5 Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Though you do anything, he thinks no ill. XV How like a winter hath my absence been From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere! 5 And yet this time removed was summer's time: The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime Like widow'd wombs after their lord's decease: Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me 10 But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, And, thou away, the very birds are mute; Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer, That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near. W. Shakespeare XVI A CONSOLATION When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, 5 Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, XVII THE UNCHANGEABLE O never say that I was false of heart, As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie; 5 That is my home of love; if I have ranged, Like him that travels, I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe, though in my nature reign'd 10 All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously be stain'd To leave for nothing all thy sum of good: For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all. W. Shakespeare XVIII To me, fair Friend, you never can be old, Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, 10 Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived; So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, XIX ROSALINE Like to the clear in highest sphere Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, Heigh ho, would she were mine! Or like the silver crimson shroud . Her lips are like two budded roses Heigh ho, would she were mine! Her paps are centres of delight, Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame, Heigh ho, would she were mine! 5 10 15 With orient pearl, with ruby red, Yet soft in touch and sweet in view: Nature herself her shape admires; Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan Since for a fair there's fairer none, Nor for her virtues so divine: Heigh ho, fair Rosaline; Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine! XX COLIN T. Lodge Beauty sat bathing by a spring Where fairest shades did hide her; My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye But better memory said, fie! Into a slumber then I fell, When fond imagination Seeméd to see, but could not tell But ev'n as babes in dreams do smile, So I awaked, as wise this while As when I fell a-sleeping: Hey nonny nonny O! Hey nonny nonny! The Shepherd Tonie 5 XXI A PICTURE Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory, Subdue her heart, who makes me glad and sorry: Out of thy golden quiver Take thou thy strongest arrow That will through bone and marrow, And me and thee of grief and fear deliver:- Alas! poor Love! then thou art woe-begone thee! Anon. 5 10 15 XXII A SONG FOR MUSIC Weep you no more, sad fountains:- Softly, now softly lies, Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets: Doth not the sun rise smiling, Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes! While She lies sleeping Sleeping! Anon. |