University of Virginia Library

[Yf myne eyes can speake to doo harty Arrant]

Cleophila.
Yf myne eyes can speake to doo harty Arrant,
Or myne eyes Language, shee doo happ to judge of,
So that eyes Message bee of her receyved,
Hope, wee do live yet?
But, yf eyes fayle then, when I moste do neede them,
Or yf eyes language bee not unto her knowne,
So that eyes Message do returne rejected,
Hope, wee do bothe dye.
Yet, Dying, and Deade, do wee singe her Honor,
So become oure Tombes, Monumentes of her prayse,
So becomes oure Losse the Tryumph of her game,
Hers bee the glory.
Yf the senceles Spheares do yet holde a Musick,
Yf the Swanns sweete voyce bee not hearde, but at deathe,
Yf Mute Tymber when yt hathe the lyfe loste,
Yeeldeth a Lutes tune.

77

Are then humane myndes priviledged so meanely?
As that hatefull Deathe can abridge them of power,
With the voyce of Truthe, to recorde to all worldes,
That wee bee her spoyles.
Thus not ending endes the due prayse of her prayse,
Fleshly vaile Consumes, but a Sowle hathe his lyfe,
Whiche ys helde in Love, Love yt ys that hathe joynde,
Lyfe to this oure sowle.
But yf eyes can speake to doo harty Arraunt,
Or myne eyes Language shee dothe happ to judge of,
So that eyes Message bee of her receyved,
Hope, wee do live yet.