Let's in ; for the dark
hemisphere
Does now like one of them appear.
Marvell - Poems
While her glad parents most rejoice
And make their destiny their choice.
Meantime, ye fields, springs, bushes, flowers.
Where yet she leads her studious houi-s,
(Till Fate her worthily translates
And find a Fairfax for our Thwates,)
Employ the means you have by her.
And in your kind yourselves prefer.
That, as all virgins she precedes,
So you all woods, streams, gardens, meads.
For you, Thessalian Tempe's seat
Shall now be scorned as obsolete ;
Aranjuez, as less, disdained ;
The Bel-Retiro, as constrained ;
But name not the Idalian grove.
For 'twas the seat of wanton love ;
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OF MARVELL. 33
Nor e'en the dead's Eljsian fields,
Yet not to them your beauty yields.
Tis not, as once appeared the world,
A heap confused together hurled,
All negligently overgrown,
Gulfs, deserts, precipices, stone ;
Your lesser world contains the same.
But in more decent order tame.
You, Heaven's centre, Nature's lap ;
And Paradise's only map.
And now the salmon-fishers moist,
Their leathern boats begin to hoist ;
And, like Antipodes in shoes.
Have shod their heads in their canoes.
How tortoise-like, but not so slow.
These rational amphibii go !
Let's in ; for the dark hemisphere Does now like one of them appear.
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34 THK POEMS
THE CORONET.
When with the thorns with which I long, too
long,
With many a piercing wound,
My Saviour's head have crowned,
I seek with garlands to redress that wrong, —
Through every garden, every mead,
I gather flowers (my fruits are only flowers)
Dismantling all the fragrant towers
That once adorned my shepherdess's head :
And now, when I have summed up all my store.
Thinking (so I myself deceive)
So rich a chaplet thence- to weave
As never yet the King of Glory wore,
Alas ! I And the Serpent old,
Twining in his speckled breast.
About the flowers disguised does fold,
With wreaths of fame and interest.
Ah foolish man, that would'st debase with them,
And mortal glory. Heaven's diadem !
But thou who only could'st the Serpcmt tame.
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OF MARVELL. 35
Either his slippery knots at once untie,
And disentangle all his winding snare,
Or shatter too with him my curious frame,
And let these wither so that he may die,
Though set with skill, and chosen out with care,
That they, while thou on both their spoils dost
tread,
May crown thy feet, that could not crown thy
bead.
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36 THE POEMS
EYES AND TEARS.
How wisely Nature did decree,
With the same eyes to weep and see,
That, having viewed the object vain,
They might be ready to complain !
And, since the self-deluding sight.
In a false angle takes each height.
These tears, which better measure all.
