The Golden Treasury | Page 6

hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold
complexion dimm'd,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair
thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When
in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and
this gives life to thee.
W. SHAKESPEARE.

19. TO HIS LOVE.
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest
wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies
dead, and lovely knights;
Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of
eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have exprest
Ev'n such a
beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all, you
prefiguring;
And for they look'd but with divining eyes,
They had
not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder,
but lack tongues to praise.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
20. LOVE'S PERJURIES.
On a day, alack the day!
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a
blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet
leaves the wind
All unseen 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to
death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks
may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is
sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth
unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me

That I am forsworn for thee:
Thou for whom e'en Jove would swear

Juno but an Ethiope were,
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning
mortal for thy love.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
21. A SUPPLICATION.

Forget not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant;
My
great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet!
Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye know, since whan

The suit, the service, none tell can;
Forget not yet!
Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,

The painful patience in delays,
Forget not yet!
Forget not! O, forget not this,
How long ago hath been, and is
The
mind that never meant amiss--
Forget not yet!
Forget not then thine own approved
The which so long hath thee so
loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved--
Forget not this!
SIR T. WYAT.
22. TO AURORA.
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself does harm,
And dost prejudge thy
bliss, and spoil thy rest;
Then thou would'st melt the ice out of thy
breast
And thy relenting heart would kindly warm.
O if thy pride did not our joys controul,
What world of loving
wonders should'st thou see!
For if I saw thee once transform'd in me,

Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul;

Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine,
And if that aught
mischanced thou should'st not moan
Nor bear the burthen of thy
griefs alone;
No, I would have my share in what were thine:
And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one,
This happy
harmony would make them none.
W. ALEXANDER, EARL OF STERLINE.
23. TRUE LOVE.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is
not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the
remover to remove:--
O no! it is an ever-fixéd mark
That looks on tempests and is never
shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark
Whose worth's
unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his
bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours
and weeks,
But bears it out ev'n to the edge of doom:--
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever
loved.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
24. A DITTY.
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one to
the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There
never was a better bargain driven:
My true love hath my heart, and I
have his.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
My heart in him his

thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his
own,
I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true-love hath my
heart, and I have his.
SIR P. SIDNEY.
25. LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE.
Were I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as
heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain

Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as
humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,

Whereso'er you were, with you my love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine
on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes

Till heaven