« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
'Tis better, if he there can dwell.
God wisheth none should wreck on a strange
To Him man's dearer than t' himself,"1
Nor death; but when thy latest sand is spent,
IV. TO THE WORLD.
A FAREWELL FOR A GENTLEWOMAN, VIRTUOUS AND NOBLE.
False world, good night! since thou hast brought
Do not once hope that thou canst tempt
11 Whalley traces this sentiment, and all verses that follow, to the well-known passage in the tenth Satire of Juvenal:
"Permittes ipsis expendere Numinibus, quid
Nam pro jucundis aptissima quæque dabunt dii.
Orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore sano."
Upon thy throat, and live exempt
From all the nets that thou canst spread. I know thy forms are studied arts, Thy subtle ways be narrow straits; Thy courtesy but sudden starts,
And what thou call'st thy gifts are baits. I know, too, though thou strut and paint, Yet art thou both shrunk up and old That only fools make thee a saint, And all thy good is to be sold. I know thou whole art but a shop
Of toys and trifles, traps and snares, To take the weak, or make them stop: Yet thou art falser than thy wares. And, knowing this, should I yet stay, Like such as blow away their lives, And never will redeem a day,
Enamored of their golden gyves? Or, having 'scaped, shall I return,
And thrust my neck into the noose From whence, so lately, I did burn,
With all my powers, myself to loose?
If these, who have but sense, can shun
If I could not thy gins avoid.
Yes, threaten, do. Alas, I fear
As little, as I hope from thee; I know thou canst nor show, nor bear More hatred than thou hast to me. My tender, first, and simple years Thou didst abuse, and then betray; Since stirr'dst up jealousies and fears, When all the causes were away. Then in a soil hast planted me, Where breathe the basest of thy fools; Where envious arts professèd be,
And pride and ignorance the schools; Where nothing is examined, weighed, But as 'tis rumored, so believed; Where every freedom is betrayed,
And every goodness taxed or grieved. But, what we're born for, we must bear : Our frail condition it is such,
That what to all may happen here,
If 't chanced to me, I must not grutch. Else I my state should much mistake, To harbor a divided thought From all my kind; that for my sake, There should a miracle be wrought. No, I do know that I was born
To age, misfortune, sickness, grief; But I will bear these with that scorn, As shall not need thy false relief. Nor for my peace will I go far,
As wanderers do, that still do roam,
But make my strengths, such as they are,
TO CELIA, 13
Come, my Celia, let us prove,
But the sweet theft to reveal:
To be taken, to be seen,
These have crimes accounted been.
12 There is a striking resemblance between these lines and that passage in Beaumont's Elegy on the Countess of RutJand, beginning
"Mankind is sent to sorrow," &c. — B.
13 These two charming songs, addressed to Celia, are imitated from Catullus. The first of the two is also to be found in Volpone. The same subject is treated with great grace and beauty by Herrick in one of his small lyrics. - B.
VI. TO THE SAME.
Kiss me, sweet: the wary lover
Kiss again! no creature comes;
When youths ply their stolen delights;
14 Skinner derives the name of Chelsea from shelves of sand and ey or ea, land situated near water; but Lysons prefers the etymology of Norden, who says that "it is so called from the nature of the place, whose strand is like the chesel (ceosel or cesol) which the sea casteth up of sand and pebblestones, thereof called Cheselsey, briefly Chelsey, as is Chelsey in Sussex."-Speculum Britanniæ. — B.