Selected quad for the lemma: love_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A64331
|
Poems by Sir W.T.
|
Temple, William, Sir, 1628-1699.
|
1670
(1670)
|
Wing T662A; ESTC R219173
|
21,785
|
107
|
plenty of their common care A Council safe and wise when neither fire Nor Sea nor frost nor steel tames thy desire Of endless gain whilst there is any can So much as tell thee of one richer man Where is the pleasure with a tim'rous hand And heart to bury treasures in the sand Who would be rich must never touch the bank You rout an Army if you break a rank But if ne'er toucht what helps the sacred heap Of hidden Gold thy sweaty Hinds may reap Large fields of Corn and fill whole tuns with Wine But yet thy Belly holds no more than mine So the tann'd Slave that 's made perhaps to stoop Under the whole Provisions of the Troop Upon their way alas eats no more bread Than he that carried none upon his head Or tell me what ' timports the man that lives Within the narrow bounds that Nature gives To plough a Hundred or a Thousand fields Oh! but to draw from a great heap that yields More than is askt is pleasant sure But why If mine though little gives me more than I Or you can use where is the difference Why is your fortune better or your sense As if some Traveller upon his way Wanting one quart of water to allay His raging thirst should scorn a little Spring And seek a River 't were a pleasant thing And what comes on 't that such as covet more Than what they need perhaps are tumbled o'er Into the stream by failing banks whilst he That onely wants what can't be spar'd is free And drinking at the Spring nor water fears Troubled with mud nor mingled with his tears Yet most men say by false desire misled Nothing 's enough because you 're valued Just so much as you have What shall one say Or doe to such a man Bid him away And be as wretched as he please himself Whilst he so fondly dotes on dirty pelf A sordid rich Athenian to allay The scorn of all the Peoples Tongues would say They hiss me but I hug my self at home While I among my endless treasures rome Tantalus catches at the flying streams That still beguile him like a Lover's dreams Why dost thou laugh Of thee the Fable's told Thou that art plunged in thy heaps of Gold And gazest on them with such wakefull Eyes And greedy thoughts yet dar'st not touch the prize No more than if 't were sacred or enjoy'd Like Pictures which with handling are destroy'd Dost thou not know what mony 's worth what use It yields let bread be bought and chearfull juice Of grapes warm easie clothes and wood to burn As much of all as serves kind Nature's turn Or else go spend thy nights in broken dreams Of Thieves or Fire by day try all extreams Of pinching Cold and Hunger make thy fare Of watchfull thoughts and heart-consuming care Are these thy Treasures these thy Goods May I In want of all such riches live and dye But if thy Body shakes with aguish cold Or burns with raging fevers or grows old Betimes with unkind usage thou art sped With friends and Servants that surround thy bed Make broaths and beg Physicians to restore A health now so bewail'd so lov'd before By all thy dear Relations Wretched man Neither thy Wife nor Child nor Servant can Endure thou shouldst recover all the Boys And Girls thy Neighbours hate thee make a noise To break thy sleeps and dost thou wonder when Thou lov'st thy Gold far above Gods or Men Canst thou teach others love thy self have none Thou maist as well get Children all alone Then let there be some end of gain the more Thou dost possess the less fear to be poor And end thy labour when thou hast attain'd What first thou hadst in aim nor be arraign'd Like base Vmidius who was wont to mete His Money as his Neighbours did their Wheat By Bushels yet a Wretch to such degree That he was cloath'd and sed as beggarly As the worst Slave and to his very last His fear of downright starving ne'er was past But as the Gods would have it a brave Trull He kept with a plain Hatchet cleft his skull What is your counsel then I pray to swill Like Nomentanus or like Maenius still To pinch and cark Why go'st thou on to join Things so directly opposite 'T is fine And does become thee if I bid thee flye The Prodigal a Miser thou must dye Nor one nor t'other like my counsel sounds There is a mean in things and certain bounds Short or beyond the which the truth and right Cannot consist nor long remain in sight But to return from whence I parted where Is there one Miser does content appear With what he is or has and does not hate His own or envy at his Neighbour's Fate Never regards the endless swarm of those That so much poorer are but still outgoes The next and then the next when he is past Meeting still one or other stops his hast Like a fierce Rider in a numerous Race That starts and spurs it on with eager pace While there is one before him vext in mind But scorning all that he has left behind Hence comes it that so seldome one is found Who says his Life has happy been and sound And having fairly measur'd out the span Of posting-age dyes a contented man Or rises from the Table like a Guest That e'en has fill'd his belly at the feast ODE VII THE Snows are melted all away The Fields grow flow'ry green and gay The Trees put out their tender leaves And all the streams that went astray The Brook again into her bed receives See! the whole Earth has made a change The Nymphs and Graces naked range About the fields who shrunk before Into their Caves The empty Grange Prepares its room for a new Summer's store Lest thou shouldst hope immortal things The changing year Instruction brings The fleeting hour that steals away The Beggar 's time and life of Kings But ne'er returns them as it does the day The cold grows soft with Western gales The Summer over Spring prevails But yields to Autumn's fruitfull rain As this to Winter-storms and hails Each loss the hasting Moons repair again But we when once our race is done With Tullus and Anchises Son Though rich like one like t'other good To dust and shades without a Sun Descend and sink in deep Oblivions flood Who knows if the kind Gods will give Another day to men that live In hope of many distant years Or if one night more shall retrieve The joys thou losest by thy idle fears The pleasant hours thou spend'st in health The use thou mak'st of youth and Wealth As what thou giv'st among thy friends Escapes thy heirs so those the stealth Of Time and Death where good and evil ends For when that comes nor Birth nor Fame Nor Piety nor Honest Name Can e'er restore thee Theseus bold Nor chast Hippolitus could tame Devouring Fate that spares nor young nor old ODE XIII WHen thou commend'st the
to find out both the true cause of his loss and means of retrieving it THe Shepherd Aristaeus grieving sees The helpless loss of his beloved Bees In vain he with the strong Contagion strives The clustering Stocks lye famisht in their Hives Some from abroad return with droopy Wing With empty Thighs and most without a Sting They with Diseases He with sorrow pines And to his spited Grief himself resigns Abandons all his wonted Cares and Pains His Flocks his Groves his Shepherds and his Plains Away he goes led by his raving Dreams To the clear Head of the Peneian Streams Full of Complaints he there his Sorrow breaks And thus reproaching to his Mother speaks Cyrene Sometime Mother whose Abodes Are at the Bottom of these Chrystal Floods If e're Apollo charmed thy Desire As I am told or was my Sacred Sire If ever thou broughtst forth this Child the hate And scorn of angry unrelenting Fate What is his Care Or where thy tender Love That bid me hope for blessed Seats above Is this th' advantage of Immortal-Race Are these the Trophies that thy Offspring grace Is 't not enough I pass inglorious Life Among the Country Shades in Toyl and Strife With my hard Fate but Thou must envy bear That I liv'd private void of Hope or Fear Sprung from such Seed I should a Hero be Is it too much to be content and free What is the Honour of poor Sheep and Bees That thou should'st envy or deny me these Thou art a Goddess I an humble Swain And can my Rural-Fortunes give thee Pain If so then come and cut down all my Groves Parch all my eared Sheaves and kill my Droves Famish my Flocks and root up all my Vines He that is once undone no more repines Thus went he on until at length the Sound Reacht Fair Cyrene she sate circled round With all her Nymphs in Vaulted Chambers spread Under the great and Sacred Rivers Bed There was Cydippe gentle sweet and fair And bright Lycorias with Golden Hair The first a Virgin free from wanton Stains The other newly past Lucinas Pains Clio and Beroe from the Ocean Lately arrived each upon a Swan Opis and Ephyre and Deiopeia Drymo Ligaea and the young Thaleia Swift Arethusa had her Quiver laid And wanton Speio with her Garland plaid Some spin Trilesian Wools some entertain The rest with Stories of the pleasing Pain The Gay Climene told the crafty Wiles Of jealous Vulcan how he Mars beguiles How the sweet thefts are 〈◊〉 the Train is set And how the Lovers struggle in the Net Whilst to such Tales they lend a willing Ear Their Times and Work away together wear Till Aristaeus sad complaint begins To make them listen then proceeding wins All the Attention of the Chrystal Hall But Arethusa moved before all The rest starts up and rears her sprightly Head Above the Waves that murmur'd as they fled And Oh the Gods Cyrene cries she out Sister Cyrene Sister here without Thy chiefest care sad Aristaeus stands And Sighs and swells and with his gentle hands Wipes his wet Eyes then to reproaches falls And thee unkind and cruel Mother calls She struck and pale and feeling all the smart That at such news could pierce a Mothers Heart Cries bring him to us bring him strait away For him 't is lawful Aristaeus may Sprung of the Gods their Sacred Portals tread Then she commands the hasty Streams that fled So fast away to stop and leave a Room Where the Sad Youth might to her Palace come The Waters hear their Goddesses Command And rising from their Bed in Arches stand He through the glazed Vaults amaz'd descends Guided by two of the kind Nymphs his Friends Till the vast spacious Caverns he descries Where fair Cyrenes watry Kingdom lies And struck with Wonder the new Scene beheld Whereâ—â— vast regions mighty Waters sweld Her gloomy Groves repeat the hollow sound Of falling Flouds theâ— Rocky Clifts rebound The fainting Eccho's here great lakes remain Enclos'd in Caves reserv'd to fill some Vein Of failing Streams there mighty Rivers roul In Torrents raging and without controul Here gentle Brooks with a soft murmur glide Phasis and Lycus coasting by his side Cold Cydnus hastning to Cilician Strands Old Tyber winding through the Tawny Sands The troubled Hypanis and Anien fair All hast to show their Heads in open Air That way the rapid Po in branched Veins 〈◊〉 out to water many Fertile Plains At length the noble Swain is wondring brought Into a great and round Pavilion wrought Out of a Christal Rock with Moss or'egrown Within 't was paved all with Pumice Stone The vaulted Roof with Mother Pearl was spread Fretted with Coral in white Branches led The Wall in grotesque Imag'ry excels Wrought in a thousand various colour'd Shells Some representing the fierce Sea Gods rapes Others the Fair and flying Nymphs escapes Here Neptune with the Tritons in his Train There Venus rising from the foamy Main Twenty eight Ivory Chairs and cover'd all With Mossie Cusheons stood about the Hall To one of these is Aristaeus led Where sitting down at first he hung his Head Then sighing tells his Story and his moan Repeats but only lets reproach alone Cyrene hearing all her Sons Complaints Alass poor Youth she crys alass he faints Is it with fasting or with grief Go bring A boul of Water from yon Chrystal Spring And bring a Flaggon of Old sparkling Wine The Nymphs dispatch some make the Altar shine With Spicy Flames some the white Napkins get And various dishes on the Table set She takes a Cup of one great Pearl and crys First to the Ocean let us Sacrifice And while she holds it in her Hand she prays To the great Ocean sings the Ocean's praise Invokes a hundred Nymphs that him obey But in a hundred Groves and Rivers sway Thrice she pours Wine upon the sacred fires And thrice the Flame to th'arched Roof aspires With which propitious Signs Cyrene pleas'd She thus her Sons impatient Grief appeas'd In the Carpaethian Gulf blew Proteus dwells Great Neptunes Prophet who the Ocean quells He in a glittering Chariot courses o're The foaming Waves Him all the Nymphs adore Old Nereus too because He all things knows The past the present and the future Shows So Neptune pleas'd who Proteus thus inspir'd And with such Wages to his Service hir'd Gave him the Rule of all his briny Flocks That feed among a thousand ragged Rocks He 's coasting now to the Emathian Shore Neer fair Pallene where bright Thetis bore This Son of th' Ocean Thou must him pursue And seize and bind and make him tell the true Cause and events of thy disastrous chance By no fair Words or Pray'rs thou canst advance Nor gentle means hard force will make him bend And for his own be glad to serve thy end When next the radiant Sun shall scorch the Plain And thirsty Cattel seek for shade in vain I will my self conduct thee to the Cells And close Retreats where