A substance and engendered deity, "Twixt Mars and Venns in adulterate kind. Why art thou nought but voice wrapt up in air? When young April once a year On him that basely in a brother's shape, But I, the more relief I seek, the more's my grief! SONNET, On seeing a Lady Bathing in the River Betis. Betis! whilst pretty philomel doth sing, 'Mongst well-tun'd leaves with gentle murmuring;- Then blow, but let the stream glide gently by. SONG. At the foot of a mountain white Clad all in snow, That doth melt with the sun-beams bright, Celio as in a dream, Beholdeth how the stream, Drives to and fro. Little pebbles, white, red, and blue, Then doth he see, And presented are to his view, Sands like Arabian gold, Near which he may behold Apollo's tree. Instead of fishes, Naiades Lift In christal veils, up their heads from those fresh seas, With different garlands crown'd; His loss bewails. Young Hyacinthus groweth near; Adonis too; In a flower of his name, That scorned to woo. The Thracian minstrel riseth then, That attracts birds, beasts, fishes, men: With the sweet sound he cheers, The listening shepherd's ears, And thus he sings Fenissa the fair is come, Swain weep no more! Come then, Fenissa, fair Fenissa come, Come to the shade, By cool leaves made. Sing Celio; valley, make Fenissa room, And let echo ring, She's the valley's spring! Fenissa come! SONNET Introductory to a fresh discourse. As a poor bark distrest by waves and wind, So an unheedy vessel do I live, Restless, near shipwreck, since I ne'er was well, 'Till I afresh had launched into the main, Where, whatsoe'er resistance my bark give, From the white froth I mount, then fall again; Then rise, then tumble down as low as hell. SONNET. A Serenade. The sun is set, gone down to the cool shade ;— For ever; if it chance that she do sleep, May Morpheus wake her with a dream from hell, Tell her of her disdain, my jealousy; That though I present am, I, absent weep! ELEGY On a Lady killed by a fall in attempting to elope with her Lover. Pure spirit! that leav'st thy body to our moan, Look, if the soul can downward look, and see Base worms on sixteen years sweet flesh should feed. While time bears date free from oblivion's doom! Here Lisis lies, that leapt from vital breath, SONG. When thou in native thoughts didst imitate And constant wert, I still did consecrate To thy true faith, firm love: That rural bird doth never range, Fixt to her mate, affects no change. And first affection less dost equalise, Why do I longer strive? For love that doth excuses frame, Either is none, or not the same. D |