Heaven, of such fair floods as this, 5 Ev'ry morn from hence, A brisk cherub something sips, Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips; 6 When some new bright guest Takes up among the stars a room, Angels with their bottles come; 7 The dew no more will weep, The primrose's pale cheek to deck, Nuzzel'd in the lily's neck; Much rather would it tremble here, 8 Not the soft gold, which Steals from the amber-weeping tree, Makes sorrow half so rich, As the drops distill'd from thee. Sorrow's best jewels lie in these Caskets of which Heaven keeps the keys. 9 When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest majesty, (For she is a queen) Then is she dress'd by none but thee; Then, and only then she wears Her richest pearls, I mean thy tears. 10 Not in the Ev'ning's eyes When they red with weeping are, For the Sun that dies, Sits Sorrow with a face so fair; Nowhere but here did ever meet Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. 11 Sadness, all the while She sits in such a throne as this, Can do nought but smile, Nor believes she sadness is: Gladness itself would be more glad To be made so sweetly sad. 12 There is no need at all That the balsam-sweating bough So coyly should let fall His med'cinable tears; for now Nature hath learn'd t' extract a dew, More sovereign and sweet from you. 13 Yet let the poor drops weep, Weeping is the ease of woe; Softly let them creep, Sad that they are vanquish'd so; They, though to others no relief, May balsam be for their own grief. 14 Golden though he be, Golden Tagus murmurs, though, Might.he flow from thee, Content and quiet would he go; Richer far does he esteem Thy silver, than his golden stream. 15 Well does the May that lies Smiling in thy cheeks, confess The April in thine eyes, Mutual sweetness they express. No April e'er lent softer showers, Nor May returned fairer flowers. 16 Thus dost thou melt the year Into a weeping motion: Each minute waiteth here, Takes his tear and gets him gone; By thine eyes' tinct ennobled thus, Time lays him up: he's precious. 17 Time as by thee he passes, Makes thy ever-watery eyes His hour-glasses; By them his steps he rectifies. The sands he used no longer please, 18 Does thy song lull the air? Thy tears' just cadence still keeps time. Does thy sweet-breath'd prayer Up in clouds of incense climb? Still at each sigh, that is each stop, 19 Does the night arise? Still thy tears do fall, and fall. Still the fountain weeps for all. Let night or day do what they will, 20 Not, so long she lived, Will thy tomb report of thee; Thus must we date thy memory. 21 Say, wat'ry brothers, Ye simp'ring sons of those fair eyes, What hath our world that can entice 22 Whither away so fast? Oh whither? for the sluttish Earth Your sweetness cannot taste, Nor does the dust deserve your birth. Whither haste ye then? Oh say 23 We go not to seek The darlings of Aurora's bed, Nor the violet's humble head: No such thing; we go to meet THE TEAR. 1 WHAT bright soft thing is this, A wat'ry diamond; from whence 2 Oh! 'tis not a tear, "Tis a star about to drop From thine eye, its sphere; The Sun will stoop and take it up. Proud will his sister be to wear 3 Oh! 'tis a tear, Too true a tear; for no sad eyne, Rain so true a tear as thine ; 4 Such a pearl as this is, (Slipp'd from Aurora's dewy breast) The rose-bud's sweet lip kisses; And such the rose itself, when vex'd With ungentle flames, does shed, 5 Such the maiden gem By the wanton Spring put on, And blushes on the wat'ry Sun: |