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Others hold, there is no wealth Compared to a perfect health. Some man's mind in quiet stands When he is lord of many lands. But I did sigh, and said, all this Was but a shade of perfect bliss : And in my thoughts I did approve Nought so sweet as is true love. Love twixt lovers passeth these When mouth kisseth, and heart'grees : With folded arms, and lips meeting, Each soul, another sweetly greeting! For by the mouth the soul fleeteth, And soul with soul in kissing meeteth. If love be so sweet a thing That such happy bliss doth bring, Happy is love's sugar'd thrall ; But unhappy maidens all, Who esteem your virgin’s blisses Sweeter than a wife's sweet kisses. No such quiet to the mind As true love, with kisses kind. But, if a kiss prove unchaste, Then is true love quite disgraced. Though love be sweet, learn this of me, No love is sweet but honesty!
Like to Diana in her summer-weed,
Goes fair Samela ;
Is fair Samela.
As fair Aurora in her morning gray,
Is fair Samela ;
Shines fair Samela.
Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams,
Of fair Samela;
Thus fair Samela
Passeth fair Venus in her brightest hue, And Juno in the shew of majesty;
For she's Samela; Pallas in wit: all three, if well you view For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity,
Yield to Samela.
Was born in 1560, and executed in 1595. His poems, all of
which are on moral or religious subjects, are far from deserving the neglect which they have experienced. It is remarkable, that the very few copies of his works which are now known to exist, are the remnant of at least seventeen different editions, of which eleven were printed between 1593 and 1600. The best account of this writer is to be found in the Gentleman's Magazine, for November, 1798.
SCORN NOT THE LEAST.
WHERE words are weak, and foes encountering
strong, Where mightier do assault than do defend, The feebler part puts up enforced wrong,
And silent sees, that speech could not amend. Yet, higher powers must think, though they repine, When sun is set, the little stars will shine.
The merlin cannot ever soar on high,
Nor greedy grey-hound still pursue the chace :: The tender lark will find a time to fly,
And fearful hare to run a quiet race :
He that high growth, on cedars did bestow,
In Haman's pomp the poor Mardochius wept,
Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe:
Yet he to heav'n, to hell did Dives go.
TIMES GO BY TURNS.
The lopped tree in time may grow again,
Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; The sorriest wight may find release of pain,
The dryest soil suck in some moistening shower: Time goes by turns, and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.
The sea of fortune doth not ever flow,
She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; Her tides have equal times to come and go,
Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web: No joy so great but runneth to an end, No hap so hard but may in fine amend,