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Before whose sacred shrine diuinely faire, To pitie his coequall be content;
Throwne headlong from the highest Heau’ns of The incense of whose sighes endeers the aire,
loue : In which thy fame vnparagon'd doth flee,
Here burning on thy borders I lament,
Yet must I like .ny generous intent,
That fault was fortune's, though the losse be mine;
And by my fall I shall be honour'd oft,
My fall doth witnesse I was once aloft.
Great god that guides the dolphin through the Then in those cristall quiuers kept them still.
deepe, Who vaunt before they win, oft lose the game;
Looke now as thou didst then with smiling grace, And the presumptuous mind gets maniest foiles.
When, seeking once her beauties to embrace,
Rise and against his blasts erect thy face ;
And whilst tbat it thy followers' fall contriues,
Thy trident to indanger dayly strives, I DREAM'D, the nymph that ore my fancie raignes,
And desolate would render all thy bounds: Came to a part whereas I paus' alone;
Then if thou think'st for to preserue thy state,
Did build that loftie llion's stately towers,
As Achilous with Alcides once,
Thus would he barre me from her presence still,
For when I come afield, he fann'd my sailes, Some men delight huge buildings to behold,
With mild Zephires faire yet prosprous gailes, Some theaters, mountaines, foods, and famous And, like t' Vlysses, gaue me wind at will: springs;
But when I would returne, O what deceit,
And follow forth at danger's highest rate,
Where euer that my bodie seeke a seate,
I leaue my heart in Albion's glorious yle;
And since then banisht from a louely sight,
I maried haue my mind to sad conceits,
Yet should I still whilst I might breath or moue, And to thy siluer bosome burning sent,
Remaine the monster of mishap and loue.
SONET LXI. Whilstth’Apenin seems cloth'd with snowstovaunt, How long shall I bestow my time in vaine, As if that their pure white all hues did staine, And sound the praises of that spitefull boy ; I match them with thy matchlesse faire againe, Who, whilst that I for him my paines imploy, Whose lillies have a luster, that they want : Doth guerdon me with bondage and disdaine ? But when some die, train'd with a pleasant show, O, but for this I must his glorie raise, In their plaine-seeming depths, as many do, Since one that 's worthie triumphs of my fall ; 'Then I remember how Aurora too,
Where great men oft to such haue bene made thrall, With louely rigour thousands doth orethrow. Whose birth was base, whose beautie withont praise. Thus is it fatall by th' effects we know,
And yet in this his hatred doth appeare, That beautie inust do harme, more then delight: Por otherwise I might my losse repaire. For lo the snow, the whitest of the white,
But being, as she is, exceeding faire, Comes from the clouds, t'engender yce below: I'm forc'd to hold one that 's vngratefull deare: So she with whom for beautie pone compares, These euerchanging thoughts which nought can bind, From clouds of cold disdaine, raines downe despaires. May well beare witnesse of a troubled mind.
SONET LXIV. The Heavens bebeld that all men did despise, I wor not what strange things I have design'd, That which the owner from the graue acquites, But all my gestures do presage no good; That sleepe, the belly, and some base delights, My lookes are gastly-like, thoughts are my food, Had banish'd vertue froin beneath the skies; A silent pausing showes my troubled mind: Which to the world againe for to restore,
Huge hosts of thoughts are mustring in my brest, The gods did one of theirs to th' Earth transferre, Whose strongest are conducted by despaire, And with as many blessings following her,
Which haue inuolu'd' my hopes in such a snare, As earst Pandora kept of plagues in store.
That I by death would seeke an endles rest. She, since sbe came within this wretched vale, What furie in my brest strange cares enroules, Doth in each mind a loue of glorie breed;
And in the same would reare sterne Plutoe s seate! Bettering the better parts that haue most need, Go get you hence to the Tartarian gate, And showes how worldlings to the clouds may scale: And breed such terroirs in the damned soules : She cleares the world, but ah, hath darkned me, Too many grieuous plagues my state extorse, Made blind by her, my selfe I cannot see. Though apprehended horrours bost not worse.
SONET XCVIII. Minë eyes would euer on thy beauties gaze,
Lot others of the world's decaying tell, Mine eares are euer greedie of thy fame,
I enuy not those of the golden age, My heart is euer musing on the same,
That did their carelesse thoughts for nought engage, "My tongae would still be busied with thy praise : But cloy'd with all delights, liu'd long and well: I would mine eyes were blind and could not see, And as for me, I mind t' applaud my fate ; I would mine eares were deafe and would not heare; Though I was long in comming to the light, I would my heart would neuer hold thee deare, Yet may I mount to fortune's highest height, I would my tongue all such reports would fee: So great a good could neuer come too late ; Th' eyes in their circles do thy picture bold,
I'm glad that it was not my chance to live, TH'eares' conducts keepe still ecchoes of thy worth, Till as that heauenly creature first was borne, The heart can neuer barre sweet fancies forth, Who as an angell doth the Earth adorne, The tongue that which I thinke must still vnfold: And buried vertue in the tombe reuiue: Thy beauties then from which I would rebell, For vice ouerflowes the world with such a flood, Th' eyes see, th' eares heare, th' heart thinks, and That in it all, saue she, there is no good.
tongue must tell.
Whilst curiously I gaz'd on beautie's skies,
Like snowie mountaines melted with the Sunne,
She by abstracting of her beautie's rayes, Th’ore-daring heart that to th' assault aduanc'd, With griefe congeal'd the source from whence they Was cou'red with a weight of huge dispaires, But through the yce of that vniust disdaine, (flow: Beneath the which the wretch doth still remaine, Yet still transpares her picture and my paine. Casting forth flames of furie and disdaine.
SONET CI. Looke to a tyrant what it is to yeeld,
All that behold me on thy beautie's shelfe, Who printing still to publish my disgrace, To cast my selfe away toss'd with conceit, The storie of my orethrow in my face,
Since thou wilt haue no pitie of my state, Erects pale trophees in that bloudlesse field: Would that I tooke some pitie of my selfe: The world that views this strange triumphall arke, “For what,” say they, “though she disdaine to bow, Reades in my lookes as lines thy beautie's deeds, And takes a pleasure for to see thee sad, Which in each mind so great amazement breeds, Yet there be many a one that would be glad, That I am made of many eyes the marke:
To bost themselves of such a one as thou." But what auailes this tygresse triumph, O But, ah, their counsell of small knowledge savours, And could'st thou not be cruell if not knowne, For O, poore fooles, they see not what I see, But in this meagre map it must be showne, Thy frownes are sweeter then their smiles can be, That thou insaltst to see thy subiects so?
The worst of thy disdaines worth all their fauours : And my disgrace it grieues me not so much, I rather (deare) of thine one looke to haue, As that it should be said that thou art such. Then of another all that I would craue.
With th’eccho plac'd beside some solitary sourse,
Disastrous accidents shall be the ground of our disWhen as that louely tent of beautie dies, And that thou as thine enemie fleest thy glasse,
Her maimed words shal show how my hurt heart And doest with griefe remember what it was,
balf dies, That to betray my heart allur'd mine eyes : Then hauing bought experience with great paines, Consum'd with corrosiues of care, caractred in mine
(spects, Thou shalt (although too late) thine errour find,
My Muse shall now no more, transported with reWhilst thou reuolu'st in a digested mind,
Exalt that euill deseruing one as fancie still directs: My faithfull loue, and thy vnkind disdaines : And if that former times might be recald,
Nor yet no partiall pen shall spot her spotlesse fame,
Vnhonestly dishonoring an honorable name. While as thou sadly silst retir'd alone,
But I shall sadly sing, too tragickly inclin'd, (mind. Then thou wouldst satisfie for all that 's gone,
Some subiect sympathizing with my melancholious And I in thy heart's throne would be instal'd:
Nor will I more describe my dayly deadly strife, Deare, if I know thee of this mind at last, l'le thinke my selfe aueng'd of all that 's past.
My publike wrongs, my priuate woes, mislucks in loue and life:
(toiles, That would but vexe the world for to extend my ELEGIE III.
In painting forth particularly my many formes of
foiles. In silent horrours here, where neuer mirth remaines, No, none in speciall I purpose to bewray, (ay. I do retire my selfe apart, as rage and griefe con- But one as all, and all as one, I mind to mourne for straines :
For being iustly weigh’d, the least that I lament, So may I sigh vnknowne, wbilst other comfort failes, Deserues indeed to be bewail'd, til th' vse of th' An infrancbised citizen of solitarie vales; (please,
eyes be spent; Her priuiledge to plain, since nought but plaints can And since I should the least perpetually deplore, My sad conceptions 1 disclose, discased at my ease. The most again though maruellous, can be bemon'd No barren pitie here my passions doth increase,
no more. Nor no detracter here resorts, deriding my distresse: But wandring through the world, a vagabonding guest,
(my soule. Whose face doth but entangle foolish hearts; I thunder forth a thousand threats in th' anguish of It is the beautie of the better parts, And lo, lunaticke-like do dash on euery shelfe, With which I mind my fancies for to chaine. And conuocate a court of cares for to condemne my Those that baue nought wherewith men's minds to selfe :
But onely curled lockes and wanton lookes, (gaine, My fancies, which in end time doth fantasticke try, Are but like feeting baites that have no hookes, I figure forth essentially in all the obiects by: Which may well take, but cannot well retaine: In euery corner where my recklesse eye repaires, He that began to yeeld to th' outward grace, I reade great volumes of mishaps, memorials of And then the treasures of the mind doth proue: despaires :
He, who as 't were was with the maske in love, All things that I behold vpbraid me my estate, What doth he thinke when as he sees the face? And oft I blush within my brest, asham'd of my No doubt being lim'd by th' outward colours so, conceit.
[winds, That inward worth would neuer let bim go.
Long time I did thy cruelties detest, Lo,wondring at my state, the strongest torrent stayes, And blaz’d thy rigour in a thousand lines: And turning and returning oft, would scorne my That was but working all things for the best :
But now through my complaints thy vertue shines, crooked wayes. In end I find my fate ouer all before my face,
Thou of my rash affections held'st the raines, Enregistred eternally in th' annales of disgrace.
And spying dangerous sparkes come from my fires, Those crosses out of count might make the rockes Didst wisely temper iny enflam'd desires, to riue,
With some chast favours, mixt with sweet disdaines : That this small remanent of life for to extinguish And when thou saw'st I did all hope despise, And yet my rockie heart so hardned with mishaps, And look'd like one that wrestled with despaire, Now by no meanes can be commou'd, not with loue's Then of my safetje thy exceeding care, thunder claps :
Show'd that I kept thine heart, thou but thine eyes: But in huge woes inuolu'd with intricating art,
For whilst thy reason did thy fancies tame, Surcharg'd with sorrowes / succomb and senslesly I saw the smoke, although thou hidst the fiame.
do snart ; And in this labyrinth exil'd from all repose, I consecrate this cursed corpes a sacrifice to woes:
SONET CV. Whilst many a furious plaint my smoaking breast Should I the treasure of my life betake, [marre, shall breath,
To thought-toss'd breath whose babling might it Ecclips'd with many a cloudie thought, aggrieu'd Words with affection wing'd might flee too farre, vnto the death:
And once sent forth can neuer be brought backe:
Nor will I trust mine eyes, whose partiall lookes For then not hauing bound my selfe to any,
From my heart's fort thy legions are exil'd, [hearts,
Thou daintie goddesse with the soft white skinne,
To whom so many offrings dayly smoke,
Were beautie's processe yet for to begin,
That sentence I would labour to reuoke:
Which on mount Ida as thy smiles did charme, Shake off soft fancie's chaines, I must be free,
The Phrigian shepheard gaue to his owne harme. I'le perch no more, vpon the mirtle tree, Nor glide through th’aire with beautie's sacred doues; And if the question were refer'd to mee, But with loue's stately bird l'le leaue my nest,
On whom I would bestow the ball of gold, And trie my sight against Apolloe's raies :
I feare me Venus should be last of three, Then if that ought my ventrous course dismaies,
For with the thunderer's sister I would hold, Vpon the oliue's boughes l'le light and rest:
Whose honest flames pent in a lawfull bounds, l'le tune my accents to a trumpet now,
No feare disturbs, nor yet no shame confounds. And seeke the laurell in another field, Thas I that once, as beautie meanes did yeeld,
I mind to speake no more of beautie's doue, Did diuers garments on my thoughts bestow:
The peacocke is the bird whose fame I'le raise ; Like Icarus I feare, vnwisely bold,
Not that I Argos need to watch my loue,
But so his mistris luno for to praise:
That I with many eyes my loue may see.
Then farewell crossing ioyes, and ioyfull crosses,
Most bitter sweets, and yet most sugred sowers, FAREWELL sweet fancies, and once deare delights, Most hurtfull gaines, yet most commodious losses,
The treasures of my life, which made me proue That made my yeares to flee away like bowers,
And wbilst by it I onely seem'd to moue, Which now my summer must redeeme agaire.
O welcome easie yoke, sweet bondage come,
I seeke not from thy toiles for to be shielded, Farewell free thraldome, freedome that was thrall, But I am well content to be orecome, While as I led a solitary life,
Since that I must commaund when I baue yeelded: Yet neuer lesse alone, whilst arm'd for all,
Then here I quit both Cupid and his mother, My thoughts were busied with an endlesse strife: And do resigne my selfe i' obtaine another.
THE GREAT DAY OF THE LORD'S IVDGEMENT.
ENCOMIUM BY DRUMMOND.
Thy Phønix-Mose still wing'd with wonders Ayes,
Praise of our broukes, staine to old Pindus Lixe Sophocles (the bearers in a trance)
springs, With crimson Cothurne, on a stately stage, (glance) And who thee follow would, scarce with their eyes If thou march forth (where all with pomp doth can reach the spheare where thou most sweetly To mone the monarchs of the world's first age:
sings. Or if like Phoebus thou thy selfe advance ; [badge, Though string'd with starres, Heavens, Orpheus All bright with sacred Aames, known by Heaven's
harpe enrolle, To make a day, of dayes which scornes the rage: More worthy thine to blaze about the pole. Whilst, when they end, it, what should come, doth