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VERSES

AMONG THE

ADDITIONAL POEMS TO CHESTER'S LOVE'S MARTYR, 1601.

LET the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,1
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou, shrieking harbinger,

Foul pre-currer of the fiend,

Augur of the fever's end,

To this troop come thou not nea

1 There is a curious coincidence in a passage in The Tem

pest:

"Now I will believe

That there are unicorns; that in Arabia

There is one tree, the phoenix throne."

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From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feathered king·
Keep the obsequy so strict.

Let the priest in surplice white
That defunctive music can,1
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right

And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st

With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

Here the anthem doth commence ·
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled

In a mutual flame from hence.

So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none;
Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
Twixt the turtle and his queen,
But in them it were a wonder.

So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix' sight:
Either was the other's mine.

1 Can, knows.

Property was thus appalled,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was called.

Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded:

That it cried how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.

Whereupon it made this threne1
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love;
As chorus to their tragic scene.

THRENOS.

Beauty, truth, and rarity,

Grace in all simplicity,

Here enclosed in cinders lie

Death is now the phoenix' nest;

And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,

Leaving no posterity:
'T was not their infirmity
It was married chastity.

1 Threne, funereal song.

Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

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