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IN my first prime, when

childish humours fed
Lies in a loving eye, or amorous kiss,
Or with what sighs a lover warms his bed ;
By the sweet Thespian sisters' errour led,
I had more mind to read, than lov'd to write,
And so to praise a perfect red and white;
But (God wot) knew not what was in my head.
Love smild to see me take so great delight,
To turn those antiques of the age of gold,
And that I might more mysteries behold,
Ile set so fair a volume to my sight,
That I Ephemerides laid aside,
Glad on this blushing book my death to read.

Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts,
Enlightning ev'ry line in such a guise,
That they seem rather to have fall’n from skies,
Than of a human hand by mortal draughts:
In one part Sorrow so tormented lies,
As if his life at every sigh would part;
Love here blindfolded stands with bow and dart,
There Hope looks pale, Despair with flaming eyes:
Of my rude pencil look not for such art,
My wit I find too little to devise
So high conceptions to express my smart;
And some say love is feign'd that's too too wise.
These troubled words and lines confus'd you find
Are like unto their model, my sick mind.

Lknow that all beneath the Moon decays, Ah me, and I am now the man whose Muse
And what by mortals in this world is brought In happier times was wont to laugh at Love,
In time's great periods shall return to nought;

And those who suffer'd that blind boy's abuse,
That fairest states have fatal nights and days. The noble gifts were given them from above,
I know that all the Muses' heavenly lays,

What metamarphose strange is this I prove?
With toil of sprite, which are so dearly bought, Myself now scarce I find myself to be,
As idle sounds, of few, or none are sought;

And think no fable Circe's tyranny,
That there is nothing lighter than vain praise. And all the tales are told of changed Jove:
I know frail beauty's like the purple flow'r,

Virtue bath taught with her philosophy
To which one morn oft birth and death affords; My mind unto a better course to move:
That love a jarring is of mind's accords,

Reason may chide her full, and oft reprove Where sense and will bring under reason's power: Affection's power; but what is that to me, Koow what I list, this all cannot me move,

Who ever think, and never think on aught But that, alas, I both must write and love. But that bright cherubin which thralls my thought? V. SONNET.

IX. SONNET. How that vast Heaven entitled First is roll'd, Now while the Night her sable veil hatb spread, If any glancing towers beyond it be,

And silently her resty coach doth roll, And people living in eternity,

Rousing with her from Thetis' azure bed, Or essence pure that doth this all uphold: Those starry nymphs which dance about the pole; What motion have those fixed sparks of gold, While Cynthia, in purest cypress clad, The wand'ring carbuncles which shine from high, The Latmian shepherd in a trance descries, Ky sprites, or bodies cross-ways in the sky, And looking pale from height of all the skies, If they be turn'd, and mortal things bebold: She dyes her beauties in a blushing red; How Sun posts heaven about, how night's pale qneen While sleep, in triumph, closed hath all eyes, With borrow'd beams looks on this hanging round; And birds and beasts a silence sweet do keep, What cause fair Iris bath, and monsters seen And Porteus' monstrous people in the deep, In air's large fields of light and seas profound, The winds and waves, hush'd up, to rest entice; Did hold my wand'ring thoughts; when thy sweet I wake, I turn, I weep oppress'd with pain, Bade me leave all, and only think on thee. (eye Perplex'd in the meanders of my brain.

Fair is my yeke, though grierous be my pains,

SLEEP, silence' child, sweet father of soft rest, Sweet are my wounds, although they deeply smart, Prince whose approach peace to all mortals brings, My bit is gold, though shorten'd be the reins,

Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings, My bondage brave, though I may not depart;

Sole comforter of minds which are oppress'd; Although I burn, the fire which doth impart

Lo, by thy charming rod, ail breathing tbings Those fames, so sweet reviving force contains,

Lie slumb'ring, with forgetfulness possessid, That, like Arabia's bird, my wasted heart,

And yet o're me to spread thy drowsy wings Made quick by death, more lively still remains.

Thou spar'st, alas ! who cannot be thy guest. I joy, though oft my waking eyes spend tears,

Since I am thine, O come, but with that face I never want delight, even when I groan,

To inward light, which thou art wont to slus, Best 'companied when most I am alone,

With feigned solace ease a true felt soe; A Heaven of hopes I have midst Hells of fears :

Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace, Thus every way contentment strange I find

Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt bequeath, But most in her rare beauty, my rare mind.

U long to kiss the image of my death.


XI. SONNET. VAUnt not, fair Heavens, of your two glorious lights, Parr Moon, who with thy cold and silver shine Which though most bright, yet see not when they Mak'st sweet the horror of the dreadful pigbt, And shining, cannot show their beams divine (shine, Delighting the weak eye with smiles divine, Both in one place, but part by days and nights, Which Phæbus dazzles with his too much light; Earth, vaunt not of those treasures ye enshrine, Bright queen of the First Heaven, if in thy shrine Held only dear, because bid from our sights, By turning oft, and Heaven's eternal might, Your pure and burnish'd gold, your diamonds fine, Thou hadst not yet that once sweet fire of thine, Snow-passing ivory that the eye delighits.

Endemion, forgot, and lovers' plight: Nor seas, of those dear wares are in you found If cause like thine may pity breed in thee, Vaunt not, rich pearl, red coral, which do stir And pity somewhat else to it obtain, A fond desire in fools to plunge your ground; Since thou hast power of dreams as well as be These all more fair are to be had in her:

That holds the golden rod and moral chain; Pearl, ivory, coral, diamond, suns, gold,

Now while she sleeps, in doleful guise her sbor Teeth, neck, lips, heart, eyes, hair are to behold. These tears, and the black map of all my woe..


When Nature now had wonderfully wrought LAMP of Heaven's crystal hall that brings the bours,
All Auristella's parts, except her eyes,

Eye-dazzler, who makes the ugly night
To make those twins two lamps in beauty's skies, At thy approach fly to her slumb'ry bowers,
She counsel of her starry senate sought.

And fills the world with wooder and delight;
Mars and Apollo first did her advise,

Life of all lives, death-giver by thy flight To wrap in colour black those comets bright, To the south pole from these six signs of ours, That Love him so might soberly disguise,

Goldsmith of all the stars, with silver bright And unperceived wound at every sight.

Who Moon enamels, Apelles of the flowers : Chaste Phoebe spake for purest azure dyes ; Ah from those wat'ry plains thy golden bead But Jove and Venus green about the light, Raise up, and bring the so long ling'ring mor; To frame thought best, as bringing most delight, A grave, nay Hell, I find become this bed, That to pin'd hearts hope might for aye arise : This bed so grievously where I am tora: Nature, all said, a paradise of green (seen. But wo is me though thou now brought the day, There plac'd to make all love which have them Day shall but serve more sorrows to display.

As cowards leave the fort which they should keep, XIII. SONG.

My senses one by one gave place to sleep, Tr was the time when to our northern pole Who followed with a troop of golden slumbers, The brightest lamp of Heaven begins to roll, Thrust from my quiet brain all base encumbers, When Earth more wanton in new robes appeareth, And thrice me touching with his rod of gold, And scorning skies her flowers in rainbows beareth, A heaven of visions in my temples rollid, On which the air moist diamonds doth bequeath, To countervail those pleasures were bereft me, Which quake to feel the kissing Zephyrs’ breath; Thus in his silent prison clus'd he left me. When birds from shady groves their love forthwarble, Methought through all the neighbour woods a And sea-like Heaven looks like smoothest marble, Of choristers, more sweet than lute or voice, (noise When I in simple conrse, free from all cares (For those harmonious sounds to Jove are given Far from the muddy world's enslaving snares, By the swift touches of the nine-string'd heaven, By Ora's flow'ry banks alone did wander;

Such airs, and nothing else) did wound mine ear, Ora, that sports her like to old Meander,

No soul but would become all ear to hear: A flood more worthy fame and lasting praise And whilst I list’ning lay, O lovely wonder! Than that so high which Phaeton's fall did raise ; I saw a pleasant myrtle cleave asunder; By whose pure 'moring glass the milk-white lilies A myrtle great with birth, from whose rent womb Do dress their tresses and the daffodilies ;

Three naked nymphs more white than snow forth Where Ora with a wood is crown'd about,

come. And (seems) forgets the way how to come out, For nymphs they seem'd: about their heavenly faces A place there is, where a delicious fountain In waves of gold floated their curling tresses; Springs from the swelling breastof a proud mountain, About their arms, their arms more white than milk, Whose falling streams the quiet caverns wound, They blushing armlets wore of crimson-silk, And make the echoes shrill resound that sound. The goddesses were such that by Scamander The laurel there the shining channel graces, Appeared to the Pyrygian Alexander : The palm her love with long stretch'd arms embraces, Aglaia and her sisters such percbance The poplar spreads her branches to the sky, Be, when about some sacred spring they dance. And hides from sight that azure canopy. (nourish, But scarec the grove their naked beauties graced, The streams the trees, the trees their leaves still And on the verdure had each other traced, That place grave Winter finds not without flourish. When to the food they ran, the flood in robes If living eyes Elysian fields could see,

Of curling crystal their breasts' ivory globes This little Arden might Elysium be.

Did all about encircle, yet took pleasure Oft did Diana there berself repose,

To show white snows throughout her liquid azure. *And Mars the Acidalian queen enclose.

Look how Prometheus' man when heavenly fire The nymphs oft here their baskets bring with flow'rs, First gave him breath, day's brandon did admire, And anadems weave for their paramours ;

And wonder'd at this world's amph'theatre: The satyrs in those shades are heard to languish, So gaz'd I on those new guests of the water. And make the shepherds partners of their anguish, All three were fair, yet one excell’d as far The shepherds who in barks of tender trees The rest as Phæbus doth the Cyprian star, Do grave their loves, disdains, and jealonsies; Or diamonds, small gems, or gems do other, Which Phillis, when thereby her flocks she feedeth, Or pearls that shining shell is call'd their mother. With pity now, anon with laughter readcth.

Her hair, more bright than are the morning's Near to this place where Sun in midst of day

beams, In highest top of Heaven his coach did stay, Hung in a golden shower above the streams, And (as advising) on his career glanced

And dangling sought her forehead for to cover, As all along that morn he had advanced

Which seen did straight a sky of milk discover,
His panting steeds along those fields of light, With two fair brows, Love's bows, which never bend
Most princely looking from that glorious height: But that a golden arrow forth they send :
When most the grashoppers are heard in meadows, Beneath the which two burning planets glancing
And loftiest pines or small, or have no shadows : Flash'd flames of love, for Love there still is dancing,
It was my hap, O woful hap! to bide

Her either cheek resembled blushing morn,
Where thickest shades me from all rays did hide, Or roses gules in field of lilies borne;
In a fair arbour, 'twas some sylvan's chamber,

'Twixt which an ivory wall so fair is raised,
Whose ceiling spread was with the locks of amber That it is but abased when it's praised.
Of new bloom’dsycamores,floor wrought with flow'rs, Her lips like rows of coral soft did swell,
More sweet and rich than those in princes' bow'rs. And th' one like the other only doth excel:
Here Adon blush'd, and Clitia, all amazed,

The Tyrian fish looks pale, pale look the roses, Look'd pale, with him who in the fountain gazed ;

The rubies pale, when mouth sweet cherry closes. The amaranthus smil'd, and that sweet hoy

Her chin like silver Phæbe did appear Which sometime was the god of Delos' joy:

Dark in the midst to make the rest more clear: The brave carnation, speckled pink here shin'd,

Her neck seem'd fram'd by curious Phidias master, The violet her fainting head declin'd

Most smooth, most wbite, a piece of alabaster. Beneath a sleepy chasbow, all of gold

Two foaming billows flow'd upon her breast, The marigold her leaves did here unfold.

Which did their top with coral red increst : Now while that, ravish'd with delight and wonder, There all about as brooks them sport at leisure, Half in a trance I lay those arches under,

With circling branches veins did swell in azure: The season, silence, place, began t'entice,

Within those crooks are only found those isles Eyes' drowsy lids to bring night on their skies, Which fortunate the dreaming old world stiles. Which softly having stolen themselves together The rest the streams did hide, but as a lily (Like evening clouds) me plac'd I wot not whither. Sunk in a crystal's fair transparent belly.


I, who yet human weakness did not know, The walls po windows have, nay all the wall (For yet I had not felt that archer's bow,

Is but one window, night there doth not fall
Nor could I think that from the coldest water More when the San to western worlds declineth,
The winged youngling burning flares could scatter) Than in our zenith when at noon he sbinetb.
On every part my vagabonding sight

Tko flaining hills the passage strait defend
Did cast, and drown mine eyes in sweet delight. Which to this radicnt building doth ascend,
“O wondrous thing,"said 1, "- that beanty's nam'd! | Upon whose arching tops on a pilaster
Now I perceive I heretofore have dream'd, A port stands open, raised in love's disaster
And never found in all my flying days

For none that narrow bridge and gate can pass, Joy unto this, which only merits praise.

Who have their faces seen in Venus' glass. My pleasures have been pains, my comforts crosses, If those within but to come forth do venture, My treasure poverty, my gains but losses. That stately place again they never enter. O precious sight! which none doth else descry The precinct's strengthen'd with a ditch of fears, Except the burning Sun, and quivering I.

lo which doth swell a lake of ipky years And yet, О dear-bought sight! O would for ever Of madding lovers, who abide their moaning, I might enjoy you, or had joy'd you never ! And thicken e'en the air with piteous groaning. O happy flood ! if so ye might abide,

This hold to brare the skies the Dest'nies fram'd, Yet ever glory of this moment's pride,

And then tbe fort of Chastity is nam'd. Adjure your rillets all for to behold her,

The queen of the third Heaven once, to appal it, And in their crystal arms to come and fold her: The god of Thrace here brought, who could not And since ye may not long this bliss embrace,

thrall it; Draw thousand portraits of her on your face, Por which he vow'd ne'er arms more to put on, Portraits which in my heart be more apparent,

And on Riphean hills was heard to groan. If like to yours my breast but were transparent. Here Psyche's lover hurls his darts at randon, O that I were, while she doth in you play, Which all for nought him serve, as doth bis A dolphin, to transport her to the sea!

brandon. To none of all those gods I would her render, What grievous agony did invade my mind, From Thule to Inde though I should with her When in that place my hope I saw confin d, wander.

Where with high tow'ring thoughts I only reach'd Oh! what is this? the more I fix mine eye,

her, Mine eye the more new wonders doth espy, Which did burn up their wings when they approac'd The more I spy, the more in uncouth fashion Methought I sat me by a cypress shade, My soul is ravish'd in a pleasant passion.

And night and day the hyacinth there read; “But look not eyes”-As more I would have said, And that bewailing nightingales did borrow A sound of rattling wheels me all dismay'd, Plaints of my plaint, and sorrows of any sortow. And with the sound forth from the trembling My food was wormwood, mine own tears my drink, bushes,

My rest, on death and sad mishaps to think. With storm-like course a sumptuous chariot rushes, And for such thoughts to have my heart eplarged, A chariot all of gold, the wheels were gold, And ease mine eyes with briny tribute charged, The nails, and axle gold on which it rollid: Over a brook I laid my pining face: The upınost part a scarlet veil did cover,

But then the brook, as griev'd at my disgrace, More rich than Danae's lap spread with her lover, A face me show'd so pind, sad, overclouded, In midst of it, in a triumphant chair,

That at the sight afraid mine eyes them shrouded. A lady sate miraculously fair,

This is thy guerdon, Love, this is the game, Whose pensive countenance, and looks of honour, In end which to thy servants doth remain. (me, Do more allure the mind that thinketh on her, More would I say; when fear made sleep to leare Than the most wanton face, and amorous eyes,

And of those fatal shadows did bereave me; That Amathus or flow'ry Paphos sees;

But ah, alas ! instead to dream of love, A crew of virgins made a ring about her,

And woes, I now them in effect did prove: The diamond she, they seem the gold without her. For what unto my troubled brain was painted, Such Thetis is, when to the billows' roar

Awak'd I found that time and place presented. With mermaids nice she danceth on the shore : So in a sable night the Sun's bright sister Among the lesser twinkling lights doth glister. Fair yokes of ermilines, whose colours pass

XIV. SONNET. The whitest snows on aged Grampius' face, More swift than Venus' birds this chariot guided An burning thoughts, now let me take some rest, To the astonish'd bank, where as it bided :

And your tumultuous broils awhile appease: But long it did not bide, when poor those streams Is 't not enough, stars, fortune, lore molest (Ah me !) it made, transporting those rich gems, Me all at once, but ye must too displease? And by that burden lighter, swiftly drived Let hope (though false) yet lodge within my breast, Till as methought it at a tow'r arrived :

My bigh attempt (though dangerous) yet praise : Upon a rock of crystal shining clear

What though Itrace not right Heaven's steepy ways, With diamonds wrought this castle did appear, It doth suffice my fall doth make me blest. Whose rising spires of gold so high them reared, I do not doat on days, I fear not death, That, Atlas-like, it seem'd the Heaven they beared. So that my life be good, I wish't not long; Amidst which heights on arches did arise

Let me renown'd live from the worldly throng, (Arches which gilt flames brandish to the skies) And when Hearen lists, recal this borrow'd breath. Of sparkling topazes, proud, gorgeous, ample, Men but like visions are, time all doth claim, (Like to a little Heaven) a sacred temple.

He lives who dies to win a lasting name,


XLX. SONNET. Taat learned Grecjan who did so excel

With flaming horns the Bull now brings the year, In knowledge passing sense, that he is nam'd

Melt do the mountains, rolling floods of snow, Of all the after world divine, doth tell

The silver rivers in smooth channels flow, That all the time when first our souls are fram'd,

The late bare woods green anadems do wear; Ere in these mansions blind they come to dwell,

The nightingale, forgetting winter's woe, They live bright rays of that eternal light,

Calls up the lazy morn her notes to hear; And others see, know, love, in Heaven's great height, Spread are those flow'rs which pames of princes bear, Not toild with aught 'gainst reason to rebel.

Some red, some azure, white, and golden grow. It is most true, for straight at the first sight

Here lows a heifer, there bewailing strays
My mind me told that in some other place

A harmless lamb, not far a stag rebounds;
It elsewhere saw th' idea of that face,
And lov'd a love of heavenly pure delight.

The shepherds sing to grazing flocks sweet lays,

And all about the echoing air resounds. What wonder now I feel so fair a flame,

Hills, dales, woods, floods, ev'ry thing doth change, Since I her lov'd ere on this Earth she came ?

But she in rigour, I in love am strange.

Nor Arne, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber,

Sebethus, nor the flood into whose streams
He fell who burnt the world with borrow'd beams,

That I so slenderly set forth my mind,
Gold-rolling Tagus, Munda, famous Iber, (Seine, Writing I know not what in ragged rhymes

, Sorgue, Phone, Loire, Garron, nor proud banked o'ercharg’d with brass in these so golden times,

When others tow'r so high, I'm left behind: Peneus, Phasis, Xanthus, humble Ladon,

I crave not Phoebus leave his sacred cell, Nor she whose nymphs excel her loved Adon,

To bind my brows with fresh Aonian bays; Fair Tamesis, nor Ister large, nor Rhine,

But leav't to those, who, tuning sweetest lays, Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, Hermus, Gange,

By Tempe sit, or Aganippe's well; Pearly Hydaspes, serpent-like Meander,

Nor yet to Venus' tree do I aspire, The flood which robbed Hero of Leander,

Since she for whom I might affect that praise, Nile that so far his hidden head doth range,

My best attempts with cruel words gainsays, Have ever had so rare a cause of praise,

And I seek not that others me admire. As Ora where this northern phenix stays.

Of weeping myrrh the crown is which I crave,

With a sad cypress to adorn my grave.
To bear my plaints, fair river crystalline,

Thou iò a silent slumber seem'st to stay;
Delicious flowers, lily and columbine,

When as she smiles I find
Ye bow your beads when I my woes display; More light before mine eyes,
Porests, in you the myrtle, palm and bay,

Than when the Sun from Inde
Have had compassion, list’ning to my groans; Brings to our world a flow'ry paradise:
The winds with sighs have solemniz'd my moans But when she gently weeps,
'Mong leaves, which whisper'd what they could not And pours forth pearly showers,

On cheeks fair blushing flowers, The caves, the rocks, the hills, the sylvans' thrones, A sweet melancholy my senses keeps ; (As if even pity did in them appear)

Both feed so my disease, Have at sorrow rent their ruthless stones : So much both do me please, Each thing I find hath sense except my dear, That oft I doubt, which more my heart doth burn, Who doth not think I love, or will not know Love to behold her smile, or pity mourn. My grief, perchance delighting in my woe.


XXII. SONNET. SWEET brook, in whose clear crystal I my eyes My tears may well Numidian lions tame, Have oft seen great in labour of their tears ; And pity breed into the hardest heart Enamell'd bank, whose shining gravel bears That ever Pyrrha did to maid impart, These sad charactures of my miseries; (spheres, When she then first of blusbing rocks did frame. High woods, whose mountain-tops menace the Ah, eyes, which only serve to 'wail my smart, Wild citizens, Amphions of the trees,

How long will you my inward woes proclaim ? You gloomy groves at hottest noons which freeze, May 't not suffice you bear a weeping part Elysian shades which Phæbus never clears; All night, at day but you must do the same? Vast solitary mountains, pleasant plains,

Cease, idle sighs, to spend your storms in vain, Embroider'd meads that ocean-ways you reach; And these sweet silent thickets to molest, Hills, dales, springs, all whom my sad cry constrains Contain you in the prison of my breast, To take part of my plaints, and learn woe's speecb, You du not ease but aggravate my pain; Vill that remorseless fair e'er pity show ?

Or if burst forth you must, that tempest move of grace now answer, if ye aught know: No. In sight of her whom I so dearly love.

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