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WHOEVER Comes to shroud me, do not harm
That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm;
Viceroy to that which, unto heaven being gone,
And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.
But if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall
Can tie those parts and make me one of all;
Can better do't; except she meant that I
By this should know my pain,
As prisoners are manacled when they 're condemned to die.
Whate'er she meant by 't, bury it with me;
For since I am
Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry
To afford to it all that a soul can do,
So 'twas some bravery
That since you would have none of me, I bury some of
1574 (?) —(?)
As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring;
Save the Nightingale alone.
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty
Teru, teru, by and by:
That to hear her so complain
Scarce I could from tears refrain ;
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
-Ah, thought I, thou mournʼst in vain, None takes pity on thy pain:
Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead,
All thy friends are lapped in lead:
All thy fellow birds do sing
SEE the chariot at hand here of Love,
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
As she goes all hearts do duty
And enamoured do wish, so they might
That they still were to run by her side,
Through swords, through seas, whither she would
Do but look on her eyes, they do light
All that love's world compriseth!
Do but look on her, she is bright
As love's star when it riseth!
Do but mark, her forehead's smoother
And from her arched brows, such a grace
As alone there triumphs to the life
All the gain, all the good of the elements' strife.
Have you seen but a bright lily grow
Before rude hands have touched it?
Have you felt the wool of the beaver,
Or have smelled o' the bud o' the brier?
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!
WRETCHED and foolish jealousy,
Nor have I yet the narrow mind
To vent that poor desire,
That others should not warm them at my fire: I wish the sun should shine
On all men's fruits and flowers as well as mine.
But under the disguise of love,
Thou say'st thou only cam'st to prove
Think'st thou that love is helped by fear?
Love's sickness and his noted want of worth,
I ne'er will owe my health to a disease.
EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH L. H.
WOULDST thou hear what many say
Underneath this stone doth lie
If at all she had a fault,
Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth,
The other, let it sleep with death:
Fitter where it died to tell
Than that it lived at all. Farewell!
HYMN TO DIANA
QUEEN and Huntress, chaste and fair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Heaven to clear when day did close:
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever:
ON MY FIRST DAUGHTER
HERE lies to each her parent's ruth,