ROBERT SOUTHWELL. [1560-1595.] CONTENT AND RICH. I DWELL in grace's courts, Faith guides my wit, love leads my will, In lowly vales I mount To pleasure's highest pitch, My conscience is my crown, Enough, I reckon wealth; That lies too high for base contempt, My wishes are but few, I make the limits of my power I have no hopes but one, I feel no care of coin, I clip high-climbing thoughts, Their fate is worst, that from the height Silk sails of largest size The storm doth soonest tear : I bear so low and small a sail As freeth me from fear. I wrestle not with rage But when the flame is out, And ebbing wrath doth end, I turn a late-enragéd foe Into a quiet friend; And, taught with often proof, Spare diet is my fare, My clothes more fit than fine; I know I feed and clothe a foe That, pampered, would repine. I envy not their hap Whom favor doth advance: I take no pleasure in their pain That have less happy chance. To rise by others' fall I deem a losing gain : All states with others' ruins built To ruins run amain. No change of fortune's calms Can cast my comforts down: When fortune smiles, I smile to think How quickly she will frown; And when, in froward mood, ALEXANDER HUME. [About 1599.] A SUMMER'S DAY. THE time so tranquil is and clear, All trees and simples, great and small, The ships becalmed upon the seas, For who did ever yet, in honor, wealth, Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find? So earth falls down, and fire doth mount Who ever ceased to wish when he had above, Till both their proper elements do touch. wealth? Then as a bee, which among weeds doth | There is she crowned with garlands of much; This honey tasted still, is ever sweet; Or this fair volume which we World do The pleasure of her ravished thought is such, As almost here she with her bliss doth meet. But when in heaven she shall his essence see, This is her sovereign good, and perfect bliss, Her longings, wishings, hopes, all finished be, Her joys are full, her motions rest in this. name If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care, Of him who it corrects, and did it frame, We clear might read the art and wisdom rare: SIR HENRY WOTTON. But silly we, like foolish children, rest Well pleased with colored vellum, leaves of gold, Fair dangling ribbons, leaving what is best, On the great writer's sense ne'er taking hold; Or if by chance we stay our minds on aught, It is some picture on the margin wrought. SIR HENRY WOTTON. [1568 - 1639.] TO HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA. You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light! You common people of the skies! What are you, when the sun shall rise? You curious chanters of the wood, That warble forth dame Nature's lays, Thinking your voices understood By your weak accents! what's your praise When Philomel her voice shall raise? You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known, Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own! So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind; By virtue first, then choice, a Queen! Tell me, if she were not designed The eclipse and glory of her kind? THE GOOD MAN. How happy is he born and taught, Whose passions not his masters are, LADY ELIZABETH CAREW. Untied unto the worldly care 13 Who envies none that chance doth raise, Who hath his life from rumors freed, Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make oppressors great; Who God doth late and early pray, This man is freed from servile bands, LADY ELIZABETH CAREW REVENGE OF INJURIES. THE fairest action of our human life If we a worthy enemy do find, To yield to worth it must be nobly done; But if of baser metal be his mind, In base revenge there is no honor won. Who would a worthy courage overthrow? And who would wrestle with a worthless foe? We say our hearts are great, and cannot yield; Because they cannot yield, it proves them poor: Great hearts are tasked beyond their power but seld; The weakest lion will the loudest roar. Truth's school for certain doth this same allow High-heartedness doth sometimes teach to bow. |