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(From Poems, 1683)
’TIS all eternal spring around, | |
| And all the trees with fragrant flowers are crown’d; | |
| No clouds, no misty showers obscure the light, | |
| But all is calm, serene and gay, | |
| The heavens are drest with a perpetual bright, | 5 |
| And all the earth with everlasting May. | |
| Each minute blows the Rose and Jesamine, | |
| And twines with new-born Eglantine, | |
| Each minute new discoveries bring; | |
| Of something sweet, of something ravishing. | 10 |
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| Fountains, wandering brooks soft rills, | |
| That o’er the wanton pebbles play; | |
| And all the woods with tender murmuring fills, | |
| Inspiring love, inciting joy; | |
| (The sole, the solemn business of the day) | 15 |
| Through all the groves, the glades and thickets run, | |
| And nothing see but love on all their banks along; | |
| A thousand flowers of different kinds, | |
| The neighboring meads adorn; | |
| Whose sweetness snatcht by flying winds, | 20 |
| O’er all the Bow’r of Bliss is born; | |
| Whether all things in nature strive to bring, | |
| All that is soft, all that is ravishing. | |
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| The verdant banks no other prints retain, | |
| But where young lovers, and young loves have lain. | 25 |
| For love has nothing here to do, | |
| But to be wanton, soft and gay, | |
| And give a lavish loose to joy. | |
| His emptied quiver, and his bow, | |
| In flowry wreaths and rosy garlands crown’d, | 30 |
| In myrtle shades are hung, | |
| As conquerors when the Victories won, | |
| Dispose their glorious trophies all around. | |
| Soft winds and Echos that do haunt each grove, | |
| Still whisper, and repeat no other Songs than love. | 35 |
| Which round about the sacred bower they sing, | |
| Where every thing arrives that’s sweet and ravishing. | |
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| A thousand gloomy walks the bower contains, | |
| Sacred all to mighty love; | |
| A thousand winding turns where pleasure reigns; | 40 |
| Obscur’d from day by twining boughs above, | |
| Where Love invents a thousand plays, | |
| Where lovers act ten thousand joys: | |
| Nature has taught each little bird, | |
| A soft example to afford; | 45 |
| They bill and look, and sing and love, | |
| And charm the air, and charm the grove; | |
| Whilst underneath the ravisht swain is lying, | |
| Gazing, sighing, pressing, dying; | |
| Still with new desire warm’d, | 50 |
| Still with new joy, new rapture charm’d; | |
| Amongst the green soft rivulets do pass, | |
| In winding streams half hid in flowers and grass, | |
| Who purl and murmur as they glide along, | |
| And mix their music with the shepherd’s pipe and song, | 55 |
| Which echo’s through the sacred bower repeat, | |
| Where every thing arrives that’s ravishing and sweet. | |
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| The virgin here shows no disdain, | |
| Nor does the shepherd sigh in vain, | |
| This knows no cruelty, nor that no pain: | 60 |
| No youth complains upon his rigorous fair; | |
| No injur’d maid upon her perjured dear, | |
| ’Tis only love, fond love finds entrance here; | |
| The notes of birds, the murmuring boughs, | |
| When gentle winds glide through the glades, | 65 |
| Soft sighs of love, and soft breath’d vows, | |
| The tender whisperings of the yielding maids, | |
| Dashing fountains, purling springs, | |
| The short breath’d cries from faint resistance sent, | |
| (Cries which no aid desires or brings) | 70 |
| The soft effects of fear and languishment; | |
| The little struggling of the fair, | |
| The trembling force of the young conqueror, | |
| The tender arguments he brings, | |
| The pretty nonsense with which she assails, | 75 |
| Which as she speaks, she hopes it naught prevails | |
| But yielding owns her love above her reasonings, | |
| Is all is heard; silence and shade the rest. | |
| Which best with love, which best with joys consist, | |
| All which young Echo’s through the bower does sing, | 80 |
| Where every thing is heard, that’s sweet and ravishing. | |
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| Recesses dark, and grotto’s all conspire, | |
| To favour love and soft desire; | |
| Shades, springs, and fountains flow’ry beds, | |
| To joys invites, to pleasure leads, | 85 |
| To pleasure which all humane thought exceeds. | |
| Heavn’, earth, and sea, here all combine, | |
| To propagate love’s great design, | |
| And render the Appointments all Divine. | |
| After long toil, ’tis here the lover reaps | 90 |
| Transporting softnesses beyond his hopes; | |
| ’Tis here fair eyes, all languishing impart | |
| The secrets of the fond inclining heart; | |
| Fine hands and arms for tender pressings made, | |
| In Love’s dear business always are employ’d: | 95 |
| The soft enchantments of the tongue, | |
| That does all other eloquence control, | |
| Is breath’d with broken sighs among, | |
| Into the ravish’d shepherds soul, | |
| Whilst all is taken, all is given, | 100 |
| That can complete lovers’ heaven: | |
| And Io peans through the woods do ring. | |
| From new fletched God, in songs all ravishing. | |
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