Thomas Carew

We read of kings and gods that kindly took A pitcher fill'd with water from the brook ; But I have daily tender'd without thanks

I was foretold, your rebell sex, Nor love, nor pitty knew; And with what scorn you use to vex

In Nature's pieces still I see Some error, that might mended be; Something my wish could still remove,

Go thou gentle whispering wind, Bear this sigh; and if thou find Where my cruel fair doth rest,

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's orient deep

If the quick spirits in your eye Now languish and anon must die; If every sweet and every grace

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's orient deep

Can we not force from widow'd poetry, Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy To crown thy hearse? Why yet dare we not trust,

This little vault, this narrow room, Of Love and Beauty is the tomb; The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear

This little vault, this narrow room, Of Love and Beauty is the tomb; The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's orient deep

Mark how the bashful morn in vain Courts the amorous marigold, With sighing blasts and weeping rain,

Fond man, that canst believe her blood Will from those purple channels flow; Or that the pure untainted flood

He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek

And here the precious dust is laid; Whose purely-temper'd clay was made So fine that it the guest betray'd.

The Lady Mary Villiers lies Under this stone; with weeping eyes The parents that first gave her birth,

How ill doth he deserve a lover's name, Whose pale weak flame Cannot retain

He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek

I do not love thee for that fair Rich fan of thy most curious hair; Though the wires thereof be drawn

Know Celia, since thou art so proud, 'Twas I that gave thee thy renown; Thou hadst, in the forgotten crowd

Know, Celia, since thou art so proud, 'Twas I that gave thee thy renown. Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd

In Celia's face a question did arise, Which were more beautiful, her lips or eyes ? We, said the eyes, send forth those pointed darts

Give me more love or more disdain; The torrid, or the frozen zone, Bring equal ease unto my pain;

So grieves th' adventurous merchant, when he throws All the long toil'd-for treasure his ship stows Into the angry main, to save from wrack

Fear not, dear love, that I'll reveal Those hours of pleasure we two steal; No eye shall see, nor yet the sun

If when the sun at noon displays His brighter rays, Thou but appear,

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep

How ill doth he deserve a lover's name, Whose pale weak flame Cannot retain

Gaze not on thy beauty's pride, Tender maid, in the false tide That from lovers' eyes doth slide.

I'll gaze no more on her bewitching face, Since ruin harbours there in every place; For my enchanted soul alike she drowns

If the quick spirits in your eye Now languish and anon must die; If every sweet and every grace

Ask me why I send you here The firstling of the infant year; Ask me why I send to you

Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream

He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek

Now you have freely given me leave to love, What will you do? Shall I your mirth, or passion move,

'Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand Hath fix'd upon the sotted age a brand To their swoll'n pride and empty scribbling due;

When thou, poor excommunicate From all the joys of love, shalt see The full reward and glorious fate