University of Virginia Library

II. SONNETS TO DELIA.

1592.

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE, THE Lady Mary, Countesse of Pembrooke.

Wonder of these, glory of other times,
O thou whom Enuy eu'n is forst t'admyre:
Great Patroness of these my humble Rymes,
Which thou from out thy greatnes doost inspire:
Sith onely thou hast deign'd to rayse them higher,
Vouchsafe now to accept them as thine owne,
Begotten by thy hand, and my desire,
Wherein my Zeale, and thy great might is showne.
And seeing this vnto the world is knowne,
O leaue not, still to grace thy worke in mee:
Let not the quickning seede be ouer-throwne,
Of that which may be borne to honour thee.
Whereof, the trauaile I may challenge mine,
But yet the glory, (Madam) must be thine.

TO DELIA.

SONNET. I.

[Vnto the boundlesse Ocean of thy beautie]

Vnto the boundlesse Ocean of thy beautie,
Runnes this poore Riuer, charg'd with streames of zeale:
Returning thee the tribute of my dutie,
Which here my loue, my youth, my plaints reueale.
Here I vnclaspe the Booke of my charg'd soule,
Where I haue cast th'accounts of all my care:
Here haue I summ'd my sighs, here I inrole
How they were spent for thee; looke what they are:
Looke on the deere expences of my youth,
And see how iust I reckon with thine eies:
Examine well thy beautie with my truth,
And crosse my cares ere greater summes arise.
Reade it (sweet maide) though it be done but sleightly;
Who can shew all his loue, doth loue but lightly.

SONNET. II.

[Goe wailing Verse, the Infants of my loue]

Goe wailing Verse, the Infants of my loue,
Minerua-like, brought foorth without a mother:
Present the Image of the cares I proue,
Witnesse your Fathers griefe exceedes all other.
Sigh out a Storie of her cruell deedes,
With interrupted accents of despaire:
A Monument that whosoeuer reedes,
May iustly praise, and blame my louelesse Faire.
Say her disdaine hath dryed vp my blood,
And starued you, in succours still denying:
Presse to her eyes, importune me some good.
Waken her sleeping pitty with your crying,
Knocke at that hard hart, begge till you haue mou'd her,
And tell th'vnkinde, how dearely I haue lou'd her.

SONNET. III.

[If so it hap, this of-spring of my care]

If so it hap, this of-spring of my care,
These fatall Antheames, sad and mornefull Songs:
Come to their view, who like afflicted are;
Let them yet sigh their owne, and mone my wrongs.
But vntoucht hearts, with vnaffected eie,
Approach not to behold so great distresse:
Cleere-sighted you, soone note what is awrie,
Whilst blinded ones mine errours neuer gesse.
You blinded soules whom youth and errour leade,
You out-cast Eaglets, dazeled with your Sunne:
Ah you, and none but you my sorrowes reade,
You best can iudge the wrongs that she hath done.
That she hath done, the motiue of my paine,
Who whilst I loue, doth kill me with disdaine.

SONNET. IIII.

[These plaintiue Verse, the Postes of my desire]

These plaintiue Verse, the Postes of my desire,
Which haste for succour to her slow regard:
Beare not report of any slender fire,
Forging a griefe to winne a fames reward.
Nor are my passions limnd for outward hew,
For that no colours can depaint my sorrowes:
Delia her selfe, and all the world may view
Best in my face, how cares haue tild deepe forrowes.
No Bayes I seeke to decke my mourning brow,
O cleere-eyde Rector of the holy Hill:
My humble accents beare the Oliue bough,
Of intercession but to moue her will.
These lines I vse, t'vnburthen mine owne hart;
My loue affects no fame, nor steemes of Art.

SONNET. V.

[VVhilst youth and error led my wandring minde]

VVhilst youth and error led my wandring minde,
And set my thoughts in heedlesse wayes to range:
All vnawares, a Goddesse chaste I finde,
(Diana-like) to worke my sudden change.
For her no sooner had mine eyes bewraid,
But with disdaine to see me in that place;
With fairest hand, the sweet vnkindest Maid,
Cast water-cold Disdaine vpon my face.
Which turn'd my sport into a Harts dispaire,
Which still is chac'd, while I haue any breath,
By mine owne thoughts, set on me by my Faire:
My thoughts (like Houndes) pursue me to my death.
Those that I fostred of mine owne accord,
Are made by her to murther thus their Lord.

SONNET. VI.

[Faire is my Loue, and cruell as she's faire]

Faire is my Loue, and cruell as she's faire;
Her brow shades frownes, although her eyes are sunny,
Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despaire;
And her disdaines are Gall, her fauours Hunny.
A modest Maide, deckt with a blush of honor,
Whose feete doe tread greene paths of youth and loue,
The wonder of all eyes that looke vpon her:
Sacred on earth, design'd a Saint aboue.
Chastitie and Beautie, which were deadly foes,
Liue reconciled friends within her brow:
And had she pitty to conioyne with those,
Then who had heard the plaints I vtter now?
For had she not beene faire and thus vnkinde,
My Muse had slept, and none had knowne my minde.

SONNET. VII.

[For had she not beene faire and thus vnkinde]

For had she not beene faire and thus vnkinde,
Then had no finger pointed at my lightnesse:
The world had neuer knowne what I doe finde,
And cloudes obscure had shaded still her brightnesse.
Then had no Censors eye these lines suruaid,
Nor grauer browes haue iudg'd my Muse so vaine
No Sunne my blush and error had bewraid,
Nor yet the world haue heard of such disdaine.
Then had I walkt with bold erected face,
No downe-cast looke had signified my misse:
But my degraded hopes, with such disgrace
Did force me grone out griefes, and vtter this.
For being full, should I not then haue spoken,
My sence oppress'd, had faild, and heart had broken.

SONNET. VIII.

[Thou poore heart sacrifiz'd vnto the fairest]

Thou poore heart sacrifiz'd vnto the fairest,
Hast sent the incense of thy sighs to heauen:
And still against her frownes fresh vowes repairest,
And made thy passions with her beautie euen.
And you mine eyes, the agents of my hart
Tolde the dumbe message of my hidden griefe:
And oft with carefull turnes, with silent Art,
Did treate the cruell faire to yeeld reliefe.
And you my Verse, the Aduocates of Loue,
Haue followed hard the Processe of my case:
And vrg'd that title which doth plainely proue,
My faith should win, if Iustice might haue place.
Yet though I see, that nought we doe, can moue,
Tis not disdaine must make me leaue to loue.

SONNET. IX.

[If this be loue, to draw a wearie breath]

If this be loue, to draw a wearie breath,
To paint on floods, till the shore crie to th'aire:
With downeward lookes, still reading on the earth,
These sad memorials of my loues dispaire:
If this be loue, to warre against my soule,
Lie downe to waile, rise vp to sigh and grieue,
The neuer-resting stone of Care to roule,
Still to complaine my griefes, whilst none relieue.
If this be loue, to cloathe me with darke thoughts,
Haunting vntrodden paths to waile apart;
My pleasures horror, Musicke tragicke notes,
Teares in mine eyes, and sorrow at my hart.
If this be loue, to liue a liuing death,
Then doe I loue and draw this wearie breath.

SONNET. X.

[Then doe I loue, and draw this wearie breath]

Then doe I loue, and draw this wearie breath,
For her the cruell Faire, within whose brow
I written finde the sentence of my death,
In vnkinde Letters; wrote she cares not how.
Thou powre that rul'st the confines of the night,
Laughter louing Goddesse, worldly pleasures Queene,
Intenerat that heart that sets so light,
The truest loue that euer yet was seene.
And cause her leaue to triumph in this wise,
Vpon the prostrate spoyle of that poore hart
That serues a Trophey to her conquering eies,
And must their glory to the world impart.
Once let her know, sh'hath done enough to proue me,
And let her pitte if she cannot loue me.

SONNET. XI.

[Teares, vowes, and prayers, winne the hardest hart]

Teares, vowes, and prayers, winne the hardest hart,
Teares, vowes, and prayers haue I spent in vaine;
Teares cannot soften flint, nor vowes conuart,
Prayers preuaile not with a quaint disdaine.
I lose my teares where I haue lost my loue,
I vow my faith, where faith is not regarded;
I pray in vaine, a mercilesse to moue:
So rare a faith ought better be rewarded.
Yet, though I cannot winne her will with teares,
Though my soules Idoll scorneth all my vowes;
Though all my prayers be to so deafe eares,
No fauour though, the cruell faire allowes,
Yet will I weepe, vow, pray to cruell shee:
Flint, frost, disdaine, weares, meltes, and yeeldes we see.

SONNET. XII.

[My spotlesse loue houers with purest wings]

My spotlesse loue houers with purest wings,
About the Temple of the proudest frame:
Where blaze those lights fairest of earthly things,
Which cleere our clouded world with brightest flame.
M'ambitious thoughts confined in her face,
Affect no honor but what she can giue:
My hopes doe rest in limits of her grace,
I weigh no comfort vnlesse she relieue.
For she that can my heart imparadize,
Holdes in her fairest hand what dearest is,
My fortunes wheeles the circle of her eies,
Whose rowling grace deigne once a turne of blis.
All my liues sweet consists in her alone,
So much I loue the most vnlouing one.

SONNET. XIII.

[Behold what hap Pigmalion had to frame]

Behold what hap Pigmalion had to frame
And carue his proper griefe vpon a stone;
My heauy fortune is much like the same,
I worke on flint, and thats the cause I mone.
For haplesse loe euen with mine owne desires,
I figurde on the table of mine hart,
The fairest forme, that all the world admires,
And so did perish by my proper art.
And still I toyle, to change the Marble brest
Of her, whose sweetest grace I do adore,
Yet cannot finde her breathe vnto my rest,
Hard is her hart, and woe is me therefore.
But happy he that ioy'd his stone and art,
Vnhappy I, to loue a stony hart.

SONNET. XIIII.

[Those snary locks, are those same nets (my Deere)]

Those snary locks, are those same nets (my Deere)
Wherewith my liberty thou didst surprize;
Loue was the flame that fired me so neere,
The Dart transpearsing, were those Christall eies.
Strong is the net, and feruent is the flame;
Deepe is the wound my sighes can well report:
Yet do I loue, adore, and prayse the same,
That holds, that burnes, that wounds me in this sort.
And list not seeke to breake, to quench, to heale,
The bond, the flame, the wound that festreth so,
By knife, by liquor, or by salue to deale:
So much I please to perish in my woe.
Yet least long trauailes be aboue my strength,
Good Delia lose, quench, heale me now at length.

SONNET. XV.

[If that a loyall hart and faith vnfained]

If that a loyall hart and faith vnfained,
If a sweet languish with a chast desire,
If hunger-staruen thoughts so long retained,
Fed but with smoke, and cherisht but with fire:
And if a brow with cares characters painted,
Bewraies my loue, with broken words halfe spoken
To her that sits in my thoughts Temple sainted,
And laies to view my Vultur-gnawne hart open:
If I haue done due homage to her eyes,
And had my sighes still tending on her name;
If on her loue my life and honour lyes,
And she (th'vnkindest maid) still scorns the same:
Let this suffice, that all the world may see
The fault is hers, though mine the hurt must be.

SONNET. XVI.

[Happy in sleepe, waking content to languish]

Happy in sleepe, waking content to languish,
Imbracing clouds by night, in day time mourne,
My ioys but shadowes, touch of truth, my anguish,
Griefes euer springing, comforts neuer borne.
And still expecting when she will relent,
Growne hoarce with crying mercy, mercy giue,
So many vowes, and praiers hauing spent,
That weary of my life, I loath to liue.
And yet the Hydra of my cares renues
Still new borne sorrowes of her fresh disdaine:
And still my hope the Sommer windes pursues,
Finding no end nor period of my paine.
This is my state, my griefes do touch so neerly,
And thus I liue because I loue her deerly.

SONNET. XVII.

[VVhy should I sing in verse, why should I frame]

VVhy should I sing in verse, why should I frame
These sad neglected notes for her deare sake?
Why should I offer vp vnto her name,
The sweetest sacrifice my youth can make?
Why should I striue to make her liue for euer,
That neuer deignes to giue me ioy to liue?
Why should m'afflicted Muse so much endeuour,
Such honour vnto cruelty to giue?
If her defects haue purchast her this fame,
What should her vertues do, her smiles, her loue?
If this her worst, how should her best inflame?
What passions would her milder fauours moue?
Fauours (I thinke) would sence quite ouercome,
And that makes happy Louers euer dombe.

SONNET. XVIII.

[Since the first looke that led me to this error]

Since the first looke that led me to this error,
To this thoughts-maze, to my confusion tending:
Still haue I liu'd in griefe, in hope, in terror,
The circle of my sorrowes neuer ending.
Yet cannot leaue her loue that holds me hatefull,
Her eyes exact it, though her hart disdaines me;
See what reward he hath that serues the vngratefull,
So true and loyall loue no fauour gaines me.
Still must I whet my yong desires abated,
Vpon the flint of such a hart rebelling;
And all in vaine, her pride is so innated,
She yeelds no place at all for pitties dwelling.
Oft haue I told her that my soule did loue her,
(And that with teares) yet all this will not moue her.

SONNET. XIX.

[Restore thy tresses to the golden Ore]

Restore thy tresses to the golden Ore,
Yeeld Cithereas sonne those Arkes of loue;
Bequeath the heauens the starres that I adore,
And to th'Orient do thy Pearles remoue,
Yeeld thy hands pride vnto th'Iuory white,
T'Arabian odors giue thy breathing sweete:
Restore thy blush vnto Aurora bright,
To Thetis giue the honour of thy feete.
Let Venus haue thy graces, her resign'd,
And thy sweet voice giue back vnto the Spheares:
But yet restore thy fierce and cruell mind,
To Hyrcan Tygres, and to ruthles Beares.
Yeeld to the Marble thy hard hart againe;
So shalt thou cease to plague, and I to paine.

SONNET. XX.

[VVhat it is to breathe and liue without life]

VVhat it is to breathe and liue without life:
How to be pale with anguish, red with feare,
T'haue peace abroad, and nought within but strife:
Wish to be present, and yet shun t'appeare:
How to be bold far off, and bashfull neare:
How to thinke much, and haue no words to speake:
To craue redresse, yet hold affliction deare:
To haue affection strong, a body weake,
Neuer to finde, and euermore to seeke:
And seeke that which I dare not hope to finde:
T'affect this life, and yet this life disleeke:
Gratefull t'another, to my selfe vnkinde.
This cruell knowledge of these contraries,
Delia my hart hath learnd out of those eyes.

SONNET. XXI.

[If beauty thus be clowded with a frowne]

If beauty thus be clowded with a frowne,
That pitty shines no comfort to my blis,
And vapours of disdaine so ouergrowne
That my liues light wholy in-darkned is.
Why should I more molest the world with cries?
The ayre with sighes, the earth below with teares?
Sith I liue hatefull to those ruthlesse eies,
Vexing with vntun'd moane her dainty eares.
If I haue lou'd her dearer then my breath,
My breath that calls the heauens to witnes it:
And still must hold her deare till after death,
And that all this mooues not her thoughts a whit,
Yet sure she cannot but must thinke a part,
She doth me wrong, to grieue so true a heart.

SONNET. XXII.

[Come Time the anchor-hold of my desire]

Come Time the anchor-hold of my desire,
My last Resort whereto my hopes appeale,
Cause once the date of her disdaine t'expire:
Make her the sentence of her wrath repeale.
Rob her faire Brow, breake in on Beauty, steale
Powre from those eyes, which pitty cannot spare:
Deale with those dainty cheekes as she doth deale
With this poore heart consumed with dispaire.
This heart made now the prospectiue of care,
By louing her, the cruelst Faire that liues,
The cruelst Fayre that sees I pine for her,
And neuer mercy to thy merit giues.
Let her not still triumph ouer the prize
Of mine affections taken by her eies.

SONNET. XXIII.

[Time, cruell time, come and subdue that Brow]

Time, cruell time, come and subdue that Brow
Which conquers all but thee, and thee too staies
As if she were exempt from Syeth or Bow,
From loue or yeares vnsubiect to decaies.
Or art thou growne in league with those faire eies
That they may helpe thee to consume our daies?
Or dost thou spare her for her cruelties,
Being merciles like thee that no man weies?
And yet thou seest thy powre she disobayes,
Cares not for thee, but lets thee waste in vaine,
And prodigall of howers and yeares betraies
Beauty and youth t'opinion and disdaine.
Yet spare her Time, let her exempted be,
She may become more kinde to thee or me.

SONNET. XXIIII.

[These sorrowing sighes, the smoake of mine annoy]

These sorrowing sighes, the smoake of mine annoy,
These teares, which heate of sacred flame distils,
Are those due tributes that my faith doth pay
Vnto the tyrant, whose vnkindnes kils.
I sacrifise my youth, and blooming yeares
At her proud feete, and she respects not it;
My flower vntimely's withred with my teares:
And Winter woes, for spring of youth vnfit.
She thinkes a looke may recompence my care,
And so with lookes, prolongs my long-lookt ease,
As short that blisse, so is the comfort rare,
Yet must that blisse my hungry thoughts appease.
Thus she returnes my hopes so fruitlesse euer,
Once let her loue indeed, or els eye me neuer.

SONNET. XXV.

[False Hope prolongs my euer certaine griefe]

False Hope prolongs my euer certaine griefe,
Traitour to me, and faithfull to my Loue:
A thousand times it promis'd me reliefe,
Yet neuer any true effect I proue.
Oft when I finde in her no truth at all,
I banish her, and blame her trechery,
Yet soone againe I must her backe recall,
As one that dies without her company.
Thus often as I chase my hope from me,
Straight-way she hasts her vnto Delias eies:
Fed with some pleasing looke there shall she be,
And so sent backe, and thus my fortune lies.
Lookes feed my Hope, Hope fosters me in vaine,
Hopes are vnsure, when certaine is my paine.

SONNET. XXVI.

[Looke in my griefes, and blame me not to mourne]

Looke in my griefes, and blame me not to mourne,
From care to care that leades a life so bad;
Th'Orphan of Fortune, borne to be her scorne,
Whose clouded brow doth make my daies so sad.
Long are their nights whose cares do neuer sleepe,
Lothsome their daies, whom no sun euer ioyd,
Th'impression of her eyes do pearce so deepe,
That thus I liue both day and night annoyd.
But since the sweetest roote yeelds fruite so sowre,
Her praise from my complaint I may not part:
I loue th'effect the cause being of this powre,
Ile praise her face, and blame her flinty heart.
Whilst we both make the world admire at vs,
Her for disdaine, and me for louing thus.

SONNET. XXVII.

[Oft and in vaine my rebel thoughts haue ventred]

Oft and in vaine my rebel thoughts haue ventred,
To stop the passage of my vanquisht hart:
And shut those waies my friendly foe first entred,
Hoping thereby to free my better part.
And whilst I garde these windowes of this forte,
Where my harts theese to vexe me made her choice:
And thether all my forces doe transporte,
An other passage opens at her voice.
Her voyce betraies me to her hand and eye:
My freedomes tyrants conquering all by arte.
But ah, what glorie can she get thereby,
With thee such powers to plague one silly harte.
Yet my soules soueraigne, since I must resigne,
Reigne in my thoughts, my loue and life are thine.

SONNET. XXVIII.

[Raigne in my thoughts faire hand, sweete eye, rare voice]

Raigne in my thoughts faire hand, sweete eye, rare voice,
Possesse me whole, my hearts triumvirate:
Yet heauy heart to make so hard a choise,
Of such as spoile thy poore afflicted state.
For whilst they striue which shall be Lord of all,
All my poore life by them is troden downe;
They all erect their Trophies on my fall,
And yeeld me nought that giues them their renowne.
When backe I looke, I sigh my freedome past,
And waile the state wherein I present stand:
And see my fortune euer like to last,
Finding me rain'd with such a heauy hand.
What can I do but yeeld? and yeeld I doo,
And serue all three, and yet they spoile me too.

SONNET. XXIX.

[Like as the spotlesse Ermelin distrest]

Like as the spotlesse Ermelin distrest,
Circumpass'd round with filth and lothsome mud:
Pines in her griefe, imprisoned in her nest,
And cannot issue forth to seeke her good.
So I inuiron'd with a hatefull want,
Looke to the heauens; the heauens yeelde forth no grace:
I search the earth, the earth I finde as skant,
I view my selfe, my selfe in wofull case.
Heauen nor earth will not, my selfe cannot wake
A way through want to free my soule from care:
But I must pine, and in my pining lurke,
Least my sad lookes bewray me how I fare.
My fortune mantled with a clowde s'obscure;
Thus shades my life so long as wants endure.

SONNET. XXX.

[My cares draw on mine euerlasting night]

My cares draw on mine euerlasting night,
In horrors sable clowdes sets my liues sunne:
My liues sweet sunne, my dearest comforts light,
Will rise no more to me, whose day is dunne.
I goe before vnto the Mirtle shades.
To attend the presence of my worlds Deere;
And there prepare her flowres that neuer fades,
And all things fit against her comming there.
If any aske me why so soone I came,
Ile hide her sinne and say it was my lot:
In life and death Ile tender her good name,
My life nor death shal neuer be her blot.
Although this world may seeme her deede to blame,
Th'Elisian ghosts shall neuer know the same.

SONNET. XXXI.

[VVhilst by thy eies pursu'd, my poore heart flew]

VVhilst by thy eies pursu'd, my poore heart flew
Into the sacred Refuge of thy brest:
Thy rigor in that Sanctuary slew
That which thy succring mercy should haue blest.
No priuiledge of faith could it protect,
Faith being with blood, and fiue yeares witnes sign'd,
Wherein no shew gaue cause of least suspect,
For well thou saw'st my loue and how I pin'd
Yet no mild comfort would thy Brow reueale,
No lightning lookes which falling hopes erect:
What bootes to lawes of Succor to appeale?
Ladies and Tyrants, neuer lawes respect.
Then there I die from whence my life should come,
And by that hand whom such deeds ill become.

SONNET. XXXII.

[The Starre of my mishap impos'd this paine]

The Starre of my mishap impos'd this paine
To spend the Aprill of my yeares in griefe:
Finding my fortune euer in the waine
With still fresh cares, supplide with no reliefe.
Yet thee I blame not, though for thee tis done,
But these weake whings presuming to aspire,
Which now are melted by thine eyes bright sun,
That makes me fall from off my hie desire.
And in my fall I crye for helpe with speede,
No pittying eye lookes backe vpon my feares:
No succour finde I now when most I neede,
My heates must drowne in th'Ocean of my teares.
Which still must beare the title of my wrong,
Caus'd by those cruell beames that were so strong.

SONNET. XXXIII.

[Still in the trace of one perplexed thought]

Still in the trace of one perplexed thought,
My ceasles cares continually run on:
Seeking in vaine what I haue euer sought,
One in my loue, and her hard hart still one.
I who did neuer ioy in other Sun,
And haue no stars but those, that must fulfill
The worke of rigor, fatally begun
Vpon this heart, whom cruelty will kill.
Iniurious Delia yet I loue thee still,
And will whilst I shall draw this breath of mine,
Ile tell the world that I deseru'd but ill,
And blame my selfe t'excuse that heart of thine.
See then who sinnes the greater of vs twaine,
I in my loue, or thou in thy disdaine.

SONNET. XXXIIII.

[Oft do I maruell, whether Delias eies]

Oft do I maruell, whether Delias eies,
Are eyes, or els two radiant starres that shine
For how could Nature euer thus deuise,
Of earth on earth a substance so diuine.
Starres sure they are, whose motions rule desires,
And calme and tempest follow their aspects:
Their sweet appearing still such power inspires,
That makes the world admire so strange effects,
Yet whether fixt or wandring starres are they,
Whose influence rule the Orbe of my poore hart?
Fixt sure they are, but wandring make me stray,
In endles errors, whence I cannot part.
Starres then, not eyes, moue you with a milder view,
Your sweet aspect on him that honours you.

SONNET. XXXV.

[And yet I cannot reprehend the flight]

And yet I cannot reprehend the flight,
Or blame th'attempt presuming so to sore;
The mounting venter 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 honor, great designes their fame,
Glory doth follow, courage goes before.
And though th'euent oft answers not the same,
Suffice that high attempts haue neuer shame.
The meane obseruer (whom base safety keeps)
Liues without honour, dies without a name,
And in eternall darknesse euer sleeps.
And therefore Delia, tis to me no blot,
To haue attempted, though attaind thee not.

SONNET. XXXVI.

[Raising my hopes on hills of high desire]

Raising my hopes on hills of high desire,
Thinking to scale the heauen of her hart,
My slender meanes presum'd too high a part;
Her thunder of disdaine forst me retire,
And threw me downe to paine in all this fire,
Where loe I languish in so heauy smart,
Because th'attempt was farre aboue my art:
Her pride brook'd not poore soules should so aspire.
Yet I protest my high desiring will
Was not to dispossesse her of her right:
Her soueraignty should haue remained still,
I onely sought the blisse to haue her sight.
Her sight contented thus to see me spill,
Fram'd my desires fit for her eyes to kill.

SONNET. XXXVII.

[VVhy doost thou Delia credit so thy glasse]

VVhy doost thou Delia credit so thy glasse,
Gazing thy beauty deign'd thee by the skies:
And doest not rather looke on him (alas)
Whose state best shewes the force of murdering eies?
The broken tops of lofty trees declare
The fury of a mercy-wanting storme;
And of what force thy wounding graces are,
Vpon my selfe thou best mayst finde the forme:
Then leaue thy glasse, and gaze thy selfe on me,
That Mirror shewes what power is in thy face:
To view your forme too much, may danger bee,
Narcissus chang'd t'a flower in such a case.
And you are chang'd, but not t'a Hiacint;
I feare your eye hath turnd your heart to flint.

SONNET. XXXVIII.

[I once may see when yeares shall wreck my wrong]

I once may see when yeares shall wreck my wrong,
When golden haires shall change to siluer wier:
And those bright raies that kindle all this fire,
Shall faile in force, their working not so strong:
Then beauty (now the burthen of my song)
VVhose glorious blaze the world doth so admire,
Must yeeld vp all to tyrant Times desire;
Then fade those flowers that deckt her pride so long.
VVhen, if she grieue to gaze her in her glasse,
Which, then presents her winter-withered hew,
Goe you my verse, go tell her what she was;
For what she was, she best shall find in you.
Your firy heate lets not her glory passe,
But (Phænix-like) shall make her liue anew.

SONNET. XXXIX.

[Looke Delia how w'esteeme the halfe blowne Rose]

Looke Delia how w'esteeme the halfe blowne Rose,
The image of thy blush and Sommers honor:
Whilst yet her tender bud doth vndisclose
That full of beauty, time bestowes vpon her.
No sooner spreads her glory in the ayre,
But straight her wide blowne pomp comes to decline:
She then is scornd that late adornd the Fayre;
So fade the Roses of those cheeks of thine.
No Aprill can reuiue thy withered flowres,
Whose springing grace adorns thy glory now:
Swift speedy Time, feathred with flying houres,
Dissolues the beauty of the fairest brow.
Then do not thou such treasure wast in vaine,
But loue now whilst thou maist be lou'd againe.

SONNET. XL.

[Bvt loue whilst that thou maist be lou'd againe]

Bvt loue whilst that thou maist be lou'd againe,
Now whilst thy May hath fild thy lap with flowers,
Now whilst thy beauty beares without a staine;
Now vse the Sommer smiles, ere Winter lowers.
And whilst thou spreadst vnto the rising sunne,
The fairest flowre that euer saw the light,
Now ioy thy time before thy sweet be done.
And (Delia) thinke thy morning must haue night,
And that thy brightnes sets at length to West,
When thou wilt close vp that which now thou show'st,
And thinke the same becomes thy fading best,
Which then shall most inuaile and shadow most.
Men do not wey the stalke for that it was,
When once they find her flowre her glory pas.

SONNET. XLI.

[VVhen men shall find thy flower, thy glory passe]

VVhen men shall find thy flower, thy glory passe,
And thou with carefull brow sitting alone:
Receiued hast this message from thy glasse,
That tells the truth, and sayes 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 haue lou'd thee thus before thou fadst,
My faith shall waxe, when thou are in thy waining.
The world shall finde this myracle in me,
That fire can burne when all the matter's spent:
Then what my faith hath bene thy selfe shall see,
And that thou wast vnkinde, thou mayst repent.
Thou maist repent that thou hast scornd my teares,
When winter snowes vpon thy sable haires.

SONNET. XLII.

[VVhen winter snowes vpon thy sable haires]

VVhen winter snowes vpon thy sable haires,
And frost of age hath nipt thy beauties neere,
When darke shall seeme thy day that neuer cleares,
And all lies withred that was held so deere.
Then take this picture which I here present thee,
Limmed with a Pensill not all vnworthy:
Here see the gifts that God and nature lent thee,
Here read thy selfe, and what I suffred for thee.
This may remaine thy lasting monument,
Which happily posterity may cherrish,
These colours with thy fading are not spent,
These may remaine when thou and I shall perish.
If they remaine, then thou shalt liue thereby,
They will remaine, and so thou canst not die.

SONNET. XLIII.

[Thou canst not die whilst any zeale abound]

Thou canst not die whilst any zeale abound
In feeling hearts that can conceiue these lines;
Though thou a Laura hast no Petrarch found,
In base attire, yet cleerly Beauty shines.
And I (though borne within a colder clime,)
Do feele mine inward heat as great (I know it:)
He neuer had more faith, although more rime,
I loue as well, though he could better show it.
But I may adde one feather to thy fame,
To helpe her flight throughout the fairest Ile,
And if my pen could more enlarge thy name,
Then shouldst thou liue in an immortall stile.
For though that Laura better limned be,
Suffice, thou shalt be lou'd as well as shee.

SONNET. XLIIII.

[Be not displeasd that these my papers should]

Be not displeasd that these my papers should
Bewray vnto the world how faire thou art:
Or that my wits haue shewed the best they could.
(The chastest flame that euer warmed hart)
Thinke not (sweet Delia) this shall be thy shame,
My Muse should sound thy praise with mournfull warble:
How many liue, the glory of whose name
Shall rest in Ise, when thine is grau'd in Marble.
Thou maist in after ages liue esteem'd,
Vnburied in these lines reseru'd in purenes;
These shall intombe those eies, that haue redeem'd
Me from the vulgar, thee from all obscurenes.
Although my carefull accents neuer moou'd thee,
Yet count it no disgrace that I haue lou'd thee.

SONNET. XLV.

[Delia, these eyes that so admireth thine]

Delia, these eyes that so admireth thine,
Haue seene those walls which proud ambition rear'd
To check the world, how they intomb'd haue lien
Within themselues, and on them ploughs haue ear'd.
Yet neuer found that barbarous hand attaind
The spoyle of fame deseru'd by vertuous men:
Whose glorious actions luckily had gaind
Th'eternall Annals of a happy pen.
And therefore grieue not if thy beauties die,
Though time do spoyle thee of the fairest vaile
That euer yet couered mortality,
And must instarre the Needle, and the Raile.
That Grace which doth more then in woman thee,
Liues in my lines, and must eternall bee.

SONNET. XLVI.

[Most faire and louely Maide, looke from the shore]

Most faire and louely Maide, looke from the shore,
See thy Leander striuing in these waues:
Poore soule quite spent, whose force can do no more,
Now send forth hope, for now calme pitty saues.
And waft him to thee with those louely eies,
A happy conuoy to a holy Land:
Now shew thy power, and where thy vertue lies,
To saue thine owne, stretch out the fairest hand.
Stretch out the fairest hand, a pledge of peace;
That hand that darts so right and neuer misses:
I shall forget old wrongs, my griefes shall cease;
And that which gaue me wounds, Ile giue it kisses.
Once let the Ocean of my cares finde shore,
That thou be pleas'd, and I may sigh no more.

SONNET. XLVII.

[Read in my face, a volume of dispaires]

Read in my face, a volume of dispaires,
The wailing Iliads of my tragicke woe:
Drawne with my blood, and painted with my cares,
Wrought by her hand that I haue honour'd so.
Who whilst I burne, she sings at my soules wrack,
Looking aloft from turret of her pride:
There my soules tyrant ioyes her, in the sack
Of her owne seate, whereof I made her guide.
There do these smoakes that from affliction rise,
Serue as an incense to a cruell Dame:
A sacrifice thrice-gratefull to her eies,
Because their power serue to exact the same.
Thus ruines she (to satisfie her will,)
The temple, where her name was honour'd still.

SONNET. XLVIII.

[My Delia hath the waters of mine eies]

My Delia hath the waters of mine eies,
The ready handmayds on her grace t'attend:
That neuer fall to ebbe, but euer rise,
For to their flow she neuer grants an end.
Th'Ocean neuer did attend more duly
Vpon his souereignes course, the nights pale Queene,
Nor payd the impost of his waues more truly,
Then mine vnto her cruelty hath beene.
Yet nought the rocke of that hard heart can moue,
Where beat these teares with zeale, and fury driues:
And yet I'd rather languish for her loue,
Then I would ioy the fairest she that liues.
And if I finde such pleasure to complaine,
What should I do then, if I should obtaine?

SONNET. XLIX.

[How long shall I in mine affliction mourne?]

How long shall I in mine affliction mourne?
A burden to my selfe, distrest in minde:
When shall my interdicted hopes returne,
From out dispaire, wherein they liue confinde?
When shal her troubled brow charg'd with disdaine
Reueale the treasure which her smiles impart?
When shall my faith the happines attaine,
To breake the Ise that hath congeald her heart?
Vnto her selfe, her selfe my loue doth sommon,
(If loue in her hath any power to moue,)
And let her tell me as she is a woman,
Whether my faith hath not deseru'd her loue?
I know her heart cannot but iudge with me,
Although her eyes my aduersaries be.

SONNET. L.

[Beautie (sweet Loue) is like the morning dew]

Beautie (sweet Loue) is like the morning dew,
Whose short refresh vpon the tender greene:
Cheeres for a time, but till the Sunne doth shew,
And straight tis gone as it had neuer beene.
Soone doth it fade that makes the fairest florish,
Short is the glory of the blushing Rose:
The hew which thou so carefully dost norish,
Yet which at length thou must be forc'd to lose.
When thou surcharg'd with burthen of thy yeeres,
Shalt bend thy wrinckles homeward to the earth,
And that in Beauties lease expir'd, appeares
The date of Age, the Kalends of our death.
But ah! no more, this must not be foretold,
For women grieue to thinke they must be old.

SONNET. LI.

[I must not griue my Loue, whose eies would reede]

I must not griue my Loue, whose eies would reede
Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile:
Flowers haue a time before they come to seede,
And she is yong, and now must sport the while.
Ah sport (sweet Maide) in season of these yeares,
And learne to gather flowers before they wither:
And where the sweetest blossomes first appeares,
Let loue and youth conduct thy pleasures thither.
Lighten foorth smiles to cleere the clouded aire,
And calme the tempest which my sighs doo raise:
Pitty and smiles doe best become the faire,
Pitty and smiles must onely yeeld thee praise.
Make me to say, when all my griefes are gone,
Happy the heart that sigh'd for such a one.

SONNET. LII.

[And whither (poore forsaken) wilt thou goe]

And whither (poore forsaken) wilt thou goe,
To goe from sorrow, and thine owne distresse?
When euery place presents like face of woe,
And no remoue can make thy sorrowes lesse?
Yet goe (forsaken) leaue these Woods, these plaines,
Leaue her and all, and all for her that leaues
Thee and thy Loue forlorne, and both disdaines:
And of both, wrongfull deemes, and ill conceiues.
Seeke out some place, and see if any place
Can giue the least release vnto thy griefe:
Conuay thee from the thought of thy disgrace,
Steale from thy selfe, and be thy cares owne thiefe.
But yet, what comforts shall I hereby gaine?
Bearing the wound, I needes must feele the paine.

SONNET. LIII.

[Drawne with th'atractiue vertue of her eyes]

Drawne with th'atractiue vertue of her eyes,
My toucht heart turnes it to that happy cost:
My ioyfull North, where all my fortune lies,
The leuell of my hopes desired most,
There where my Delia fairer then the Sunne,
Deckt with her youth whereon the world doth smile,
Ioyes in that honor which her eyes haue wonne,
Th'eternall wonder of our happy Ile.
Florish faire Albion, glory of the North,
Neptunes best darling, held betweene his armes:
Diuided from the world, as better worth,
Kept for himselfe, defended from all harmes.
Still let disarmed peace decke her and thee:
And Muse-foe Mars, abroad farre fostred bee.

SONNET. LIIII.

[Care-charmer Sleepe, sonne of the sable night]

Care-charmer Sleepe, sonne of the sable night,
Brother to death, in silent darknes borne:
Relieue my languish, and restore the light
With darke forgetting of my care returne.
And let the day be time enough to mourne
The shipwracke of my ill aduentred youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to waile their scorne,
Without the torment of the nights vntruth.
Cease dreames, th'Images of day desires,
To modell forth the passions of the morrow:
Neuer let rising Sunne approue you liers,
To adde more griefe to aggrauate my sorrow.
Still let me sleepe, imbracing clouds in vaine,
And neuer wake to feele the dayes disdaine.

SONNET. LV.

[Let others sing of Knights and Palladines]

Let others sing of Knights and Palladines;
In aged accents, and vntimely words:
Paint shadowes in imaginary lines,
VVhich well the reach of their high wits records;
But I must sing of thee, and those faire eies,
Autentique shall my verse in time to come,
VVhen yet th'vnborne shall say, Lo where she lies,
VVhose beauty made him speake that else was dombe.
These are the Arkes, the Trophies I erect,
That fortifie thy name against old age:
And these thy sacred vertues must protect,
Against the darke and times consuming rage.
Though th'error of my youth in them appeare,
Suffice, they shew I liu'd and lou'd thee deare.

SONNET. LVI.

[As to the Roman that would free his Land]

As to the Roman that would free his Land,
His error was his honour and renowne:
And more the fame of his mistaking hand,
Then if he had the tyrant ouer-throwne.
So Delia, hath mine error made me knowne,
And my deceiu'd attempt, deseru'd more fame;
Then if I had the victory mine owne:
And thy hard heart had yeelded vp the same.
And so likewise, renowmed is thy blame,
Thy cruelty, thy glory; O strange case
That errors should be grac'd that merit shame,
And sinne of frownes bring honour to the face.
Yet happy Delia that thou wast vnkind,
Though happier far if thou wouldst change thy mind.

SONNET. LVII.

[Like as the Lute delights or els dislikes]

Like as the Lute delights or els dislikes,
As is his art that playes vpon the same:
So sounds my Muse according as she strikes
On my heart-strings high tun'd vnto her fame.
Her touch doth cause the warble of the sound,
VVhich here I yeeld in lamentable wise:
A wayling descant on the sweetest ground,
VVhose due reports giue honor to her eyes.
Else harsh my stile, vntunable my Muse,
Hoarce sounds the voyce that prayseth not her name;
If any pleasing relish here I vse,
Then iudge the world her beauty giues the same.
For no ground els could make the Musicke such,
Nor other hand could giue so true a touch.

SONNET. LVIII.

[None other fame mine vnambitious Muse]

None other fame mine vnambitious Muse,
Affected euer, but t'eternize thee:
All other honors doe my hopes refuse,
Which meaner priz'd and momentary bee.
For God forbid I should my Papers blot,
With mercenary lines, with seruile Pen:
Praising vertues in them that haue them not,
Basely attending on the hopes of men.
No, no, my Verse respects not Thames nor Theaters,
Nor seekes it to be knowne vnto the Great,
But Auon rich in fame, though poore in waters,
Shall haue my Song, where Delia hath her seat:
Auon shall be my Thames, and she my Song,
No other prouder Brookes shall heare my wrong.

SONNET. LIX.

[Vnhappy Pen, and ill-accepted lines]

Vnhappy Pen, and ill-accepted lines
That intimate in vaine my chaste desire:
My chaste desire, which from darke sorrow shines,
Inkindled by her eyes celestiall fire.
Celestiall fire, and vnrespecting powres
Which pitty not the wounds made by their might,
Shew'd in these lines, the worke of carefull houres,
The sacrifice here offred to her sight.
But since she weighs them not, this rests for me,
Ile mone my selfe, and hide the wrong I haue:
And so content me that her frownes should be
To m'infant stile the Cradle, and the Graue.
What though my Muse no honor get thereby,
Each Bird sings to her selfe, and so will I.

SONNET. LX.

[Lo here the impost of a faith entire]

Lo here the impost of a faith entire
Which loue doth pay, and her disdaine extorts:
Behold the message of a chast desire
Which tells the world how much my griefe imports.
These tributary passions, beauties due,
I send those eyes the cabinets of loue:
That Cruelty her selfe might grieue to view
Th'affliction her vnkind disdaine doth moue.
And how I liue cast downe from off all myrth,
Pensiue alone, onely but with Dispaire:
My ioyes abortiue, perish in their byrth.
My griefes long liu'd, and care succeeding care.
This is my state, and Delias heart is such,
I say no more, I feare I sayd too much.