Sovereigne of Queenes: If vayne Ambition move
my hart to seeke an earthly prynces grace:
shewe me thy sonne in his imperiall place,
whose servants reigne, our kynges & queenes above.
And if alluryng passions I doe prove,
by pleasyng sighes: shewe me thy lovely face:
whose beames the Angells beuty do deface:
and even inflame the Seraphins with love.
So by Ambition I shall humble bee:
when in the presence of the highest kynge
I serve all his, that he may honour mee.
And love, my hart to chaste desyres shall brynge,

How can I tell thee, dear, what never words
Have fitly told? How ope my heart to thee
Wherein thou mightst, as in a well, perceive
Deep down but the mere shadow of my love?
But as the wind sweeps from the icy north
To some lov'd isle in dim Pacific seas,
Or as the never-ceasing circling waves
Follow round earth the radiant orb of night,
So follow I with love unspeakable
The pathways fill'd with light which are thine own.
O love, thou art the flame that burns for me,

My steady purpose! That no dark can quench!

MADAM ,

I've seen, but ah! these happy hours are fled,
When you was charmed with every thing I said;
Praised my perfections to a high degree,
Vowed you loved only one, and that was me.
Ah! lovely nymph; can you so faithless prove,
To slight the swain you did so dearly love.
Yes, yes, 'tis true, and I am in despair,
And must I die a martyr to the fair!
Let all who love their peace, of your sex have care,
For every smile, and every look's a snare.

Old loves, once so alive, but now long dead!
They told the same sweet lies, they often said
The same fond, foolish things, — lip answered lip
With the same thrill, for Love's strong mastership.
Time is an empty Temple of Delight
Where once Love's way was festal, day and night.
And yet the newest pair of lovers smile,
Laughing and loving for their little while,
Without a tremor, and their look as gay
As those now dim, or these of yesterday.

Eternally they flicker to and fro
To Fancy's eye; for ever come and go

Unselfish love, which would true aims fulfil,
Must be what men call mean, must make unask'd
The first advances, and a cold response,
Rebuffs and misconceptions overlook,
To prosecute its end, which is to give,
For love's best reasons, unrequited, all
Love's heart and life's devotion.

This confess'd,
Some brief indulgence let the heart enjoy—
From thought set free, from all the weary weight
Of those great ends whereto, since early days
Elected, souls must strive and, striving, see
New fields of labour opening far beyond

Folds of flesh henceforth enwind thee,
Earthly veils thy form conceal,
Five restricted senses bind thee—
Dimly wails our vain appeal.

Wings of those that loved and knew thee
Round about thy house may throng,
But the charm of earth which drew thee
Holds thee by a spell too strong.

Soul of sweetness, thus forsaking
True life's light and love divine,
When the witch-spell fails, awaking—
Light and life and love be thine.

So the walls of sense entomb thee,
So we leave thee—born of men;

Upon the heights they rested; looking down,
" What shuddering depths, " she said, " thank God, afar! "
But he: " 'Twas thence we climbed to reach the crown;
O Love, I bless what brought us where we are. "

We marched out of Gloucester the 19th of June ,
Colours being flying, and soldiers in full bloom;
Little did I think that my true love was so near,
My heart was stole away by Captain Barnard's Grenadier .

My father and my mother confin'd me in a room,
I jump'd out of the window, and I went into the town;
It was my good fortune to meet with my dearest dear,
My heart was stole away by Captain Barnard's Grenadier .

My love goes to the Captain, so valiant and so bold,
He is clothed all in scarlet, and laced round with gold;

Three lilies grew in a garden
That looked upon the sea;
These lilies white, they had a right
To be beloved of me.
I ask no man a pardon
That, all within my garden,
I loved those lilies three.

Three men came in my garden,
Three men from o'er the sea;
One black as night, one gold-bedight,
And one that looked at me,
And praised my growing garden:
I ask my God for pardon,
I loved him of the three.

Strange things come out of the sea:
I loved him well, ah me!
There came a wind that blights the kind

A Christmas Carroll — 1655

Must lewes come in
And is it not a sin?
To goe about
To cast Christ out?
I will not say
That This the Day
With selebration we adorn