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 I 5
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 take 15
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 brings 20
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 warme 25
The grave, and hold up an exalted arme
To lift me from my lazy vrne, to climbe
Vpon the stooped shoulders of old Time,
And trace Eternity--But all is dead,
All these delicious hopes are buried 30
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 rise 35
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 true 40
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 thee 50
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.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
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 Somnolentiae 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 uncontrouled fate,
Though their best aspects twin'd upon 25
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 eye 35
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 entombed lye,
Love shall live, although he dye.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
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:
OUT OF THE ITALIAN.[79]
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 Phoebus' 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 obscured 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.
Would any one the true cause find 1
How Love came nak't, a boy, and blind?
'Tis this: listning one day too long,
So th' Syrens in my mistris' song,
The extasie of a delight 5
So much o're-mastring all his might,
To that one sense, made all else thrall,
And so he lost his clothes, eyes, heart and all.
VPON THE FRONTISPEECE OF MR. ISAACKSON'S CHRONOLOGIE.[81]
Let hoary Time's vast bowels be the grave 1
To what his bowels' birth and being gave;
Let Nature die, (Phoenix-like) from death
Revived 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.
NOTE.
As explained in preceding Note, I add here the poem so long misassigned
to CRASHAW.
ON THE FRONTISPIECE OF ISAACSON'S CHRONOLOGIE EXPLAINED.
BY DR. EDWARD RAINBOW, BISHOP OF CARLISLE.
If with distinctive eye, and mind, you looke 1
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 showes 5
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 behold 15
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 Phoenix-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,
A CONFORMABLE CITIZEN.[82]
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 tell 10
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 numbred 15
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.
TO HIS (SUPPOSED) MISTRESSE.[84]
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 divine 10
Idaea, 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 best 25
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 oppresse 40
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 day 50
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 light 80
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 send 85
A challenge to his end,
And when it comes say, Welcome friend!
30. Sydnaean 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 here 115
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.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
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.
TO THE QUEEN:
AN APOLOGIE FOR THE LENGTH OF THE FOLLOWING PANEGYRICK.[85]
When you are mistresse of the song, 1
Mighty queen, to thinke it long,
Were treason 'gainst that majesty
Your Vertue wears. Your modesty
Yet thinks it so. But ev'n that too 5
--Infinite, since part of you--
New matter for our Muse supplies,
And so allowes what it denies.
Say then dread queen, how may we doe
To mediate 'twixt your self and you? 10
That so our sweetly temper'd song
Nor be too sort, nor seeme to[o] long.
Needs must your noble prayses' strength
That made it long excuse the length.
TO THE QUEEN,
VPON HER NUMEROUS PROGENIE: A PANEGYRICK.[86]
Britain! the mighty Ocean's lovely bride! 1
Now stretch thy self, fair isle, and grow: spread wide
Thy bosome, and make roome. Thou art opprest
With thine own glories, and art strangely blest
Beyond thy self: for (lo!) the gods, the gods 5
Come fast upon thee; and those glorious ods
Swell thy full honours to a pitch so high
As sits above thy best capacitie.
Are they not ods? and glorious? that to thee
Those mighty genii throng, which well might be 10
Each one an Age's labour? that thy dayes
Are gilded with the union of those rayes
Whose each divided beam would be a sunne
To glad the sphere of any Nation?
Sure, if for these thou mean'st to find a seat, 15
Th' hast need, O Britain, to be truly Great.
And so thou art; their presence makes thee so:
They are thy greatnesse. Gods, where-e're they go,
Bring their Heav'n with them: their great footsteps place
An everlasting smile upon the face 20
Of the glad Earth they tread on: while with thee
Those beames that ampliate mortalitie,
And teach it to expatiate and swell
To majestie and fulnesse, deign to dwell,
Thou by thy self maist sit, (blest Isle) and see 25
How thy great mother Nature dotes on thee.
Thee therefore from the rest apart she hurl'd,
And seem'd to make an Isle, but made a World.
Time yet hath dropt few plumes since Hope turn'd Joy,
And took into his armes the princely boy, 30
Whose birth last blest the bed of his sweet mother,
And bad us first salute our prince, a brother.
_The Prince and Duke of York._
Bright Charles! thou sweet dawn of a glorious Day!
Centre of those thy grandsires (shall I say,
Henry and James? or, Mars and Phoebus rather? 35
If this were Wisdome's god, that War's stern father;
'Tis but the same is said: Henry and James
Are Mars and Phoebus under diverse names):
O thou full mixture of those mighty souls
Whose vast intelligences tun'd the poles 40
Of Peace and War; thou, for whose manly brow
Both lawrels twine into one wreath, and woo
To be thy garland: see (sweet prince), O see,
Thou, and the lovely hopes that smile in thee,
Art ta'n out and transcrib'd by thy great mother: 45
See, see thy reall shadow; see thy brother,
Thy little self in lesse: trace in these eyne
The beams that dance in those full stars of thine.
From the same snowy alabaster rock
Those hands and thine were hewn; those cherries mock 50
The corall of thy lips: thou wert of all
This well-wrought copie the fair principall.
_Lady Mary._
Iustly, great Nature, didst thou brag, and tell
How ev'n th' hadst drawn that faithfull parallel,
And matcht thy master-piece. O then go on, 55
Make such another sweet comparison.
Seest thou that Marie there? O teach her mother
To shew her to her self in such another.
Fellow this wonder too; nor let her shine
Alone; light such another star, and twine 60
Their rosie beams, that so the Morn for one
Venus, may have a constellation.
_Lady Elizabeth._
These words scarce waken'd Heaven, when--lo!--our vows
Sat crown'd upon the noble infant's brows.
Th' art pair'd, sweet princesse: in this well-writ book 65
Read o're thy self; peruse each line, each look.
And when th' hast summ'd up all those blooming blisses,
Close up the book, and clasp it with thy kisses.
So have I seen (to dresse their mistresse May)
Two silken sister-flowers consult, and lay 70
Their bashfull cheeks together: newly they
Peep't from their buds, show'd like the garden's eyes
Scarce wak't: like was the crimson of their joyes;
Like were the tears they wept, so like, that one
Seem'd but the other's kind reflexion. 75
_The new-borne Prince._
And now 'twere time to say, sweet queen, no more.
Fair source of princes, is thy pretious store
Not yet exhaust? O no! Heavens have no bound,
But in their infinite and endlesse round
Embrace themselves. Our measure is not their's; 80
Nor may the pov'rtie of man's narrow prayers
Span their immensitie. More princes come:
Rebellion, stand thou by; Mischief, make room:
War, blood, and death--names all averse from Ioy--
Heare this, we have another bright-ey'd boy: 85
That word's a warrant, by whose vertue I
Have full authority to bid you dy.
Dy, dy, foul misbegotten monsters! dy:
Make haste away, or e'r the World's bright eye
Blush to a cloud of bloud. O farre from men 90
Fly hence, and in your Hyperborean den
Hide you for evermore, and murmure there
Where none but Hell may heare, nor our soft aire
Shrink at the hatefull sound. Mean while we bear
High as the brow of Heaven, the noble noise 95
And name of these our just and righteous joyes,
Where Envie shall not reach them, nor those eares
Whose tune keeps time to ought below the spheres.
But thou, sweet supernumerary starre,
Shine forth; nor fear the threats of boyst'rous Warre. 100
The face of things has therefore frown'd a while
On purpose, that to thee and thy pure smile
The World might ow an universall calm;
While thou, fair halcyon, on a sea of balm
Shalt flote; where while thou layst thy lovely head, 105
The angry billows shall but make thy bed:
Storms, when they look on thee, shall straigt relent;
And tempests, when they tast thy breath, repent
To whispers, soft as thine own slumbers be,
Or souls of virgins which shall sigh for thee. 110
Shine then, sweet supernumerary starre,
Nor feare the boysterous names of bloud and warre:
Thy birth-day is their death's nativitie;
They've here no other businesse but to die.
_To the Queen._