What is past help, the longeft date of grief
Can never yield a hope of our relief;
And though we waste ourselves in moist laments,
Tears may drown us, but not our discontents.
Fold back our arms, take home our fruitless loves
That must new fortunes trie, like Turtle Doves
Diflodged from their haunts, we must in tears
Unwind a love knit up in many years.
In this last kifs I here furrender thee
Back to thyself, fo thou againe art free.
Thou in an other, fad as that, refend
The trueft heart that lover ere did lend.
Now turn from each, fo fare our fever'd hearts
As the divorc't foul from her body parts.
MY dearest Love! when thou and I must part
And th' icy hand of Death shall seize that heart
Which is all thine; within fome fpacious will
l'le leave no blanks for legacies to fill:
'Tis my ambition to dye one of those
Who but himself hath nothing to dispose,
And fince that is already thine, what need
I to re-give it by fome newer deed?
Yet take it once again, free circumstance
Does oft the value of mean things advance:
Who thus repeats what he bequeath'd before,
Proclaims his bounty richer then his store.
But let me not upon my Love bestow
What is not worth the giving. I do ow
Somewhat to duft: my bodies pamper'd care
Hungry corruption and the worm will share.
That moul'dring relick which in earth must lie
Would prove a gift of horrour to thine eie
With this caft ragge of my mortalitie
Let all my faults and errours buried be.
And as thy fear-cloth rots, fo may kind fate
Thofe worst acts of my life incinerate.
He fhall in ftory fill a glorious room
Whofe afhes and whofe fins fleep in one tomb.
If now to my cold hearse thou deign to bring
Some melting fighs as thy laft offering,
My peacefull exequies are crown'd, nor fhall
1 ask more honour at my Funerall.
Thou wilt more richly 'balm me with thy tears
Then all the nard fragrant Arabia bears.
And as the Paphian Queen by her griefs fhow'r
Brought up her dead Love's Spirit in a flow'r ;
So by those precious drops rain'd from thine eies,
Out of my duft, O may fome Vertue rise !
And like thy better Genius thee attend,
Till thou in my dark period shalt end.
Laftly, my conftant truth let me commend
To him thou choosest next to be thy friend.
For (witness all things good) I would not have
Thy Youth and Beauty married to my grave,
'Twould fhew thou didst repent the style of wife
Should't thou relapse into a single life.
They with prepofterous grief the world delude
Who mourn for their loft mates in folitude;
Since Widdow-hood more strongly doth enforce
The much-lamented lot of their divorce.
Themselves then of their loffes guilty are
Who may, yet will not fuffer a repaire.
Those were Barbarian wives that did invent
Weeping to death at th' Hufband's monument,
But in more civil Rites fhe doth approve
Her first, who ventures on a second Love;
For else it may be thought if she refrain,
She fped fo ill fhe durft not trie again,
Up then my Love, and choose some worthier one
Who may supply my room when I am gone;
So will the stock of our affection thrive
No lefs in death, then were I still alive.
And in my urne I fhall rejoyce, that I
Am both Teftatour thus and legacie.
SKE me why I send you here,
This firftling of the infant yeare;
Aske me why I fend to you,
This primrose all bepearl'd with dew;
I ftrait will whisper in Your eares,
The fweets of Love are wash't with teares.
Afke me why this flower doth fhew
So yellow, greene, and fickly too;
Afke me why the stalke is weake,
And bending yet it doth not breake;
I must tell you these discover,
What doubts and feares are in a Lover.
Poems by T. Carew Efquire.
Lond. 1640.
A CAUTION FOR COURTLY DAMSELS.
BEWARE, fair Maid, of mighty Courtiers oaths,
Take heed what gifts or favours you receive;
Let not the fading gloffe of filken cloaths
Dazzle your vertues, or your fame bereave:
For once but leave the hold you have of Grace,
Who will regard your fortune or your face?
Each greedy hand will strive to catch the flower,
When none regard the stalke it growes upon;
Bafeneffe defires the fruit ftill to devoure,
And leave the tree to fall or ftand alone:
But this advife, fair Creature, take of mee,
Let none take fruit unleffe hee'll have the tree.
Beleeve not oaths, nor much-protesting men,
Credit no vowes, nor a bewailing fong;
Let Courtiers fweare, forfweare, and sweare agen,
The heart doth live ten regions from the tongue :
For when with oaths and vows they make you tremble,
Beleeve them leaft for then they most diffemble.
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