Classic Poem

Hark how the lyrick choristers o' th' wood
Warble their cheerful notes! which understood
Would make us think they woo'd and spake
In pure Tibullus phrase, when he did take
His Lesbia to him! how they sing
And chirp it merrily
To welcome in that verdant spring
Which makes our blood run high!

Arise then heavy Muse! now winter's done
And the warm pleasant Summer is begun;
Arise! and charge Aurora wake,
And weare her best array for this daies sake
Salute her first whom I'd enjoy,
And then let all the nine
To their sweet musick dance and sing
That this day' is Valentine.

Great Bishop! whose more sacred memorie
Crowns this blest day with due solemnitie,
Let me invoke thy holy Shrine
To guide me to another Valentine !
Lend me thy urns fair light awhile
With the Morns brighter eies,
To find that happy She, and steal
Upon her by surprise.

Assist me Jove ! in thy gilt show'rs convey
Me to the bed of my bright Danae !
Lest I be blasted or betrai'd
By the quick eyes of some crackt chambermaid,
Got up on purpose to be seen;
And though she stand i' th' way,
Blind me t'all but my Valentine !
Till I approach her day!

Or lend me Gyges old enchanted ring
That I may walk invisible! and bring
Me thus lockt up in close disguise
To the blest place where this fair beauty lies!
Thus undiscern'd I'll pass the street,
Nor see, nor yet be seen
Of any until we two meet
(My dearest Valentine).

Some draw their Valentines by lotterie
Whom they perhaps ne'er saw before, but I
Make a far wiser choice in mine,
Where Love elects discreetly by design:
Some on their hats in wafer scroll
Their names have charact'red;
I on my heart thy name enroll,
More easie to be read.

See the true windows of the perfum'd East!
Breathing such odours that each sense may feast
To luxurie! oh, 'twould suffice
To live but one hour in this Paradise!
Then haste to kisse her balmie hand,
To kiss her shall I fear?
I'll gently draw the curtains, and
Let the bright day appear.

Behold where Innocence her self doth lie
Clad in her white array! Fair Deitie!
I'll onely print upon her dewy lip
One loving kiss and so away will slip.
She wakes, and blushes on each cheek
So red, that I may say
There on each side doth truly break
The dawning of the day.

Startle not Fairest! It is I am come
Like th' Persian to adore the rising Sun:
I'm come to view that sight would make
The good old man ev'n for thy onely sake
Wish him alive agen, to see
Such a fair Saint of 's name,
Whose virtues propagate in thee
To his eternal fame.

'Tis I am come, who but a Friend before
Am hap'ly now by fate adopted more,
A brother or what else you deem
To be more neer, or of more high esteem.
I'm come to joyn in sacrifice
To our dear Valentine ;
Where I must offer to thine eyes,
Knowing no other Shrine.

Large Hecatombs of kisses I will lay
On th' Altar of thy lips, that men may say
By their continuance we are true,
And will keep so this year, nor change for new.
The birds instruct us to do so,
The season too invites;
When spring comes they a billing go,
As we to our delights.

Each am'rous Turtle now his Mate doth chuse,
Whom Nature for that year by pow'rful use
Taught to be constant: shall not wee
Who love with reason be as firm and free?
Here then our league let us begin,
And from this minute count
Thousands of kisses that within
This year shall thus amount.

How sweet she breathes! the Zephyre wind that blows
Fresh fragrant odours on the modest Rose
Sends forth not half so pure a smell
As this which on thy chaster lips doth dwell:
Here in this holy Temple I
Could fix eternally,
And pay these vows until I die
Pitied of none but thee.

Methinks my arms now grasp a treasure more
Worth than both Indies valued double o'er.
'Tis pitty we should ever part,
I should be poor, if robb'd of thee, my heart:
The t'other kiss, and though I surfet on
The sweetness of thy breath,
The blame shall be on me alone;
Who'd not die such a death?