The moon being clouded prefently is mifs'd,,
But little stars may hide them when they lift.
The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire,
And unperceiv'd fly with the filth away;
But if the like the fnow-white fwan defire,
The ftain upon his filver down will stay.
Poor grooms are fightless nights, kings glorious day.
Gnats are unnoted wherefoe'er they fly,
But eagles gaz'd upon with every eye.
Weary with toil, I hafte me to my bed,
The dear repofe for limbs with travel tir'd;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expir'd:
For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eye-lids open wide,
Looking on darknefs which the blind do fee.
Save that my foul's imaginary fight
Prefents thy fhadow to my fightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghaftly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myfelf, no quite find.
Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait,
His day's hot task hath ended in the Weft:
The owl, night's herald, fhrieks, 'tis very late;
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their neft ;
The coal-black clouds that fhadow heaven's light,
Do fummon us to part, and bid good night.
Venus and Adonis...
Cupid lay'd by his brand, and fell asleep:
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly fteep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love
A dateless lively heat, ftill to endure,
And grew a feething bath which yet men prove,,
Againft ftrange maladies a fovereign cure.
But at my miftrefs' eye love's brand new-fir'd,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breaft ;
I fick withal, the help of bath defir'd,
And thither hied, a fad diftemper'd gueft,
But found no cure; the bath for
my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire; my miftrefs' eyes.
EXECRATION..
Thou ceafelefs lackey to eternity,
With fome mifchance crofs Tarquin in his flight:
Devife extremes beyond extremity,
To make him curfe this curfed crimeful night:
Let ghaftly fhadows his lewd eyes affright;
And the dire thought of his committed evil
Shape every bufh a hideous fhapeless devil.
Disturb his hours of reft with reftlefs trances,.
Afflict him in his bed with bed-rid groans;
Let there bechance him pitiful mifchances,
To make him moan, but pity not his moans:
Stone him with harden'd hearts, harder than tones ;;
And let mild women to him lofe their mildness,
Wilder to him than tigers in their wildness.
Let him have time to tear his curled hair,
Let him have time against himself to rave,
Let him have time of time's help to defpair,
Let him have time to live a loathed flave,
Let him have time a beggar's orts to crave;
And time to fee one, that by alms doth live,
Difdain to him difdained scraps to give.
Let him have time to fee his friends his foes,.
And merry fools to mock at him resort:
Let him have time to mark how flow time goes
In time of forrow, and how fwift and fhort
His time of folly, and his time of sport ;
And ever let his unrecalling crime
Have time to waste the abufing of his time.
O Time, thou tutor both to good and bad,
Teach me to curfe him that thou taught'ft this ill!"
At his own fhadow let the thief run mad,
Himself himself feek every hour to kill!
Such wretched hands fuch wretched blood should spill ;;
For who fo bafe would fuch an office have
As flanderous deaths-man to fo bafe a flave?
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know the lies;
That he might think me fome untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's falfe fubtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that the thinks me young,,
Although he knows my days are past the beft,
Simply I credit her falfe-fpeaking tongue;
On both fides thus is fimple truth fuppreft..
But wherefore fays the not, the is unjuft?
And wherefore fay not I, that I am old?.
O love's beit habit is in foeming truft,
And age in love loves not to have years told :-
Therefore I lie with her, and fhe with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
Shall I compare thee to a fummer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate :
Rough winds do fhake the darling buds of May,
And fummer's leafe hath all too fhort a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair fometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd :.
But thy eternal fummer fhall not fade,
Nor lofe poffeffion of that fair thou oweft;
Nor fhall death brag thou wander'ft in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou groweft:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can fee,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee:
By this, fhe hears the hounds are at a bay,
Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder
Wreath'd up in fatal folds, juft in his way,
The fear whereof doth make him fhake and fhudder:
Even fo the timorous yelping of the hounds
Appals her fenfes, and her fpright confounds.
For now she knows it is no gentle chace,
But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud,
Because the cry remaineth in one place,
Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:
Finding their enemy to be fo curft,
They all ftrain court'fy who fhall cope him first.
This difmal cry rings fadly in her ear,
Through which it enters to furprize her heart,
Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,
With cold pale weakness numbs each feeling part:
Like foldiers, when their captain once doth yield,
They bafely fly, and dare not ftay the field.
Thus ftands fhe in a trembling ecftacy;
Till, chearing up her fenfes fore-difmay'd,
She tells them, 'tis a causeless fantasy,
And childish error, that they are afraid :
Bids them leave quaking, wills them fear no more ;-
And with that word fhe spy'd the hunted boar.
Venus and Adonis.
Thus cavils fhe with every thing the fees ::
True grief is fond and tefty as a child,
Who wayward once, his mood with nought agrees.
Old woes, not infant forrows, bear them mild;
Continuance tames the one; the other wild,
Like an unpractic'd fwimmer plunging ftill,
With too much labour drowns for want of skill.
So fhe, deep-drenched in a fea of care,
Holds difputation with each thing fhe views,
And to herself all forrow doth compare;
No object, but her paffion's ftrength renews;
And as one shifts, another ftraight enfues:
Sometime her grief is dumb, and hath no words;
Sometime 'tis mad, and too much talk affords.
Rape of Lucrec.
O happiness enjoy'd but of a few!
And, if poffefs'd, as foon decay'd and done
As is the morning's filver-melting dew
Against the golden fplendour of the fun!
An expir'd date, cancel'd ere well begun :
Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms,
Are weakly fortrefs'd from a world of harms.
H ARE HUNTING.
And when thou haft on foot the purblind hare,
Mark the poor wretch to overfhut his troubles,
How he out-runs the wind, and with what care
He cranks and croffes, with a thousand doubles :
The many mufits through the which he goes,
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.
Sometime he runs among the flock of fheep,
To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell;
And fometime where earth-delving conies keep,
To stop the loud purfuers in their yell;
And fometime forteth with a herd of deer;
Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:
For there is smell with others being mingled,
The hot fcent-fnuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
Ceafing their clamorous cry till they have singled
With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,
As if another chafe were in the skres.
By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
Stands on his hinder legs with liftening ear,
To hearken if his foes purfue- him ftill ;-
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;
And now his grief may be compared well
To one fore-fick, that hears the paffing-bell..
Then fhalt thou fee the dew-bedabbled wretch
Turn, and return, indenting with the way;
Each envious briar his weary legs doth fcratch,.
Each fhadow makes him ftop, each murmur ftẩy ::
For mifery is trodden on by many,
And being low, never reliev'd by any.
Venus and Adonis
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