Classic Poem

As ebbing waters freely slide away
To pay their tribute to the raging sea;
When meeting with the flood they jostle stout.
Whether the one shall in, or th' other out:
Till the strong flood new power of waves doth bring,
And drives the river back into his spring:
So Marine's words off'ring to take their course,
By Love then ent'ring, were kept back, and force
To it, his sweet face, eyes, and tongue assign'd,
And threw them back again into her mind.
" How hard it is to leave and not to do
That which by nature we are prone unto!
We hardly can (alas why not?) discuss,
When Nature hath decreed it must be thus.
It is a maxim held of all, known plain:
Thrust Nature off with forks, she'll turn again. "
Blithe Doridon (so men this shepherd hight)
Seeing his goddess in a silent plight,
( " Love often makes the speech's organs mute, " )
Began again thus to renew his suit:
If by my words your silence hath been such,
Faith I am sorry I have spoke so much.
Bar I those lips? fit to be th' utt'rers when
The heavens would parley with the chief of men;
Fit to direct (a tongue all hearts convinces)
When best of scribes writes to the best of princes.
Were mine like yours, of choicest words completest,
" I'd show how grief's a thing weighs down the greatest;
The best of forms (who knows not) grief doth taint it,
The skilfull'st pencil never yet could paint it; "
And reason good, since no man yet could find
What figure represents a grieved mind.
Methinks a troubled thought is thus express'd,
To be a chaos rude and indigest:
Where all do rule, and yet none bears chief sway:
Check'd only by a power that's more than they.
This do I speak, since to this every lover
That thus doth love, is thus still given over.
If that you say you will not, cannot love:
Oh heavens! for what cause then do you here move?
Are you not fram'd of that expertest mould
For whom all in this round concordance hold?
Or are you framed of some other fashion,
And have a form and heart, but yet no passion?
It cannot be: for then unto what end
Did the best workman this great work intend?
Not that by minds' commerce, and joint estate,
The world's continuers still should propagate?
Yea, if that Reason (regent of the senses)
Have but a part amongst your excellences,
She'll tell you what you call Virginity,
Is fitly liken'd to a barren tree;
Which when the gard'ner on it pains bestows,
To graft an imp thereon, in time it grows
To such perfection that it yearly brings
As goodly fruit as any tree that springs.
Believe me, maiden, vow no chastity:
For maidens but imperfect creatures be.
Alas, poor boy (quoth Marine), have the Fates
Exempted no degrees? are no estates
Free from Love's rage? Be rul'd, unhappy swain;
Call back thy spirits, and recollect again
Thy vagrant wits. I tell thee for a truth
" Love is a siren that doth shipwreck youth. "
Be well advis'd; thou entertain'st a guest
That is the harbinger of all unrest:
Which like the viper's young, that lick the earth,
Eat out the breeder's womb to get a birth.
Faith (quoth the boy), I know there cannot be
Danger in loving or enjoying thee.
For what cause were things made and called good,
But to be loved? If you understood
The birds that prattle here, you would know then,
As birds woo birds, maids should be woo'd of men.
But I want power to woo, since what was mine
Is fled, and lie as vassals at your shrine:
And since what's mine is yours, let that same move,
Although in me you see nought worthy love.
Marine about to speak, forth of a sling
(Fortune to all misfortunes plies her wing
More quick and speedy) came a sharpen'd flint,
Which in the fair boy's neck made such a dint,
That crimson blood came streaming from the wound,
And he fell down into a deadly swound.
The blood ran all along where it did fall,
And could not find a place of burial:
But where it came, it there congealed stood,
As if the Earth loath'd to drink guiltless blood.
Gold-hair'd Apollo, Muses' sacred king,
Whose praise in Delphos' Isle doth ever ring,
Physic's first founder, whose art's excellence
Extracted Nature's chiefest quintessence,
Unwilling that a thing of such a worth
Should so be lost, straight sent a dragon forth
To fetch this blood, and he perform'd the same:
And now apothecaries give it name,
From him that fetch'd it — (doctors know it good
In physic's use) — and call it dragon's blood.
Some of the blood by chance did downward fall,
And by a vein got to a mineral,
Whence came a red: decayed dames infuse it
With Venice ceruse, and for painting use it.
Marine astonish'd (most unhappy maid),
O'ercome with fear, and at the view afraid,
Fell down into a trance, eyes lost their sight,
Which being open made all darkness light.
Her blood ran to her heart, or life to feed,
Or loathing to behold so vile a deed.