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Upon a day, as Love lay sweetly Numbring

Unto his mother straight he weeping came, All in his mother's lap,

And of his grief complain'd, A gentle bee, with his loud trumpet murm'r- Who could not chuse but laugh at his foul gir ing,

Though sad to see him pain'd. About him flew by hap;

Think now (quoth the) my son, how 816*: Whercof when he was wakened with the noise, Of those whom thou dooft wound; And saw the beast so small,

Full many thou hast pricked to the heart, What's this (quoth he) that gives so weak a That pity never found; voice,

Therefore henceforth some piry take, That weakens men withall ?

When thou doft spoil of lovers make.

She thok him straight full pireously lamenting, The wanton boy was shortly well recur'd
Ind wrap: him in her smock :

Of that his malady;
She wrapt him fuftly, all the while repenting But he soon after, fresh again enur'd
That he the dy did mock:

His former cruelty ;
She dreft his wound, and it embalmed well And since that time he wounded hath my full
With salve of foveraign might,

With his sharp dart of love,
Ind then le bath'd him in a dainty well, And low forgets the cruel careless elf
The well of sear Delight.

His mother's heal to prove :
Who would not oft be ftung as :his,

So now I languish till he please 2o be so bath'd in Venus' bliss ?

My pining anguish to appeale.



At wondrous sight of so celestial hue.

So when my tongue would speak her praises dee, Happy, ye Leaves! whenas those lilly hands,

It stopped is with thought's astonishment, Which hold my life in their dead-doing might,

And when my pen would write her titles true, Shall handle you, and hold in Love's soft bands,

It ravish'd is with fancy's wonderment; Like captives trembling at the victor's sight.

Yet in my heart I then both speak and write And happy Lines. on which with starry light

The wonder that my wit cannot endite.
Those lamping eyes will deign sometimes to look,
And read the sorrows of my dying spright,

Written with tears in heart's close bleeding book.
And happy Rimes! bath'd in the sacred brook
Of Helicon, whence the derived is,

New year forth looking out of Janus' gate, When ye behold that angel's blessed look,

Doth seem to promisc hope of new delight, My soul's long-lacked food, my heaven's bliss, And bidding th' old adieu, his passed date Leaves, Lines, and Rimes, seek her to please alone, Bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright. Whom if ye please, I care for other none.

And calling forth out of sad Winter's night

Fresh Love, that long hath slept in cheerless bowe, SONNET II.

Wills him awake, and soon about him dight

His wanton wings, and darts of deadly power: UnQuiet thought, whom at the first I bred

For lusty Spring, now in his timely howre, Of th' inward bale of my love pined-heart,

Is ready to come forth, him to receive,

And warns the Earth, with divers-colour'd flow.. And lithence have with sighs and sorrow fed,

To deck herself, and her fair mantle weave; Till greater than my womb thou woxen art, Break forth at length out of the inner part,

Then you, fair Flowre! in whom fresh youth doch In which thou lurkest like to vipers' brood,

reign, And seek fome succour, both to ease my Inart,

Prepare your self new love to entertain.
And also to sustain thy self with food :
But if in presence of that faireft proud

Thou chance to come, fall lowly at her feet,
And with meek humbless and amicted mood
Pardon for thee, and grace for me, entrtat;

Rudely thou wrongest my dear heart's defire, Which if she giant, then live, and my love cherish; The thing in which I do most in her admire,

In finding fault with her too portly pride : If not, die soon, and I with thee will perish.

Is of the world unworthy moft envide;

For in those lofty locks is close implide

Scorn of base things and 'Ideign of soul di thoro",

Threatning rash eyes which gaze on her fo and The sovereign beauty which I do admire, That loosely they ne dare to look us on her. Witness the world how worthy to be prail'd, Such pride is praise, such portliness is honour, The light whercof hath kindled heavenly fire That boldness innocence bears in her eyes, In my frail fpirit, by her from baseness rail'd, And her sair countenance, like a goodly banner, That being now with her huge brightness daz'd, Spreads in defiance of all enemies. Bafe thing I can no more endure to view,

Was never in this world ought worthy tride, But looking Mill on her, I stand amaz'd

Without some sparke of such felf-plcaling porade.


Resemble th' image of the goodly light.

Not to the fun, for they do thine by night; Bt nought dismaid that her unmoved mind Nor to the moon, for they are changed never; Doth ftill perlift in her rebellious pride;

Nor to the stars, for they have purcr light; Such love not like to luits of baser kind,

Nor to the fire, for they consume not ever; The harder won, the firmer will abide.

Nor to the lightning, for they ftill presever ; The dureful oak, whose fap is not yet dride, Nor to the diamond, for they are more tender; Is long e'er it conceive the kindling fire,

Nor unto chryftal, for nought may them fever; But when it once doth burn, it doth divide Nor unto glais, such baleneis mought ofiend her : Great heat, and make his flames to heaven afpire: Then to the Maker self they likeft be, So hard it is to kindle new desire

Whose light doch lighten all that here we see. In gentle breast that shall endure for ever; Deep is the wound that dints the parts entire With chaste effects that nought but death can

SONNET X. sever. Then think not long in taking little pain

UNRIGHTeous lord of Love! what law is this, To knit the knot that ever shall remain.

That me thou makest thus tormented be,
The whiles the lordeth in licentious bliss

Of her frce-will fcorning both thee and me?

Sec how the tyrannefs doth joy to see

The huge massacres which her eyes do inake, Fair eyes, the mirrour of my mazed heart, And humbled hearts brings captive unto thee, What wondrous vertue is contain'd in you, That thou of them mayft mighty vengeance The which both life and death forth from you

take. dart

But her proud heart do thou a little shake, Into the object of your mighty view?

And that high look, with which she doth control Per when ye mildly look with lovely hue,

All this world's pride, bow to a baser make, Then is my soul with life and love inspir'd; And all her faults in thy black book enrol, Bat when ye lowre, or look on me afkow,

That I may laugh at her in equal fort Then do I die, as one with lightning fir'd. As the doth laugh at me, and makes my pain her But since that life is more than death desir'd,

Look ever lovely, as becomes you beft;
That your bright beams of my


May kindle living fire within my brelt.
Such life should be the honour of your light,

SONNET XI. Such death the sad ensample of your might.

Daily when I do feek and sue for peace,

And hostages do offer for my truth,

She, cruel warriour, doch her self address

To battel, and the weary war renew'th;
More than moft fair, full of the living fire Ne will be mov'd with reason or with ruth
Kindled above, unto the Maker near ;

To grant small respit to my restless toil,
No eyes but joys, in which all powers conspire, But greedily her fell intent persu'th,
That to the world nought else be counted dear : Of my poor life, to make unpitied spoil.
Through your bright beams doth not the blinded Yet my poor life, all sorrows to affoil,

I would her yield, her wrath to pacifie,
- shoot out his darts to base affe&ion's wound? But then she seeks, with torment and turmoil,
But angels come to lead frail minds to rest To force me live, and will not let me die.
In chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. All pain hath end, and every war hath peace;
You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within ; But mine no price nor prayer may furceale.
You stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak;
You calm the storm that passion did begin,
Strong through your cause, but by your vertue

Dark is the world where your light shined never ; One day I sought with heart-thrilling eyes
Well is he born that may behold you ever. To make a truce, and terms to entertain,

All fearless then of so false enemies,

Which fought me to entrap in treason's train : SONNET IX.

So as I then disarmed did remain,

A wieked ambush, which lay hidden long
LONG-WBILE? I fought to what I might compare in the close covert of her guileful eyen,
Those powreful eyes which lighten my dark Thence breaking forth, did thick about me throng.

Too feeble I t'abide the brunt so itrong,
Yet find I nought on earth to which I dare Was forc'd to yield my self into their hands,

who me captiving, straight with rigorous wrong The whiles my sonifh'd heart fiooi ia anare, Have ever since kept me in cruei bands :

Through sweet illusion of her look's deaght, So, Lady, now to you I do complain

I mote perceive how in her glancing light Against your eyes, that justice I may gain. Legions of Loves with little wings did fly,

Darting their deadly arrows fiery bright

At every rash beholder palling by :

One of those archers closely I did spy

Aiming his arrow at my very heart,
In that proud port which her so goodly graceth, When tuddenly, with twinkle of her eye,
Whiles her fair face the rears up to the sky,

The damfel broke his milintended dart: And to the ground her eye-lids low embraceth, Had fhe not fo done fure I had been flain, Most goodly temperature ye may descry,

Yet as it was I hardly scap'd with pavi.
Mild humbless, mixt with aweful majesty;
For looking on the earth, whence she was born,
Her miud remenibreth her mortality ;

What-fo is faireft shall to earth return.
But that same lofty countenance seems to scorn

The glorious pourtract of that angel's face, Base thing, and think how she to heaven may clime,

Made to amaze weak mens consuled kill, Treading down earth as loathsome and forlorn,

And this world's worthless glory to embrace, 'That binders heavenly thoughts with drossy slime;

What pen, what pensil, can express her fir? Yet lowly still vruchsafe to look on me,

For though he colours could devise at will, Such lowliness ihall make you lofty be.

And cke his learned hand at pleasure guide,
Leit trembling it his workmanship should fpü,

Yet many wondrous things there are beside :

The sweet eye-glances, that like arrows guide,

The charming smiles that rob sense from the RETURN again, my forces, late dismaid,

heart; Unto the siege by you abandon'd quite ;

The lovely pleasance, and the lost y pride, Great Thame it is to leave, like one afraid,

Cannot expressed be by any art: So fair a piece for one repulse so light,

A greater craftsman's hand thereto doch need,
'Gainst such strong castles needeth greater might That can express the life of things indeed.
Than those small forces ye were wont belay;
Such haughty minds, enur'd to hardy fight,
Disdain to yield unto the first assay.

Bring, therefore, all the forces that ye may,
And lay incessant batery to her heart;

The rolling wheel, that runneth osten round,

The hardest steel in tract of time doth tear; Plaints, prayers, vows, ruth, sorrow, and dismay, Those engins can the proudest love convert;

And drizling drops, that often do redound,

The firmelt flint doth in continuance wear : And if those fail, fall down and die before her,

Yet cannot I, with many a dropping tear, So dying live, and living do adore her.

And long intreaty, soften her hard heart,

That she will once vouchsafe my plaint to he:" SONNET XV.

Or look with pity on my painful smart :

But when I plead, the bids me play my part; Ye tradeful Merchants! that with weary toil

And when I weep, she says tears are but water; Do seek most precious things to make your gain,

And when I figh, she says I know the art; And both the Indias of their treasure spoil,

And when I wail, she turns her self to laughes What needeth you to seek so far in vain ?

So do I weep and wail, and plead in vain, For, lo! my love doth in her self contain

Whiles lhe as atcel and flint doch still remain.
All this world's riches that may far be found;
If saphyrs, lo! her eyes be saphyrs plain ;

If rubies, lo! her lips be rubies found;
If pearls, her teeth be pearls, both pure and round; Tue merry cuckow, messenger of spring,
If ivory, her forehead ivory ween;
if gold, her locks are finett gold on ground;

His trumpet thrill hath thrice already fole

That warns all lovers wait upon their ki: g. If lilver, her fair hands are filver sheen :

Who now is coming forth with girland cutBut that which faireft is, but few behold,

With noise whereof the quire of bird, rel od Her mind, adorn’d with vertues manifold.

Their anthems sweet, devized of love's įrak,

That all the woods their ecchoes back rewund SONNET XVI.

As if they knew the meaning of their lays:

But 'mong t them all, which did Duve's bebas One day as I unwarily did gaze

raite, On those fair cyes, my love's importul light,

No word was heard of her that nolis cual,

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