If this be love, to clothe me with dark thoughts, SONNET. I ONCE may see when years shall wreck my wrong, When golden hairs shall change to silver wire; And those bright rays that kindle all this fire, Shall fail in force, their working not so strong. Then beauty (now the burden of my song) When if she grieve to gaze her in her glass, Which then presents her winter-wither'd hue, Go you, my verse, go tell her what she was; For what she was, she best shall find in you. Your fiery heat lets not her glory pass, But (Phoenix like) shall make her live anew. SONNET. BEAUTY, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish, When thou, surcharg'd with burthen of thy years, Shall bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth, And when in beauty's lease, expir'd, appears The date of age, the calends of our deathBut ah! no more-this must not be foretold, For women grieve to think they must be old. SONNET. I MUST not grieve my love, whose eyes would read U And sport (sweet maid) in season of these years, And learn to gather flowers before they wither, And where the sweetest blossom first appears, Let love and youth conduct thy pleasures thither. Lighten forth smiles to cheer the clouded air, And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise; Pity and smiles do best become the fair, Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise. Make me to say, when all my griefs are gone, Happy the heart that sigh'd for such a one. SONNET. Now each creature joys the other, One bird reports unto another, In the fall of silent showers; Whilst the earth (our common mother) Whilst the greatest torch of heaven With bright rays warms Flora's lap, Cheering plants with fresher sap; My field of flowers quite bereaven, PASTORAL. O HAPPY golden age! Not for that rivers ran With streams of milk, and honey dropt from trees; Not for the earth did gage Unto the husbandman Her voluntary fruits, free, without fees; Nor for no cold did freeze, Nor any cloud beguile, Th' eternal flow'ring spring, Wherein liv'd every thing, And whereon th' heavens perpetually did smile; Not for no ship had brought From foreign shores, or warres, or wares ill sought: But only, for that name, That idle name of wind, That idol of deceit, that empty sound Call'd honour, which became The tyrant of the mind, And so torments our nature without ground, Was not yet vainly found: Nor yet sad grief imparts, Amidst the sweet delights Of joyful amorous wights, Nor were his hard laws known to freeborn hearts: But golden laws, like these, Which nature wrote. doth please. That's lawful which Then amongst flowers and springs, Making delightful sport, Sate lovers, without conflict, without shame, And nymphs and shepherds sings, Mixing in wanton sort Whisperings with songs, then kisses with the same Which from affection came. The naked virgin then Her roses fresh reveals, Which now her veil conceals, The tender apples in her bosom seen. And oft in rivers clear The lovers with their loves consorting were. Honour thou first didst close The spring of all delight, |