The Works of Abraham Cowley/Volume 2/Maidenhead
MAIDENHEAD.
Thou worst estate ev'n of the sex that's worst;
Therefore by Nature made at first
T' attend the weakness of our birth!
Slight outward curtain to the nuptial bed!
Thou case to buildings not yet finished!
Who, like the centre of the earth,
Dost heaviest things attract to thee,
Though thou a point imaginary be!
Therefore by Nature made at first
T' attend the weakness of our birth!
Slight outward curtain to the nuptial bed!
Thou case to buildings not yet finished!
Who, like the centre of the earth,
Dost heaviest things attract to thee,
Though thou a point imaginary be!
A thing God thought for mankind so unfit,
That his first blessing ruin'd it.
Cold, frozen nurse of fiercest fires!
Who, like the parched plains of Africk's sand
(A sterile, and a wild unlovely land!)
Art always scorch'd with hot desires,
Yet barren quite, didst thou not bring
Monsters and serpents forth thyself to sting!
That his first blessing ruin'd it.
Cold, frozen nurse of fiercest fires!
Who, like the parched plains of Africk's sand
(A sterile, and a wild unlovely land!)
Art always scorch'd with hot desires,
Yet barren quite, didst thou not bring
Monsters and serpents forth thyself to sting!
Thou that bewitchest men whilst thou dost dwell
Like a close conjurer in his cell,
And fear'st the day's discovering eye!
No wonder ’tis at all that thou shouldst be
Such tedious and unpleasant company,
Who liv'st so melancholily!
Thou thing of subtile, slippery kind,
Which women lose, and yet no man can find!
Like a close conjurer in his cell,
And fear'st the day's discovering eye!
No wonder ’tis at all that thou shouldst be
Such tedious and unpleasant company,
Who liv'st so melancholily!
Thou thing of subtile, slippery kind,
Which women lose, and yet no man can find!
Although I think thou never found wilt be,
Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee;
The search itself rewards the pains:
So, though the chemick his great secret miss
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)
Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.
Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee;
The search itself rewards the pains:
So, though the chemick his great secret miss
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)
Yet things well worth his toil he gains;
And does his charge and labour pay
With good unsought experiments by the way.
Say what thou wilt, chastity is no more
Thee, than a porter is his door.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themselves with ramparts and with walls;
Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt,
Within so hated, and so lov'd without.
Thee, than a porter is his door.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themselves with ramparts and with walls;
Them only Fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt,
Within so hated, and so lov'd without.