Verse > Anthologies > Herbert J.C. Grierson, ed. > Metaphysical Lyrics & Poems of the 17th c.
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Herbert J.C. Grierson, ed. (1886–1960). Metaphysical Lyrics & Poems of the 17th C.  1921.
 
Andrew Marvell
 
63. The Gallery
 
CLORA come view my Soul, and tell 
Whether I have contriv'd it well. 
Now all its several lodgings lye 
Compos'd into one Gallery; 
And the great Arras-hangings, made         5
Of various Faces, by are laid; 
That, for all furniture, you'l find 
Only your Picture in my Mind. 
  
Here Thou art painted in the Dress 
Of an Inhumane Murtheress;  10
Examining upon our Hearts 
Thy fertile Shop of cruel Arts: 
Engines more keen than ever yet 
Adorned Tyrants Cabinet; 
Of which the most tormenting are  15
Black Eyes, red Lips, and curled Hair. 
  
But, on the other side, th'art drawn 
Like to Aurora in the Dawn; 
When in the East she slumb'ring lyes, 
And stretches out her milky Thighs;  20
While all the morning Quire does sing, 
And Manna falls, and Roses spring; 
And, at thy Feet, the wooing Doves 
Sit perfecting their harmless Loves. 
  
Like an Enchantress here thou show'st,  25
Vexing thy restless Lover's Ghost; 
And, by a Light obscure, dost rave 
Over his Entrails, in the Cave; 
Divining thence, with horrid Care, 
How long thou shalt continue fair;  30
And (when inform'd) them throw'st away, 
To be the greedy Vultur's prey. 
  
But, against that, thou sit'st a float 
Like Venus in her pearly Boat. 
The Halcyons, calming all that's nigh,  35
Betwixt the Air and Water fly. 
Or, if some rowling Wave appears, 
A Mass of Ambergris it bears. 
Nor blows more Wind than what may well 
Convoy the Perfume to the Smell.  40
  
These Pictures and a thousand more, 
Of Thee, my Gallery does store; 
In all the Forms thou can'st invent, 
Either to please me, or torment: 
For thou alone to people me,  45
Art grown a num'rous Colony; 
And a Collection choicer far 
Then or White-hall's, or Mantua's were. 
  
But, of these Pictures and the rest, 
That at the Entrance likes me best:  50
Where the same Posture, and the Look 
Remains, with which I first was took. 
A tender Shepherdess, whose Hair 
Hangs loosely playing in the Air, 
Transplanting Flow'rs from the green Hill,  55
To crown her Head, and Bosome fill. 
 
 
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