No More Learning

And, ere brought forth, was cast away ;
Till at the last the master wave
Upon the rock his mother drave,
And there she split against the stone.
In a Csesarian section.
The sea him lent these bitter tears,
Which at his eyes he always beai*s,
And from the winds the sighs he bore.
Which through his surging breast do roar ;



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56 THE POEMS

No day he saw but that which breaks
Through frighted clouds in forked streaks,
While round the rattling thunder hurled,
As at the funeral of the world.
While nature to his birth presents
This masque of quarrelling elements,
A numerous fleet of cormorants black,
That sailed insulting o'er the wrack,
Received into their cruel care.
The unfortunate and abject heir ;
Guardians most fit to entertain
The orphan of the hurricane.
They fed him up with hopes and air,
Which soon digested to despair,
And as one cormorant fed him, still
Another on his heart did bill ;
Thus, while they famish him, and feast,
He both consumed, and increased.
And languished with doubtful breath,
The amphibium of life and death.
. And now, when angry heaven would
Behold a spectacle of blood.
Fortune and he are called to play
At sharp before it all the day.
And tyrant Love his breast does ply
With all his winged artillery.
Whilst he, betwixt the fiames and waves.
Like Ajax, the mad tempest braves.
See how he naked and fierce does stand,
Cuffing the thunder with one hand,



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OP MARVELL.
57

While with the other he does lock,

And grapple, with the stubborn rock,

From which he with each wave rebounds,

Tom into ilames, and ragged with wounds,

And all he sajs, a lover drest

In his own blood does relish best.

This is the only banneret,

That ever love created yet ;

Who, though by the malignant stars.

Forced to live in storms and wars.

Yet dying, leaves a perfume here.

And music within every ear ;

And he in story only rules,

In a field sable, a lover gules.



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58 THE rO£MS



THE GALLERY.

Ghlora, come view my soul, and tell
Whether I have contrived it well ;
How all its several lodgings lie,
Composed into one gallery,
And the great arras-hangings, made
Of various faces, by are laid.
That, for all furniture, you'll find
Only your picture in my mind.
Here thou art painted in the dress
Of an inhumane murtheress,
Examining upon our hearts,
(Thy fertile shop of cruel arts,)
Engines more keen than ever yet
Adorned a tyrant's cabinet,
Of which the most tormenting are.
Black eyes, red lips, and curled hair.
But, on the other side, thou*rt drawn,
Like to Aurora in the dawn.
When in the east she slumbering lies,
'And stretches out her milky thighs.



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OF MARVELL. 59

While all the morning quire does sing,

And Manna falls and roses spring,

And, at thy feet, the wooing doves

Sit perfecting their harmless loves.

Like an enchantress here thou show'st,

Vexing thy restless lover's ghost.

And, by a light obscure, dost rave

Over his entrails, in the cave.