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Not at first sight,-not with a dribbing shot,

Love gave the wound which while I breathe will bleed,

But known worth did in tract of time proceed, "Till by degrees it had full conquest got : I saw, and liked, I liked but loved not,

I loved but straight did not what love decreed :

At length, to love's decrees, I forced, agreed, Yet with repining at such partial lot.

Many Sonrets follow in which the contest between love and reason, passion and virtue; between the ardour of the Poet's affection, and the strict sense of honour and firm principle of the unhappy object of it, are severally pourtrayed. At length we arrive at

Sonnet 62.
Late tir'd with woe, even ready for to pine

With rage of love, I called my love unkind :
She in whose eyes, love, though unfelt, doth shine,

Sweet said, that I true love in her should find, I joyed, but straight thus watered was my wine,

That love she did, but with a love not blind, Which would not let me, whom she loved, decline

From noblest course, fit for my mirth and mind. And therefore, by her love's authority,

Willed me these tempests of vain love to fly, And anchor fast myself on Virtue's shore.

Alas! if this the only metal be

Of love new-coined to help my beggary,
Dear! love me not, that you may love me more!

progress of the Poet's suit may be traced in

Sonnet 67.
Hope! art thou true? or dost thou flatter me?

Doth Stella now begin with piteous eye
The ruins of her conquest to espy?

Will she take him, before all wrecked he be ?
Her eye's-speech is translated thus by thee :

But fail'st thou not in phrase so heavenly high 1

Look on again; the fair text better try :
What blushing notes dost thou in margin see?
What sighs stol'n out, or kill'd before full born ?

Hast thou found such and such like argument ?
Or art thou else to comfort me forsworn ?

Well, how so thou interpret the contents,
I am resolved thy error to maintain,
Rather than by more truth to get more pain.

Sonnet 68. Stella! the only planet of my light,

Light of my life, and life of my desire,

Chief good, whereto my hope doth only aspire, World of my wealth, and heaven of my delight! Why dost thou spend the treasure of thy spirit

With voice more fit to wed Amphion's lyre,

Seeking to quench in me the noble fire,
Fed by thy worth, and kindled by thy sight?
And all in vain, for while thy breath most sweet,

With choicest words, thy words with reasons rase, Thy reasons firmly set on virtue's feet,

Labour to kill in me this killing care: Oh! think I then, what paradise of joy It is, so fair a Virtue to enjoy!

Sonnet 69.
O joy! too high for my low style to shew :

O bliss ! fit for a nobler state than me :

Envy put out thine eyes, lest thou do see What oceans of delight in me do flow. My friend ! that oft saw'st through all masks my woe,

Come, come, and let me pour myself on thee!

Gone is the winter of my misery;
My spring appears, O see what here doth grow!
For Stella hath, in words where faith doth shine,

Of her high heart given me the monarchy:
I, I, Oh! I may say that she is mine!

And though she give but this conditionally, This realm of bliss, while virtuous course I take, No kings be crowned, but they some covenants make !

Sonnet 71.
Who will in fairest book of nature know,

How virtue may best lodged in beauty be,

Let him but learn of love to read in thee, Stella, those fair lines, which true goodness shew; There shall he find all vice's overthrow,

Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty

Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly That inward sun in thine eyes shining so. And not content to be perfection's heir

Thyself-dost strive all minds that way to move: Who mark in thee, what is in thee most fair ;

So while thy beauty draws the heart to love,
As fast thy virtue bends that love to good;
But, ah! desire still cries, give me some food.

Sonnet 72.
Desire, though thou my old companion art,

And oft so clingst to my pure love, that I

One from the other scarcely can descry,
While each doth blow the fire of my heart;
Now from thy fellowship I needs must part;

Venus is taught with Dian's wings to fly :
I must no more in thy sweet passions lie;

Virtue's gold now must head my Cupid's dart.
Service and honour, wonder with delight,

Fear to offend, well worthy to appear,
Care shining in mine eyes, faith in my sp'rite:

These things are left me by my only dear;
But thou, desire, because thou would'st have all,
Now banished art; but yet, alas! how shall ?

To whać little purpose the following Song directly shews :

Have I caught my heavenly jewel

Teaching sleep most fair to be?

Now will 1 teach her that she,
When she waketh is too cruel,

Since sweet sleep her eyes

hath charm'da
The two only darts of love :

Now will I with that boy prove
Some play while he is disarm’d.

Her tongue, waking, still refuseth,

Giving frankly niggard No;

Now will I attempt to know,
What No her tongue, sleeping, useth.

See the hand which waking guardeth;

Sleeping grants a free resort;

Now will I invade the fort;
Cowards love with loss rewardeth..

But O fool! think of the danger

Of her just and high disdain :

Now will I, alas! refrain!... w:
Love fears nothing else but honda

Yet those lips so sweetly swelling,

Do invite a stealing kiss :

Now will I but venture this!
Who will read must first learn spelling.

Oh! sweet kiss! but ah ! she's waking;

Lowering beauty chastens me:
Now will I


hence flee;
Fool! more fool! for no more taking.

This stolen kiss fills the poet with raptures, which he expresses in several Sonnets, the following is perhaps the best.

Sonnet 81.
O kiss! which dost those ruddy gems impart,

Or gems, or fruits of new-found Paradise,
Breathing all bliss and sweet'ning to the heart,

Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise.
O kiss! which souls, even souls, together ties

By links of love, and only nature's art:
How fain would I paint thee in all men's eyes,

Or of thy gifts, at least, shade out some part?
But she forbids ; with blushing words, she says

She builds her fame on higher seated praise :

my heart burns, I cannot silent be. Then since, dear life, you fain would have me peace, And I, mad with delight, want wit to cease,

Stop you my mouth, with still still kissing me! In the midst of these raptures, the following, Alas is found.

Sonnet 78.
Oh! how the pleasant airs of true love be

Infected by those vapours, which arise
From out that noisome gulf, which gaping lies

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