The Golden Treasury | Page 5

SHAKESPEARE.
12. A CONSOLATION.

When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my
outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And
look upon myself, and curse my fate;
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him
with friends possest,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on
Thee--and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings
That then I scorn
to change my state with kings.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
13. THE UNCHANGEABLE.
O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my
flame to qualify:
As easy might I from my self depart
As from my
soul which in thy breast doth lie;
That is my home of love, if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I
return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that
myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
All frailties that besiege
all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stain'd
To
leave for nothing all thy sum of good:
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose, in it thou
art my all.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
14.

To me, fair Friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first
your eye I eyed
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold

Have from the forests shook three summers' pride;
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd,
In process of the
seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,

Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial hand,
Steal from his figure, and no
pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,

Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred,--
Ere you were born,
was beauty's summer dead.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
15. DIAPHENIA.
Diaphenia like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,

Heigh ho, how do I love thee!
I do love thee as my lambs
Are
belovéd of their dams;
How blest were I if thou would'st prove me.
Diaphenia like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets
encloses,
Fair sweet, how do I love thee!
I do love thee as each
flower
Loves the sun's life-giving power;
For dead, thy breath to
life might move me.
Diaphenia like to all things blesséd
When all thy praises are
expresséd,
Dear joy, how do I love thee!
As the birds do love the
spring,
Or the bees their careful king:
Then in requite, sweet virgin,
love me!
H. CONSTABLE.
16. ROSALINE.

Like to the clear in highest sphere
Where all imperial glory shines,

Of selfsame colour is her hair
Whether unfolded, or in twines:

Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,

Resembling heaven by every wink;
The Gods do fear whenas they
glow,
And I do tremble when I think
Heigh ho, would she were
mine!
Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud
That beautifies Aurora's face,

Or like the silver crimson shroud
That Phoebus' smiling looks doth
grace;
Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Her lips are like two budded roses

Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,
Within which bounds she balm
encloses
Apt to entice a deity:
Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Her neck like to a stately tower
Where Love himself imprison'd lies,

To watch for glances every hour
From her divine and sacred eyes:

Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Her paps are centres of delight,
Her
breasts are orbs of heavenly frame,
Where Nature moulds the dew of
light
To feed perfection with the same:
Heigh ho, would she were
mine!
With orient pearl, with ruby red,
With marble white, with sapphire
blue,
Her body every way is fed,
Yet soft in touch and sweet in
view:
Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Nature herself her shape admires;

The Gods are wounded in her sight;
And Love forsakes his heavenly
fires
And at her eyes his brand doth light:
Heigh ho, would she
were mine!
Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan
The absence of fair
Rosaline,
Since for a fair there's fairer none,
Nor for her virtues so
divine:
Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Heigh ho, my heart! would God
that she were mine!
T. LODGE.
17. COLIN.

Beauty sat bathing by a spring
Where fairest shades did hide her;

The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,
The cool streams ran beside
her.
My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye
To see what was forbidden:

But better memory said, fie!
So vain desire was chidden:--
Hey nonny nonny O!
Hey nonny nonny!
Into a slumber then I fell,
When fond imagination
Seeméd to see,
but could not tell
Her feature or her fashion.
But ev'n as babes in
dreams do smile,
And sometimes fall a-weeping,
So I awaked as
wise this while
As when I fell a-sleeping:--
Hey nonny nonny O!
Hey nonny nonny!
THE SHEPHERD TONIE.
18. TO HIS LOVE.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and
more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease