Part 15

[_Commanded by his Mistress, &c._] Marino[i]'s name is so frequent in books on literature, and his work so little known to the ordinary reader, that this example may be welcome. The rather snip-snap antithesis, and the somewhat obvious conceit, show the famous Italian really at his worst. 'President' (l. 1), though not impossible, is probably for 'pre_ce_dent'. The whole piece has a special interest as showing how this 'conceit' and 'false wit' actually encouraged the growth of the stopped antithetic couplet which was to be turned against both.]

_The Repulse._

Not that by this disdain I am releas'd, And freed from thy tyrannic chain, Do I myself think bless'd;

Nor that thy flame shall burn No more; for know That I shall into ashes turn, Before this fire doth so.

Nor yet that unconfin'd I now may rove, 10 And with new beauties please my mind, But that thou ne'er didst love:

For since thou hast no part Felt of this flame, I only from thy tyrant heart Repuls'd, not banish'd am.

To lose what once was mine Would grieve me more Than those inconstant sweets of thine Had pleas'd my soul before. 20

Now I have not lost the bliss I ne'er possest; And spite of fate am blest in this, That I was never blest.

[_The Repulse._] In the third line of this rather fine poem _1656_ reads 'romantic' for 'tyrannic', and Miss Guiney adopts it. To me it seems quite inappropriate, and one of the errors of dictation so common in that 'edition'.]

[Line: 21 _1647_ reads '_that_ bliss'.]

_The Tomb._

When, cruel fair one, I am slain By thy disdain, And, as a trophy of thy scorn, To some old tomb am borne, Thy fetters must their power bequeath To those of Death; Nor can thy flame immortal burn, Like monumental fires within an urn; Thus freed from thy proud empire, I shall prove There is more liberty in Death than Love. 10

And when forsaken Lovers come, To see my tomb, Take heed thou mix not with the crowd And (as a Victor) proud To view the spoils thy beauty made Press near my shade, Lest thy too cruel breath or name Should fan my ashes back into a flame, And thou, devour'd by this revengeful fire, His sacrifice, who died as thine, expire. 20

[Or should my dust thy pity move That could not love, Thy sighs might wake me, and thy tears Renew my life and years. Or should thy proud insulting scorn Laugh at my urn, Kindly deceived by thy disdain, I might be smil'd into new life again. Then come not near, since both thy love and hate Have equal power to love or animate.] 30

But if cold earth, or marble, must Conceal my dust, Whilst hid in some dark ruins, I Dumb and forgotten lie, The pride of all thy victory Will sleep with me; And they who should attest thy glory, Will, or forget, or not believe this story. Then to increase thy triumph, let me rest, Since by thine eye slain, buried in thy breast. 40

[_The Tomb._] Brydges, though thinking the end of this poem 'a feeble conceit', admits that 'there are passages in it that are more than pretty'. It is certainly one of Stanley's best, and he seems to have taken some trouble with it. In _1651_ he dropped the bracketed stanza 3 and substituted the text for the last couplet of stanza 2, which reads in _1647_:

And (thou in this fire sacrificed to me) We might each other's mutual martyr be.

In the last line of the omitted stanza 'love' is certainly wrong, and Miss Guiney's suggestion of 'kill' is almost _certissima_. But she seems to have had a different copy of _1647_ before her from that which I collated, for she does not notice a variant, or set of variants, in ll. 37-9:

And they _that_ should _this triumph know_ Will or forget or not believe _it so_, Then to increase thy _glories_, &c.

In l. 5 _1647_ reads 'thy power'.]

_The Enjoyment._

ST.-AMANT.

Far from the court's ambitious noise Retir'd, to those more harmless joys Which the sweet country, pleasant fields, And my own court, a cottage, yields; I liv'd from all disturbance free, Though prisoner (Sylvia) unto thee; Secur'd from fears, which others prove, Of the inconstancy of Love; A life, in my esteem, more blest, Than e'er yet stoop'd to Death's arrest. 10

My senses and desires agreed, With joint delight each other feed: A bliss, I reach'd, as far above Words, as her beauty, or my love; Such as compar'd with which, the joys Of the most happy seem but toys: Affection I receive and pay, My pleasures knew not Grief's allay: The more I tasted I desir'd, The more I quench'd my thirst was fir'd. 20

Now, in some place where Nature shows Her naked beauty, we repose; Where she allures the wand'ring eye With colours, which faint art outvie; Pearls scatter'd by the weeping morn, Each where the glitt'ring flowers adorn; The mistress of the youthful year (To whom kind Zephyrus doth bear His amorous vows and frequent prayer) Decks with these gems her neck and hair. 30

Hither, to quicken Time with sport, The little sprightly Loves resort, And dancing o'er the enamel'd mead, Their mistresses the Graces lead; Then to refresh themselves, repair To the soft bosom of my fair; Where from the kisses they bestow Upon each other, such sweets flow As carry in their mixéd breath A mutual power of life and death. 40

Next in an elm's dilated shade We see a rugged Satyr laid, Teaching his reed, in a soft strain, Of his sweet anguish to complain; Then to a lonely grove retreat, Where day can no admittance get, To visit peaceful solitude; Whom seeing by repose pursu'd, All busy cares, for fear to spoil Their calmer courtship, we exile. 50

There underneath a myrtle, thought By Fairies sacred, where was wrought By Venus' hand Love's mysteries, And all the trophies of her eyes, Our solemn prayers to Heaven we send, That our firm love might know no end; Nor time its vigour e'er impair: Then to the wingéd God we sware, And grav'd the oath in its smooth rind, Which in our hearts we deeper find. 60

Then to my dear (as if afraid To try her doubted faith) I said, 'Would in thy soul my form as clear, As in thy eyes I see it, were.' She kindly angry saith, 'Thou art Drawn more at large within my heart; These figures in my eye appear But small, because they are not near, Thou through these glasses seest thy face, As pictures through their crystal case.' 70

Now with delight transported, I My wreathéd arms about her tie; The flattering Ivy never holds Her husband Elm in stricter folds: To cool my fervent thirst, I sip Delicious nectar from her lip. She pledges, and so often past This amorous health, till Love at last Our souls did with these pleasures sate, And equally inebriate. 80

Awhile, our senses stol'n away, Lost in this ecstasy we lay, Till both together rais'd to life, We re-engage in this kind strife. Cythaera with her Syrian boy Could never reach our meanest joy. The childish God of Love ne'er tried So much of love with his cold bride, As we in one embrace include, Contesting each to be subdu'd. 90

[_The Enjoyment._] _La Jouissance_, one of Saint-Amant's early lyric pieces, which is here translated, was not so famous as his _Solitude_, which will be found (Englished by the matchless Orinda a little after Stanley's time) in vol. i, p. 601, of this collection; but it was popular and much imitated. Stanley has cut it down considerably, for the original has nineteen stanzas--some of them, I suppose, too 'warm' for the translator's modest muse.]

[Line: 59 Brydges misprints '_k_ind']

_To Celia Pleading Want of Merit._

Dear, urge no more that killing cause Of our divorce; Love is not fetter'd by such laws, Nor bows to any force: Though thou deniest I should be thine, Yet say not thou deserv'st not to be mine.

Oh rather frown away my breath With thy disdain, Or flatter me with smiles to death; By joy or sorrow slain, 10 'Tis less crime to be kill'd by thee, Than I thus cause of mine own death should be.

Thyself of beauty to divest, And me of love, Or from the worth of thine own breast Thus to detract, would prove In us a blindness, and in thee At best a sacrilegious modesty.

But, Celia, if thou wilt despise What all admire, 20 Nor rate thyself at the just price Of beauty or desire, Yet meet my flames, and thou shalt see That equal love knows no disparity.

[_To Celia Pleading, &c._] _1647_ has in title 'To _One that Pleaded her own_', and 'Dearest' for 'Celia' in l. 19.]

_Love's Innocence._

See how this Ivy strives to twine Her wanton arms about the Vine, And her coy lover thus restrains, Entangled in her amorous chains; See how these neighb'ring Palms do bend Their heads, and mutual murmurs send, As whispering with a jealous fear Their loves, into each other's ear. Then blush not such a flame to own, As like thyself no crime hath known; 10 Led by these harmless guides, we may Embrace and kiss as well as they. And like those blesséd souls above, Whose life is harmony and love, Let us our mutual thoughts betray, And in our wills our minds display; This silent speech is swifter far Than the ears' lazy species are; And the expression it affords, As our desires, 'bove reach of words. 20 Thus we, my dear, of these may learn A passion others not discern; Nor can it shame or blushes move, Like plants to live, like Angels love: Since all excuse with equal innocence, What above reason is, or beneath sense.

[_Love's Innocence._] In _1647_ the following differences occur: Title, 'The Innocence of Love'; l. 1, '(Dear) doth twine' for 'strives to twine'; l. 7, 'To one another whispering there'; ll. 9-10, 'Then blush not, _Fair, that_ flame to _show, Which_ like thyself no crime _can know_'; ll. 11-12, '_Thus led by those chaste_ guides, we may Embrace and kiss as _free_ as they'; l. 20, 'As _are our flames_'; l. 21, 'Thus, _Doris, we_'.]

_The Bracelet._

TRISTAN.

Now Love be prais'd! that cruel fair, Who my poor heart restrains Under so many chains, Hath weav'd a new one for it of her hair.

These threads of amber us'd to play With every courtly wind; And never were confin'd; But in a thousand curls allow'd to stray.

Cruel each part of her is grown; Nor less unkind than she 10 These fetters are to me, Which to restrain my freedom, lose their own.

[_The Bracelet._] Little survives, even in literary memories, of François Tristan l'Hermite (1601-1655), except the success of his _Marianne_ (Maria_m_ne), 1636, one of the most famous French tragedies of the period outside Corneille. M. Ed. Fournier gave him a niche in Crépet's _Poètes Français_ (Paris, 1861), ii. 539-52, but did not include the original of this piece. The _In Memoriam_ rhyme-order, though the line lengths are different, is interesting. Stanley had perhaps borrowed, before translating it, the 'soft fetters of her hair', noted above, though the fancy is of course primaeval and perennial.]

_The Kiss._

When on thy lip my soul I breathe, Which there meets thine, Freed from their fetters by this death Our subtle forms combine; Thus without bonds of sense they move, And like two Cherubins converse by love.

Spirits, to chains of earth confin'd, Discourse by sense; But ours, that are by flames refin'd, With those weak ties dispense. 10 Let such in words their minds display; We in a kiss our mutual thoughts convey.

But since my soul from me doth fly, To thee retir'd, Thou canst not both retain: for I Must be with one inspir'd. Then, dearest, either justly mine Restore, or in exchange let me have thine.

Yet, if thou dost return mine own, Oh tak't again! 20 For 'tis this pleasing death alone Gives ease unto my pain. Kill me once more, or I shall find Thy pity, than thy cruelty, less kind.

[_The Kiss._] Title in _1647_ 'The _killing_ Kiss', and several other variants. An answer to this poem appears in Jordan's _Claraphi and Clarinda_.]

[Line: 4 _1647_ 'They both unite and join'. But Miss Guiney's suspicion that 'forms' may be a misprint obviously shows forgetfulness of the philosophical sense of the word = 'ideas', 'immortal parts'. Cf. Spenser, 'For soul is _form_'.]

[Line: 6 by] _1647_ 'and'--perhaps better.]

[Line: 12 _1647_ 'Our lips, not tongues, each other's thoughts betray'. (Miss Guiney's copy seems to have '_our_ tongues', which cannot be right.)]

[Line: 15 for I] and I _1647_.]

[Line: 17 dearest] _1647_ 'Doris'. This is the second time (_v. sup._, p. 126) that poor Doris has been disestablished.]

_Apollo and Daphne._

GARCILASSO MARINO.

When Phoebus saw a rugged bark beguile His love, and his embraces intercept, The leaves, instructed by his grief to smile, Taking fresh growth and verdure as he wept: 'How can', saith he, 'my woes expect release, When tears the subject of my tears increase!'

His chang'd, yet scorn-retaining Fair he kiss'd, From the lov'd trunk plucking a little bough; And though the conquest which he sought he miss'd, With that triumphant spoil adorns his brow. 10 Thus this disdainful maid his aim deceives: Where he expected fruit he gathers leaves.

[_Apollo and Daphne._] Why Garcilasso I do not know. Marini's name was Giambattista.]

[Line: 6 The first 'tears' certainly looks odd, and Miss Guiney conjectures 'leaves'. But the ways of Marinism are not thus. Apollo's tears _watered_ the laurel and so made it grow. His tears increased their subject, the vapid vegetable substitute for Daphne's flesh and blood.]

_Speaking and Kissing._

The air, which thy smooth voice doth break, Into my soul like lightning flies; My life retires whilst thou dost speak, And thy soft breath its room supplies.

Lost in this pleasing ecstasy, I join my trembling lips to thine; And back receive that life from thee, Which I so gladly did resign.

Forbear, Platonic fools, t' inquire What numbers do the soul compose! No harmony can life inspire, But that which from these accents flows.

[_Speaking and Kissing._] This is _smarter_ than Stanley's usual style.]

_The Snow-ball._

Doris, I that could repel All those darts about thee dwell, And had wisely learn'd to fear, 'Cause I saw a foe so near; I that my deaf ear did arm 'Gainst thy voice's powerful charm, And the lightning of thine eye Durst (by closing mine) defy, Cannot this cold snow withstand From the whiter of thy hand. 10 Thy deceit hath thus done more Than thy open force before: For who could suspect or fear Treason in a face so clear; Or the hidden fires descry Wrapt in this cold outside lie? Flames might thus involv'd in ice The deceiv'd world sacrifice; Nature, ignorant of this Strange antiperistasis, 20 Would her falling frame admire, That by snow were set on fire.

[_The Snow-ball._] Doris maintains here the place she lost above. The tripping seventeenth-century 'sevens' are well spent on her. In l. 10 Miss Guiney thinks that 'whiter', the sole reading, must be 'winter'. [Greek: hêkista]: that Stanley meant 'the whiter _snow_' is, to me, certain.]

[Line: 20 'Antiperistasis' = 'reaction' or 'topsyturvyfication' (Thackeray).]

_The Deposition._

Though when I lov'd thee thou wert fair, Thou art no longer so; Those glories all the pride they wear Unto opinion owe; Beauties, like stars, in borrow'd lustre shine; And 'twas my love that gave thee thine.

The flames that dwelt within thine eye Do now, with mine, expire; Thy brightest graces fade and die At once with my desire; 10 Love's fires thus mutual influence return; Thine cease to shine, when mine to burn.

Then, proud Celinda, hope no more To be implor'd or woo'd, Since by thy scorn thou dost restore The wealth my love bestow'd; And thy despis'd disdain too late shall find That none are fair but who are kind.

[_The Deposition._] In _1647_ '_A_ Deposition _from Beauty_'. Also l. 3, 'do' for 'all'; l. 9, 'glories' for 'graces'; l. 16, 'That' for 'The' and 'which' for 'my'.]

_To his Mistress in Absence._

TASSO.

Far from thy dearest self, the scope Of all my aims, I waste in secret flames; And only live because I hope. Oh, when will Fate restore The joys, in whose bright fire My expectation shall expire, That I may live because I hope no more!

_Love's Heretic._

He whose active thoughts disdain To be captive to one foe, And would break his single chain, Or else more would undergo; Let him learn the art of me, By new bondage to be free!

What tyrannic mistress dare To one beauty love confine, Who, unbounded as the air, All may court but none decline? 10 Why should we the heart deny As many objects as the eye?

Wheresoe'er I turn or move, A new passion doth detain me: Those kind beauties that do love, Or those proud ones that disdain me; This frown melts, and that smile burns me; This to tears, that ashes turns me.

Soft fresh Virgins, not full blown, With their youthful sweetness take me; 20 Sober Matrons, that have known Long since what these prove, awake me; Here staid coldness I admire; There the lively active fire.

She that doth by skill dispense Every favour she bestows, Or the harmless innocence, Which nor court nor city knows, Both alike my soul enflame, That wild Beauty, and this tame. 30

She that wisely can adorn Nature with the wealth of Art, Or whose rural sweets do scorn Borrow'd helps to take a heart, The vain care of that's my pleasure, Poverty of this my treasure.

Both the wanton and the coy, Me with equal pleasures move; She whom I by force enjoy, Or who forceth me to love: 40 This, because she'll not confess, That not hide, her happiness.

She whose loosely flowing hair, Scatter'd like the beams o' th' morn, Playing with the sportive air, Hides the sweets it doth adorn, Captive in that net restrains me, In those golden fetters chains me.

Nor doth she with power less bright My divided heart invade, 50 Whose soft tresses spread like night O'er her shoulders a black shade; For the starlight of her eyes Brighter shines through those dark skies.

Black, or fair, or tall, or low, I alike with all can sport; The bold sprightly Thais woo, Or the frozen Vestal court; Every Beauty takes my mind, Tied to all, to none confin'd. 60

[_Love's Heretic._] This, for Stanley, longish piece has few _vv. ll._ But _1647_ reads in l. 34 'that' instead of 'to', and the singular 'pleasure' in l. 38. The piece is rather in the Suckling vein; but Stanley did not play the light-o'-love quite successfully.]

_La Belle Confidente._

You earthly souls that court a wanton flame, Whose pale weak influence Can rise no higher than the humble name, And narrow laws of sense, Learn by our friendship to create An immaterial fire, Whose brightness Angels may admire, But cannot emulate.

Sickness may fright the roses from her cheek, Or make the lilies fade; 10 But all the subtile ways that Death doth seek, Cannot my love invade. Flames that are kindled by the eye, Through time and age expire; But ours, that boast a reach far higher, Can nor decay nor die.

For when we must resign our vital breath, Our loves by Fate benighted, We by this friendship shall survive in death, Even in divorce united. 20 Weak Love, through fortune or distrust, In time forgets to burn, But this pursues us to the urn, And marries either's dust.

[_La Belle Confidente._] On this Sir Egerton: 'However far-fetched these ideas may be, there is uncommon elegance and ingenuity in the expression, and polish in the versification.' There is also something more than polish--a _concerted_ effect which 'elegance and ingenuity' do not often reach. In l. 16, 'Cannot' appears in _1647_ for 'Can nor'; 'And' for 'For' in l. 17; and ll. 18, 20 are changed over and run:

Even in divorce delighted, . . . . . . Still in the grave united. ]

_La Belle Ennemie._

I yield, dear enemy, nor know How to resist so fair a foe! Who would not thy soft yoke sustain, And bow beneath thy easy chain, That with a bondage bless'd might be, Which far transcends all liberty? But since I freely have resign'd At first assault my willing mind, Insult not o'er my captiv'd heart With too much tyranny and art, 10 Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prize Gain'd by the power of thy bright eyes, And thou this conquest thus shalt prove, Though got by Beauty, kept by Love!

_The Dream._

LOPE DE VEGA.

To set my jealous soul at strife, All things maliciously agree, Though sleep of Death the image be, Dreams are the portraiture of life.

I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes, Celinda stoop t' another's will; If specious Apprehension kill, What would the truth without disguise?

The joys which I should call mine own, Methought this rival did possess: 10 Like dreams is all my happiness; Yet dreams themselves allow me none.

[_The Dream._] The actual and full _In Memoriam_ arrangement is the point of interest here. Stanley, however, is even less successful than the few other seventeenth-century practitioners in getting the full rhythmical sweep of the form into operation. He breaks the circle and so loses the charm.]

_To the Lady D._

MADAM, The blushes I betray, When at your feet I humbly lay These papers, beg you would excuse Th' obedience of a bashful Muse, Who, bowing to your strict command, Trusts her own errors to your hand, Hasty abortives, which, laid by, She meant, ere they were born should die: But since the soft power of your breath Hath call'd them back again from Death, 10 To your sharp judgement now made known, She dares for hers no longer own; The worst she must not, these resign'd She hath to th' fire, and where you find Those your kind Charity admir'd, She writ but what your eyes inspir'd.

[_To the Lady D._] This in _1647_ is the Dedication 'To my most honour'd Aunt the Lady Dormer'. She was a daughter of Sir William Hammond and wife of Sir Robert Dormer, Knight, of Chearsley, Bucks. In _1647_ Stanley added to the poem '_Madam, Your Ladyships Greatest admirer and most humble Servant_, THO. STANLEY'.]

_Love Deposed._

You that unto your mistress' eyes Your hearts do sacrifice, And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine, Renounce with me Th' idolatry, Nor this infernal Power esteem divine.

The brand, the quiver, and the bow, Which we did first bestow, And he as tribute wears from every lover, I back again 10 From him have ta'en, And the impostor, now unveil'd, discover.

I can the feeble child disarm, Untie his mystic charm, Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow; We will obey No more his sway, Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow.

And you, bright Beauties, that inspire The Boy's pale torch with fire, 20 We safely now your subtle power despise, And unscorch'd may Like atoms play, And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.

Nor think hereafter by new arts You can bewitch our hearts, Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm; We will no more His power implore, Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm. 30

_The Divorce._