LAURA.

THeMacedonian Monarch once did deign,In cheerful sort, in kind and loving wise,To feast in village with a homely Swain;Who entertained him, as in country guise,With curds and creams, and such like knacks he had.Whereof the courteous Prince accepted glad.So, Lady, boldly I presumèd haveTo invite you to a sorry banquet base;Nor to disdain the same, of you I crave!Though cates too coarse for you; too poor, the place.I cannot, as I would, give curds and cream;But milk and whey: my fortune is so mean.Yet (if you shall accept it graciously;And with your favour sweet, this board adorn)The virtue which is in you, presently,The whey, to curds; the milk, to cream shall turn.But if your look (you angry) turn away;The milk shall still be milk; the whey, still whey.Then as the sun in glorious wise doth shineAs well on valley low as mountain high;Vouchsafe one cheerful glimpse of favour thineOn poor me, from out that heavenly eye!Unworthy I, such grace! I do confess:Yet worthy thou to do so, ne'ertheless.R. T.LAURA.THE SECOND PART.I.IF I somewhile look up into the Skies,I see, fair Lady, that same cheerful light;Which, like to you, doth shine in glorious wise:And if on th' Earth, I chance to cast my sight;The moveless centre firm to me doth showThe hardness which within your heart doth grow.If Seas I view, the flowing waves most plainYour fickle faith do represent to me.So as I still behold you, to my pain;When as the Skies, or th' Earth, or Seas I see:For in your seemly self doth plain appearLike faith; like hardness; and like brightness clear.II.MArvelI do not, though thou dost not seeMy griefs and martyrs; which I still sustain.For thou, the Mole of Love dost seem to me;But if a Mole, th' art only to my pain.How comes it then that, seeing thou art blind,Thou me consum'st, as if thou had'st thy sight?Why, as thy nature by instinct doth bind,Stayest not below? Pack hence, and leave this light!Either those eyes still shut, not me to grieve;Or under ground, in darkness, always live!III.IF whilom, in times past, that Spartan Lass("The Flower of Greece," DanParis's costly joy)Through her fair feature, the only causer was,So many Knights were slain at Siege of Troy:Thou,Laura, art unlike unto her far!In this our Age, a much more blessed star.For she brought Wars, Strife, Death, and Cruelty;Where thou, alone, bring'st Peace and Pleasure still.Ah, happy thrice, that ligs in love with thee!And if, by chance, un'wares, thou sometimes kill:Thou, with thy smile, the wound canst heal again;And give him life, whom thou before hadst slainPisa.IV.SHootforth no more those darts from lightning eyes!Unkind! Why seek'st to stop my fainting breath?Go, and invent some new kind exercise;New weapons seek wherewith me to offend!Play the right Tyrant! Choices use in death;Whereby, I dying, content may rest thy will.But tell me? Wouldst so fain my life should end?And know'st not,Sweet extremes do sudden kill?Cruel, kiss me but once! and thou shalt seeEnded my life with that same kiss to be.V.IF what is heavy craves the Centre base;The earth below, as Nature wills the same:Heavy the woeful griefs are, in this case,Which inward in my heart I do sustain.And if what's light, by kind, aloft doth mount:Then light's my love with thee, of light account.So that in doubtful dangerous extreme,Wretch that I am! myself am sore afraid:And doubt of thee, so far from Golden Mean;Nor know I well out of this depth to wade.Lest that my life be shortened, or I die;Whether it heavy, falls; or light, ascends on high.VI.LAdy, what time I seek in mournful noteTo show mine agonies and bloody moan,My Voice doth fail; and hoarse and harsh my throat:And this doth come through you, through you alone.The whilst I think, by means of you in Song,To mitigate some part of this my smart;Instead thereof, you do me double wrong:And with a glance you take away my Heart.So that I find great hurt by this your theft:Since where, before but Voice, now Heart, 's bereft.VII.AS rocks become, exposed 'gainst waves and wind,More hard; such is thy nature, stubborn Dame!Opposed 'gainst waters of my plaints most kind;And winds of mine hot sighs, which inward flame,That hardness such to increase 'bout heart is found,As to it, soft might seem the diamond.Henceforward then, let no man think to moveBy weeping or lamenting, to his will,This self-willed Saint; which too too well I proveA senseless stone to be unto me still.Since, to my grief, from all good luck debarred;With plaints and sighs, she doth become more hard.VIII.HArk, Lovers! Hark, a strange miracleOf one, deprived of heart; yet death doth 'scape!Mine L. a flower gave me, which sweet did smell;And for the same, away my life did take.So that I only breathe through scent of flower;And without heart, not without life, I live.Then is not this, of mightLovehis powerA wonder strange? which he for sport doth give:When that a flower sustaineth me aloneWith life; who in my body, heart have none.IX.WHenI did part from thee the other night;Methought a foul black dog, with ugly shape,Did follow me: and did me sore affright;And all the way did greedy on me gape.Nor I this cur, how he at me did howl,Can well as yet forget, with chaps most foul.Then thinking of his colour, hateful black;Methought some ill, my thought did fear to come,And said within me, "Turn again, turn back!If forward thou dost go, thou art undone!"Then pardon, Lady, if I back againAm come this night, with you for to remain.X.MY mourning Mistress's garments, black doth bear;And I in black, like her, attirèd am!Yet diverse is the cause why black we wear;She for another's death doth shew the same.I for another reason bear this suit;Only to show by this, my outward weed,Mine inward grief (although my tongue be mute)Of tender heart; which deadly sighs doth bleed.Thrice happy I, if, as in habit [dress] weAre both in one, our minds both one might be.XI.IF April fresh doth kindly give us flowers;September yields with more increase the fruit.Sweetest, you have in bosom, Beauty's Bowers,Both these sweet tides: whence forth they always shootBoth flower and fruit. All only you, alone,Can give me, when you please; or else can none.O dainty bosom, bosom rich in price,Surmounting mountains huge of beaten gold;Whose whiteness braves the whitest snow that liesOn highest hills, whose height none can behold.In you, my soul doth hope, without annoy,Both Spring and Harvest, one day to enjoy.Roma.XII.DRawn, cunning Painter, hast thou with great art,The Shadow [Image] of my lovelyLaurafair;Which object sweet not smally joys my heart:But little didst thou think, nor wast thou 'ware,That where thou thought'st my fancy for to please,Effect contrary sorts to my desire:So that it breeds, in body mine, unease;And, senseless, burns my heart with feeling fire.O strange success! What made was for contentDoth most displease; and, lifeless, doth torment.XIII.WHenfirst the cruel Fair deigned graciouslyTo look on me with kind and courteous view;And cast on me a lovely glancing eye:She knew not that I was her servant true.But She no sooner 'ware was of the same;But that She turned her back with great disdain.So as the wound I then close bare in breast;I now, through grief, show outward in my face:But if that She, by whom I wounded rest,Lives in compassion cold towards me, sans grace:Hard hearted is She, cruel was She to her friend;And wicked shall be, world withouten end.XIV.WHenfirst the sun did shine upon her eyes,Who fairest 'mongst her beauteous sex doth show;The heavens her dainty corpse, in courteous wise,Covered with chilly cold and whitest snow.She, through the nature of that humour cold,Both coldest Ice, at once, and purest WhiteDraws to herself. Then none, for strange should hold;Though, to me, fair and cruel is her sight:Since that the heavens, for favours, did impartA snow-white corpse to her, and frozen heart.XV.THedusky cloud in sky, with shadow dark,Doth cover oft the sun's most clearest light:So as his beams we cannot see, nor mark;And he himself doth play at least in sight.Ah were I such a cloud on earth to coverMy sweetest Sun! as doth that cloud, the other.But if that cloud do vanish soon away,And doth as momentary pass and vade;Eternal would I be to hide her aye,And of a harder mixture would be made.O happy I! O fortunate eclipse!With kissing so to darken those fair lips.XVI.FRommilk ofJuno, as the Poets feign,The Lily had its whiteness, passing white:And fromAdonis'blood, that lovely Swain,The Rose his colour red, which doth delight.Thou, pretty Soul, hast both the colours rareOf these sweet flowers; which others all exceed.Thy breast's a bed of beauteous Lilies fair;Thy dainty cheeks, pure damask Rose breed.O fruitful garden flow'ring; where appearThe Rose and Lily at all times of year!XVII.OF constant love, I am the wasted fire;The furious wind's my Lady's angry eye:Who whilst She kindles both, through wrathful ire,The flame increaseth, mounting to the sky.In midst isLove, half dead of grievous pain;And, doubtful, winds about like sparkling flame.He fears the heat: and trembles, being turnedUnto this blast; which still more sharp doth rise.Nor is his fear in vain, when so he is burned:For one of these must hap, in sudden wise,Either the fire must spoil him as his prey;Or whirling wind else blow him quite away.XVIII.MYLaurawonders that, in visage pale,I bear of Death itself, the lively show:But if She muse at this, her musing's stale;For this sad colour had I long ago.The fire, close burning in my veins, doth makeThat outward ashes in my face you view:But if that She would on me pity take,Who is the cause of this my palish hue,This kindled heat shall die, which now doth burn;And my first colour shall again return.XIX.WHilst foaming steed I spur unto the quick,To make him gallop to my Love amain:Love doth my thoughts, through Fancy, forward prick;The end of wishèd journey mine to gain.But light's his hurt! 'Tis but a little smart!Where mine is mortal, sounding to the heart.Run then, my gelding swift, like Pegasus!Fly hence with wings! for wings hath my desire:Both of us, forced amain, are forward thus,And kindled in us is a burning fire.Thou, through two spurs in flank, provoked art sore:But thousands inwardly, my heart do gore.XX.RIchis the diamond, a gem of price;Yet such the nature strange is of the same,That who the powder thereof drinks, straight dies:And, as if poison 'twere, doth take his bane.So thou another precious jewel art;In name and nature not unmuch alike:Since death thou giv'st unto the loving heart;If but a kiss one sucks from thee most sweet.Whilst he doth swallow down his sugared bait;The joy's so great, it kills him through conceit.XXI.THeGrecians used to offer up their hairUnto their rivers: whom they did esteemAs mighty gods; and them great honour bare,As if no virtue small in them had been.Do thou the like, sweetLaura, unto me!Who, for my love, deserves a greater fee.Thy golden tresses on me do bestow!Who hold whole rivers flowing in mine eyes:Yet would not I, thou off shouldst cut them though.Dost muse? and ask, How this thou may'st devise?I'll tell thee. Give thyself to me for mine!So shalt thou give, uncut, thy tresses fine.XXII.ONelovely glance, which from the eyes did passOf Lady mine, hath changed my gentle heartFrom hardest diamond to brittle glass:And now again (unto my bitter smart),Through dreadful frown, she turns it suddenlyAs 'twas before, from glass to diamond.So if She will, She may (and presently,As likes her) change me; who to her am bound.If cruel She; my heart is hard to break:If pitiful; 'tis gentle, brittle, weak.XXIII.TWowinds, one calm, another fierce, to see;Th' one of the Spring, of Winter th' other right:I plainly, Lady, do discern in thee!The first, which makes me joy, breathes from thy sightSuch dainty flowers, in diverse coloured show,As makes to blush Dame iris's rainy bow.The second, which makes me to pine away,Blows from thine inward breast, a deadly blast;Where doth eternal hardness always stay,Which I do see eternal aye to last.So as calmZephyrus, in face, thou art!But rough as boisterousBoreas, in thine heart.XXIV.NO sooner do I earnest fix mine eyesOn my fair Sun: but that I her perceiveTo vanish like a cloud, in darkest wise;As if, eclipsed, her light it did bereave.I know not, If She's troubled thus becauseShe doth disdain I should behold her so:Or if for fear, this shadow to her draws;Lest me her beams should hurt, which glistering show.Say then, sweetLove, for thou know'st best, if stillI shall behold her; or no more, thou will.XXV.O thatI were slyProteus! for to takeOn me that form which most I like or wish:Then would I change myself unto the shapeOf that thy little whelp, thy joy and bliss.Into that little worm thou so dost like;And dallying, play'st with him both day and night.Those savoury smacks, those busses, sweet which be,Which thou to him dost give, should all be mine:And I would make my heart to leap for glee;Whilst I did lick that bosom fair of thine.But since I to despair of this am brought:My wish shallProteusbe; thy dog, my thought!XXVI."SAy, gentle friend, tell me in courtesy,Before what was I? and what am I now?A senseless Shadow, or a Body, I?""Neither of both. Mark, and I'll tell thee how.NoBodynow: for that, by proud disdainOf scornful She, dislived was.Shadownone;For that did underground go with the same,Unwilling it should wander all alone.""What am I then?" "Even one that doth not knowWhat now he is: or what he was, can show."XXVII.THeBlazing Star foretells the hapless fall,And sudden death of others, soon to come.To me a Face, brighter than Comets all,Doth, with her looks, my fortune hard forerun;And with her shooting darts, from glancing eye,Presageth that, ere long, I needs must die.The Blazing Star death only prophesies;This doth foreshew to me a harder fate:And dares me to mine end, in warlike wise;Nor how this Challenge know I to escape.Ah, cruel Star! of death not only sign;But murderer th' art of this poor life of mine.XXVIII.THeCrow makes war with the Chameleon;And, being hurt, to th' laurel straight doth fly:And, through the fruit he findeth thereupon,Is healed of hurt, finds food, and lives thereby.Lovethe Chameleon is; the Crow am I:And battle wage with him unto the death.He wounds me deadly; whereupon I hisTo thee, myLaural! to restore my breath.Thou me reviv'st. Such virtue 's in thee rifeAs thou, at once, dost give me food and life.XXIX.AMongstthe Parthians is a kind of groundOf nature such as, though it far doth standFrom fire: yet fire to take it straight is found;And flying thither, burns it out of hand.This prey so sure of Love am I, fair Dame!And you to me, which burneth me, the flame.So that if I, to you far off do show;You kindle straight in me a quenchless fire:And yet, although within it burn me so,Sweet is the heat whose fuel is desire.For rather I, in fire near you would be:Than freed from flame, you farther off to see.XXX.LOve, ope my heart! Hot fire thou forth shall takeOpen myLaura's! In it thou shalt findCold frost. Then of these two contraries makeBut one; and that same one, frame thou more kind!Of both our hearts, make but one loving heart!And give it unto which thou please, of twain.Give it to her! To her do it impart;Or unto me! It skills not much the same.I'll doubt no more, when but one heart we haveBetween us both: for this is all I crave.XXXI.UNtoan Image may I right compareMy Mistress, since so cruel She's to me:Which standeth for a sign or shadow fair;To which the simple ignorant bow with knee:And though with eyes, mouth, ears, and feet it show;Yet doth it neither see, talk, hear, or go.So plays my Choice, when I appear in sight:Nor see, nor speak, nor hear, nor stay She will.So as an Idol, She resembleth right;Blind, mute, deaf, moveless, senseless standing still.Then am not I worse than a lifeless block;To worship such a painted coloured stock.Fiorenza.XXXII.BOthgems, and pearls, their proper value have;But yet unlike: for not alike's their price.Some sought for are, and each one doth them crave;Others, more base, do pass in worthless wise.A jewel rich, and princelike gem, is SheWhom I esteem; and such account of make:Yet in herself no price hath for to see.For it is holden at so high a rateAs all the gold, nor silver, which doth lieIn th' earth, or sea, the same, at worth, can buy.XXXIII.IF love, wherein I burn, were but a fire;I quenched it had, with water of my plaints:If water, these my Plaints; I this desireHad dried through inward heat, my heart that taints.ButLove, that in my griefs doth take delight,Both fire and water turns, to work me spite.Fly then, thisLove! since such is his great powerAs waves to fire, and fire to waves, he turns:And with an absent Beauty, every hour,My fainting heart with Fancy's fuel burns;And, 'gainst all sense, makes me, of CARe and ILMore than of good and comfoRT, to have will.XXXIV.RIversunto the Sea do tribute pay.A most unconstant moving Sea art thou!And I, within mine eyes, bedewèd aye,A River hold of bitter tears as now.Receive then, from these moistened cheeks of mine.Into thy lap, the water forth I pour!Of duty mine, and of thy debt, a sign:And mix together with my sweet, thy sour!So shall the water to the water beMore precious; and the Sea, more rich to th' Sea.XXXV.SUchis the virtue of the sunny heat,As seizing on the Cockle Shell (which liesOn seaish shore), whereon his beams do beat,It makes it brightly shine, in orient wise:So that, through secret power of radiant sun,Of worthless shell, a pearl it doth become.So, Lady, you, through force of Beauty's power,If you shall deign to glance on me your eye,And rain with grace on me a smiling shower,A jewel rich you make me by and bye:And if no pearl; at least a precious stone.This, only, can you do; or else can none.XXXVI.THeblood of fairAdonis,VenuschangedInto a flower: who, whilst he did pursueIn forest thick, where as he hunting ranged,The savage boar to kill; the boar him slew.Do thou the like, sweet Love! Do thou the same,Whilst now my life doth languish, through thy power:And whilst my wound makes me for to remainWithouten blood, transform me to a flower!That where I, living, cannot; dead, I may;A lovèd flower inLaura's bosom stay.XXXVII.AN ocean Sea of water calm am I;Wherein kindLovethe form of Fish doth take,Leaping alongst the shore most wantonly.Then, Lady, of a Fisher don the shape!Ah, what sweet fishing shall you have to like;IfLoveyou chance to catch, while he doth bite?Come then, and naked into this water hie!He cannot 'scape; but, here, perforce must bide!'Less to my heart, to save himself, he fly.Then quickly strip thyself! Lay fear aside!For of this dainty prey, which thou shalt take;Both Sea, Fish, and Thyself, thou glad shalt make.XXXVIII.RIchDamask Roses in fair cheeks do bideOf my sweet Girl, like April in his prime:But her hard heart, cold chilly snow doth hide;Of bitter Januar, the perfect sign.Her hair of gold shows yellow like the cornIn July, when the sun doth scorch the ground;And her fair breast, ripe fruit which doth adornSeptember rich. So as in her is foundBoth Harvest, Summer, Winter, Spring to be:Which you in breast, hair, heart, and face may see.XXXIX.

IF I somewhile look up into the Skies,I see, fair Lady, that same cheerful light;Which, like to you, doth shine in glorious wise:And if on th' Earth, I chance to cast my sight;The moveless centre firm to me doth showThe hardness which within your heart doth grow.If Seas I view, the flowing waves most plainYour fickle faith do represent to me.So as I still behold you, to my pain;When as the Skies, or th' Earth, or Seas I see:For in your seemly self doth plain appearLike faith; like hardness; and like brightness clear.

II.

MArvelI do not, though thou dost not seeMy griefs and martyrs; which I still sustain.For thou, the Mole of Love dost seem to me;But if a Mole, th' art only to my pain.How comes it then that, seeing thou art blind,Thou me consum'st, as if thou had'st thy sight?Why, as thy nature by instinct doth bind,Stayest not below? Pack hence, and leave this light!Either those eyes still shut, not me to grieve;Or under ground, in darkness, always live!

III.

IF whilom, in times past, that Spartan Lass("The Flower of Greece," DanParis's costly joy)Through her fair feature, the only causer was,So many Knights were slain at Siege of Troy:Thou,Laura, art unlike unto her far!In this our Age, a much more blessed star.For she brought Wars, Strife, Death, and Cruelty;Where thou, alone, bring'st Peace and Pleasure still.Ah, happy thrice, that ligs in love with thee!And if, by chance, un'wares, thou sometimes kill:Thou, with thy smile, the wound canst heal again;And give him life, whom thou before hadst slainPisa.

IV.

SHootforth no more those darts from lightning eyes!Unkind! Why seek'st to stop my fainting breath?Go, and invent some new kind exercise;New weapons seek wherewith me to offend!Play the right Tyrant! Choices use in death;Whereby, I dying, content may rest thy will.But tell me? Wouldst so fain my life should end?And know'st not,Sweet extremes do sudden kill?Cruel, kiss me but once! and thou shalt seeEnded my life with that same kiss to be.

IF what is heavy craves the Centre base;The earth below, as Nature wills the same:Heavy the woeful griefs are, in this case,Which inward in my heart I do sustain.And if what's light, by kind, aloft doth mount:Then light's my love with thee, of light account.So that in doubtful dangerous extreme,Wretch that I am! myself am sore afraid:And doubt of thee, so far from Golden Mean;Nor know I well out of this depth to wade.Lest that my life be shortened, or I die;Whether it heavy, falls; or light, ascends on high.

VI.

LAdy, what time I seek in mournful noteTo show mine agonies and bloody moan,My Voice doth fail; and hoarse and harsh my throat:And this doth come through you, through you alone.The whilst I think, by means of you in Song,To mitigate some part of this my smart;Instead thereof, you do me double wrong:And with a glance you take away my Heart.So that I find great hurt by this your theft:Since where, before but Voice, now Heart, 's bereft.

VII.

AS rocks become, exposed 'gainst waves and wind,More hard; such is thy nature, stubborn Dame!Opposed 'gainst waters of my plaints most kind;And winds of mine hot sighs, which inward flame,That hardness such to increase 'bout heart is found,As to it, soft might seem the diamond.Henceforward then, let no man think to moveBy weeping or lamenting, to his will,This self-willed Saint; which too too well I proveA senseless stone to be unto me still.Since, to my grief, from all good luck debarred;With plaints and sighs, she doth become more hard.

VIII.

HArk, Lovers! Hark, a strange miracleOf one, deprived of heart; yet death doth 'scape!Mine L. a flower gave me, which sweet did smell;And for the same, away my life did take.So that I only breathe through scent of flower;And without heart, not without life, I live.Then is not this, of mightLovehis powerA wonder strange? which he for sport doth give:When that a flower sustaineth me aloneWith life; who in my body, heart have none.

IX.

WHenI did part from thee the other night;Methought a foul black dog, with ugly shape,Did follow me: and did me sore affright;And all the way did greedy on me gape.Nor I this cur, how he at me did howl,Can well as yet forget, with chaps most foul.Then thinking of his colour, hateful black;Methought some ill, my thought did fear to come,And said within me, "Turn again, turn back!If forward thou dost go, thou art undone!"Then pardon, Lady, if I back againAm come this night, with you for to remain.

MY mourning Mistress's garments, black doth bear;And I in black, like her, attirèd am!Yet diverse is the cause why black we wear;She for another's death doth shew the same.I for another reason bear this suit;Only to show by this, my outward weed,Mine inward grief (although my tongue be mute)Of tender heart; which deadly sighs doth bleed.Thrice happy I, if, as in habit [dress] weAre both in one, our minds both one might be.

XI.

IF April fresh doth kindly give us flowers;September yields with more increase the fruit.Sweetest, you have in bosom, Beauty's Bowers,Both these sweet tides: whence forth they always shootBoth flower and fruit. All only you, alone,Can give me, when you please; or else can none.O dainty bosom, bosom rich in price,Surmounting mountains huge of beaten gold;Whose whiteness braves the whitest snow that liesOn highest hills, whose height none can behold.In you, my soul doth hope, without annoy,Both Spring and Harvest, one day to enjoy.Roma.

XII.

DRawn, cunning Painter, hast thou with great art,The Shadow [Image] of my lovelyLaurafair;Which object sweet not smally joys my heart:But little didst thou think, nor wast thou 'ware,That where thou thought'st my fancy for to please,Effect contrary sorts to my desire:So that it breeds, in body mine, unease;And, senseless, burns my heart with feeling fire.O strange success! What made was for contentDoth most displease; and, lifeless, doth torment.

XIII.

WHenfirst the cruel Fair deigned graciouslyTo look on me with kind and courteous view;And cast on me a lovely glancing eye:She knew not that I was her servant true.But She no sooner 'ware was of the same;But that She turned her back with great disdain.So as the wound I then close bare in breast;I now, through grief, show outward in my face:But if that She, by whom I wounded rest,Lives in compassion cold towards me, sans grace:Hard hearted is She, cruel was She to her friend;And wicked shall be, world withouten end.

XIV.

WHenfirst the sun did shine upon her eyes,Who fairest 'mongst her beauteous sex doth show;The heavens her dainty corpse, in courteous wise,Covered with chilly cold and whitest snow.She, through the nature of that humour cold,Both coldest Ice, at once, and purest WhiteDraws to herself. Then none, for strange should hold;Though, to me, fair and cruel is her sight:Since that the heavens, for favours, did impartA snow-white corpse to her, and frozen heart.

XV.

THedusky cloud in sky, with shadow dark,Doth cover oft the sun's most clearest light:So as his beams we cannot see, nor mark;And he himself doth play at least in sight.Ah were I such a cloud on earth to coverMy sweetest Sun! as doth that cloud, the other.But if that cloud do vanish soon away,And doth as momentary pass and vade;Eternal would I be to hide her aye,And of a harder mixture would be made.O happy I! O fortunate eclipse!With kissing so to darken those fair lips.

XVI.

FRommilk ofJuno, as the Poets feign,The Lily had its whiteness, passing white:And fromAdonis'blood, that lovely Swain,The Rose his colour red, which doth delight.Thou, pretty Soul, hast both the colours rareOf these sweet flowers; which others all exceed.Thy breast's a bed of beauteous Lilies fair;Thy dainty cheeks, pure damask Rose breed.O fruitful garden flow'ring; where appearThe Rose and Lily at all times of year!

XVII.

OF constant love, I am the wasted fire;The furious wind's my Lady's angry eye:Who whilst She kindles both, through wrathful ire,The flame increaseth, mounting to the sky.In midst isLove, half dead of grievous pain;And, doubtful, winds about like sparkling flame.He fears the heat: and trembles, being turnedUnto this blast; which still more sharp doth rise.Nor is his fear in vain, when so he is burned:For one of these must hap, in sudden wise,Either the fire must spoil him as his prey;Or whirling wind else blow him quite away.

XVIII.

MYLaurawonders that, in visage pale,I bear of Death itself, the lively show:But if She muse at this, her musing's stale;For this sad colour had I long ago.The fire, close burning in my veins, doth makeThat outward ashes in my face you view:But if that She would on me pity take,Who is the cause of this my palish hue,This kindled heat shall die, which now doth burn;And my first colour shall again return.

XIX.

WHilst foaming steed I spur unto the quick,To make him gallop to my Love amain:Love doth my thoughts, through Fancy, forward prick;The end of wishèd journey mine to gain.But light's his hurt! 'Tis but a little smart!Where mine is mortal, sounding to the heart.Run then, my gelding swift, like Pegasus!Fly hence with wings! for wings hath my desire:Both of us, forced amain, are forward thus,And kindled in us is a burning fire.Thou, through two spurs in flank, provoked art sore:But thousands inwardly, my heart do gore.

XX.

RIchis the diamond, a gem of price;Yet such the nature strange is of the same,That who the powder thereof drinks, straight dies:And, as if poison 'twere, doth take his bane.So thou another precious jewel art;In name and nature not unmuch alike:Since death thou giv'st unto the loving heart;If but a kiss one sucks from thee most sweet.Whilst he doth swallow down his sugared bait;The joy's so great, it kills him through conceit.

XXI.

THeGrecians used to offer up their hairUnto their rivers: whom they did esteemAs mighty gods; and them great honour bare,As if no virtue small in them had been.Do thou the like, sweetLaura, unto me!Who, for my love, deserves a greater fee.Thy golden tresses on me do bestow!Who hold whole rivers flowing in mine eyes:Yet would not I, thou off shouldst cut them though.Dost muse? and ask, How this thou may'st devise?I'll tell thee. Give thyself to me for mine!So shalt thou give, uncut, thy tresses fine.

XXII.

ONelovely glance, which from the eyes did passOf Lady mine, hath changed my gentle heartFrom hardest diamond to brittle glass:And now again (unto my bitter smart),Through dreadful frown, she turns it suddenlyAs 'twas before, from glass to diamond.So if She will, She may (and presently,As likes her) change me; who to her am bound.If cruel She; my heart is hard to break:If pitiful; 'tis gentle, brittle, weak.

XXIII.

TWowinds, one calm, another fierce, to see;Th' one of the Spring, of Winter th' other right:I plainly, Lady, do discern in thee!The first, which makes me joy, breathes from thy sightSuch dainty flowers, in diverse coloured show,As makes to blush Dame iris's rainy bow.The second, which makes me to pine away,Blows from thine inward breast, a deadly blast;Where doth eternal hardness always stay,Which I do see eternal aye to last.So as calmZephyrus, in face, thou art!But rough as boisterousBoreas, in thine heart.

XXIV.

NO sooner do I earnest fix mine eyesOn my fair Sun: but that I her perceiveTo vanish like a cloud, in darkest wise;As if, eclipsed, her light it did bereave.I know not, If She's troubled thus becauseShe doth disdain I should behold her so:Or if for fear, this shadow to her draws;Lest me her beams should hurt, which glistering show.Say then, sweetLove, for thou know'st best, if stillI shall behold her; or no more, thou will.

XXV.

O thatI were slyProteus! for to takeOn me that form which most I like or wish:Then would I change myself unto the shapeOf that thy little whelp, thy joy and bliss.Into that little worm thou so dost like;And dallying, play'st with him both day and night.Those savoury smacks, those busses, sweet which be,Which thou to him dost give, should all be mine:And I would make my heart to leap for glee;Whilst I did lick that bosom fair of thine.But since I to despair of this am brought:My wish shallProteusbe; thy dog, my thought!

XXVI.

"SAy, gentle friend, tell me in courtesy,Before what was I? and what am I now?A senseless Shadow, or a Body, I?""Neither of both. Mark, and I'll tell thee how.NoBodynow: for that, by proud disdainOf scornful She, dislived was.Shadownone;For that did underground go with the same,Unwilling it should wander all alone.""What am I then?" "Even one that doth not knowWhat now he is: or what he was, can show."

XXVII.

THeBlazing Star foretells the hapless fall,And sudden death of others, soon to come.To me a Face, brighter than Comets all,Doth, with her looks, my fortune hard forerun;And with her shooting darts, from glancing eye,Presageth that, ere long, I needs must die.The Blazing Star death only prophesies;This doth foreshew to me a harder fate:And dares me to mine end, in warlike wise;Nor how this Challenge know I to escape.Ah, cruel Star! of death not only sign;But murderer th' art of this poor life of mine.

XXVIII.

THeCrow makes war with the Chameleon;And, being hurt, to th' laurel straight doth fly:And, through the fruit he findeth thereupon,Is healed of hurt, finds food, and lives thereby.Lovethe Chameleon is; the Crow am I:And battle wage with him unto the death.He wounds me deadly; whereupon I hisTo thee, myLaural! to restore my breath.Thou me reviv'st. Such virtue 's in thee rifeAs thou, at once, dost give me food and life.

XXIX.

AMongstthe Parthians is a kind of groundOf nature such as, though it far doth standFrom fire: yet fire to take it straight is found;And flying thither, burns it out of hand.This prey so sure of Love am I, fair Dame!And you to me, which burneth me, the flame.So that if I, to you far off do show;You kindle straight in me a quenchless fire:And yet, although within it burn me so,Sweet is the heat whose fuel is desire.For rather I, in fire near you would be:Than freed from flame, you farther off to see.

XXX.

LOve, ope my heart! Hot fire thou forth shall takeOpen myLaura's! In it thou shalt findCold frost. Then of these two contraries makeBut one; and that same one, frame thou more kind!Of both our hearts, make but one loving heart!And give it unto which thou please, of twain.Give it to her! To her do it impart;Or unto me! It skills not much the same.I'll doubt no more, when but one heart we haveBetween us both: for this is all I crave.

XXXI.

UNtoan Image may I right compareMy Mistress, since so cruel She's to me:Which standeth for a sign or shadow fair;To which the simple ignorant bow with knee:And though with eyes, mouth, ears, and feet it show;Yet doth it neither see, talk, hear, or go.So plays my Choice, when I appear in sight:Nor see, nor speak, nor hear, nor stay She will.So as an Idol, She resembleth right;Blind, mute, deaf, moveless, senseless standing still.Then am not I worse than a lifeless block;To worship such a painted coloured stock.Fiorenza.

XXXII.

BOthgems, and pearls, their proper value have;But yet unlike: for not alike's their price.Some sought for are, and each one doth them crave;Others, more base, do pass in worthless wise.A jewel rich, and princelike gem, is SheWhom I esteem; and such account of make:Yet in herself no price hath for to see.For it is holden at so high a rateAs all the gold, nor silver, which doth lieIn th' earth, or sea, the same, at worth, can buy.

XXXIII.

IF love, wherein I burn, were but a fire;I quenched it had, with water of my plaints:If water, these my Plaints; I this desireHad dried through inward heat, my heart that taints.ButLove, that in my griefs doth take delight,Both fire and water turns, to work me spite.Fly then, thisLove! since such is his great powerAs waves to fire, and fire to waves, he turns:And with an absent Beauty, every hour,My fainting heart with Fancy's fuel burns;And, 'gainst all sense, makes me, of CARe and ILMore than of good and comfoRT, to have will.

XXXIV.

RIversunto the Sea do tribute pay.A most unconstant moving Sea art thou!And I, within mine eyes, bedewèd aye,A River hold of bitter tears as now.Receive then, from these moistened cheeks of mine.Into thy lap, the water forth I pour!Of duty mine, and of thy debt, a sign:And mix together with my sweet, thy sour!So shall the water to the water beMore precious; and the Sea, more rich to th' Sea.

XXXV.

SUchis the virtue of the sunny heat,As seizing on the Cockle Shell (which liesOn seaish shore), whereon his beams do beat,It makes it brightly shine, in orient wise:So that, through secret power of radiant sun,Of worthless shell, a pearl it doth become.So, Lady, you, through force of Beauty's power,If you shall deign to glance on me your eye,And rain with grace on me a smiling shower,A jewel rich you make me by and bye:And if no pearl; at least a precious stone.This, only, can you do; or else can none.

XXXVI.

THeblood of fairAdonis,VenuschangedInto a flower: who, whilst he did pursueIn forest thick, where as he hunting ranged,The savage boar to kill; the boar him slew.Do thou the like, sweet Love! Do thou the same,Whilst now my life doth languish, through thy power:And whilst my wound makes me for to remainWithouten blood, transform me to a flower!That where I, living, cannot; dead, I may;A lovèd flower inLaura's bosom stay.

XXXVII.

AN ocean Sea of water calm am I;Wherein kindLovethe form of Fish doth take,Leaping alongst the shore most wantonly.Then, Lady, of a Fisher don the shape!Ah, what sweet fishing shall you have to like;IfLoveyou chance to catch, while he doth bite?Come then, and naked into this water hie!He cannot 'scape; but, here, perforce must bide!'Less to my heart, to save himself, he fly.Then quickly strip thyself! Lay fear aside!For of this dainty prey, which thou shalt take;Both Sea, Fish, and Thyself, thou glad shalt make.

XXXVIII.

RIchDamask Roses in fair cheeks do bideOf my sweet Girl, like April in his prime:But her hard heart, cold chilly snow doth hide;Of bitter Januar, the perfect sign.Her hair of gold shows yellow like the cornIn July, when the sun doth scorch the ground;And her fair breast, ripe fruit which doth adornSeptember rich. So as in her is foundBoth Harvest, Summer, Winter, Spring to be:Which you in breast, hair, heart, and face may see.

XXXIX.

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