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To follow that which flies before her sace;
Not prizing her poof insant's discontent.
So run'st thou aster that which slies from thee,
Whilst I thy babe chafe thee atar behind;
But is thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And pUy the mother's part, kiss me, be kind.
So will.I pray, that thou may'it have thy Will,.
If thou turn buck, aud my loud crying still.
Life and Death.
Those lips that love's own hand did make,.
Breath'd forth the found that faid, I hate*
Ttf me that languifiVd for her fake;
But when she faw my wosul state,
Strait in her heart did mercy come;
Chiding that tongue, that, ever sweet*
Was us'd in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus a-new to greet :.
/ hate, she alter'd with an end
That follow'd it, as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a siend,
From heaven to hell is flown away.
.. / bate, from hate away she threw.
And fav'd my lise, faying not you. .. .
A Consideration of Deatbi.
Poor foul f the center of my sinsul earth,
My sinsul earth these rebel powers that thee array.
Why dost thou pine wichin and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls in costly clay?
Why fo large coit, having so short a lease,
Dost thou.upon thy saded mansion spend I
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?
Then, foul, live thou upon thy servant's lose,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be sed-, without be rich no more.
So shalt thou seed on death, that seeds on men,
And dearh once dead, there's no more dying then.-
My love is as a sever, longing still'
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,.
Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician-to my love,
Angry that hie prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve;
Desire is death, which physick dtd except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past cure;
And frantick mad with evermore unrest,
My thoughts and my discourse as mad mens are;
At random from the truth vainly express'd.
For I have sworn thee fair, andtboughttheebrighr,, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Love's Powerful Subtlety.
O me! what eyes hath love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true fight!
Or if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures-falsly what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes doar,
What means the world to fay it is not so 2f
If it be not, then love doth well denote,
Love's eye is not so true as all mens. No,
How can it? O how can love's eye be true,
That is fo vex'd with watching and with tears?
No marvel then, tho' I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees nor, till Heaven clears,
O! cunning love! with tears thou keep'st me
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should sind.
Can'st thou, O cruel! fay I love thee not?
When I against myself with thee partake?
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
All of myself, all tyrant for thy fake?
Who hatest thou, that I do call my friend?
On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon?
Nay, if thou low'rst on me, do I not spend
Revenge upon myself with present moan?;
What merit do I in myself respect,
That is fo proud thy service to despise;
When all my best doth worship thy desect,
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?
But, love, hate on; for now I know thy mind",
Those that can see, thou lov'st; and I am blind.
Oh! from what power hast thou this powersul might,
With insufsiciency my heart to sway;
To make me give the lye to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the dayi
Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds,
There is such strength and warrantise of skill,
That in my mind thy worst all bests exceeds?
Who taught thee hew to make me love thee more,
The more I hear and see just cause of hate?
Oh! tho' I love what others do abhor,
With others thou should'!! not abhor my state.
If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me,
More worthy I to be belov'd of thee.
So oft have I invok'd thee for my muse,
And found such fair assistance in my verse,.
As every alien pen hath got my use,
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes that taught the dumb on "high to sing,
And heavy ignorance alost to fly,
Have added seathers to the learned's wing,
And given grace a double majesty:
Yet be most proud of that, which I compile,
"Whose influence is thine, and born os thee ,.
In others works thou dost but mend the stile,
AnJ arts with thy sweet graces graced be:
But thou art all my ait, and dost advance,
As high as learning, my rude ignorance.
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace;
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd,
And my sick muse doth give another place.
I grant, sweet love! thy lovely argument
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen;
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent,
He robs thee of, and pays it thee again;
He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word
From thy behaviour. Beauty doth he give,
And found it in thy cheek. He can afford
No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.*
Then thank him not for that which he doth fayy Since what he owes thee, thou thyself dost pay.
That time of year thou may'st in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or sew do hang
Upon those boughs, which (hake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd quires, where late the sweet birds fang.
In me thou seed the twilights of such day,
As aster sun-set fadeth in the west -%
Which by and by black night doth take away,.
Death's second self that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing os such sire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourishrd by.
'Tis thou perceiv'it, which makes thy love more
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
Thy glass will shew thee how thy beauties wear:
Thy dial bow thy precious minutes walte;
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning may'st thou taste.
The wrinkles, which thy glass will truly show,
Of mouthed graves will give the memory:
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth may'st know-
Time's thievish progress to eternity.
Look what thy memory cannot contain,.
Commit to these waste blacks, and thou shalt find
Those children nurs'd, delivcr'd from thy brain,
To take a new acquaintance os thy mind.
These ossisices, fo oft as thou wilt look,
Shall prosit thee,. and much inrich thy book.