So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
Can bring him to his fweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of feldom pleasure.
Therefore are feasts so folemn and fo rare,
Since, feldom coming, in the long year set,
Like ftones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time that keeps you as my cheft,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
To make some special instant special bleft,
By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.
Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had, to triumph; being lack'd, to hope.
What is your fubftance, whereof are you made,
That millions of ftrange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
in Grecian tires are painted new:
Speak of the spring and foison of the year,
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear;
every bleffed shape we know.
In all external grace you have some part,
But you like none, none you, for constant heart.
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that fweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rofe looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that fweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on fuch thorns, and play as wantonly
When fummer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves. Sweet rofes do not fo;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: And fo of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall vade, by verse distils your truth.
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, fhall outlive this powerful rime;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unfwept ftone, besmear'd with fluttish time.
When wafteful war fhall ftatues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his fword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgement that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
To-morrow sharp'ned in his former might:
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,
To-morrow fee again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
Let this fad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view;
Or call it winter, which, being full of care, Makes fummer's welcome thrice more wifh'd,
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