And we both shall
monarchs
prove.
Marvell - Poems
Common beauties stay fifteen ;
Such as yours should swifter move,
Whose fair blossoms are too green
Yet for lust, but not for love.
iv.
Love as much the snowy lamb.
Or the wanton kid, does prize,
As the lusty bull or ram,
For his morning sacrifice.
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62 THE POEMS
y.
Now then love me : Time may take
Thee before thy time away ;
Of this need we'll virtue make.
And learn love before we may.
VI.
So we win of doubtful fate,
Andy if good to us she meant,
We that good shall antedate.
Or, if ill, that ill prevent
vn.
Thus do kingdoms, frustrating
Other titles to their crown.
In the cradle crown their king,
So all foreign claims to drown.
Vlll.
So to make all rivals vain.
Now I crown thee with my love :
Crown me with thy love again.
And we both shall monarchs prove.
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OP MARVELL. 53
TO HIS COY HISTRESa
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Should'st rubies find : I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the fiood.
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews ;
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow ;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze ;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest ;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state.
Nor would I love at lower rate.
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54 THE POEMS
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near,
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found.
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song : then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity.
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust :
The grave's a fine and private place.
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youtliful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew.
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may.
