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By chance or nature's changing course un

trimm'd : (From The Tempest]

But thy eternal summer shall not fade FULL fathom five thy father lies; Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Of his bones are coral made; Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his Those are pearls that were his eyes:

slade, Nothing of him that doth fade When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; But doth suffer a sea-change

So long as men can breathe or eyes can Into something rich and strange.

see, Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: So long lives this and this gives life to Burden. Ding-dong.

thee, Ari. Hark! now I hear them, - ding-dong, bell.


When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's ARIEL'S SONG


I all alone beweep my outcast state, [From The Tempest)

And trouble deaf heaveu with my bootless Ari. “WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I.

cries, In a cowslip's bell I lie;

And look upon myself and curse my fate, There I couch when owls do cry. Wishing me like to one more rich in On the bat's back I do fly

hope, After summer merrily.

Featur'd like him, like him with friends Merrily, merrily shall I live now

possessid, Under the blossom tbat hangs on the Desiring this man's art, and that man's bough."

scope, With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself alınost deSONNETS


Haply I think on thee; and then my state, TO . THE. ONLIE . BEGETTER . OF. Like to the lark at break of day arising THESE. INSUING . SONNETS

From sullen earth, sings hymus at heaven's MR. W. H. ALL , HAPPINESSE.


For thy sweet love rememb’red such PROMISED.

wealth brings

That then I scoru to change my state

with kings.


WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent SETTING.

thought FORTH.

I summon up remembrance of things past, T. T.

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time's 18

waste: SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day? Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, Thou art more lovely and more temper- For precious friends lid in death's dateless ate:

night, Rough winds do shake the darling buds of And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd May,

woe, And summer's lease hath all too short a And moan the expense of many a vanish'd date;

sight: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er And every fair from fair sometime de- The sad account of fore-bemoan'd moan, clines,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.


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less sea,


But if the while I think on thee, dear When sometime lofty towers I see downlfriend,

razed All losses are restor'd and sorrows end. And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;

When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 55

Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, Not marble, nor the gilded monuments And the firın soil win of the watery main, Of princes, shall outlive this powerful | Increasing store with loss and loss with rhyme ;

store; you shall shine more bright in these When I have seen such interchange of contents

state, Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish Or state itself confounded to decay; time.

Ruin bath taught me thus to ruminate, When wasteful war shall statues overturn, That Timne will come and take my love And broils root out the work of masoury,

away. Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire This thought is as a death, which cannot shall buru

choose The living record of your memory..

But weep to have that which it fears to 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity

lose. Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still

65 find room Even in the eyes of all posterity

SINCE brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundThat wear this world out to the ending doom.

But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, So, till the judgement that yourself arise, How with this rage shall beauty hold a You live in this, and dwell in lovers'

plea, eyes.

Whose action is no stronger than a flower ?

O, bow shall sumwer's honey breath hold 60

out LIKE as the waves make towards the peb- Against the wreckful siege of batt'ring days, bled shore,

When rocks impregnable are not so stout, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time deEach changing place with that which goes before,

O fearful meditation ! where, alack, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest Nativity, once in the main of light,

lie hid? Crawls to maturity, where with being Or what strong hand can hold his swift crown'd,

foot back ? Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid ? Aud Time that gave doth now his gift con- (), none, unless this miracle nave might, found.

That in black ink my love may still shine Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth

bright. And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

66 And nothing stands but for his scythe to TIR'd with all these, for restful death I cry, mow;

As, to behold desert a beggar born, And yet to times in hope my verse shall And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, stand,

And purest faith unhappily forsworn, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd, hand.

And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac’d,

And strength by limping sway disabled, WHEN I have seen by Time's fell hand de- And art made tonglie-tied by authority, faced

And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill, The rich proud cost of outworn buried And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, age;

And captive good attending captain ill:

cays ?

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Tir'd with all these, from these would I

be gone,

Have from the forests sbook three sum

iners' pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn

turud 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-band, Steal from his figure and no pace perceiv'd; So your sweet hue, which methinks still

doth stand, Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceiv'd: For fear of which, hear this, thou age un

bred; Ere you were born was beauty's summer



Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

71 No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall bear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to

dwell. Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be

forgot If thinking on me then should make you O, if, I say, you look upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world shouid look into

your moan And mock you with me after I am gone.

73 That time of year thou mayst in me be

hold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do

hang Upon those boughs which shake against the

cold, Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet


birds sang

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset 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 of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd

by. This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy

love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long

104 To

me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I

ey'd, Such seems your beauty still. Three win

ters cold

106 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 express'd Even 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 skillenough your worth to sing: For we, which now behold these present

days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

116 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. 0, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring 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 even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.




Thy frown last night did bid me go,

But whither only grief does know. [Publ. 1648]

I do beseech thee ere we part,

If merciful as fair thou art, THE ARGUMENT OF HIS BOOK Or else desir'st that maids should tell

Tby pity by love's chronicle, I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds and O Dianeme, rather kill bowers,

Me, than to make me languish still ! Of April, May, of June and July-flowers; 'Tis cruelty in thee to th' height I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, Thus, thus to wound, not kill outright; wakes,

Yet there's a way found, if you please, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal By sudden death to give me ease; cakes;

And thus devis’d, do thou but this
I write of youth, of love, and have access Bequeath to me one parting kiss,
By these to sing of cleanly wantonness; So sup'rabundant joy shall be
I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece The executioner of me.
Of balın, of oil, of spice and ambergris;
I sing of times trans-shifting, and I write
How roses first came red and lilies white; 10 THE WOUNDED CUPID
I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
The Court of Mab, and of the Fairy King; CUPID, as he lay among
I write of hell; I sing (and ever shall) Roses, by a bee was stung;
Of heaven, and hope to have it after all. Whereupon, in anger flying

To his mother, said thus, crying:

Help! oh help! your boy's a-dying. DELIGHT IN DISORDER And why, my pretty lad, said she ?

Then, blubbering, replied he: A sweet disorder in the dress

A winged snake has bitten me, Kindles in clothes a wantonness:

Which country people call a bee. A lawn abont the shoulders thrown

At which she smiled; then, with her hairs Into a fine distraction:

And kisses drying up his tears: An erring lace which here and there Alas! said she, my wag, if this Enthralls the crimson stomacher :

Such a pernicious torment is, A cuff neglectful, and thereby

Come tell me then, how great's the smart Ribbons to flow confusedly:

Of those thou woundest with thy dart !
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat:
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie

I see a wild civility:
Do more be witch me than when art

SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes Is too precise in every part.

Which, starlike, sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see

All hearts your captives, yours yet free;

Be you not proud of that rich häir

Which wantons with the love-sick air; DEAR, though to part it be a hell,

Whenas that ruby which you wear, Yet, Dianeine, now farewell :

Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,


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