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SONNET XLVII. Lautlost fair and lovely maid! took from the shore, BEAUTY, sweet love, is like the morning dew, ee thy Leander striving in these waves !
Whose short refresh upon the tender green 'oor soul! quite spent, whose force can do no more! Cheers for a time, but till the Sun doth shew ; srcwand waft him to thee with those lovely eyes, Yow send forth hope; for now calm pity saves. And straight 't is gone, as it had never been.
Soon doth it fade that makes the fajrest flourish;
Short is the glory of the blushing rose:
la san'o save thine own, stretch out the fairest hand. Yet which at length thou must be forc'd to lose.
Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth;
And that in beauty's lease expir'd, appears a tanszand that which gave my wounds, I'll give it kisses. The date of age, the calends of our death. Once let the ocean of my cares fiod shore;
But ah! no more; this must not be foretold:
For women grieve to think they must be old.
Drawn with my blood, and painted with my cares,
There my soul's tyrant joys her, in the sack
Of her own seat, whereof I made her guide. TeThere do these smokes that from aMiction rise,
Serve as an incense to a cruel dame; die bit ,
Laura van Because their power serves to exact the same. als de les Thus ruins she (to satisfy her will)
The temple where her name was honour'd still.
SONNET XLIX. e vite bur My Delia hath the waters of mine eyes,
And whither, poor forsaken, wilt thou go,
To go from sorrow, and thine own distress?
When ev'ry place presents like face of woe,
And no remove can make thy sorrows less ?
Yet go, forsaken; leave these woods, these plaius :
Thee and thy love forlorn, and both disdains;
And of both wrongful deems, and ill conceives,
unto thy grief: And yet I rather languish for her love,
Convey thee from the thought of thy disgrace ; antal bezeit And if I find such pleasure to complain, 'Than I would joy the fairest she that lives.
Steal from thyself, and be thy cares' own thief.
But yet what comforts shall i hereby gain? acela What should I do then, if I should obtain
Bearing the wound, I needs must feel the pain.
SONNET L. stats and How long shall I in mine affliction mourn? DRAWN with th' attractive virtue of her eyes, Sala tamu A burden to myself, distress'd in mind!
My touch'd heart turns it to that happy coast; crid bodsja When shall my interdicted hopes return
My joyful Nortb, where all my fortune lies,
bat beza A When shall her troubled brow, charg'd with disdain, There were my Delia fairer than the Sun,
2002. When shall my faith the happiness attain, Joys in that honour which her eyes have won,
Neptune's best darling, held between his arms:
Divided from the world, as better worth;
And Muse-foe Mars abroad far foster'd be,
SONNET LVI. LET others sing of knights and palladines,
L'NHAPIY pen, and ill-accepted lines, In aged accents, and untimely words;
That intimate in vain my chaste desire; Paint shadows in imaginary lines,
My chaste desire, which from dark sorrow stica Which well the reach of their high wits records :
Enkindi'd by her eyes' celestial fire. But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes; Celestial fire, and unrespecting pow'rs! Authentic sball my verse in time to come;
Which pity not the wounds made by their mind. When yet th' anborn shall say, “ Lo where she lies, Show'd in these lines the work of careful hous, Whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb.” The sacrifice here offer'd to her sight. These are the arks, the trophies I erect,
But since she weighs them not, this rests for That fortify thy name against old age;
I'll moan myself, and hide the wrong I base; And these thy sacred virtues must protect, And so content me that her frowns sbould be Against the dark and time's consuming rage.
To m'infant style, the cradle and the grave Though th' errour of my youth in them appear,
What though my Muse no honour get thereby Suffice they show I liv'd and lov'd thee dear.
Each bird sings to herself, and so will l.
SONNET LVII. As to the Roman that would free his land,
Lo bere the impost of a faith entire, His errour was his honour and renown;
Which love doth pay, and her disdain extorta! And more the fame of his mistaking band, Behold the message of a chaste desire, Than if he had the tyrant overthrown.
Which tells the world how much my grief impers So, Delia, hath mine errour made me known,
These tributary passions, beauty's due, And my deceiv'd attempt deserv'd more fame,
I send those eyes the cabinets of love; Than if I had the victory mine own,
That cruelty herself might griere to view And thy hard heart had yielded up the same.
Th' affliction her unkind disdain doth more. And so likewise renowned is thy blame,
And how I live cast down from off all mirth, Thy cruelty, thy glory. O strange case,
Pensive alone, only but with despair : That errours should be grac'd, that merit shame; My joys abortive perish in their birth; And sin of frowns bring honour to the face !
My griefs long-liv'd, and care succeed og care. Yet happy, Delia, that thou wast unkind; [mind. This is my state; and Delia's heart is such :. Though happier far, if thou would’st change thy I say no more—Í fear I said too much.
Now each creature joys the other,
Passing happy days and hours;
In the fall of silver show'rs;
Hath her bosom deck'd with flow'rs.
Whilst the greatest torch of Heaven,
With bright rays warms Flora's lap;
Cheering plants with fresher sap;
Wants refresh of b. tter hap.
he wound 2
Echo, daughter of the air,
Those golden hairs incase,
Late spread unto the wind : mine anno nows the name of my fierce fair,
Thou mad'st loose grace unkind; t'etnete ud sounds the accents of my ills.
Gav'st bridle to their words, art to their pace. do orbaeach thing pities my despair,
O Honour, it is thou rizid and resVhilst that she her lover kills.
That mak'st that stealth, which Love doth free allow. lig, Whilst that she (O cruel maid !)
It is thy work that brings In them or noth me and my love despise;
Our griefs and torments thus: on the besMy life's Aourish is decay'd,
But thou fierce lord of nature and of love, respectu fhat depended on her eyes:
The qualifier of kings; kuenen: But her will must be obey'd ;
What dost thou here with us, o fane mand well he ends, for love who dies.
That are below thy pow'r, shut from above?
Go, and from us remove; Thanxar
Trouble the mighties' sleep; - brock
Let us neglected base
And th' use of th' ancient happy ages keep.
Let 's love this life of ours
Can make no truce with Time that all dev urs. ill.az.mp) 11 APPY, golden age!
Let's love-the Sun doth set, and rise again; vain IT depot for that rivers ran
But when as our short light shich im a Vith streams of milk, and honey dropp'd from trees; Comes once to set, it makes eternal night. eres'esterot that the Earth did gage uerespectar
Into the husbandman
Ier voluntary fruits, free without fees.
DESCRIPTION OF BEAUTY.
TRANSLATED OUT OF MARINO.
O BEAUTY, (beams, nay, flame
That shines awhile with fame, ut only for that name,
But presently makes night! hat idle name of wind;
Like winter's short liv'd bright, hat idol of deceit, that empty sound
Or summer's sudden gleams; NET IT all'd Honour; which becaine
How much more dear, so much loss-lasting beams, he tyrant of the mind,
Wing'd Love away doth fly, pas, a les nd so torments our nature without ground, as not yet vainly found :
And with it Time doth bear; or yet sad griefs imparts,
And both take suddenly midst the sweet delights
The sweet, the fain, the dear.
A shining day and clear
And sorrow is the hue of sweet delight.
With what then dost thou swell,
O youth of new-born day! hen amongst flow'rs and springs,
Wherein doth thy pride dwell, "laking delightful sport,
O Beauty made of clay! at lovers without conflict, without fame;
Not with so swift a way ind nymphs and shepherds sings
The headlong current fies,
As do the sparkling rays of two fair eyes.
Do not thyself betray
With wantonizing years; er roses fresh reveals,
O Beauty, traitors gay hich now her veil conceals.
Thy melting life that wears, "he tender apples in her bosom seen;
Appearing, disappears; nd oft in rivers clear,
And with thy flying days, he lovers with their loves consorting were. Ends all thy good of price, thy fair of praise. onour, thou first did'st close
Trust not, vain creditor, he spring of all delight;
Thy apt-deceived view, enying water to the am'rous thirst,
In thy false counsellor, bou taught'st fair eyes to lose
That never tells thee true. glory of their light:
Thy form and flatter'd hue, estrain'd from men, and on themselves revers'd. Which shall so soon transpass, agu in a lawn did'st first
Is far more fair than is thy looking-glass.
Muse Dom Obersei, ar
st of a fais
tie , dars oiba, unto arktis iver som our cha
Enjoy thy April now,
O had that soul, which honour brought to rest Whilst it doth freely shine ;
Too soon, not left, and reft the world of all This lightning flash and show,
What man could show which we perfection call ! With that clear spir't of thine,
This precious piece had sorted with the best Will suddenly decline :
But, ah! wide-fester'd wounds (that never sban, And thou fair murth’ring eyes
Nor must be clos'd) unto fresh bleeding fall, Shall be Lore's tombs, where now his cradle lies. Ah, Memory ! what needs this new artist? Old trembling age will come,
Yet blessed grief that sweetness can impart, With wrinkl'd cheeks and stains,
Since thou art bless'd—wrongly do I coopia; With motion troublesome;
Whatever weights my heavy thoughts sustan, With skin and bloodless weaves,
Dear feels my soul for thee I know my part That lively visage reaven,
Nor be my weakness to thy rites a stain ; And inade deform'd and old,
Rites to arignt, life, blood, would not refraa. Hates sight of glass it lov'd so to behoid.
Assist me then, that life what thine did par. Thy gold and scarlet shall
Time may bring forth what time hath yet suppress Pale silver-colour be ;
In whom thy loss hath laid to utter waste Thy row of pearls shall fall
The wreck of time, untimely all defac'd, Like wither'd leaves from tree;
Remaining as the tomb of life deceas'd: And thou shalt shortly see
Where in my heart the highest rooin tboa kas: Thy face and bair to grow
There, truly there, thy earthly being is plac'd: All plough'd with furrows, over-swol'n with snow.
Triumph of death :- In earth how more than bles:
Behold (O that tbon were now to behold!) That which on Flora's breast,
This finish'd long perfection's part begun; All fresh and flourishing,
The test but piec'd, as left by thee undone. Aurora newly dress'd
Pardon, bless'd soul, presumption over bold: Saw in her dawning spring;
If love and zeal hatb to this errour run, Quite dry and languishing,
'T is zealous love; love that both never done, Depriv'd of honour quite,
Nor can enough, though justly here controllid Day-closing Hesperus beholds at night,
But since it hath no other scope to go, Fair is the lily; fair
Nor other purpose but to honour thee; The rose; of How'rs the eye!
That thine may shine, where all the graets be: Both wither in the air,
And that my thoughts (like smallest streams ta. Their beauteous colours die;
Pay to their sea their tributary fee) And so at length shall lie
Do strive, yet have no means to quit nor free Depriv'd of former grace,
That mighty debt of infinites I owe. The lilies of thy breasts, the roses of thy face.
To thy great worth, which time to times eard, What then will it avail,
Wonder of men ! sole born! soul of tby kind! O youth advised ill!
Complete in all-but heav'nly was thy mind, In lap of Beauty frail
For wisdom, goodness, sweetness, fairest soal! To nurse a wayward will,
Too good to wish ; too fair for Earth; refined Like snake in sun-warm hill?
For Heav'o, where all true glory rests coofio'd: Pluck, pluck betime thy flow'r,
And where but there no life without control? That springs, and parcheth in one sbort hour,
O when from this account, this cast-up som,
How work my thoughts! My sense is stricken der MOST EXCELLENT SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Which all fall sbort. Who knew thee best to kaen.
That would thee more than words could ever shor
There lives no wit that may thy prayer become
And rest fair monuments of thy fair fame,
Though not complete. Nor can we reach in thong My Muse with thine itself dar'd to combine,
What on that goodly piece Time would be As mortal staff with that which is divine:
wrought : Let thy fair beams give lustre to the rest.
Had divers so spar'd that life (but life) to frame
Can equal it-nor (O) more grievance brought!
Yet what remains, must ever crown thy name And Eoglish guis'd in some sort may aspire, Receive these hints; these obsequies receive; To better grace thee what the vulgar forin'd. His sacred tunes age after age admire ;
(If any mark of thy secret spirit thou bear)
Made only thine, and no name else must wear.
I can no more, dear soul; I take my leare:
TO THE ANGEL SPIRIT OF THB
WITH OUR LANGUAGE.
TO THE BISHOP OF WINCHESTER...A DEFENCE OF RHYME. 551
(As things best set) must ever testify
And show the worth of noble Montague:
And so long as the walls of piety
Stand, so long shall stand the memory of you.
Their fair repairs to all posterity;
Besides, you have not only built up walls,
But also (worthier edifices) men; BY RA LTHOUGH you have, out of your proper store, By whom you shall have the memorials, arte- The best munition that may fortify
And everlasting honour of the pen. 69 A noble heart; as no man may have more, That whensoever you shall come to make Doc Against the batt'cies of mortality:
Your exit from this scene, wherein you have le ve Yet, rev'rend lord, vouchsafe me leave to bring Perform'd so noble parts; you then shall take One weapon more unto your furnisbment,
Your leave with honour, have a glorious grave! h rate: That you th' assaults of this close vanquishing, “ For when can men go better to their rest, And secret wasting sickness may prevent:
Than when they are esteem'd and loved best?” onton For that myself have struggled with it too,
And know the worst of all that it can do. the last And let me tell you this, you never could
Have found a gentler warring enemy,
DEFENCE OF RHYME;
ACAINST A PAMPHLET, ENTITLED
OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY ;
WHEREIN IS DEMONSTRATIVELY PROVED, THAT RIIYME IS
THE FITTEST VARMONY OF WORDS THAT COMPORTS This comes and steals us by degrees away ; o other sex And yet not that without our privity.
They rap us bence, as vultures do their prey,
PROFESSORS OF RHYME WITHIN HIS MA.
ABOUT a year since, npon the great reproach too far ir'i Fail not, or come before ourselves to die.
given the professors of rhyme, and the use hereof, We part together, and we take our leave
I wrote a private letter, as a defence of my own ere Do Life Of friends, of kindred: we dispose our state, undertakings in that kind, to a learned gentle
And yield up fairly what we did receive, seguit, tess And all our buss'nesses accommodate.
man, a friend of mine, then in court. Which I de tbe azért of So that we cannot say we were thrust out,
did, rather to confirm myself in mine own Der seileo But we depart from hence in quiet sort;
courses, and to hold him from being won from ights! Win The foe with whom we have the battle fought, us, than with any desire to publish the same to more than Hath not subdued us, but got our fort. We bent dod this disease is held most incident
the world. that must To the best natures, and most innocent.
But now, seeing the times to promise a more And therefore, rev'rend lord, there cannot be regard to the present condition of our writings, uimento do that A gentler passage, than there is hereby Unto that port, wherein we shall be free
in respect of our sovereign's' happy inclination From all the storms of worldly misery.
this way; whereby we are ratber to expect an And though it show us daily irr our glass,
encouragement to go on with what we do, than Our fading leaf turu'd to a yellow hue ;
that any innovation should check us, with a show such less ! DAnd how it withers as the sap doth pass, And what we may expect is to ensue.
of what it would do in another kind, and yet do
body to the same argument; and here present it And most the conscience of well-acted days :
to yonr view, under the patronage of a noble Chr secretary
Which all those monuments which you have set
'King James I.
ILL THE WORTHY LOVERS AND LEARNED
all tre poi