WILLIAM DRUMMOND

(1585-1649)

I KNOW that all beneath the moon decays,

And what by mortals in this world is brought, In Time's great periods shall return to nought; That fairest states have fatal nights and days; I know how all the Muse's heavenly lays,

1.

With toil of spright which are so dearly bought, As idle sounds, of few or none are sought, And that nought lighter is than airy praise; I know frail beauty like the purple flower,

To which one morn both birth and death affords ; That love a jarring is of mind's accords, Where sense and will invassal reason's power: Know what I list, this all can not me move,

But that, O me! I both must write and love.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND

DEAR quirister, who from those shadows sends,
Ere that the blushing dawn dare shew her light,
Such sad lamenting strains, that night attends
(Become all ear), stars stay to hear thy plight;
If one whose grief even reach of thought transcends,
Who ne'er (not in a dream) did taste delight,
May thee importune who like case pretends,
And seems to joy in woe, in woe's despite ;
Tell me (so may thou fortune milder try,

And long, long sing) for what thou thus complains,
Sith, winter gone, the sun in dappled sky

Now smiles on meadows, mountains, woods, and
plains ?

The bird, as if my question did her move,

With trembling wings sobbed forth, I love, I love!

WILLIAM DRUMMOND

If crost with all mishaps be my poor life,

If one short day I never spent in mirth,
If my spright with itself holds lasting strife,
If sorrow's death is but new sorrow's birth ;
If this vain world be but a sable stage

Where slave-born man plays to the scoffing stars, If youth be tossed with love, with weakness age, If knowledge serve to hold our thoughts in wars; If time can close the hundred mouths of fame,

And make, what long since past, like that to be,
If virtue only be an idle name,

If I, when I was born, was born to die
Why seek I to prolong these loathsome days?

The fairest rose in shortest time decays.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND

THAT learned Grecian, who did so excel
In knowledge passing sense, that he is named
Of all the after-worlds divine, doth tell,1

That at the time when first our souls are framed, Ere in these mansions blind they came to dwell,

They live bright rays of that eternal light,

And others see, know, love, in heaven's great height,

Not toiled 2 with aught to reason doth rebel.
Most true it is, for straight at the first sight

My mind me told, that in some other place
It elsewhere saw the idea of that face,
And loved a love of heavenly pure delight;
No wonder now I feel so fair a flame,

Sith I her loved ere on this earth she came.

1 Ref. to the Phædrus of Plato.

2 Toiled = wearied.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND

SLEEP, Silence' child, sweet father of soft rest,1
Prince, whose approach peace to all mortals brings,
Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings,
Sole comforter of minds with grief opprest;
Lo, by thy charming rod all breathing things
Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possest,
And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy wings
Thou spares, alas! who cannot be thy guest.
Since I am thine, O come, but with that face

To inward light which thou art wont to shew,
With feigned solace ease a true-felt woe;
Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace,
Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt bequeath,
I long to kiss the image of my death.

1 Suggested by Marino, Rime (Ven. 1602), part i., p. 31, 'O del silentio figlio, e dela notte.' Cp. Sidney, Astrophel, Sonn. 39.