When this, I say, I call unto my mind,
heart and soul no cause can find,

And in my

No fact, no word, whereby my heart doth merit,
To lose that love, which once I did inherit,
Despair itself cannot make me despair

But that you prove as kind as you are fair,

And that my lines, and book, Oh would 't were true,
Are, though I know't not yet, received by you;
And often have your cruelty repented,

Whereby my guiltless heart is thus tormented.
And now at length, in lieu of passed woe,
Will pity, kindness, love and favour shew.f

VI.

But when again my cursed memory,
To my sad thoughts confounded diversly,
Presents the time, the tear-procuring time,
That wither'd my young joys before their prime:
The time when I with tedious absence tired,
With restless love and rack'd desire inspired,
Coming to find my earthly Paradise,

To glass my sight in your two heavenly eyes,
On which alone my earthly joys depended,
And wanting which, my joy and life were ended,

e To love that love, in the second, third, and fourth editions, but it is evidently a misprint. In the first edition it stands, No fact, no word, whereby my heart hath merited, Of your sweet love to be thus disinherited.-edit. 1602.

f Will pity, grace, and love, and favour shew.ibid. 1602.

From your sweet rosy lips, the springs of bliss,
To draw the nectar of a sweetest kiss:

My greedy ears on your sweet words to feed,
Which candied in your sugar'd breath proceed
In daintiest accents through that coral door,
Guarded with precious pearl and rubies' store:
To touch your hand so white, so moist, so soft,
And with a ravish'd kiss redoubled oft,
Revenge with kindest spite the bloody theft,
Whereby it closely me my heart bereft :
And of all bliss to taste the consummation,
In your sweet, graceful, heavenly conversation,
By whose sweet charms the souls you do enchant
Of all that do your lovely presence haunt:
Instead of all these joys I did expect,

Found nought but frowns, unkindness and neglect.
Neglect, unkindness, frowns? nay, plain contempt,
And open hate, from no disdain exempt;

No bitter words, side-looks, nor aught that might
Engrieve, encrease so undeserv'd despite.

When this, I say, I think, and think withal
How, nor those show'rs of tears mine eyes let fall,
Nor wind of blust'ring sighs with all their force,
Could move your rocky heart once to remorse;
Can I expect that letter should find grace,
Or pity ever in your heart have place?

g Besides looks.-edit. 1621.

No no, I think, and sad despair says for me,
You hate, disdain, and utterly abhor me.

VII.

Alas, my Dear, if this you do devise,
To try the virtue of your murdering eyes,
And in the glass of bleeding hearts, to view
The glorious splendour of your beauty's hue,
Ah, try it on rebellious hearts, and sprites"
That do withstand the power of sacred lights,
And make them feel, if any such be found,
How deep and cureless your eyes can wound.
But
spare, oh spare my yielding heart, and save
Him whose chief glory is to be your slave :
Make me the matter of your clemency,

And not the subject of your tyranny.

h In the second, third, and fourth editions, this line is printed "Ah try it on rebellious hearts and eyes,"

but as this ill agrees with the sense and not at all with the rhyme, Sir Egerton Brydges has, with his usual ingenuity, suggested that the concluding word of the next line "lights" was a misprint for "sighs;" and though this correction would improve the passage, still the idea of trying the effect of beauty's resplendent hue on

-rebellious hearts and eyes

That do withstand the power of sacred sighs, approached too nearly to nonsense, for it to have been the poet's meaning. The first edition of the Rhapsody, which was not discovered when the Lee Priory Edition was printed, but from which the text was corrected, has, however, perfectly explained the lines in question, and, as it now stands, the simile is highly beautiful.

That all his thoughts in you have birth and ending?

II.

Hope of my heart,

Oh wherefore do the words,

Which your sweet tongue affords,

No hope impart ?

i In the first Edition the title of this Ode is "Being deprived of her sweet looks, words and gestures, by his absence in Italy, he desires her to write unto him." It is stated in the Memoir of Francis Davison, in this volume, that he was in Italy in 1596, at which time this Ode was probably written.

k This line is omitted in the fourth edition, but probably by accident.

But cruel without measure,

To my eternal pain,

Still thunder forth disdain

On him whose life depends upon your pleasure.

III.

Sunshine of joy,

Why do your gestures, which

All eyes and hearts bewitch,
My bliss destroy?

And pity's sky o'erclouding,

Of hate an endless show'r

On that poor heart still pour,

Which in your bosom seeks his only shrouding?

IV.

Balm of my wound,'

Why are your lines, whose sight

Should cure me with delight,
My poison found?

Which through my veins dispersing,

Make my poor heart and mind,"

And all my senses, find

A living death, in torments past rehearsing.

1 Blame of my wound, in each of the former editions, but it

is presumed to have been a misprint.

m Doth make my heart and mind.-edit. 1602.

K