[From the First Part.] SONNET. In my first years, and prime yet not at height, When sweet conceits my wits did entertain, SONNET. Fair is my yoke, though grievous be my pains, Sweet are my wounds, although they deeply smart, My bit is gold, though shortened be the reins, My bondage brave, though I may not depart : Although I burn, the fire which doth impart Those flames, so sweet reviving force contains, That, like Arabia's bird, my wasted heart, Made quick by death, more lively still remains. Love smil'd to see in what an awful guise sighs but breath) Joy on this living book to read my death. SONNET. I know that all beneath the moon decays, And what by mortals in this world is brought, In Time's great periods shall return to nought; That fairest states have fatal nights and days; I know how all the Muse's heavenly lays, With toil of spright which are so dearly bought, As idle sounds, of few or none are sought, And that nought lighter is than airy praise; I know frail beauty's like the purple flower, To which one morn oft birth and death affords; That love a jarring is of minds' accords, Where sense and will invassal reason's power: Know what I list, this all can not me move, tears, I never want delight, even when I groan, Best companied when most I am alone; A heaven of hopes I have midst hells of fears, Thus every way contentment strange I find, But most in her rare beauty, my rare mind. SONNET. How that vast heaven intitled First is roll'd, If any other worlds beyond it lie, The wand'ring carbuncles which shine from high, By sprights, or bodies, contrariwise in sky If they be turn'd, and mortal things behold; How sun posts heaven about, how night's pale queen But that, O me! I both must write and With borrowed beams looks on this hang What cause fair Iris hath, and monsters seen Her either cheek resembl'd a blushing morn, Betwixt the which a wall so fair is raised, In air's large fields of light, and seas pro- Or roses gules in field of lilies borne, found, Did hold my wand'ring thoughts, when That it is but abased even when praised; thy sweet eye Bade me leave all, and only think on thee. SONNET. That learned Grecian, who did so excel In knowledge passing sense, that he is nam'd Of all the after-worlds divine, doth tell, That at the time when first our souls are fram'd, Ere in these mansions blind they come to dwell, Her lips like rows of coral soft did swell, The rubies pale, when mouth's sweet cherry closes. Her chin like silver Phoebe did appear clear; Her neck seemed fram'd by curious Most smooth, most white, a piece of ala- They live bright rays of that eternal light, Two foaming billows flow'd upon her And others see, know, love, in heaven's great height, Not toil'd with aught to reason doth rebel. breast, Which did their tops with coral red encrest; There all about, as brooks them sport at leisure, With circling branches veins did swell in azure: And lov'd a love of heavenly pure delight; Within those crooks are only found those No wonder now I feel so fair a flame, SONG. isles Which Fortunate the dreaming old world The rest the streams did hide, but as a lily Her hair, more bright than are the I, who yet human weakness did not know, On every part my vagabonding sight With two fair brows, love's bows, which Did cast, and drown mine eyes in sweet never bend, But that a golden arrow forth they send; glancing, delight. What wondrous thing is this that beauty's named? Said I; I find I heretofore have dreamed, Flash'd flames of love, for love there still And never known in all my flying days is dancing. Good unto this, that only merits praise. My pleasures have been pains, my com- A lady sat miraculously fair, forts crosses, My treasures poverty, my gains but losses. O precious sight! which none doth else descry, Except the burning sun, and quivering I. And yet, O dear-bought sight! O would for ever I might enjoy you, or had joy'd you never! And sith ye may not aye your bliss embrace, Draw thousand portraits of her on your face, Portraits which in my heart be more apparent, If like to yours my breast but were transparent. O that I were, while she doth in you play, From Thule to Ind though I should with her wander. Oh! what is this? the more I fix mine eye, Mine eye the more new wonders doth espy; The more I spy, the more in uncouth fashion My soul is ravish'd in a pleasant passion. But look not, eyes: as more I would have said, A sound of whirling wheels meall dismay'd, And with the sound forth from the timorous bushes, With storm-like course, a sumptuous chariot rushes: A chariot all of gold, the wheels were gold, The nails and axle gold on which it roll'd; The upmost part a scarlet veil did cover, More rich than Danaë's lap spread with her lover: in midst of it, in a triumphing chair, Whose pensive countenance, and looks of honour, Do more allure the mind that thinketh on her, Than the most wanton face and amorous eyes, That Amathus or flowr'y Paphos sees. without her. Such Thetis is, when to the billows' roar 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 ermelines, whose colour pass The whitest snows on agèd Grampius' face, More swift than Venus' birds this chariot guided To the astonish'd bank whereat it bided: But long it did not bide, when pour those streams Ay me! it made, transporting these rich gems, And by that burthen lighter, swiftly drived Till, as me thought, it at a tower arrived. SONNET. O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks' pure skies With crimson wings which spread thee like the morn; O bashful look, sent from those shining eyes, Which, though cast down on earth, couldst heaven adorn; O tongue, in which most luscious nectar lies, That can at once both bless and make forlorn ; Dear coral lip, which beauty beautifies, That trembling stood ere that her words were born, And you her words, words! no, but golden Earth's silent daughter, night, is fair, chains, though brown ; Which did captive mine ears, ensnare my Fair is the moon though in love's livery To western worlds when wearied day Which can not err, whatever foggy mists goes down, And from Heaven's windows each star shows her head, Do blind men in these sublunary lists. But what if she for whom thou spend'st those groans, And wastest life's dear torch in ruthful It hath an earth, as hath this world of moans, yours, She for whose sake thou hat'st the joyful With creatures peopled, stor'd with trees and flow'rs; light, Court'st solitary shades, and irksome It hath a sea, like sapphire girdle cast, night, Which decketh of harmonious shores the Doth live? O! if thou canst, through tears, a space waste: It hath pure fire, it hath delicious air, Lift thy dimm'd lights, and look upon Moon, sun and stars, heavens wonderfully this face, Look if those eyes which, fool, thou didst adore, Shine not more bright than they were wont before; Look if those roses death could aught impair, Those roses to thee once which seem'd so fair; And if those locks have lost aught of that gold, Which erst they had when thou them didst I live, and happy live, but thou art dead, Each thing in sense's balances we weigh, Above this vast and admirable frame, strife, And by intestine wars maintain their life, Than that high circle, which the rest en- Is from this dull ignoble vale of tears; found, But further discrepant than heaven and ground. fair: But there flow'rs do not fade, trees grow not old, The creatures do not die through heat Sea there not tossèd is, nor air made black, range, For this world hath no need of any change; Days make no months but ever-blooming Here I remain, but hitherward do tend tains, It is a glance but of what high remains. Those who, perchance, think there can nothing be Without this wide expansion which they see, And that nought else mounts stars' circumference, For that nought else is subject to their sense, Feel such a case, as one whom some abysm That aught can live without that briny stream; Cannot believe that there be temples, towers, That go beyond his caves and dampish bowers, |