Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored, and sorrows end. W. SHAKESPEARE XXX REVOLUTIONS IKE as the waves make towards the pebbled shore LIKE So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, Nativity once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand W. SHAKESPEARE XXXI FAREWELL! thou art too dear for thy possessing, And like enough thou know'st my estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter; XXXII THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION HEY that have power to hurt, and will do none, THE That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; XXXIII THE LOVER'S APPEAL A ND wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay! for shame, To save thee from the blame And wilt thou leave me thus, And wilt thou leave me thus, Never for to depart Neither for pain nor smart: Say nay! say nay! And wilt thou leave me thus, And have no more pity Of him that loveth thee? Alas! thy cruelty! And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay! XXXIV SIR T. WYAT THE NIGHTINGALE S it fell upon a day As In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Trees did grow and plants did spring; She, poor bird, as all forlorn, That to hear her so complain Scarce I could from tears refrain; For her griefs so lively shown - Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st 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 lapp'd in lead: None alive will pity me. R. BARNEFIELD XXXV C ARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my languish, and restore the light; And let the day be time enough to mourn S. DANIEL XXXVI MADRIGAL NAKE, O take those lips away TA That so sweetly were forsworn, |