Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, But could youth last, and love still breed, Walter Raleigh [1552?-1618] WRONG NOT, SWEET EMPRESS OF MY HEART" WRONG not, sweet empress of my heart, The merit of true passion, That sues for no compassion. Silence in love bewrays more woe Then wrong not, dearest to my heart, Walter Raleigh [1552?-1618] TO HIS COY LOVE I PRAY thee, leave, love me no more, I but in vain that saint adore That can but will not save me. These poor half-kisses kill me quite- For pleasure to be starvèd! Her Sacred Bower Show me no more those snowy breasts With azure riverets branched, Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts, O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell! Clip me no more in those dear arms, Come, nice thing, let my heart alone, I cannot live without thee! 565 Michael Drayton [1563-1631] HER SACRED BOWER WHERE she her sacred bower adorns, The rivers clearly flow, The groves and meadows swell with flowers, The winds all gently blow. Her sun-like beauty shines so fair, Her spring can never fade: Who then can blame the life that strives To harbor in her shade? Her grace I sought, her love I wooed; No time, no toil, no vow, no faith, Yet truth can tell my heart is hers And her will I adore; And from that love when I depart, Let heaven view me no more! Her roses with my prayers shall spring; Their boughs shall blossom, mellow fruit High wonders to effect; O, why should then her princely ear If she my faith misdeems, or worth, For though time can my truth reveal, But from her Bower of Joy since I And she will not relieve my cares, Shall in her temple rest. Thomas Campion [ ? -1619] TO LESBIA* AFTER CATULLUS My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive But soon as once set is our little light, If all would lead their lives in love like me, * For the original of this poem see page 3577. "There Is None, O None But You" But fools do live and waste their little light, 567 When timely death my life and fortune ends, And with sweet pastimes grace my happy tomb: And crown with love my ever-during night. Thomas Campion [? -1619] "LOVE ME OR NOT" Love me or not, love her I must or die; O that her grace would my wished comforts give! All my desire, all my delight should be Envy should cease, her would I love alone: Could I enchant, and that it lawful were, Thomas Campion (?-1619] "THERE IS NONE, O NONE BUT YOU” THERE is none, O none but you, Whom mine eyes affect to view, And chained ears hear with delight. Other beauties others move: To make them happy that are kind. Women in frail beauty trust, Only seem you fair to me: Sweet, afford me then your sight, And fill the world with envied books: Which, when after-ages view, All shall wonder and despair,— Thomas Campion [ ? -1619] OF CORINNA'S SINGING WHEN to her lute Corinna sings, As any challenged echo clear: But when she doth of mourning speak, E'en with her sighs, the strings do break. And as her lute doth live or die, Led by her passion, so must I! For when of pleasure she doth sing, My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring: But if she doth of sorrow speak, E'en from my heart the strings do break. Thomas Campion [ ? -1619] "WERE MY HEART AS SOME MEN'S ARE" WERE my heart as some men's are, thy errors would not move me; But thy faults I curious find, and speak because I love thee: Patience is a thing divine, and far, I grant, above me. |