XXXII.

If thou furvive my well-contented day,

When that churl Death my bones with dust shall
And shalt by fortune once more re-furvey

These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp'd by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rime,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.

[cover,

O, then vouchfafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Mufe grown with this growing
A dearer birth than this his love had brought, [age,
To march in ranks of better equipage:

But fince he died, and poets better prove,

Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'

XXXIII.

Full many a glorious morning have I feen
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kiffing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy ;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,

And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unfeen to weft with this difgrace:

Even fo

my fun one early morn did shine

With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;
But, out, alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth ;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven's fun

ftaineth.

XXXIV.

Why didft thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let bafe clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?,

'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,

For no man well of fuch a falve can speak

That heals the wound and cures not the difgrace:
Nor can thy fhame give phyfic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the lofs:
The offender's forrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the ftrong offence's cross.
Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.

XXXV.

No more be grieved at that which thou haft done:
Roses have thorns, and filver fountains mud;
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and fun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trefpafs with compare,
Myself corrupting, falving thy amiss,
Excufing thy fins more than thy fins are;
For to thy fenfual fault I bring in fenfe-
Thy adverse party is thy advocate-

And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence':
Such civil war is in my love and hate,

That I an acceffary needs must be

To that fweet thief which fourly robs from me.

XXXVI.

Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:

So fhall thofe blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,

Which, though it alter not love's fole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,

Left my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not fo; I love thee in such sort

As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.