With as much zeal, devotion, piety, Which still in water sets at night, But happy Thou, ta'en from this frantic age, Upon that white and radiant crew, See'st not a soul clothed with more light than thine. 353. The Wish ELL then! I now do plainly see WE This busy world and I shall ne'er agree. The very honey of all earthly joy Does of all meats the soonest cloy; And they, methinks, deserve my pity Who for it can endure the stings, The crowd and buzz and murmurings, Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, and many books, both true, Both wise, and both delightful too! And since love ne'er will from me flee, A Mistress moderately fair, And good as guardian angels are, O fountains! when in you shall I Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood: Here's wealthy Nature's treasury, Where all the riches lie that she Has coin'd and stamp'd for good. Pride and ambition here Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs scatter, And nought but Echo flatter. The gods, when they descended, hither From heaven did always choose their way: That 'tis the way too thither. How happy here should I And one dear She live, and embracing die! I should have then this only fear : ALEXANDER BROME 354. TELL The Resolve 'ELL me not of a face that's fair, Nor curls in order laid, The only argument can move The glories of your ladies be Each common object brings. 1620-1666 1621-1678 355. ANDREW MARVELL An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland THE HE forward youth that would appear His numbers languishing. 'Tis time to leave the books in dust, So restless Cromwell could not cease And like the three-fork'd lightning, first His fiery way divide: For 'tis all one to courage high, The emulous, or enemy; And with such, to enclose Is more than to oppose. Then burning through the air he went 'Tis madness to resist or blame Who, from his private gardens, where (As if his highest plot Could by industrious valour climb Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vainBut those do hold or break As men are strong or weak-. Nature, that hateth emptiness, And therefore must make room What field of all the civil war Where, twining subtle fears with hope, That Charles himself might chase |