Poems, with illustrative remarks [ed. by W.C. Oulton]. To which is prefixed a sketch of the author's life, Volume 2
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AMOROUS EPISTLE appear bear beauty believe better breast breath bring dead dear death delight desire dost doth earth edition EDITOR EPISTLE OF PARIS error eyes face fair false fear fire flame flowers give grace grow hand hast hate hath hear heart heaven HELEN hence hold kind leave live look love's MALONE means mind nature never night old copy once PARIS PARIS TO HELEN Perhaps play pleasure poet poor praise present prove queen reason rhyme rich rose seems seen sense Shakespeare sight sing sonnets speak spirit stand STEEVENS strong sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou art thoughts thyself tongue true truth unto VENUS weep Whilst worth wrong youth
Page 55 - No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear 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 woe.
Page 4 - What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend ? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you ; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new...
Page 5 - Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu ; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those. So true a fool is love that in your will, Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.
Page 25 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Page 58 - Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die : The earth can yield me but a common grave, "When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read ; And tongues to be your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead ; You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen,) Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Page 85 - Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait, On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so, Had, having, and...
Page 7 - FROM fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory: But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content And, tender churl, makest waste...
Page 62 - Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving.
Page 53 - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall out-live this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth : your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity, That wear this...
Page 23 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.