EIGHT ENGLISH POEMS OF THE 17TH CENTURY

(By Women and Men)

Here are eight 17th-century English poems. Some are by men, and some are by women. Read them and see if you can determine the sex of the poet based on the content or style of the poem.

Remember, this is just an exercise, so please, no Googling.

(1)

If this be love, to draw a weary breath,

To paint on floods till the shore cry to th'air,
With downward looks, still reading on the earth
The sad memorials of my love's despair;
If this be love, to war against my soul,
Lie down to wail, rise up to sigh and grieve,
The never-resting stone of care to roll,
Still to complain my griefs whilst none relieve;
If this be love, to clothe me with dark thoughts,
Haunting untrodden paths to wail apart;
My pleasures horror, music tragic notes,
Tears in mine eyes and sorrow at my heart.
If this be love, to live a living death,
Then do I love and draw this weary breath.

(2)
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me.
And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes --
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.

(3)
Think'st thou to seduce me then with words that haue no meaning?
Parats so can learne to prate, our speech by pieces gleaning :
Nurces teach their children so about the time of weaning.

Learne to speake first, then to wooe : to wooing, much pertayneth :
Hee that courts vs, wanting Arte, soon falters when he fayneth,
Lookes a-squint on his discourse, and smiles, when hee complaineth.

Skilfull Anglers hide their hookes, fit baytes for euery season ;
But with crooked pins fish thou, as babes doe that want reason ;
Gogions onely can be caught with such poore trickes of treason.

Ruth forgiue me, if I err'd, from humane hearts compassion,
When I laught sometimes too much to see thy foolish fashion :
But, alas, who lesse could doe that found so good occasion !

(4)
Am I thus conquer'd? haue I lost the powers,
That to withstand, which ioyes to ruine me?
Must I bee still, while it my strength deuoures,
And captiue leads me prisoner bound, vnfree?
Loue first shall [leaue] mens phant'sies to them free,
Desire shall quench loues flames, Spring, hate sweet showres;
Loue shall loose all his Darts, haue sight, and see
His shame and wishings, hinder happy houres.
Why should we not loues purblinde charmes resist?
Must we be seruile, doing what he list?
No, seeke some hoste too harbour thee: I flye
Thy babish tricks, and freedome doe professe;
But O my hurt makes my lost heart confesse:
I loue, and must; so farewell liberty.

(5)
When winter snows upon thy sable hairs,
And frost of age hath nipped thy beauties near,
When dark shall seem thy day that never clears,
And all lies withered that was held so dear,
Then take this picture which I here present thee,
Limned with a pencil not all unworthy;
Here see the gifts that God and nature lent thee,
Here read thyself and what I suffered for thee.
This may remain thy lasting monument,
Which happily posterity may cherish;
These colors with thy fading are not spent,
These may remain when thou and I shall perish.
If they remain, then thou shalt live thereby;
They will remain, and so thou canst not die.

(6)
Yet is there hope, then Love but play thy part,
Remember well thy selfe, and think on me;
Shine in those eyes which conquer'd haue my heart,
And see if mine, be slacke to answer thee.
Lodge in that breast, and pitty moouing see,
For flames which in mine burne in truest smart,
Exciling thoughts, that touch Inconstancy,
Or those which waste not in the constant Art,
Watch but my sleepe, if I take any rest,
For thought of you, my spirit so distrest,
As, pale and famish'd, I for mercy cry.
Will you your seruant leave: thinke but on this,
Who weares Love's Crowne, must not doe so amisse
But seeke their good, who on thy force do lye.

(7)
IF euer loue had force in humane brest,
If euer he could moue in pensiue heart:
Or if that he such powre could but impart
To breed those flames, whose heat brings ioys vnrest.
Then looke on me; I am to these adrest,
I am the soule that feeles the greatest smart:
I am that heartlesse Trunck of hearts depart;
And I that One, by loue, and griefe opprest
Non euer felt the truth of loues great misse
Of eyes till I depriued was of blisse;
For had he seene, he must haue pitty show'd.
I should not haue beene made this Stage of woe,
Where sad Disasters haue their open show:
O no, more pitty he had sure bestow'd.

(8)
I Have examin'd and do find,
Of all that favour me
There's none I grieve to leave behind
But only only thee.
To part with thee I needs must die,
Could parting sep'rate thee and I.

But neither Chance nor Complement
Did element our Love ;
'Twas sacred Sympathy was lent
Us from the Quire above.
That Friendship Fortune did create,
Still fears a wound from Time or Fate.

Our chang'd and mingled Souls are grown
To such acquaintance now,
That if each would resume their own,
Alas ! we know not how.
We have each other so engrost,
That each is in the Union lost.

And thus we can no Absence know,
Nor shall we be confin'd ;
Our active Souls will daily go
To learn each others mind.
Nay, should we never meet to Sense,
Our Souls would hold Intelligence.

Inspired with a Flame Divine
I scorn to court a stay ;
For from that noble Soul of thine
I ne're can be away.
But I shall weep when thou dost grieve ;
Nor can I die whil'st thou dost live.

By my own temper I shall guess
At thy felicity,
And only like my happiness
Because it pleaseth thee.
Our hearts at any time will tell
If thou, or I, be sick, or well.

All Honour sure I must pretend,
All that is Good or Great ;
She that would be Rosania's Friend,
Must be at least compleat.
If I have any bravery,
'Tis cause I have so much of thee.

Thy Leiger Soul in me shall lie,
And all thy thoughts reveal ;
Then back again with mine shall flie,
And thence to me shall steal.
Thus still to one another tend ;
Such is the sacred name of Friend.

Thus our twin-Souls in one shall grow,
And teach the World new Love,
Redeem the Age and Sex, and shew
A Flame Fate dares not move :
And courting Death to be our friend,
Our Lives together too shall end.

A Dew shall dwell upon our Tomb
Of such a quality,
That fighting Armies, thither come,
Shall reconciled be.
We'll ask no Epitaph, but say
ORINDA and ROSANIA.