X A SUPPLICATION WEET Mistress,-what your name is else, I SWEET know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,— Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not Than our earth's wonder, more than earth, divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul's pure truth why labour you To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a god? would you create me new? Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield! XI EROS AND ANTEROS ART thou, god, to shepherd turn'd, That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? Whiles the eye of man did woo me, That could do no vengeance to me. Hath power to raise such love in mine, Would they work in mild aspect! Whiles you chid me, I did love; How then might your prayers move! He that brings this love to thee And by him seal up thy mind; Whether that thy youth and kind Of me and all that I can make ; XII S° MORNING TEARS sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep XIII PRAISE OF THE MISTRESS IF love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd! Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bow'd. Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend: If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend, All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire. Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. Celestial as thou art, O pardon, Love, this wrong, That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue! |