University of Virginia Library

II. VOL. II.

HOLY SONNETS.

XVII

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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt]

Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to her's, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven vanished,—
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek Thee, God; so streams do show their head,
But tho' I have found Thee, and Thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas Thou
Dost woo my soul for hers, off'ring all Thine;
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in Thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the World, Flesh, yea Devil, put thee out?

XVIII

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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Show me, dear Christ, Thy Spouse so bright and clear.]

Show me, dear Christ, Thy Spouse so bright and clear.
What? Is it is She, who on the other shore
Goes richly painted? Or, who, robb'd and lore,
Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
Is she self-truth, and errs? now new, now outwore?
Doth she and did she and shall she evermore
On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
First travail we to seek, and then make love?
Betray, kind Husband, Thy Spouse to our sights
And let mine amorous soul court Thy mild Dove,
Who is most true, and pleasing to Thee, then
When she is embrac'd and open to most men.

XIX

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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one]

Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one;
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
A constant habit; that, when I would not,
I change in vows and in devotion.
As humorous is my contrition
As my profane love, and as soon forgot,
As riddlingly distemper'd, cold and hot;
As praying as mute; as infinite as none.
I durst not view Heaven yesterday; and, to-day,
In prayers and flattering speeches, I court God;
To-morrow I quake with true fear of His rod.
So my devout fits come and go away,
Like a fantastic ague, save that here
Those are my best days when I shake with fear.