And here the hissing
lightning
slakes.
Marvell - Poems
What in the world most fair appears.
Yea, even laughter, turns to tears.
And all the jewels which we prize.
Melt in these pendants of the eyes.
I have through every garden been,
Amongst the red, the white, the green,
And yet from all those flowers I saiv,
No honey, but these tears could draw.
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OF MAKVELL. 37
So the all-seeing sun each day,
Distils the world with chymic ray,
But finds the essence only showers,
Which straight in pity back he pours.
Yet happy they whom grief doth bless,
That weep the more, and see the less,
And, to preserve their sight more true.
Bathe still their eyes in their own dew.
So Magdalen in tears more wise
Dissolved those captivating eyes.
Whose liquid chains could flowing meet
To fetter her Redeemer's feet.
Not full sails hasting loaden home.
Nor the chaste lady's pregnant womb,
Nor Cynthia teeming shows so fair
As two eyes swollen with weeping are.
The sparkling glance that shoots desire.
Drenched in these waves, does lose its fire,
Yea oft the Thunderer pity takes.
And here the hissing lightning slakes.
The incense was to heaven dear,
Not as a perfume, but a tear.
And stars shew lovely in the night,
But as they seem the tears of light.
Ope then, mine eyes, your double sluice,
And practise so your noblest use ;
For others too can see, or sleep.
But only human eyes can weep.
Now, like two clouds dissolving, drop,
And at each tear, in distance stop ;
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38 THE POEMS
Now, like two fountains, trickle down ;
Now like two floods o*errun and drown :
Thus let your streams overflow your spring. ^,
Till eyes and tears be the same things,
And each the other's difference bears,
These weeping eyes, those seeing tears.
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OP MARVELL. 39
BERMUDAS.
Where the remote Bermudas ride,
In the ocean's bosom un espied,
From a small boat, that rowed along,
The listening winds received this song.
" What should we do but sing his praise,
That led us through the watery maze,
Unto an isle so long unknown.
And yet far kinder than our own ?
Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks.
That lift the deep upon their backs.
He lands us on a grassy stage,
Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage.
He gave us this eternal spring,
Which here enamels every thing.
