Page images
PDF
EPUB

Because the sun's and her power is the same.
The Violet of purple colour came,

Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.

In brief: All flowers from her their virtue take;
From her sweet breath, their sweet smells do proceed;
The living heat which her eyebeams doth make
Warmeth the ground, and quickeneth the seed.
The rain, wherewith she watereth the flowers,

Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.
HENRY CONSTABLE

WERE I AS BASE1

ERE I as base as is the lowly plain,

WERE

And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,

Yet should the thoughts of me, your humble swain,
Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Wheresoe'er you were, with you my Love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My Love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes

Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done.
Wheresoe'er I am, below, or else above you,
Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you.
JOSHUA SYLVESTER

[ocr errors]

SONNETS FROM "IDEA " 2

INCE there's no help, come, let us kiss and part. Nay, I have done, you get no more of me, And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,

1 This fine sonnet is usually given to Joshua Sylvester, though it does not appear in the collected edition of his works (1641). 2 This magnificent sonnet, which so strongly suggests the work of Shakespeare, is No. 61 in a sonnet sequence by Drayton called "Idea ". The others here printed are Nos. 37 and 4 respectively.

That thus so cleanly I myself can free!
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And, when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain.
Now, at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover. MICHAEL DRAYTON

DEAR

EAR! why should you command me to my rest, When now the night doth summon all to sleep? Methinks, this time becometh lovers best!

Night was ordained, together friends to keep.
How happy are all other living things,

Which, through the day, disjoined by several flight,
The quiet evening yet together brings,
And each returns unto his Love at night!

O thou that art so courteous else to all,

Why shouldst thou, Night, abuse me only thus,
That every creature to his kind dost call,
And yet 'tis thou dost only sever us?

Well could I wish, it would be ever day;
If, when night comes, you bid me go away!
MICHAEL DRAYTON

RIGHT star of beauty, on whose eyelids sit

BRIGHT

A thousand nymph-like and enamoured graces, The goddesses of memory and wit,

Which there in order take their several places,
In whose dear bosom sweet delicious Love
Lays down his quiver which he once did bear,
Since he that blessèd paradise did prove,

And leaves his mother's lap to sport him there ;
Let others strive to entertain with words-
My soul is of a braver metal made;

I hold that vile, which vulgar wit affords ;
In me's that faith which time cannot invade.
Let what I praise be still made good by you:
Be you most worthy, whilst I am most true.
MICHAEL DRAYTON

I

TO HIS COY LOVE

PRAY thee leave, love me no more,
Call home the heart you gave me :

I but in vain that Saint adore

That can, but will not save me.
These poor half-kisses kill me quite ;
Was ever man thus servèd,
Amidst an ocean of delight

For pleasure to be stervèd?

Show me no more those snowy breasts,
With azure riverets branched,
Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts,
Yet is my thirst not staunched.
O Tantalus! thy pains ne'er tell,-
By me thou art prevented :
'Tis nothing to be plagued in hell,
But thus in heaven tormented!

Clip me no more in those dear arms,
Nor thy life's comfort call me!
O these are but too powerful charms,
And do but more enthrall me.
But see how patient I am grown

In all this coil about thee !

Come, Nice Thing! let thy heart alone,

I cannot live without thee.

MICHAEL DRAYTON

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE

COME

OME live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field
And all the craggy mountains yield.

There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs :
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.

Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be

Prepared each day for thee and me.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning :
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

THE SHEPHERDESS REPLIES

IF

F all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.

But time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrows fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten-
In folly ripe, in reason rotten!

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs—
All those in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed;
Had joys no date, nor age no need ;
Then those delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH

« PreviousContinue »