Thomas Carew

IN Celia's face a question did arise,
Which were more beautiful, her lips or eyes
“ We,” said the eyes, “send forth those pointed darts Which pierce the hardest adamantine hearts
” “ From us,” repli'd the lips, “proceed those blisse...

NK not, 'cause men flattering
You're fresh as April, sweet as May,
Bright as is the morning star,
That you are so ; or, though you are,

I'LL gaze no more on her bewitching face,
Since ruin harbours there in every place ;
For my enchanted soul alike she drowns With calms and tempests of her smiles and frowns
I’ll love no more those cruel eyes of hers,

'Tis true, dear Ben, thy just chastising hand Hath fix'd upon the sotted age a brand To their swoll'n pride and empty scribbling due; It can nor judge, nor write, and yet 'tis true Thy comic muse, from the exalted line Touch'd by thy Alchemist, do...

Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream Upon the silver lake or crystal stream; But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth, And makes it tender; gives ...

Know,
Celia, since thou art so proud,'Twas I that gave thee thy renown
Thou hadst in the forgotten
Of common beauties lived

And here the precious dust is laid;
Whose purely-tempe r'd clay was made So fine that it the guest betray'd
Else the soul grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shell of sin,