Thomas Carew

He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth
Fuel to maintain his fires:

SO grieves th' adventurous merchant, when he throws All the long toil'd-for treasure his ship stows Into the angry main, to save from wrack Himself and men, as I grieve to give back These letters : yet so powerful is your sway As if you bid me die...

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 ...

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty's orient deep These flowers as in their causes, sleep
Ask me no more whither doth stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare...

ZE not on thy beauty's pride,
Tender maid, in the false tide That from lovers' eyes doth slide
Let thy faithful crystal show How thy colours come and go : Beauty takes a foil from woe
Love, that in those smooth streams lies Under pi...

'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...

The Lady Mary Villiers
Under this stone; with weeping
The parents that first gave her breath,
And their sad friends, laid her in earth

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,

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

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...

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,

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,