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Or there be other people, manners, laws, Than them he finds within the roaring waves;
That sweeter flow'rs do spring than grow
Or beasts be which excel the scaly flocks;
To leave this loathsome jail of care and pain,
But thou who vulgar footsteps dost not trace,
Learn to raise up thy mind unto this place,
If not at all to scorn, yet to neglect:
And saw what curious nature here hath Were better lost, than with such travail wrought, Did see the meads, the tall and shady Think that on earth, which humans greatwoods, ness call, The hills did see, the clear and ambling Is but a glorious title to live thrall; floods; That sceptres, diadems, and chairs of state The diverse shapes of beasts which kinds Not in themselves, but to small minds are forth bring,
The feathered troops, that fly and sweetly How those who loftiest mount do hardest
Did see the palaces, the cities fair,
The form of human life, the fire, the air, The brightness of the sun that dims his sight,
The moon, the ghastly splendours of the night:
What uncouth rapture would his mind surprise!
And deepest falls be from the highest
How fame an echo is, how all renown
And though it something were, think how this round
Is but a little point, which doth it bound. How would he his late dear resort de- O leave that love which reacheth but to spise ! How would he muse how foolish he had And in that love eternal only trust, been And beauty, which, when once it is possest To think nought be, but what he there Can only fill the soul, and make it blest. Pale envy, jealous emulations, fears, Sighs, plaints, remorse, here have no
Why did we get this high and vast desire,
And to that highest happiness even climb,
More than the embryon for the mother's womb;
It weeps to be made free, and we complain
place, nor tears,
False joys, vain hopes, here be not hate nor wrath;
What ends all love, here most augments
If such force had the dim glance of an eye,
And like the taper-fly there burn thy
And if a voice, of late which could but wail, Such pow'r had, as through ears thy soul to steal;
If once thou on that only fair couldst gaze, What flames of love would he within thee raise?
In what a mazing maze would it thee bring To hear but once that quire celestial sing? The fairest shapes on which thy love did seize,
Which erst did breed delight, then would displease;
And do not drown them in the must of sense:
Do not, O do not, by false pleasures' might Deprive them of that true and sole delight.
That happiness ye seek is not below; Earth's sweetest joy is but disguised woe. Here did she pause, and with a mild aspect
Did towards me those lamping twins direct;
The wonted rays I knew, and thrice essay'd Then discords hoarse were earth's entic- To answer make, thrice falt'ring tongue ing sounds,
All music but a noise which sense confounds.
And while upon that face I fed my sight, Methought she vanish'd up in Titan's light,
This great and burning glass that clears Who gilding with his rays each hill and
And musters with such glory in the skies; That silver star which with its sober light Makes day oft envy the eye-pleasing night; Those golden letters which so brightly shine
Seem'd to have brought the goldsmith's world again.
In Heaven's great volume, gorgeously Dear wood, and you, sweet solitary place,
The wonders all in sea, in earth, in air, Be but dark pictures of that sovereign Fair;
Where from the vulgar I estranged live, Contented more with what your shades
Than if I had what Thetis doth embrace;
Be tongues, which still thus cry unto your What snaky eye grown jealous of my peace,
(Could ye amidst worlds' cataracts them hear),
Now from your silent horrors would me
When sun, progressing in his glorious race From fading things, fond wights, lift your Beyond the Twins, doth near our pole desire,
And in our beauty, his, us made, admire:
No shadow can compare it with the face, No step with that dear foot that did it trace;
Your souls immortal are, then place them hence,
1605 (?)-1680 (?)
FRANCIS SEMPLE is the third in THE BLYTHSOME BRIDAL. succession of a family of Renfrewshire
lairds, the Semples of Beltrees, as they Fy, let us a' to the bridal,
The first was Sir James Semple, the
His claim to the authorship of the poems here placed to his credit is not an undisputed one, yet the rival claims have few supporters. There existed an earlier poet of the name of Semple, who wrote a poem entitled "The Siege of Edinburgh," but whether he was related to the Semples of Beltrees, or what he was, has not been ascertained.
For there will be lilting there;
And there will be Sawney the sutor,
And Will wi' the meikle mou';
With Andrew the tinkler, I trow;
With thumbless Katy's goodman ;
And there will be sow-libber Patie,
That wins in the how of the hill:
The lass that stands aft on the stool.
And Madge that was buckled to Steenie,
Great mercy it happened na warse!
And danced the daft dance in Mons
LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S
Balow, my boy, lye still and sleep!
Balow, my boy, lye still and sleep,
Balow, my darling, sleep awhile,
To cozen maids; nay, God forbid !
For in thine eye his look I see,
When he began to court my love,
Farewell, farewell, thou falsest youth
For if they do, oh! cruel thou
I was too cred'lous at the first,
But quick as thought the change is wrought,
Thy love no more, thy promise nought. Balow, my boy, &c.
I wish I were a maid again!
Balow, my boy, weep not for me,
Who can blame none but her fond heart;
Balow, my boy, thy father's fled,
But curse not him; perhaps now he,
I wish I were into the bounds,
My name, whom once he called his fair;
Balow, my boy, I'll weep for thee;
WHERE HELEN LIES.
I wish I were where Helen lies,
Curst be the hand that shot the shot, Likewise the gun that ga'e the crack, Into my arms Burd Helen lap,
And died for love o' me.
Oh, think na ye my heart was sair,
I loutit down, my sword did draw,
I cuttit him in pieces sma',
Oh, Helen fair, without compare,
I wish my grave were growing green,
On fair Kirkconnell lee.