Whilst others are becalm'd, or lie them still, And as all those which hear this bird complain Conceive in all her tunes a sweet delight, Without remorse, or pitying her pain; So she, for whom I wail both day and night, Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint, A just reward for serving such a saint! SONNET XXXII. IN Thetis' lap, while Titan took his rest, Presenting her by whom I still am led, Embracing air instead of my delight, I blamed love, as author of the guile; Who, with a second sleep closed up my sight, And said (methought) that I must bide awhile Ixion's pains, whose arms did oft embrace False darken'd clouds instead of Juno's grace. When 1 had lain and slumber'd thus a while, Ruing the doleful doom that love assign'd, A woman saint, which bore an angel's face, Bade me awake, and ease my troubled mind: With that I waked, forgetting what was pass'd, And saw 'twas Hope which helped thus at last, SONNET XLVII. In time the bull is brought to wear the yoke, No yoke prevails, she will not yield to might, No lure will cause her stoop, she bears full gorge, No wedge of woes makes print, she recks no right, No shower of tears can move, she thinks I forge, Help therefore, heavenly boy! come pierce her breast, With that same shaft which robs me of my rest, So let her feel the force, that she relent; SONNET LV. My heedless heart, which love yet never knew, But as he was described with painter's hand, One day, amongst the rest, would needs go view The labyrinth of love, with all his band, To see the Minotaur his ugly face, And such as there lay slain within the place. But soon my guiding thread, by reason spun, And I, perforce, became his captive slave: Yet THOU! on whom mine eyes have gazed so long, May'st, if thou wilt, play Ariadne's part, And, by a second thread, revenge the wrong Which, through deceit, hath hurt my guiltless heart: Vouchsafe in time to save and set me free, SONNET LVII. ALL ye that grieve to think my death so near, Take pity on yourselves, whose thought is blind: Can there be day unless the light appear? Can fire be cold, which yieldeth heat by kind! If love were pass'd, my life would soon decay, Love bids me hope, and hope is all my stay. And you, that see in what estate I stand, Now hot, now cold, and yet am living still, Persuade yourselves love hath a mighty hand, And custom frames what pleaseth best her will. A lingering use of love hath taught my breast The man that dwells far north hath seldom harm With blast of winters wind, or nipping frost; The Negro seldom feels himself too warm If he abide within his native coast: So love in me a second nature is, And custom makes me think my woes are bliss. SONNET LXXXVII. YOUTH made a fault through lightness of belief, Which fond belief love placed in my breast: But now I find that reason gives relief And time shews truth, and wit that's bought is best: Muse not therefore although I change my vein, He runs too far which never turns again. Henceforth my mind shall have a watchful eye, I'll scorn fond love, and practise of the same: The wisdom of my heart shall soon descry Each thing that's good from what deserveth blame. My song shall be-" Fortune hath spit her spite, "And love can hurt no more with all his might.” Therefore all you, to whom my. course is known, Think better comes, and pardon what is past; |