 | Poems (1872) |  |
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TEN SONNETS TO PHILOMEL.
Sonnet I. Vpon Loue's entring by his Eares.
Oft did I heare, our Eyes the passage wereBy which Loue entred to auaile our hearts;
Therefore I guarded them, and voyd of feare
Neglected the defence of other parts.
Loue knowing this, the vsuall way forsooke,
And seeking, found a by-way by mine Eare:
At which hee entring, my Hart pris'ner tooke,
And vnto thee sweet Philomel did beare.
Yet let my hart thy hart to pittie moue,
Whose paine is great, although smal fault appeare:
First it lies bound in fettering-chaines of Loue,
Then each day it is rackt with hope and feare.
And with Loue's flame 'tis euermore consumed,
Only because to loue thee it presumed.
Sonnet II.
O why did Fame my Hart to Loue betray,By telling my Deare's vertue and perfection?
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That Syren-song, cause of my Hart's infection?
Had I bene deafe, or Fame her gifts concealed,
Then had my Hart been free from hopeles loue:
Or were my state likewise by it reuealed,
Well might it Philomel to pitty moue.
Then shold she kno how loue doth make me lāguish,
Distracting mee twixt hope and dreadful feare:
Then shold she kno my care, my pla[i]nts and anguish;
All which for her deere sake I meekely beare.
Yea I could quietly Death's paynes abide,
So that shee knew that for her sake I dide.
Sonnet III. Of his owne and his Mistris' sicknes at one time.
Sickenes entending my Loue to betrayBefore I should sight of my Deare obtaine,
Did his pale collours in my face display,
Lest that my Fauour might her fauour gaine.
Yet not content hërewith, like meanes it wrought
My Philomel's bright beauty to deface:
And Nature's glory to disgrace it sought,
That my conceiuèd Loue it might displace.
But my firme Loue could this assault well beare,
Which Vertue had, not beauty, for his ground:
And yet bright beames of beauty did appeare,
Throgh sicknes' vail, which made my loue aboūd.
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How matchlesse would it bee if shee were well?
Sonnet IV. Another of her Sicknes and Recouery.
Pale Death himselfe did loue my Philomel,When hee her Vertues and rare beutie saw:
Therefore hee Sicknesse sent, which should expell
His riuall, Life, and my Deere to him draw.
But her bright beauty dazeled so his Eyes,
That his dart Life did misse, though her it hitt:
Yet not therewith content, new meanes hee tries
To bring her vnto Death, and make Life flitt.
But Nature soone perceiuing, that hee meant
To spoyle her only Phœnix, her chiefe pride,
Assembled all her force, and did preuent
The greatest mischiefe that could her betide.
So both our liues and loues Nature defended,
For had shee dide, my loue and life had ended.
Sonnet V. Allusion to Theseus' Voyage to Crete against the Minotaure.
My Loue is sayl'd, against Dislike to fight,Which, like vild monster, threatens his decay;
The ship is Hope, which by Desire's great might,
Is swiftly borne towards the wishèd Bay:
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Though met in one, is a dissenting crew;
They are Ioy, Greefe, and neuer-sleeping Care,
And Doubt, which ne'r beleeues good news for true.
Black feare the Flag is which my ship doth beare,
Which, Deere, take downe, if my Loue victor be,
And let white Comfort in his place appeare,
When Loue victoriously returnes to mee,
Lest I from rocke Despayre come tumbling downe,
And in a Sea of Teares bee forc't to drowne.
Sonnet VI. Vpon her looking secretly out of a window as hee passed by.
Once did my Philomel reflect on meeHer christall-pointed Eyes as I passt by,
Thinking not to be seene, yet would mee see;
But soone my hungry Eyes their foode did spie.
Alas, my Deere, couldst thou suppose that face,
Which needs not enuy Phœbus' cheefest pride,
Could secret bee, although in secret place,
And that transparant glas such beams could hide?
But if I had beene blinde, yet Loue's hot flame
Kindled in my poore heart by thy bright Eye,
Did plainely shew when it so neere thee came,
By more then vsuall heate, the cause was mee:
So, though thou hidden wert, my hart and eye
Did turne to thee by mutuall Sympathy.
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Sonnet VII.
When time nor place would let me often viewNature's chiefe Mirror and my sole delight;
Her liuely Picture in my hart I drew,
That I might it behold both day and night.
But shee, like Phillip's Son, scorning that I
Should portray her wanting Apelles' art,
Commaunded Loue, who nought dare hir deny,
To burne the Picture which was in my Hart.
The more Loue burn'd, the more her picture shin'd;
The more it shin'de, the more my hart did burne;
So, what to hurt her picture was assign'd,
To my Hart's ruine and decay did turne.
Loue could not burne the Saint—it was diuine;
And therefore fir'd my hart, the Saint's poore shrine.
Sonnet VIII.
When as the Sun eclipsèd is, some sayIt thunder, lightning, raine and wind portendeth:
And not vnlike but such things happen may,
Sith like effects my Sun eclipsèd sendeth.
Witnes my throat made hoars with thundring cries,
And hart with Loue's hot-flashing lightnings fired:
Witnes the showers which stil fal from mine eies,
And brest with sighs like stormy winds neare riued.
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And with thy beames dissolue clouds of dispaire,
Whereof these raging Meteors framèd bee,
In my poore hart by absence of my faire.
So shalt thou proue thy Beames, thy heate, thy light,
To match the Sun in glory, grace, and might.
Sonnet IX. Vpon sending her a Gold Ring with this Posie ‘Pure and Endlesse.’
If you would knowe the loue which you I beare,Compare it with the Ring, which your faire hand
Shall make more pretious when you shal it weare;
So my loue's Nature you shal vnderstand.
Is it of mettal pure? so you shall proue
My loue, which ne're disloyal thought did stain.
Hath it no end? so endles is my loue,
Vnlesse you it destroy with your disdaine.
Doth it the purer waxe the more 'tis tride?
So doth my loue: yet herein they dissent,
That whereas Gold the more 'tis purifi'd,
By waxing lesse, doth shew some part is spent,
My loue doth wax more pure by your more trying,
And yet encreaseth in the purifying.
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Sonnet X.
My Cruell Deere hauing captiu'de my hart,And bound it fast in Chaynes of restles Loue,
Requires it out of bondage to depart;
Yet is shee sure from her it cannot moue.
Draw back, sayd shee, your hopelesse loue from me,
Your work requireth a more worthy place;
Vnto your sute though I cannot agree,
Full many will it louingly embrace.
It may bee so, my Deere; but as the Sun
When it appeares doth make the stars to vanish,
So when your selfe into my thoughts do run,
All others quite out of my Hart you bannish.
The beames of your Perfections shine so bright,
That straightway they dispell all others' light.
Melophilus.
| Poems (1872) | |