleeve me, Reader, can say more
Than many a braver marble can;
Here lyes a truly honest man.
One whose conscience was a thing,5
That troubled neither Church nor King.
One of those few that in this towne,
Honour all Preachers, heare their owne.
Sermons he heard, yet not so many
As left no time to practise any.10
He heard them reverendly, and then
His practice preach'd them o're agen.
His Parlour-Sermons rather were
Those to the eye, then to the eare.
His prayers took their price and strength,15
Not from the lowdnesse, nor the length.
He was a Protestant at home,
Not onely in despight of Rome.
He lov'd his Father; yet his zeale
Tore not off his Mother's veile.20
To th' Church he did allow her dresse,
True Beauty, to true Holinesse.
Peace, which he lov'd in life, did lend
Her hand to bring him to his end.
When Age and Death call'd for the score,25
No surfets were to reckon for.
Death tore not—therefore—but sans strife
Gently untwin'd his thread of life.
What remaines then, but that thou
Write these lines, Reader, in thy brow,30
And by his faire example's light,
Burne in thy imitation bright.
So while these lines can but bequeath
A life perhaps unto his death;
His better Epitaph shall bee,35
His life still kept alive in thee.

OUT OF CATULLUS.[83]

Come and let us live my deare,1
Let us love and never feare,
What the sowrest fathers say:
Brightest Sol that dyes to day
Lives againe as blith to morrow;5
But if we darke sons of sorrow
Set: O then how long a Night
Shuts the eyes of our short light!
Then let amorous kisses dwell
On our lips, begin and tell10
A thousand, and a hundred score,
An hundred and a thousand more,
Till another thousand smother
That, and that wipe of[f] another.
Thus at last when we have numbred15
Many a thousand, many a hundred,
Wee'l confound the reckoning quite,
And lose our selves in wild delight:
While our joyes so multiply,
As shall mocke the envious eye.20

WISHES.

1. Who ere she be,1
That not impossible she
That shall command my heart and me;

2. Where ere she lye,
Lock't up from mortall eye,5
In shady leaves of Destiny;

3. Till that ripe birth
Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her faire steps tread our Earth;

4. Till that divine10
Idæa, take a shrine
Of chrystall flesh, through which to shine;

5. Meet you her, my wishes,
Bespeake her to my blisses,
And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.15

6. I wish her, beauty
That owes not all its duty
To gaudy tire or glistring shoo-ty.

7. Something more than
Taffata or tissew can,20
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

8. More than the spoyle
Of shop, or silkeworme's toyle,
Or a bought blush, or a set smile.

9. A face that's best25
By its owne beauty drest,
And can alone commend the rest.

10. A face made up,
Out of no other shop
Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.30

11. A cheeke where Youth,
And blood, with pen of Truth
Write, what their reader sweetly ru'th.

12. A cheeke where growes
More than a morning rose:35
Which to no boxe his being owes.

13. Lipps, where all day
A lover's kisse may play,
Yet carry nothing thence away.

14. Lookes that oppresse40
Their richest tires, but dresse
Themselves in simple nakednesse.

15. Eyes, that displace
The neighbour diamond, and out-face
That sunshine, by their own sweet grace.45

16. Tresses, that weare
Iewells, but to declare
How much themselves more pretious are.

17. Whose native ray,
Can tame the wanton day50
Of gems, that in their bright shades play.

18. Each ruby there,
Or pearle that dares appeare,
Be its own blush, be its own teare.

19. A well tam'd heart,55
For whose more noble smart,
Love may be long chusing a dart.

20. Eyes, that bestow
Full quivers on Love's bow;
Yet pay lesse arrowes than they owe.60

21. Smiles, that can warme
The blood, yet teach a charme,
That Chastity shall take no harme.

22. Blushes, that bin
The burnish of no sin,65
Nor flames of ought too hot within.

23. Ioyes, that confesse,
Vertue their mistresse,
And have no other head to dresse.

24. Feares, fond, and flight,70
As the coy bride's, when Night
First does the longing lover right.

25. Teares, quickly fled,
And vaine, as those are shed
For a dying maydenhead.75

26. Dayes, that need borrow,
No part of their good morrow,
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

27. Dayes, that in spight
Of darknesse, by the light80
Of a cleere mind are day all night.

28. Nights, sweet as they,
Made short by lovers play,
Yet long by th' absence of the day.

29. Life, that dares send85
A challenge to his end,
And when it comes say, Welcome friend!

30. Sydnæan showers
Of sweet discourse, whose powers
Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.90

31. Soft silken hours;
Open sunnes; shady bowers;
'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

32. What ere delight
Can make Daye's forehead bright,95
Or give downe to the wings of Night.

33. In her whole frame,
Haue Nature all the name,
Art and ornament the shame.

34. Her flattery,100
Picture and Poesy,
Her counsell her owne vertue be.

35. I wish her store
Of worth may leave her poore
Of wishes; and I wish——no more.105

36. Now if Time knowes
That her, whose radiant browes
Weave them a garland of my vowes;

37. Her whose just bayes,
My future hopes can raise,110
A trophie to her present praise.

38. Her that dares be,
What these lines wish to see:
I seeke no further: it is she.

39. 'Tis she, and here115
Lo I uncloath and cleare,
My wishes cloudy character.

40. May she enjoy it,
Whose merit dare apply it,
But Modesty dares still deny it.120

41. Such worth as this is
Shall fixe my flying wishes,
And determine them to kisses.

42. Let her full glory,
My fancyes, fly before ye,125
Be ye my fictions; but her story.

The Harleian ms. 6917-18, as before, gives an admirable reading, corrective of all the editions in st. 3, line 3. Hitherto it has run, 'And teach her faire steps to our Earth:' the ms. as given by us 'tread' for 'to:' ib. st. 5, line 1, reads 'Meete her my wishes;' perhaps preferable: st. 6, I accept 'its' for 'his' from 1670 edition: st. 7, 'than'=then, and is spelled 'then' here and elsewhere in 1646 and 1670: st. 8, line 3, Harleian ms. reads 'Or a bowe, blush, or a set smile;' inferior: st. 9, ib. reads 'commend' for 'command;' adopted: st. 11, ib. 'their' for 'the;' adopted: st. 14, ib. spells 'tyers,' and line 3 reads as we print for 'And cloath their simplest nakednesse,' which is clumsy and poor: st. 15: Here, as in the poem, 'On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Lord' (st. 6), where we read 'The thorns that Thy blest brows encloses,' and elsewhere, we have an example of the Elizabethan use of 'that' as a singular (referring to and thus made a collective plural) taken as the governing nominative to the verb. So in this poem of 'Wishes' we have 'Eyes that bestow,' 'Joys that confess,' 'Tresses that wear.' But it must be stated that the Harleian ms., as before, reads not as in 1646 and 1648 'displaces,' 'out-faces' and 'graces,' but as printed by us on its authority; certainly the rhythm is improved thereby: st. 18, line 2, ib. 'dares' for 'dare;' adopted: st. 24, looking to 'tears quickly fled' of next stanza, I think 'flight' is correct, and not a misprint for 'slight.' Accordingly I have punctuated with a comma after fond, flight being = the shrinking-away of the bride, like the Horatian fair lady, a fugitive yet wishful of her lover's kiss: st. 31, Harleian ms. as before, 'Open sunn:' st. 42, line 3, 'be you my fictions, she my story.' G.