« PreviousContinue »
A POEM BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH,1
SOHALL I, like an hermit, dwell
On a rock or in a cell,
That is missing of my heart,
If she undervalue me,
What care I how fair she be?
If the mine be grown so free,
What care I how rich it be?
If she seem not chaste to me,
What care I how chaste she be? 1 “London Magazine,” August, 1734, p. 444, entitled as above. Mentioned on that authority only, by Oldys and (apparently) Ritson, and appended to Raleigh’s “ Life" by Cayley.
No; she must be perfect snow,
Then, if others share with me,
TO HIS SINGULAR FRIEND,
WHILES I admire thy first and second
ways, Long ten years wandering in the
world-wide bounds ; I rest amazed to think on these
assays That thy first travel to the world forth sounds : In bravest sense, compendious ornate style, Didst show most rare adventures to this isle.
And now thy second pilgrimage I see
At London thou resolvest to put in light; Thy Libyan ways, so fearful to the eye,
And Garamants their strange amazing sight. · Prefixed to Lithgow's “ Pilgrim's Farewell," 1618.
POEMS OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
Meanwhile this work affords a three-fold gain