Textarchiv - Thomas Stanley

The Parting

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

I go, dear Saint, away,
Snatch'd from thy arms
By far less pleasing charms,
Than those I did obey;
But when hereafter thou shall know
That grief hath slain me, come,
And on my tomb
Drop, drop a tear or two;
Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep,
And I shall smile in death to see thee weep.

Thy tears may have the power
To reinspire
My ashes with new fire,
Or change me to some flower,
Which, planted 'twixt thy breasts, shall grow:
Veil'd in this shape, I will
Dwell with thee still,
Court, kiss, enjoy thee too:
Securely we'll contemn all envious force,
And thus united be by death's divorce.

Thomas Stanley

1647

Song

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

Foolish Lover, go and seek
For the damask of the rose,
And the lilies white dispose
To adorn thy mistress' cheek;

Steal some star out of the sky,
Rob the phoenix, and the east
Of her wealthy sweets divest,
To enrich her breath or eye!

We thy borrow'd pride despise:
For this wine, to which we are
Votaries, is richer far
Than her cheek, or breath, or eyes.

And should that coy fair one view
These diviner beauties, she
In this flame would rival thee,
And be taught to love thee too.

Come, then, break thy wanton chain,
That when this brisk wine hath spread
On thy paler cheek a red,
Thou, like us, mayst Love disdain.

Love, thy power must yield to wine!
And whilst thus ourselves we arm,
Boldly we defy thy charm:
For these flames extinguish thine.

Thomas Stanley

1647

Counsel

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

When deceitful lovers lay
At thy feet their suppliant hearts,
And their snares spread to betray
Thy best treasure with their arts,
Credit not their flatt'ring vows:
Love such perjury allows.

When they with the choicest wealth
Nature boasts of, have possess'd thee;
When with flowers (their verses' stealth),
Stars, or jewels they invest thee,
Trust not to their borrow'd store:
'Tis but lent to make thee poor.

When with poems they invade thee,
Sing thy praises or disdain;
When they weep, and would persuade thee
That their flames beget that rain;
Let thy breast no baits let in:
Mercy 's only here a sin!

Let no tears or offerings move thee,
All those cunning charms avoid;
For that wealth for which they love thee,
They would slight if once enjoy'd.
Who would keep another's heart
With her own must never part.

Thomas Stanley

1647

Despair

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

No, no, poor blasted Hope!
Since I (with thee) have lost the scope
Of all my joys, I will no more
Vainly implore
The unrelenting Destinies:
He that can equally sustain
The strong assaults of joy or pain,
May safely laugh at their decrees.

Despair, to thee I bow,
Whose constancy disdains t' allow
Those childish passions that destroy
Our fickle joy;
How cruel Fates so e'er appear,
Their harmless anger I despise,
And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise,
Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.

Thomas Stanley

1647

The Blush

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

So fair Aurora doth herself discover
(Asham'd o' th' aged bed of her cold lover)
In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light
Betrays her early shame to the world's sight.
Such a bright colour doth the morning rose
Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose
Half drown'd in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear
Of night doth like a dissolv'd pearl appear;
Yet 'twere in vain a colour out to seek
To parallel my Chariessa's cheek;
Less are conferr'd with greater, and these seem
To blush like her, not she to blush like them.
But whence, fair soul, this passion? what pretence
Had guilt to stain thy spotless innocence?
Those only this feel who have guilty been,
Not any blushes know, but who know sin.
Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame,
That knows no cause, know no effects of shame.

Thomas Stanley

1647

The Idolater

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

Think not, pale lover, he who dies,
Burnt in the flames of Celia's eyes,
Is unto Love a sacrifice;

Or, by the merit of this pain,
Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain!
Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain.

For when, by death, from these flames free,
To greater thou condemn'd shalt be,
And punish'd for idolatry,

Since thou (Love's votary before
Whilst He was kind) dost him no more,
But, in his shrine, Disdain adore.

Nor will this fire (the gods prepare
To punish scorn) that cruel Fair,
(Though now from flames exempted) spare;

But as together both shall die,
Both burnt alike in flames shall lie,
She in thy breast, thou in her eye.

Thomas Stanley

1647

The Cold Kiss

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

Such icy kisses, anchorites that live
Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give;
And those cold maids on whom Love never spent
His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,
To their expiring fathers such bequeath,
Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath:
The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice
Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice.

Fie, Chariessa! whence so chang'd of late,
As to become in love a reprobate?
Quit, quit this dullness, Fairest, and make known
A flame unto me equal with mine own.
Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon
Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone,
Let 's once more join our lips, and thou shalt see
That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.

Thomas Stanley

1647

Opinion

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays
That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise?
Why should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white,
Which from the sun receives a sparkling light,
Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth
Decks the green garment of the richer earth?
Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice
Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise?
Which, melting, show that to impartial sight
Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright.
But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn,
Taking their praise the other to adorn.
Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave
To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave;
Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense,
Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.

Thomas Stanley

1647

Expectation

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

Chide, chide no more away
The fleeting daughters of the day,
Nor with impatient thoughts outrun
The lazy sun,
Or think the hours do move too slow;
Delay is kind,
And we too soon shall find
That which we seek, yet fear to know.

The mystic dark decrees
Unfold not of the Destinies,
Nor boldly seek to antedate
The laws of Fate;
Thy anxious search awhile forbear,
Suppress thy haste,
And know that Time at last
Will crown thy hope or fix thy fear.

Thomas Stanley

1647

To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass

mrbot — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 21:53:20 +0000

Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away,
Nor in its crystal face thine own survey.
What can be free from Love's imperious laws
When painted shadows real flames can cause?
The fires may burn thee from this mirror rise
By the reflected beams of thine own eyes;
And thus at last, fallen with thyself in love,
Thou wilt my rival, thine own martyr prove.
But if thou dost desire thy form to view,
Look in my heart where Love thy picture drew;
And then, if pleased with thine own shape thou be,
Learn how to love thyself in loving me.

Thomas Stanley

1647