Live reconcilàd friends within her brow;
And had she Pity to conjoin with those,
Then who had
heard the plaints I utter now?
For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,
My Muse had slept, and none
had known my mind.
My spotless love hovers with purest wings,
About the temple of the proudest frame,
blaze those lights, fairest of earthly things,
Which clear our clouded world with brightest flame.
thoughts, confinàd in her face,
Affect no honour but what she can give;
My hopes do rest in limits of her
I weigh no comfort unless she relieve.
For she, that can my heart imparadise,
Holds in her fairest
hand what dearest is;
My Fortunes wheels the circle of her eyes,
Whose rolling grace deign once a turn
All my lifes sweet consists in her alone;
So much I love the most Unloving one.
And yet I cannot reprehend the flight
Or blame th attempt presuming so to soar;
venture for a high delight
Did make the honour of the fall the more.
For who gets wealth, that puts not
from the shore?
Danger hath honour, great designs their fame;
Glory doth follow, courage goes before;
though th event oft answers not the same
Suffice that high attempts have never shame.
observer, whom base safety keeps,
Lives without honour, dies without a name,
And in eternal darkness
And therefore, Delia, tis to me no blot
To have attempted, tho attaind thee not.
When men shall find thy flowr, thy glory, pass,
And thou with careful brow, sitting alone,
hast this message from thy glass,
That tells the truth and says that All is gone;
Fresh shalt thou see in
me the wounds thou madst,
Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining:
I that have loved thee
thus before thou fadst
My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning.
The world shall find this miracle
That fire can burn when all the matters spent:
Then what my faith hath been thyself shalt see,
that thou wast unkind thou mayst repent.
Thou mayst repent that thou hast scornd my tears,
Winter snows upon thy sable hairs.
Beauty, sweet Love, is like the morning dew,
Whose short refresh upon the tender green
for a time, but till the sun doth show,
And straight tis gone as it had never been.
Soon doth it fade that
makes the fairest flourish,
Short is the glory of the blushing rose;
The hue which thou so carefully dost
Yet which at length thou must be forced to lose.
When thou, surcharged with burthen of thy years,
bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth;
And that, in Beautys Lease expired, appears
The Date of Age,
the Calends of our Death
But ah, no more!this must not be foretold,
For women grieve to think they
must be old.
I must not grieve my Love, whose eyes would read
Lines of delight, whereon her youth might
Flowers have time before they come to seed,
And she is young, and now must sport the while.
sport, Sweet Maid, in season of these years,
And learn to gather flowers before they wither;
the sweetest blossom first appears,
Let Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thither.
Lighten forth smiles
to clear the clouded air,
And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise;
Pity and smiles do best become
Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise.
Make me to say when all my griefs are gone,
the heart that sighed for such a one!