by John Dryden
Which added new Flames to his Fire.
O Sylvia, said he, you are cruel,
To keep your poor Lover in awe;
Then once more he prest with his hand to my brest 15
But was dash’d with A ha ha ha ha.
I knew ’twas his passion that caus’d all his fear;
And therefore. I pity’d his Case:
I whisper’d him softly, there’s no body here
And laid my Cheek close to his Face: 20
But as he grew bolder and bolder,
A Shepheard came by us and saw;
And just as our bliss we began with a Kiss,
He laugh’d out with A ha ha ha ha.
Celimena, of my heart, from An Evening’s Love
Damon. Celimena, of my heart
None shall e’re bereave you:
If with your good leave I may
Quarrel with you once a day
I will never leave you. 5
Celimena. Passion’s but an empty name
Where respect is wanting:
Damon, you mistake your aim;
Hang your Heart and burn your Flame,
If you must be ranting. 10
Damon. Love as dull and muddy is,
As decaying Liquor:
Anger sets it on the Lees,
And refines it by degrees,
Till it works it quicker. 15
Celimena. Love by Quarrels to beget
Wisely you endeavour;
With a grave Physitian’s wit,
Who to cure an Ague fit
Put me in a Feavor. 20
Damon. Anger rouzes Love to fight,
And his only bait is,
’Tis the spurre to dull delight,
And is but an eager Bite,
When desire at height is. 25
Celimena. If such drops of heat can fall
In our wooing weather
If such drops of heat can fall
We shall have the Devil and all
When we come together. 30
You pleasing Dreams of Love and sweet delight, from Tyrannick Love
YOU pleasing Dreams of Love and sweet delight,
Appear before this slumbring Virgins sight:
Soft visions set her free
From mournful piety.
Let her sad thoughts from Heav’n retire; 5
And let the Melancholy Love
Of those remoter joys above
Give place to your more sprightly fire.
Let purling streams be in her fancy seen;
And flowry Meads, and Vales of chearful green: 10
And in the midst of deathless Groves
Soft smiling wishes ly,
And smiling hopes fast by,
And just beyond ‘em ever Laughing Loves.
Ah how sweet it is to love, from Tyrannick Love
AH how sweet it is to love,
Ah how gay is young desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach Loves fire!
Pains of Love be sweeter far 5
Than all other pleasures are.
Sighs which are from Lovers blown,
Do but gently heave the Heart:
Ev’n the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling Balm, their smart. 10
Lovers when they lose their breath
Bleed away in easie death
Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat ‘em like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse 15
Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.
Love like Spring-tides full and high
Swells in ev’ry youthful vein: 20
But each Tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again
If a flow in Age appear,
’Tis but rain, and runs not clear.
Wherever I am, and whatever I doe, from The Conquest of Granada
1
WHEREVER I am, and whatever I doe,
My Phillis is still in my mind:
When angry I mean not to Phillis to goe,
My Feet of themselves the way find:
Unknown to my self I am just at her door, 5
And when I would raile, I can bring out no more,
Than Phillis too fair and unkind!
2
When Phillis I see, my Heart bounds in my Breast,
And the Love I wou’d stifle is shown:
But asleep, or awake, I am never at Rest 10
When from my Eyes Phillis is gone!
Sometimes a sad Dream does delude my sad mind,
But, alas, when I wake and no Phillis I find
How I sigh to my self all alone.
3
Should a King be my Rival in her I adore 15
He should offer his Treasure in vain:
O let me alone to be happy and poor,
And give me my Phillis again:
Let Phillis be mine, and but ever be kind
I could to a Desart with her be confin’d, 20
And envy no Monarch his Raign.
4
Alas, I discover too much of my Love,
And she too well knows her own power!
She makes me each day a new Martydom prove,
And makes me grow jealous each hour: 25
But let her each minute torment my poor mind
I had rather love Phillis both False and Unkind,
Than ever be freed from her Pow’r.
Song of the Zambra Dance, from The Conquest of Granada
1
BENEATH a Myrtle shade
Which Love for none but happy Lovers made,
I slept, and straight my Love before me brought
Phillis the object of my waking thought;
Undres’d she came my flames to meet, 5
While Love strow’d flow’rs beneath her feet;
Flow’rs, which so press’d by her, became more sweet.
2
From the bright Visions Head
A careless vail of Lawn was loosely spread:
From her white temples fell her shaded hair, 10
Like cloudy sunshine not too brown nor fair:
Her hands, her lips did love inspire;
Her ev’ry grace my heart did fire:
But most her eyes which languish’d with desire.
3
Ah, Charming fair, said I, 15
How long can you my bliss and yours deny?
By Nature and by love this lonely shade
Was for revenge of suffring Lovers made:
Silence and shades with love agree:
Both shelter you and favour me; 20
You cannot blush because I cannot see.
4
No, let me dye, she said,
Rather than loose the spotless name of Maid:
Faintly methought she spoke, for all the while
She bid me not believe her, with a smile. 25
Then dye, said I, she still deny’d:
And is it thus, thus, thus she cry’d
You use a harmless Maid, and so she dy’d!
5
I wak’d, and straight I knew
I lov’d so well it made my dream prove true: 30
Fancy, the kinder Mistress of the two,
Fancy had done what Phillis wou’d not do!
Ah, Cruel Nymph, cease your disdain,
While I can dream you scorn in vain;
Asleep or waking you must ease my pain. 35
How unhappy a Lover am I, from The Conquest of Granada, Part II
1
He. How unhappy a Lover am I
While I sigh for my Phillis in vain;
All my Hopes of Delight
Are another man’s Right,
Who is happy while I am in pain! 5
2
She. Since her Honour allows no Relief,
But to pity th
e pains which you bear,
’Tis the best of your Fate,
(In a hopeless Estate,)
To give o’re and betimes to despair. 10
3
He. I have try’d the false Med’cine in vain;
For I wish what I hope not to win:
From without, my desire
Has no Food to its Fire,
But is burns and consumes me within. 15
4
She. Yet at least ’tis a pleasure to know
That you are not unhappy alone:
For the Nymph you adore
Is as wretched and more,
And accounts all your suff’rings her own. 20
5
He. O ye Gods, let me suffer for both;
At the Feet of my Phillis I’le lye:
I’ll resign up my Breath,
And take Pleasure in Death,
To be pity’d by her when I dye. 25
6
She. What her Honour deny’d you in Life
In her Death she will give to your Love:
Such a Flame as is true
After Fate will renew,
For the Souls to meet closer above. 30
Why should a foolish Marriage Vow, from Marriage-à-la-Mode
1
WHY should a foolish Marriage Vow
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now
When Passion is decay’d?
We lov’d, and we lov’d, as long as we cou’d, 5
Till our Love was lov’d out in us both:
But our Marriage is dead, when the Pleasure is fled:
’Twas Pleasure first made it an Oath.
2
If I have Pleasures for a Friend,
And farther Love in store, 10
What Wrong has he whose Joys did end,
And who cou’d give no more?
’Tis a madness that he
Shou’d be jealous of me,
Or that I shou’d bar him of another: 15
For all we can gain is to give our selves pain,
When neither can hinder the other.
Whilst Alexis lay prest, from Marriage-à-la-Mode
1
WHILST Alexis lay prest
In her Arms he lov’d best,
With his hands round her neck,
And his head on her breast,
He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay, 5
And his soul in the tempest just flying away.
2
When Cœlia saw this,
With a sigh, and a kiss,
She cry’d, Oh my dear, I am robb’d of my bliss;
’Tis unkind to your Love, and unfaithfully done, 10
To leave me behind you, and die all alone.
3
The Youth, though in haste,
And breathing his last,
In pity dy’d slowly, while she dy’d more fast;
Till at length she cry’d, Now, my dear, now let us go, 15
Now die, my Alexis, and I will die too.
3
Thus intranc’d they did lie,
Till Alexis did try
To recover new Breath, that again he might die:
Then often they di’d; but the more they did so, 20
The Nymph dy’d more quick, and the Shepherd more slow.
Long betwixt Love and fear Phillis tormented, from The Assignation
LONG betwixt Love and fear Phillis tormented
Shun’d her own wish yet at last she consented:
But loath that day shou’d her Blushes discover,
Come, gentle Night She said,
Come quickly to my aid, 5
And a poor Shamefac’d Maid
Hide from her Lover.
Now cold as Ice I am, now hot as Fire,
I dare not tell my self my own desire;
But let Day fly away, and let Night haste her: 10
Grant ye kind Powers above,
Slow Hours to parting Love,
But when to Bliss we move,
Bid ‘em fly faster.
How sweet it is to Love when I discover 15
That Fire which burns my Heart warming my Lover;
’Tis Pity Love so true shou’d be mistaken:
But if this Night he be
False or unkinde to me,
Let me dye ere I see 20
That I’m forsaken.
Epithalamium, from Amboyna
THE DAY is come, I see it rise,
Betwixt the Bride’s and Bridegroom’s Eyes,
That Golden day they wish’d so long
Love pick’d it out amidst the throng;
He destin’d to himself this Sun, 5
And took the Reins and drove him on;
In his own Beams he drest him bright,
Yet bid him bring a better night.
The day you wish’d arriv’d at last,
You wish as much that it were past, 10
One Minute more and night will hide
The Bridegroom and the blushing Bride.
The Virgin now to Bed do’s goe:
Take care oh Youth, she rise not soe;
She pants and trembles at her doom 15
And fears and wishes thou wou’dst come.
The Bridegroom comes, He comes apace
With Love and Fury in his Face;
She shrinks away, He close pursues,
And Pray’rs and Threats at once do’s use; 20
She softly sighing begs delay,
And with her hand, puts his away,
Now out aloud for help she cryes,
And now despairing shuts her Eyes.
Song of the Sea Fight, from Amboyna
WHO ever saw a noble sight,
That never view’d a brave Sea Fight?
Hang up your bloody Colours in the Aire,
Up with your Fights and your Nettings prepare,
Your Merry Mates chear with a lusty bold spright, 5
Now each Man his brindice and then to the Fight.
St. George, St. George, we cry,
The shouting Turks reply.
Oh now it begins, and the Gunroom grows hot
Plie it with Culverin and with small shot; 10
Heark do’s it not Thunder? no ’tis the Guns roar
The Neighbouring Billows are turn’d into Gore.
Now each Man must resolve to dye,
For here the Coward cannot flye.
Drums and Trumpets toll the Knell, 15
And Culverins the Passing Bell
Now now they Grapple and now board a Main,
Blow up the Hatches, they’re off all again:
Give ‘em a broadside, the Dice run at all,
Down comes the Mast and Yard, and tacklings fall; 20
She grows giddy now like blind fortunes wheel;
She sinks there she sinks she turns up her Keel,
Who ever beholds so noble a sight
As this so brave, so bloody Sea Fight.
Song from the Italian, from The Kind Keeper
BY a dismal Cypress lying,
Damon cry’d, all pale and dying,
Kind is Death that ends my pain,
But cruel She I lov’d in vain.
The Mossy Fountains 5
Murmure my trouble,
And hollow Mountains
My groans redouble:
Every Nymph mourns me,
Thus while I languish; 10
She only scorns me,
Who caus’d my anguish.
No Love returning me, all my hope denying;
By a dismal Cypress lying,
Like a Swan, so sung he dying: 15
Kind is Death that ends my pain,
But cruel She I lov’d in vain.
Song to Apollo, from Œdipus
Phœbus, God belov’d by men;
At thy dawn, ev’ry Beast is rouz’d in his Den;
At thy Setting, all the Birds of thy absence complain,
And we dye, all dye til
l the morning comes again,
Phœbus, God belov’d by men! 5
Idol of the Eastern Kings,
Awful as the God who flings
His Thunder round, and the Lightning wings;
God of Songs, and Orphean Strings,
Who to this mortal bosom brings 10
All harmonious heav’nly Things!
Thy drouzie Prophet to revive,
Ten thousand thousand forms before him drive;
With Chariots and Horses all o’ Fire awake him,
Convulsions, and Furies, and Prophesies shake him: 15
Let him tell it in Groans, tho’ he bend with the load,
Tho’ he burst with the weight of the terrible God.
Can Life be a Blessing, from Troilus and Cressida
1
CAN Life be a Blessing,
Or worth the possessing,
Can Life be a blessing if Love were away?
Ah no! though our Love all Night keep us waking,
And though he torment us with Cares all the Day, 5
Yet he sweetens he sweetens our Pains in the taking,
There’s an Hour at the last, there’s an Hour to repay.
2
In ev’ry possessing,
The ravishing Blessing,
In ev’ry possessing the Fruit of our Pain, 10
Poor Lovers forget long Ages of Anguish,
What e’re they have suffer’d and done to obtain;
’Tis a Pleasure, a Pleasure to sigh and to languish,
When we hope, when we hope to be happy again.
Farwell ungratefull Traytor, from The Spanish Fryar
I
FARWELL ungratefull Traytor,
Farwell my perjur’d Swain,
Let never injur’d Creature
Believe a Man again.
The Pleasure of Possessing 5
Surpasses all Expressing,
But ’tis too short a Blessing,
And Love too long a Pain.
II
’Tis easie to deceive us
In Pity of your Pain, 10
But when we love you leave us
To rail at you in vain.
Before we have descry’d it,
There is no Bliss beside it,
But she that once has try’d it 15
Will never love again.
III
The Passion you pretended
Was onely to obtain
But when the Charm is ended
The Charmer you disdain. 20
Your Love by ours we measure
Till we have lost our Treasure,
But dying is a Pleasure,
When Living is a Pain.
Song betwixt a Shepherd and a Shepherdess, from The Duke of Guise