By a brook-side or wood so green,
Unheard, unsought for, or unseen,
A thousand pleasures do me bless
And crown my soul with happiness.
All my joys besides are folly :
Nought so sweet as melancholy!
When I lie, sit, or walk alone,
I sigh, I grieve, making great moan,
In a dark grove, or irksome den,
With discontents and furies,-then
A thousand miseries at once
Mine heavy heart and soul ensconce.
All my griefs to this are jolly:
None so sour as melancholy!
Methinks I hear, methinks I see,
Sweet music, wondrous melody,
Towns, palaces, and cities fine,-
Here now, then there, the world is mine:
Rare beauties, gallant ladies shine,
Whate'er is lovely or divine.
All other joys to this are folly :
None so sweet as melancholy!
Methinks I hear, methinks I see,
Ghosts, goblins, fiends,-my phantasy
Presents a thousand ugly shapes,
Headless bears, black men, and apes;
Doleful outcries, fearful sights,
My sad and dismal soul affrights.
All my griefs to this are jolly:
None so damn'd as melancholy!
Methinks I court, methinks I kiss,
Methinks I now embrace my Miss:
O blessed days! O sweet content!
In Paradise my time is spent.
Such thoughts may still my fancy move,
So may I ever be in love!
All my joys to this are folly:
Nought so sweet as melancholy!
When I recount love's many frights,
My sighs and tears, my waking nights,
My jealous fits,-O mine hard fate!
I now repent, but 'tis too late.
No torment is so bad as love,
So bitter to my soul can prove.
All my griefs to this are jolly:
Nought so harsh as melancholy!
Friends and companions! get you gone! 'Tis my desire to be alone :
Ne'er well but when my thoughts and I
Do domineer in privacy.
No gem, no treasure like to this,
'Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss.
All my joys to this are folly :
Nought so sweet as melancholy!
'Tis my sole plague to be alone :
I am a beast, a monster grown ;
I will no light, no company,
I find it now my misery:
The scene is turn'd, my joys are gone,
Fear, discontent, and sorrows come.
All my griefs to this are jolly:
Nought so fierce as melancholy!
I'll not change life with any king,
I ravish'd am can the world bring
More joy than still to laugh and smile,
In pleasant toys time to beguile?
Do not, O do not trouble me!
So sweet content I feel and see,
All my joys to this are folly :
None so divine as melancholy!
I'll change my state with any wretch
Thou canst from jail or dunghill fetch;
My pain past cure, another hell,
I may not in this torment dwell.
Now desperate, I hate my life :
Lend me a halter or a knife!
All my griefs to this are jolly:
Nought so damn'd as melancholy!
WHAT CARE?
Shall I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the Day,
Or the flowery meads in May,—
If she be not so to me,
What care I how fair she be?
Shall my foolish heart be pined
'Cause I see a woman kind,
Or a well-disposèd nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder than
Turtle-dove or pelican,—
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?
Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deserving known
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness bless'd
Which may gain her name of Best,—
If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be ?
'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would do
That without them dare to woo :
And unless that mind I see,
What care I, though great she be?
Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will none the more despair :
If she love me (this believe !)
I will die ere she shall grieve;
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go,—
For if she be not for me,
What care I for whom she be?
What is the cause when I elsewhere resort
I have my gestures and discourse more free,
And if I please can any Beauty court,
Yet stand so dull and so demure by thee?
Why are my speeches broken whilst I talk?
Why do I fear almost thy hand to touch?
Why dare I not embrace thee as we walk,
Since with the greatest nymphs I've dared as much?
Ah! know that none of these I e'er affected,
And therefore used a careless courtship there :
Because I neither their disdain respected,
Nor reckon'd them nor their embracings dear.
But loving Thee my love hath found content,
And rich delights in things indifferent.
Why covet I thy blessed eyes to see,
Whose sweet aspect may cheer the saddest mind? Why when our bodies must divided be
Can I no hour of rest or pleasure find?
Why do I sleeping start, and waking moan
To find that of my dreamed hopes I miss?
Why do I often contemplate alone
Of such a thing as thy perfection is?
And wherefore when we meet doth passion stop
My speechless tongue and leave me in a panting?
Why doth my heart, o'ercharged with fear and hope,
In spite of reason almost droop to fainting?
Because in me thy excellences moving
Have drawn to me an excellence in loving.
Steer, hither steer your winged pines,
All beaten mariners!
Here lie Love's undiscover'd mines,
A prey to passengers ;
Perfumes far sweeter than the best
Which make the phoenix' urn and nest:
Fear not your ships,
Nor any to oppose you save our lips;
But come on shore,
Where no joy dies till love hath gotten more!
|