Tixall Poetry/To Mrs Gertrude Aston's Happy Condition When with Mrs Eliza Thimelby
To Mrs Gertrude Aston's Happy Condition
When with Mrs Eliza Thimelby.
Thirsis.Amarillis, you expresIn your lookes such happines,And they soe assure me, whoTo that heighth could make it grow;That in some faire fruitful meade,Where the Summer's pride is spread,I as well might seek to know,If the often overflowOf a lovely streame that glidesAlmost round its happy sides,Had not lent it all this store,That had otherwise bin poore; Yet what does enough appeare,I besides from you would heare.
Amarillis.Thirsis, lookes but little show,Les my words can hope to doe;Yet the memory promisesTo supply the want of these;Deeply there imprest must beYour forepast felicity;And 'tis that will tell you best,All the joyes I have possest,(As in her their centre met,)Since I've been with Amoret.
Thirsis.Then I see, since I have stray'dSoe far off, 'twill not be madeEasily to you appeare(Who confine all pleasure here,)That my satisfaction mightHigher rise than your delight.
Amarillis.Noe, you may as soone perswadeLight is darker than the shade.But not doubting you will owneOur joys' day must spring aloneFrom those beames where mine I sought,How can you have such a thought?
Thirsis.'Tis because I judge their sightMore advantaged by his light,In our gloomy woods who shunThan who face the noone-day sun:And that (as in those extreames,While his silver-twisted beamesThrough the spreading branches play,While each tree would stop their way,And yet every bough receavesSome amidst its trembling leaves,)He more pleasing does appeare,Then were all his splendor there;So while to my darker minde,Her bright charmes did passage finde, And that through the thickest shadeThat could be by absence made,I beheld them victors growne,Lovelyest then to me they shone;Though I grant that tooke awayThe full glorys of her day.
Amarillis.Though you thus would make my light,Is but this your glimering night;You yourselfe have yet allow'd,That I may be justly proudOf my happy neighborhood,To that all-enriching flood,That can make my barren soileWith the fairest flowers smile.Say if could your distant feildSuch a growth of sweetnes yeild?
Thirsis.Doe not you too highly priseThat which in such hazard lyes: Oft by a too sudden flow,Which did seeme no bounds to know,The faire cause of all the storeRuin'd what she gave before.Or if somewhat better 'twere,While that deluge entred there,Your amaze, but hardly gaveLeave some little part to save.My more scarcely watered ground,Out of danger to be drown'd,Did a moderate harvest beare,Which I gather'd void of feare.
Amarillis.I in vain should more dispute,You shall now yourselfe confute;And your errour straight confess,To our charming shepherdess.See, she comes from yonder green,Crown'd with flowers, this yeare's queen:She, who to convince you cleare,Needs but only to appeare; Yet your pardon, (begg'd of me,)Her first act of grace shall be.
Thirsis.Her approach enough does speakeAll my arguments too weake:And though truth I did aver,Truth itselfe must yield to her. I already doe submit,She soe sweetly conquers it.Reason may with justice boastIn her triumph to be lost.