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Were her first years the golden age; that's true, con
But now she's gold oft try'd, and ever new: 1:53,
That was her torrid and inflaming time,
This is her habitable tropic clime.

Fair eyes! who asks more heat than comes from hence,
He in a fever wishes pestilence.
Call not these wrinkles graves : if graves they were,it.
They were Love's graves, or else he is no where. vi.
Yet lies not Love dead here, but here doth sito
Vow'd to this trench, like an anachorit;
And here, till her's, which must be his death, come,
He doth not dig a grave, but build a tomb.
Here dwells he; tho' he sojourn ev'ry where
In progress, yet his standing house is here;
Here, where still evening is, not noon nor night,
Where no voluptuousness, yet all delight.
In all her words, unto all hearers fit,
You may at revels, you at councils, sit.
This is Love's timber, youth his underwood;
There he, as wine in June, enrages blood,
Which then comes seasonablest when our taste
And appetite to other things is past,
Xerxes' strange Lydian love, the plantane tree,
Was lov'd for age, none being so old as sh, 30
Or else because, being young, Nature did bless
Her youth with age's glory, barrenness.
If we love things long sought, age is a thing
Which we are fifty years in compassing;


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If transitory things, which soon decay,' s nr 191W Age must be loveliest at the latest day.

nsdT But name not winter-faces, whose skin's slack, so na Lank as an unthrift's purse, but a soul's sack; 18OO Whose eyes seek light withing for all here's shade;o 2 Whose mouths are holes, rather worn out than made, I Whose every tooth to a several place is gone To vex the soul at resurrection : : , Name not these living death-heads unto me, 6.2, 13. For these not ancient but antique be. I hate extremes; yet I had rather stay With tombs than cradles to wear out the day.": fãs T Since such Love's natural station is, may still: .:. ? My love descend, and journey down the hill; Not panting after growing beauties; so I shall ebb on with them who homeward go.



Image of her whom I love more than she
Whose fair impression in my faithful heart
Makes me lier medal, and makes her love me, ** 11.1.
As kings do coins, to which their stamps impart
The value; go, and take my heart from hence,
Which now is grown too great and good for me, 477)
Honours oppress weak spirits, and our senses
Strong objects dull; the more, the less we seea).

When you are gone, and Reason gone with you;
Then Fantasy is queen, and soul and all; 2.1 >>
She can present joys meaner than you do,
Convenient, and more proportional. ...
So if I Dream I have you, I have you;
For all our joys are but fantastical;
And so I'scape the paiiy, for pain is true;
And sleep, which locks up sense, doth lock out al. 3
After such'a fruition I shall wake,',
And but the waking, nothing shall repent ; ss3
And shall to Love more thankful sonnets makė,
Than if more honour, tears, and pains, were spent. 20
But, dearest heart! and, dearer image! stay!;!
Alas! true joys at best are Dreams enough;
Tho' you stay here you pass too fast away,
For even at first life's taper is a snuff.
Fillid with her love, may I be rather grown
Mad with much heart than ideot with none. 26

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LANGUAGE! thou art too narrow and too weak
To ease us now; great sorrows cannot speaker- wol neid a
If we could sigh out accents and weep words, 17
Grief wears and lessens that tear's breath affords. Fr
Sad hearts, the less they seem, the niore they are;
(So guiltiest men stand mutest at the bar).insats

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Not that they know not, feel not, their estate, 09797
But extreme sense hath made them desperate koti:
Sorrow, to whom we owe all that we be,
Tyrant i' the fifth and greatest monarchy,
Was 't that she did possess all hearts before
Thou hast hill'd her, to make thy empire more?.
Knew'st thou some would, that knew her not, lament,
As in a deluge perish th' innocent?
Was 't not enough to have that palace wong ... want to
But thou must raze it too, that was undone?
Hadst thou stay'd there, and look'd out at her eyes, 1!
All had ador'd thee that now from thee flies;
For they let out more light than they took in,
They told not when, but did the day begin. , ;'
She was too saphirine and clear for thee;
Clay, flint, and jeat, now thy fit dwellings be. i :
Alas! she was too pure, but not too weak; 1,4
Whoe'er saw crystal ordnance but would break ?
And if we be thy conquest, by her fall
Thou hast lost thy end, in her we perish all:
Or if we live, we live but to rebel,
That know her better now who knew her well:
If we should vapour out, and pine and die, diges
Since she first went, that were not misery

She chang'd our world with her's; now she is gone
Mirth and prosperity 's oppression;
For of all moral virtues she was all

44.7: bi That ethics speak of virtues Cardinal. - 11:20 bizo

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Her soul was Paradise: the cherubin
Set to keep it was Grace, that kept out Sin:
She had no more than let in Death, for we.
All reap consumption from one fruitful tree.
God took her hence, lest some of us should love
Her, like that plant, him and his laws above:
And when we 'tears, he mercy shed in this,
To raise our minds to heåven, where now she is;
Whom if her virtues would have let her stay,
We' had had a-saint, have now a holiday.
Her heart was that strange bush, where sacred fire,

Religion, did not consunie, but inspire | Such piéty, so chaste 'use of God's day,'

That what we turn'd to'feast she turn'd to pray,
And did prefigure here, in devout taste,
The rest of her high Sabbath, which shall last.

Angels did hand' her up, who next God dwell;
(For she was of ihat order whence most fell)
Her body 's left with us, lest some had said
She could not die, except they saw her dead:
For from less virtue and less beauteousness
The Gentiles fram’d them gods and goddesses:
The ravenous earth, that now wooes her to be
Earth too, will be a Lémnia, and the tree

That wraps that crystal in a wooden tomb, Shall be took up spruce, filla with diamond And we her sad glad friends all bear a part Qf grief, for all would break a Stoick's hearta

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