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And that deep vow which Brutus made before, He doth again repeat, and that they swore.

When they had sworn to this advised doom,
They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence,
To fhew the bleeding body throughout Rome,,
And fo to publish Tarquin's foul offence.
Which being done, with fpeedy diligence,.
The Romans plausibly did give consent
To Tarquin's everlafting banishment..

A

POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

The Glory of Beauty.

H wherefore with infection fhould he live?
And with his prefence grace impiety ?
That fin by him advantage should atchieve,
And lace itself with his fociety?

Why should falfe painting imitate his cheek,
And fteal dead feeing of his living hue ?
Why should poor beauty indirectly feek
Roses of shadow, fince his rofe is true?
Why should he live, now nature bankrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood, to bluth thro lively veins ?
For the hath no exchequer now but his,
And proud of many, lives upon his gains.

O! him fhe ftores, to fhow what wealth fhe had,
In days long fince, before these laft. fo bad.

Thus is his cheek, the map of days, out-worn,.
When beauty liv'd and dy'd as flowers do now;
Before these bastard signs of fair were born,
Or durft inhabit on a living brow:
Before the golden treffes of the dead,
The right of fepulchres, were fhorn av
away,
To live a fecond life on fecond head,
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay.
In him thofe holy antique hours are feen,
Without all ornament itself, and true,
Making no fummer of another's green,.
Robbing no old, to drefs his beauty new:

And him as for a map doth nature store.
To fhow falfe art what beauty was of yore.

Those parts of thee, that the world's eye doth view,
Want nothing, that the thought of hearts can mend:
All tongues (the voice of fouls) give thee thy due,
Uttering bare truth, even fo as foes commend.
Their outward thus with outward praise is crown'd,.
But those fame tongues that give thee fo thine own,,
In other accents do this praise confound,

By feeing farther than the eye hath fhown.:
They look into the beauty of thy mind,

And that in guess they measure by thy deeds;
Then their churl thoughts (altho' their eyes were kind))
To thy fair flower add the rank. fmell of weeds.

But why? thý odour matcheth not thy show,
'The toil is this, that thou doft common grow.

Injurious Time.

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,,
So do our minutes haften to their end:

Each changing place with that which goes before,.,
In fequent toil all forwards do contend..
Nativity once in the main of light,

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipfes 'gainft his glory fight,

And time that gave, doth now his gift confound:
Time doth transfix the flourish fet on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

And nothing ftands but for his scythe to mow.
And yet to times, in hope, my verfe shall stand,
Braising thy worth, defpite his cruel hand.

Against my love shall be as I am now,

With time's injurious hand crufh'd and o'er-worn;
When hours have drain'd his blood, and fill'd his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night,

And all those beauties, whereof now he's king,.
Are vanishing, or vanish'd out of fight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring:
For fuch a time, do I now fortify,
Against confounding age's cruel knife;-
That he shall never cut from memory
My fweet love's beauty, tho' my lover's life.
His beauty fhall in these black lines be seen,
And they fhall live, and he in them ftill green..

When I have feen, by time's fell hand defac'd,
The rich proud coft of out-worn bury'd age;
When fometimes lofty towers I fee down raz'd,
And brafs eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the fhore,.
And the firm foil win of the watry main,
Increasing ftore with lofs, and lofs with store;
When I have feen fuch interchange of ftate,.
Or ftate itself confounded, to decay.

Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,
That time will come, and take my love away..
This thought is as a death, which cannot chufe
But weep to have that. which it fears to lofe.

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Since brafs, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless fea,
But fad mortality o'er-fways their power :-

How with this rage fhall beauty hold a plea,.
Whose action is no ftronger than a flower ?

O! how fhall fummer's hungry breath hold out:
A gainft the wrackful fiege of battering days;
When rocks impregnable are not fo ftout,
Nor gates of fteel fo ftrong, but time decays?
O! fearful meditation!where, alack!

Shall time's beft jewel from time's cheft lie hid?
Or what strong hand cah hold this fwift foot back,
Or who his spoil on beauty can forbid ?.

O! none! unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may ftill fhine bright..

Tir'd with all these, for reftful death I cry ;
As to behold defert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jolity,
And pureft faith unhappily forfworn,
And gilded honour fhamefully misplac'd,
And maiden virtue rudely ftrumpetted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac❜d,
And ftrength by limping fway disabled,
And art made tongue-ty'd by authority,
And folly (doctor-like) controuling skill,
And fimple truth mifcall'd fimplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:

Tir'd with all thefe, from thefe would I be gone;-
Save that to die, I leave my love alone.

True Admiration.

What is your fubftance, whereof are you made,
That millions of ftrange fhadows on you tend?

Since every one, hath every one, one shade,
And you
but one, can every fhadow lend?
Defcribe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;

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