Song - Good Counsel To A Young Maid

Gaze 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 pity's fair disguise,
Will thy melting heart surprise.

Nets of passion's finest thread,
Snaring poems, will be spread,
All to catch thy maidenhead.

Then beware! for those that cure
Love's disease, themselves endure
For reward a calenture.

Rather let the lover pine,
Than his pale cheek should assign
A perpetual blush to thine.

Thomas Carew

Thomas Carew was an English poet, among the 'Cavalier' group of Caroline poets that included Richard Lovelace, John Suckling, and Robert Herrick. Renowned for his lyrical intensity and elegance, Carew's verse often explored themes of love and beauty. His works include 'A Rapture,' considered one of the great erotic poems in English, and 'An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of St Paul's, Dr John Donne,' a tribute to his friend and mentor. Carew's influence is noted among contemporaries and later poets.

Thomas Carew

A Song - Persuasions To Joy

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

The Unfading Beauty

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

Lips And Eyes.

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

A Song: When June Is Past, The Fading Rose

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

English

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A Warning.

TO .......


Oh, fair as heaven and chaste as light!
Did nature mould thee all so bright.
That thou shouldst e'er be brought to weep
O'er languid virtue's fatal sleep,
O'er shame extinguished, honor fled,
Peace lost, heart withered, feeling dead?

No, no! a star was born with thee,
Which sheds eternal purity.
Thou hast, within those sainted eyes,
So fair a transcript of the skies,
In lines of light such heavenly lore
That men should read them and adore.
Yet have I known a gentle maid
Whose mind and form were both arrayed
In nature's purest light, like thine;--
Who wore that clear, celestial sign
Which seems to mark the brow that's fair
For destiny's peculiar care;
Whose bosom, too, like Dian's own,
Was guarded by a sacred zon...

Thomas Moore

The Blue-Eyed Maid.

Sweet are the hours when roseate spring
With health and joy salutes the day.
When zephyr, borne on wanton wing,
Soft whispering, wakes the blushing May.
Sweet are the hours, yet not so sweet
As when my blue-eyed Maid I meet,
And hear her soul-entrancing tale,
Sequester'd in the shadowy vale.

The mellow horn's long-echoing notes
Startle the morn, commingling strong;
At eve, the harp's wild music floats.
And ravish'd Silence drinks the song.
Yet sweeter is the song of love,
When EMMA'S voice enchants the grove,
While listening sylphs repeat the tale,
Sequester'd in the silent vale.

Thomas Gent

Who Is The Maid? St. Jerome's Love. (Air.--Beethoven.)

Who is the Maid my spirit seeks,
    Thro' cold reproof and slander's blight?
Has she Love's roses on her cheeks?
    Is hers an eye of this world's light?
No--wan and sunk with midnight prayer
    Are the pale looks of her I love;
Or if at times a light be there,
    Its beam is kindled from above.

I chose not her, my heart's elect,
    From those who seek their Maker's shrine
In gems and garlands proudly decked,
    As if themselves were things divine.
No--Heaven but faintly warms the breast
    That beats beneath a broidered veil;
And she who comes in glittering vest
    To mourn her frailty, still is frail.

Not so the faded form I prize
    And love, because its bloom is gone;
The glory in those sainted eyes
    Is ...

Thomas Moore

Song - Persuasions To Enjoy

If the quick spirits in your eye
Now languish and anon must die;
If every sweet and every grace
Must fly from that forsaken face;
Then, Celia, let us reap our joys
Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys.

Or if that golden fleece must grow
For ever free from agèd snow;
If those bright suns must know no shade,
Nor your fresh beauties ever fade;
Then fear not, Celia, to bestow
What, still being gather'd, still must grow.

Thus either Time his sickle brings
In vain, or else in vain his wings.

Thomas Carew

The Maid's Remonstrance

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a love-lorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you 're doing
In my cheek's pale hue?
All my life with sorrow strewing,
Wed, or cease to woo.

Rivals banished, bosoms plighted,
Still our days are disunited;
Now the lamp of hope is lighted,
Now half quenched appears,
Damped, and wavering, and benighted,
Midst my sighs and tears.

Charms you call your dearest blessing,
Lips that thrill at your caressing,
Eyes a mutual soul confessing,
Soon you 'll make them grow
Dim, and worthless your possessing,
Not with age, but woe!

Thomas Campbell

A Song

Gentle nymphs, be not refusing,
Love's neglect is time's abusing,
They and beauty are but lent you;
Take the one and keep the other;
Love keeps fresh what age doth smother;
Beauty gone you will repent you.

'Twill be said when ye have proved,
Never swains more truly loved:
Oh then fly all nice behaviour!
Pity fain would (as her duty)
Be attending still on Beauty,
Let her not be out of favour.

From Britannia's Pastorals.

William Browne