See in what wanton
harmless
folds.
Marvell - Poems
Like some great prelate of the grove ;
Then, languishing with ease, I toss
On pallets swoln of velvet moss.
While the wind, cooling through the boughs, s»
Flatters with air my panting brows.
Thanks for my rest, ye mossy banks,
And unto you, cool zephyrs, thanks.
Who, as my hair, my thoughts too shed,
And winnow from the chaff my head ! ew
How safe, methinks, and strong behind
These trees, have I encamped my mind,
Where beauty, aiming at the heart,
Bends in some tree its useless dart.
And where the world no certain shot eos
Can make, or me it toucheth not,
But 1 on it securely play,
And gall its horsemen all the day.
Bind me, }e woodbines, in )*our twines,
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28 THE POEMS
Curl me about, ye gadding vines,
And oh so close your circles lace.
That I may never leave this place !
But, lest your fettei-s prove too weak,
Ere I your silken bondage break,
Do you, O brambles, chain me too,
And, courteous briars, nail me through !
Here in the morning tie my chain.
Where the two woods have made a lane,
While, like a guard on either side.
The trees before their Lord divide ;
This, like a long and equal thread,
BetAvixt two labyrinths does lead.
But, where the floods did lately drown,
There at the evening stake me down ;
For now the waves are fallen and dried,
And now the meadows fresher dyed,
Whose grass, with moister colour dashed.
Seems as green silks but newly washed.
No serpent new, nor crocodile,
Remains behind our little Nile,
Unless itself you will mistake,
Among these meads the only snake.
See in what wanton harmless folds.
It everywhere the meadow holds.
And its yet muddy back doth lick,
'Till as a crystal mirror slick.
Where all things gaze themselves, and doubt
If they be in it, or without.
And for his shade which therein shines.
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OF MARVELL. 2D
Narcissus-like, the sun too pines. •«>
Oh what a pleasure 'tis to hedge
My temples here with heavy sedge,
Abandoning my lazy side,
Stretched as a bank unto the tide,
Or to suspend my sliding foot «5
On the osier's undermined root,
And in its branches tough to hang.
While at my lines the fishes twang I
But now away my hooks, my quills.
And angles, idle utensils ! «3»
The young Maria walks to-night :
Hide, trifling youth, thy pleasures slight ;
'Twere shame that such judicious eyes
Should with such toys a man surprise ;
She that already is the law «»
Of all her sex, her age's awe.
See how loose nature, in respect
To her, itself doth recollect,
And every thing so washed and fine,
Starts forth with it to its bonne mine. •»
The sun himself of her aware.
Seems to descend with greater care.
And, lest she see him go to bed.
In blushing clouds conceals his head.
