Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

Look, when a painter would furpass the life,
In limning out a well-proportion'd steed,
His art with Nature's workmanship at ftrife,
As if the dead the living should exceed;
So did this horfe excel a common one,
In shape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone.

Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks fhag and long, Broad breast, full eyes, fmall head, and noftril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs, and paffing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide : Look what a horse should have, he did not lack, Save a proud rider on fo proud a back.

Sometimes he fcuds far off, and there he stares,
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;

To bid the wind a bafe he now prepares,

And whêr he run, or fly, they knew not whether; For through his mane and tail the high wind fings, Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings,

He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;
She answers him, as if she knew his mind:
Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,
She puts on outward ftrangeness, seems unkind;
Spurns at his love, and fcorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels,

Then, like a melancholy male-content,
He vails his tail, that, like a falling plume,
Cool fhadow to his melting buttocks lent;
He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume:
His love perceiving how he is enrag'd,
Grew kinder, and his fury was affuag'd.

His tefty mafter goeth about to take him;
When lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear,
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:

As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.

All fwoln with chafing, down Adonis fits,
Banning his boisterous and unruly beast;
And now the happy season once more fits,
That love-fick Love by pleading may be bleft;
For lovers fay, the heart hath treble wrong,
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
Burneth more hotly, fwelleth with more rage:
So of concealed forrow may be faid;
Free vent of words love's fire doth affuage;

But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.

He fees her coming, and begins to glow,
(Even as a dying coal revives with wind),
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;
Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind
Taking no notice that she is so nigh,
For all afkaunce he holds her in his eye.

O what a fight it was, wiftly to view
How she came ftealing to the wayward boy!
To note the fighting conflict of her hue!
How white and red each other did destroy !
But now, her cheek was pale, and by and by
It flafl'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky.

Now was she just before him as he fat,
And like a lowly lover down fhe kneels ;
With one fair hand fhe heaveth up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheeks feels:
His tender cheeks receive her foft hands' print,
As apt as new fallen fnow takes any dint.

O what a war of looks was then between them!
Her eyes, petitioners, to his eyes fuing;
His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them;
Her eyes woo'd ftill, his eyes difdain'd the wooing :
And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.

Full gently now she takes him by the hand,
A lily prifon'd in a gaol of fnow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band;

So white a friend engirts fo white a foe:
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Show'd like to filver doves that fit a billing.

Once more the engine of her thoughts began: "O faireft mover on this mortal round,

Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,

My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound;
For one sweet look thy help I would affure thee,
Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee."

Give me my hand, faith he, why doft thou feel it?
Give me my heart, faith fhe, and thou shalt have it ;
O give it me, left thy hard heart do steel it,
And being steel'd, foft fighs can never grave it:
Then love's deep groans I never shall regard,
Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.

For thame, he cries, let go, and let me go;
My day's delight is past, my horfe is gone,

And 'tis your fault I am bereft him fo;

I

pray you hence, and leave me here alone; For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,

Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.

Thus fhe replies: "Thy palfrey, as he should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet defire.
Affection is a coal that must be cool'd;

Elfe, fuffer'd, it will fet the heart on fire:

The sea hath bounds, but deep defire hath none, Therefore no marvel though thy horse be

How like a jade he stood, tied to a tree,
Servilely mafter'd with a leathern rein!

gone.

But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee,
He held fuch petty bondage in disdain

;

Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.

Who fees his true love in her naked bed,
Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
But, when his glutton eye fo full hath fed,
His other agents aim at like delight?

Who is so faint, that dare not be fo bold,
To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

Let me excufe thy courfer, gentle boy;
And learn of him, I heartily befeech thee,
To take advantage on prefented joy;

Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee.
O learn to love; the lesson is but plain,

And, once made perfect, never loft again.

I know not love (quoth he) nor will I know it,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it:

'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
My love to love is love but to disgrace it;
For I have heard it is a life in death,

That laughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath.

Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If springing things be any jot diminish'd,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:
The colt that's back'd and burthen'd being young,
Lofeth his pride, and never waxeth ftrong.

You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part,
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat :
Remove your fiege from my unyielding heart;
To love's alarm it will not ope the gate.

Difmifs your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery;
For where a heart is hard, they make no battery.

What! canft thou talk (quoth fhe), haft thou a tongue?
O would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing!

Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong;
I had

my load before, now prefs'd with bearing:

Melodious difcord, heavenly tune harsh-founding,

Earth's deep-fweet mufic, and heart's deep-fore wounding.

Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love

That inward beauty and invisible ;

Or, were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
Each
part in me that were but fenfible:

Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor fee,
Yet should I be in love, by touching thee.

« AnteriorContinua »