Andrew Marvell

SEE how the flowers, as at parade, Under their colours stand display’d: Each regiment in order grows, That of the tulip, pink, and rose. But when the vigilant patrol Of stars walks round about

How vainly men themselves amaze To win the Palm, the Oke, or Bayes; And their uncessant Labours see Crown’d from some single Herb or Tree, Whose short and narrow verged Shade Does prudently their

When for the Thorns with which I long, too long, With many a piercing wound, My Saviours head have crown’d, I seek with Garlands to redress that Wrong: Through every Garden, every Mead, I

See with what simplicity This Nimph begins her golden daies! In the green Grass she loves to lie, And there with her fair Aspect tames The Wilder flow’rs, and gives them names: But only

You, that decipher out the Fate Of humane Off-springs from the Skies, What mean these Infants which of late Spring from the Starrs of Chlora’s Eyes? Her Eyes confus’d, and doubled ore, With Tears

Luxurious Man, to bring his Vice in use, Did after him the World seduce: And from the Fields the Flow’rs and Plants allure, Where Nature was most plain and pure. He first enclos’d within

Like the vain curlings of the watery maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise, So Man, declining always, disappears In the weak circles of increasing years; And his short tumults of

Quid facis Arctoi charissime transfuga coeli, Ingele, proh sero cognite, rapte cito? Num satis Hybernum defendis pellibus Astrum, Qui modo tam mollis nec bene firmus eras? Quae Gentes Hominum, quae sit Natura Locorum, Sint

How wisely Nature did decree, With the same Eyes to weep and see! That, having view’d the object vain, They might be ready to complain. And since the Self-deluding Sight, In a false Angle

Dorinda When Death, shall snatch us from these Kids, And shut up our divided Lids, Tell me Thyrsis, prethee do, Whither thou and I must go. Thyrsis To the Elizium: (Dorinda) oh where i’st?

Courage my Soul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal Shield. Close on thy Head thy Helmet bright. Ballance thy Sword against the Fight. See where an Army, strong as fair, With

Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold, Leaves the new World and hastens for the old: But though the wind was fair, the slowly swoome Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:

Where the remote Bermudas ride In th’ Oceans bosome unespy’d, From a small Boat, that row’d along, The listning Winds receiv’d this Song. What should we do but sing his Praise That led us

That Providence which had so long the care Of Cromwell’s head, and numbred ev’ry hair, Now in its self (the Glass where all appears) Had seen the period of his golden Years: And thenceforth

My love is of a birth as rare As ’tis for object strange and high: It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility. Magnanimous Despair alone Could show me so divine a thing, Where feeble

Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise; So Man, declining alwayes, disappears. In the Weak Circles of increasing Years; And his short Tumults of

Come little Infant, Love me now, While thine unsuspected years Clear thine aged Fathers brow From cold Jealousie and Fears. Pretty surely ’twere to see By young Love old Time beguil’d: While our Sportings

Charissimo Filio Edmundo Trotio Posuimus Pater & Mater Frustra superstites. Legite Parentes, vanissimus hominum ordo, Figuli Filiorum, Substructores Hominum, Fartores Opum, Longi Speratores, Et nostro, si fas, sapite infortunio. Fruit Edmundus Trottuis. E quatuor

Nempe sic innumero succrescunt agmine libri, Saepia vix toto ut jam natet una mari. Fortius assidui surgunt a vulnere praeli: Quoque magis pressa est, auctior Hydra redit. Heu quibus Anticyris, quibus est sanabilis herbis

Cernis ut Eio descendat Gemmula Roris, Inque Rosas roseo transfluat orta sinu. Sollicita Flores stant ambitione supini, Et certant foliis pellicuisse suis. Illa tamen patriae lustrans fastigia Sphaerae, Negligit hospitii limina picta novi. Inque

Daphnis must from Chloe part: Now is come the dismal Hour That must all his Hopes devour, All his Labour, all his Art. Nature, her own Sexes foe, Long had taught her to be

First was the world as one great cymbal made, Where jarring winds to infant Nature played. All music was a solitary sound, To hollow rocks and murm’ring fountains bound. Jubal first made the wilder

Sit further, and make room for thine own fame, Where just desert enrolles thy honour’d Name The good Interpreter. Some in this task Take of the Cypress vail, but leave a mask, Changing the

As one put drunk into the Packet-boat, Tom May was hurry’d hence and did not know’t. But was amaz’d on the Elysian side, And with an Eye uncertain, gazing wide, Could not determine in

A Poem upon the Death of His Late Highness the Lord Protector That Providence which had so long the care Of Cromwell’s head, and numbered every hair, Now in itself (the glass where all

See how the Orient Dew, Shed from the Bosom of the Morn Into the blowing Roses, Yet careless of its Mansion new; For the clear Region where ’twas born Round in its self incloses:

To the Lord Fairfax. See how the arched Earth does here Rise in a perfect Hemisphere! The stiffest Compass could not strike A line more circular and like; Nor softest Pensel draw a Brow.

Farfacio. Cernis ut ingenti distinguant limite campum Montis Amos clivi Bilboreique juga! Ille stat indomitus turritis undisque saxis: Cingit huic laetum Fraximus alta Caput. Illi petra minax rigidis cervicibus horret: Huic quatiunt viridis lenia