[From the First Part.] SONNET. In my first years, and prime yet not at 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 That, like Arabia's bird, my wasted heart, 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, As idle sounds, of few or none are sought, That love a jarring is of minds' accords, power: Know what I list, this all can not me move, remains. 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 If any other worlds beyond it lie, The wand'ring carbuncles which shine By sprights, or bodies, contrariwise in sky But that, O me! I both must write and With borrowed beams looks on this hang love. ing round, What cause fair Iris hath, and monsters seen Her either cheek resembl'd a blushing morn, In air's large fields of light, and seas pro- Or roses gules in field of lilies borne, SONNET. That learned Grecian, who did so excel 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, They live bright rays of that eternal light, Not toil'd with aught to reason doth rebel. SONG. Her hair, more bright than are the I, who yet human weakness did not know, morning's beams, Hang in a golden shower above the streams, to cover, Which seen did straight a sky of milk dis cover, For yet I had not felt that archer's bow, water The winged youngling burning flames could scatter, 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. 1 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 me all 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, 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 soul, Wise image of her mind, mind that contains A power, all power of senses to control; Ye all from love dissuade so sweetly me, That I love more, if more my love could be. SONNET. If crost with all mishaps be my poor life, stars; If youth be toss'd with love, with weakness age, cled; Fair Chloris is when she doth paint Aprile, Fair are the meads, the woods, the floods are fair; Fair looketh Ceres with her yellow hair, And apples' queen when rose-cheek'd she doth smile. That heaven, and earth, and seas are fair is true, Yet true that all not please so much as you. MADRIGAL. When as she smiles I find More light before mine eyes, Nor when the sun from Ind If knowledge serve to hold our thoughts Brings to our world a flow'ry Paradise : in wars; If time can close the hundred mouths of fame, And make, what long since past, like that to be ; If virtue only be an idle name, If I, when I was born, was born to die; Why seek I to prolong these loathsome days? The fairest rose in shortest time decays. SONNET. The sun is fair when he with crimson crown, And flaming rubies, leaves his eastern bed; Fair is Thaumantius in her crystal gown, When clouds engemm'd hang azure, green, and red : But when she gently weeps, So much both do me please, That oft I doubt, which more my heart doth burn, Like love to see her smile, or pity mourn. [From the Second Part.] Leave then laments, and think thou didst not live, Laws to that first eternal cause to give, But to obey those laws which he hath given, And bow unto the just decrees of Heaven, 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 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; fair: But there flow'rs do not fade, trees grow not old, The creatures do not die through heat nor cold; Look if those roses death could aught Sea there not tossèd is, nor air made black, Fire doth not nurse itself on others' wrack; There heavens be not constrain'd about to 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 behold. I live, and happy live, but thou art dead, And still shalt be, till thou be like me made, Alas! while we are wrapt in gowns of earth, And blind, here suck the air of woe beneath, Each thing in sense's balances we weigh, And but with toil and pain the truth descry. Above this vast and admirable frame, This temple visible, which world we name, Within those walls so many lamps do burn, So many arches opposite do turn, Where elemental brethren nurse their strife, And by intestine wars maintain their life, There is a world, a world of perfect bliss, Pure, immaterial, bright, more far from this Than that high circle, which the rest enspheres, Is from this dull ignoble vale of tears; A world, where all is found, that here is found, range, For this world hath no need of any change; The minutes grow not hours, hours rise not days, Days make no months but ever-blooming Mays. Here I remain, but hitherward do tend All who their span of days in virtue spend: Whatever pleasure this low place con 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 Of the deep ocean kept had all his time; Who born and nourish'd there, can scarcely dream That aught can live without that briny stream; Cannot believe that there be temples, towers, But further discrepant than heaven and That go beyond his caves and dampish |
0 مراجعات لا تتحقّق Google من المراجعات، ولكنها تتحقّق من المحتوى المزيّف وتزيله في حال رصده. كتابة مراجعة |