Henry King, Bishop of Chichester.
BRAVE flowersthat I could gallant it like you,
And be as little vain!
You come abroad, and
make a harmless show,
And to your beds of earth again.
You are not proud: you know your birth:
embroiderd garments are from earth.
You do obey your months and times, but I
Would have it ever Spring:
My fate would know no
Winter, never die,
Nor think of such a thing.
O that I could my bed of earth but view
And smile, and look
as cheerfully as you!
O teach me to see Death and not to fear,
But rather to take truce!
How often have I seen you
at a bier,
And there look fresh and spruce!
You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my breath
may sweeten and perfume my death.
WE, that did nothing study but the way
To love each other, with which thoughts the day
with delight to us and with them set,
Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.
We, that did nothing wish
that Heaven could give
Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live
Beyond that wish, all these now cancel
As if not writ in faith, but words and dust.
Yet witness those clear vows which lovers make,
the chaste desires that never brake
Into unruly heats; witness that breast
Which in thy bosom anchord his
Tis no default in us: I dare acquite
Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white
As thy pure
self. Cross planets did envày
Us to each other, and Heaven did untie
Faster than vows could bind. Oh,
that the stars,
When lovers meet, should stand opposed in wars!
Since then some higher Destinies command,
Let us not strive, nor labour to withstand
is past help. The longest date of grief
Can never yield a hope of our relief:
Fold back our arms; take home
our fruitless loves,
That must new fortunes try, like turtle-doves
Dislodgàd from their haunts. We must in
Unwind a love knit up in many years.
In this last kiss I here surrender thee
Back to thyself.So, thou
again art free:
Thou in another, sad as that, re-send
The truest heart that lover eer did lend.
from each: so fare our severd hearts
As the divorced soul from her body parts.
ACCEPT, thou shrine of my dead saint,
Instead of dirges this complaint;
And for sweet flowers
to crown thy herse
Receive a strew of weeping verse
From thy grieved friend, whom thou mightst see
melted into tears for thee.
Dear loss! since thy untimely fate,
My task hath been to meditate
On thee, on
thee! Thou art the book,
The library whereon I look,
Tho almost blind. For thee, loved clay,
out, not live, the day....
Thou hast benighted me; thy set
This eve of blackness did beget,
Who wast my day
Before thou hadst thy noontide past):
And I remember must in tears
Thou scarce hadst seen
so many years
As day tells hours. By thy clear sun
My love and fortune first did run;
But thou wilt never
Folded within my hemisphere,
Since both thy light and motion,
Like a fled star, is falln and
And twixt me and my souls dear wish
The earth now interposàd is....
I could allow thee for a time
darken me and my sad clime;
Were it a month, a year, or ten,
I would thy exile live till then,
And all that
space my mirth adjourn
So thou wouldst promise to return,
And putting off thy ashy shroud
disperse this sorrows cloud.
But woe is me! the longest date
Too narrow is to calculate
These empty hopes: never
Be so much blest as to descry
A glimpse of thee, till that day come
Which shall the earth to cinders
And a fierce fever must calcine
The body of this worldlike thine,
My little world! That fit of fire
off, our bodies shall aspire
To our souls bliss: then we shall rise
And view ourselves with clearer eyes
that calm region where no night
Can hide us from each others sight.
Meantime thou hast her, Earth: much
May my harm do thee! Since it stood
With Heavens will I might not call
Her longer mine, I give thee
My short-lived right and interest
In her whom living I loved best.
Be kind to her, and prithee look
write into thy Doomsday book
Each parcel of this rarity
Which in thy casket shrined doth lie,
As thou wilt