* Our Abbess, too, now far in age,
* Doth your succession near presage.
* Doth your succession near presage.
Marvell - Poems
' Here we, in shining armour white,
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OF MARVELL. 11
* Like virgin amazons do fight,
* And our chaste lamps we hourly trim,
* Lest the great bridegroom find them dim.
* Our orient breaths perfumed are
* With incense of incessant prayV ; iw
* And holy-water of our tears
' Most strangely our complexion clears ;
* Not tears of grief, — but such as those
* With which calm pleasure overflows,
* Or pity, when we look on you n»
* That live without this happy vow.
* How should we grieve must we be seen,
^ (Each one a spouse, and each a queen,)
* Who can in heaven hence behold
* Our brighter robes and crowns of gold! i»
* When we have prayed all our beads,
* Some one the holy legend reads,
* While all the rest with needles paint
* The face and graces of the Saint,
* But what the linen can't receive, t»
* They in their lives do interweave.
* This work the Saints best represents
* That serves for altar's ornaments.
* But much it to our work would add,
* If here your hand, your face, we had : i3o
* By it we would our Lady touch ;
* Yet thus she you resembles much.
* Some of your features, as we sewed,
* Through every shrine should be bestow'd,
* And in one beauty we would take »»
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12 THE P0E3IS
^ Enough a thousand Saints to make.
* And (for I dare not quench the fire
* That me does for your good inspire)
* 'Twere sacrilege a man to admit
* To holy things, for heaven fit.
* I see the angels, in a crown,
* On you the lilies showering down ;
* And TOund about you, glory breaks,
* That something more than human speaks.
* All beauty, when at such a height,
* Is so already consecrate.
* Fairfax I know, and long ere this
* Have mark'd the youth, and what he is ;
* But can he such a rival seem,
* For whom you heaven should disesteem ?
* Ah, no! and 'twould more honour prove
* He your devoto were than Love.
' Here live beloved and obeyed^
' Each one your sister, each your maid,
* And, if our rule seem strictly penned,
* The rule itself to you shall bend.
* Our Abbess, too, now far in age,
* Doth your succession near presage.
* How soft the yoke on us would lie,
* Might such fair hands as yours it tie !
* Your voice, the sweetest of the choir,
* Shall draw heaven nearer, raise us higher,
* And your example, if our head,
* Will soon us to perfection lead.
* Those virtues to us all so dear,
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OF MARVBLL. 13
* Will straight grow sanctity when here ;
^ And that, once sprung, increase so fast,
* Till miracles it work at last.
* Nor is our order yet so nice,
* Delight to banish as a vice : iw
< Here Pleasure Piety doth meet,
* One perfecting the other sweet ;
* So through the mortal fruit we boil
*The sugar's uncoiTupting oil,
'^ And that which perished while we pull, m
* Is thus preserved clear and full.
^ For such indeed are all our arts,
^ Still handling Nature's finest parts :
* Flowers dress the altars ; for the clothes
* The sea-bom amber we compose ; im
^ Balms for the griev'd w« draw ; and pastes
^ We mould as baits for curioils tastes.
* What need is here of man, unless
* These as sweet sins we should confess ?
*' Each night among us to your side i»
* Appoint a fresh and virgin bride,
* Whom, if our Lord at midnight find,
* Yet neither should be left behind !
* Where you may lie as chaste in bed,
* As pearls together billeted, •»
* All night embracing, arm in arm,
* Like crystal pure, with cotton warm.
* But what is this to all the store
* Of joys you see, and may make more ?
* Try but awhile, if you be wise : i»
* The trial neither costs nor ties. "
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14 THE POEMS
Now, Fairfax, seek her promised faith ;
Keligion that dispensed hath
Which she henceforward does begin ;
The Nun's smooth tongue has sucked her in.
Oft, though he knew it was in vain,
Yet would he valiantly complain :
* Is this that sanctity so great,
* An art by which you finelier cheat ?
* Hypocrite witches, hence avaunt,
* Who, though in prison, yet enchant !
* Death only can such thieves make fast,
* As rob, though in the dungeon cast.