Sonnet 7 -

When time nor place would let me often view
Nature's chief mirror, and my sole delight,
Her lively picture in my heart I drew,
That I might it behold both day and night:
But she, like Philip's son, scorning that I
Should portray her, wanting Apelles' art,
Commanded Love, who nought dare her deny,
To burn the picture which was in my heart.
The more Love burned, the more her picture shined;
The more it shined, the more my heart did burn:
So what to hurt her picture was assigned,
To my heart's ruin and decay did turn.

Sonnet 5. Allusion to Theseus' Voyage to Crete, Against the Minotaur -

My Love is sailed, against Dislike to fight,
Which, like vild monster, threatens his decay:
The ship is Hope, which, by Desire's great might,
Is swiftly borne towards the wished bay:
The company which with my Love doth fare,
Though met in one, is a dissenting crew:
They are Joy, Grief, and never-sleeping Care,
And Doubt, which ne'er believes good news for true
Black Fear the flag is, which my ship doth bear,
Which, Dear, take down, if my Love victor be:
And let white Comfort in his place appear,

Sonnet 4. Another, of Her Sickness and Recovery -

Pale Death himself did love my Philomel,
When he her virtues and rare beauty saw;
Therefore he sickness sent; which should expel
His rival Life, and my Dear to him draw.
But her bright beauty dazzled so his eyes,
That his dart Life did miss, though her it hit;
Yet, not therewith content, new means he tries,
To bring her unto Death, and make Life flit.
But Nature, soon perceiving that he meant
To spoil her only Phaenix, her chief pride,
Assembled all her force, and did prevent
The greatest mischief that could her betide.

Sonnet 3. Of His Own, and of His Mistress' Sickness at One Time -

Sickness, intending my love to betray,
Before I should sight of my Dear obtain,
Did his pale colours in my face display,
Lest that my favour might her favour gain.
Yet, not content herewith, like means it wrought,
My Philomel's bright beauty to deface;
And Nature's glory to disgrace it sought,
That my conceived love it might displace.
But my firm love could this assault well bear,
Which virtue had, not beauty, for his ground;
And yet bright beams of beauty did appear
Through sickness veil, which made my love abound:

Sonnet 2 -

Oh! why did Fame my heart to love betray,
By telling my Dear's virtue and perfection?
Why, did my traitor ears to it convey
That siren song, cause of my heart's infection?
Had I been deaf, or Fame her gifts concealed,
Then had my heart been free from hopeless love:
Or were my state likewise by it revealed,
Well might it Philomel to pity move.
Then should she know how Love doth make me languish,
Distracting me 'twixt hope and dreadful fear;
Then should she know my care, my plaints, and anguish,

Sonnet 1. Upon Love's Entering by His Ears -

Oft did I hear our eyes the passage were
By which Love entered to assail our hearts;
Therefore I guarded them, and, void of fear,
Neglected the defence of other parts.
Love, knowing this, the usual way forsook,
And, seeking, found a by-way by mine Ear;
At which he ent'ring, my heart prisoner took,
And unto thee, sweet Philomel, did bear.
Yet let my heart thy heart to pity move,
Whose pain is great, although small fault appear:
First it lies bound in fett'ring chains of love,
Then each day it is racked with hope and fear;

Girl I Love -

TO AN IDEAL OBJECT .

Though far away, I still shall see thee here,
Shall see thy eyes so deep, thy modest mien,
And hear that fairy laughter, which yestreen
Fell like sweet music on my spell-bound ear.

Though far away, in truth thou dwell'st as near
As wert thou daily, hourly to be seen,
Nor of thy truthfulness have I a fear,
What is with thee stands fast and shows serene.

Would thou wert real, creature of my brain!
Thy voice and laughter, and those deep, still eyes,

Ballad Fourth -

I.

How sweet is our youth, when Love lights up each feature,
And sweet are the spring-birds that sing in each grove,
And sweet are the roses when blooming — but sweeter
The shamrock presented by hands that we love
Oh, bright's the plant at close of even,
When it is with smile approving,
By some blushing maiden given

Belânu and Iltani - Part 5

Iltani has sent me a tiny rose,
Tinier than her little ear
Which is so small, so small
That I fear my great love can never,
Never all be poured into it!
Iltani has sent me a rose,
A little, little rose,
Yet so great has she made it seem to me
By the magic of her graciousness,
That it shuts out heaven and earth,
It shuts out everything to me
But the face of Iltani,
The lovely, lovely face of Iltani,
Which by the magic of her graciousness,
She has imprinted on the heart of the rose she sent me.

To One Who Knows -

They told me, when I knew thee first,
Thou wert not made for loving,
That next St. Valentine's would see
Thy truant heart a-roving; —

That thou wouldst weary of my love,
Turn from me, and for ever!
That I would meekly bow and weep,
But chide the rover never.

Ah! those were mournful prophecies,
To cloud the sky of youth;
And thou and I, we little thought

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