Lo, in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing fight,
Serving with looks his facred majefty;
And having climb'd the fteep-up heavenly hill,
Refembling ftrong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty ftill,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are From his low tract, and look another way: So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon, Unlook'd on dieft, unless thou get a fon.
Mufic to hear, why hear'ft thou music fadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy :
Why loveft thou that which thou receivest not gladly,
Or else receiveft with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned founds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In fingleness the parts that thou shouldft bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
Resembling fire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do fing:
Whose speechless song, being many, feeming one,
Sings this to thee: "Thou fingle wilt prove none.'
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
That thou consumeft thyself in single life?
Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife ;
The world will be thy widow, and still weep
That thou no form of thee haft left behind,
When every private widow well may keep
By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind.
Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it ;
But beauty's wafte hath in the world an end,
And, kept unused, the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bofom fits
That on himself fuch murderous shame commits.
For fhame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for thyfelf art fo unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lovest is most evident;
For thou art so poffeff'd with murderous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind!
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:
Make thee another self, for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
As fast as thou fhalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departeft;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth con-
Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase; [verteft.
Without this, folly, age and cold decay :
If all were minded fo, the times should cease
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom Nature hath not made for ftore,
Harsh, featureless and rude, barrenly perish :
Look, whom she best endow'd she
gave the more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carved thee for her feal, and meant thereby Thou shouldft print more, nor let that copy die.
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