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MICHAEL DRAYTON.

SONNETS.

LOVE, banish'd Heaven, on earth was held

inscorn, Wandring abroad in need and beggary; And wanting friends, though of a goddess born, Yet crav'd the alms of such as passed by : I, like a man devout and charitable, Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring Guest; With sighs and tears still furnishing his table, With what might make the miserable blest. But this Ungrateful, for my good desert, Intic'd my thoughts against me to conspire, Who gave consent to steal away my heart; And set my brcast, his lodging, on a fire. Well,well my friends! when beggars grow thus bold, No marvel, then, though charity grow cold!

DE
EAR! why should you command me to my rest,

When now the Night doth summon all to sleep?
Methinks, this time becometh lovers best;
Night was ordain'd together friends to keep.
How happy are all other living things,
Which, though the day disjoin by several flight,
The quiet evening yet together brings ;
And each returns unto his Love at night!
0, thou that art so courteous else to all,
Why shouldst thou, Night! abuse me only thus ;
That ev'ry creature to his kind do'st call,
And yet 'tis thou dost only sever us?

Well could I wish it would be ever day,
If, when night comes, you bid me go away.

CUPID AND CAMPASPE. CUPID and my Campaspe play'd

At cards for kisses; Cupid paid :
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
Loses them too: then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how)
With these the chrystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin;
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes,
She won, and Cupid blind doth rise.

O Love! has she done thus to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me!

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SONG. 0 Yes! O yes! if any maid

Whom leering Cupid has betray'd To frowns of spite, to eyes of scorn, And would in madness now see torn The boy in pieces ; let her come Hither, and lay on him her doom, O yes ! O yes ! has any lost A heart which many a sigh hath cost? Is any cozen'd of a tear Which, as a pearl, Disdain doth wear? Here stands the thief; let her but come Hither, and lay on him her doom. Is any one undone by fire, And turn'd to ashes through desire ? Did ever any lady weep, Being cheated of her golden sleep, Stol'n by sick thoughts ? the pirate's found, And in her tears he shall be drown'd. Read his indictment: let him hear What he's to trust to: Boy, give car.

DANIEL.

SONNETS. BEAUTY, sweet love, is like the morning

dew, Whose short refresh upon the tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth shew,

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 nourish,

Yet which at length thou must be forc'a to lose. When thou, surcharg'd with burthen of thy years,

Shall bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth, And when in beauty's lease, expir'd, appears

The date of age, the calends of our deathBut 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 smile, Flowers have time before they come to seed,

And she is young, and now must sport the while. And sport (sweet maid) in season of these years,

And learn to gather flowers before they wither, And where the sweetest blossom first appears,

Let love and youth conduct thy pleasures thither. Lighten forth smiles to cheer the clouded air,

And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise; Pity and smiles do best become the fair,

Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise. Make me to say, when all my griefs are gone, Happy the heart that sigh'd for such a one.

Vol. I.

SONNETS. LO OOK, Delia, how wel esteem the half-blown rose,

The image of thy blush, and summer's honour; Whilst yet her tender bud doth undisclose

That full of beauty time bestows upon her! : No sooner spreads her glory in the air,

But strait her wide-blown pomp comes to decline; She then is scorn'd, that late adorn'd, the fair:

So fade the roses of those cheeks of thine! No April can revive thy wither'd flow'rs, u

Whose springing grace adorns thy glory now; Swift speedy Time, feather'd with flying hours, Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow. Then do not thou such treasure waste in vain; But love now, whilst thou may'st be lov'd again.

LET others sing of knights and palladinęs,

In aged accents and untimely words,
Paint shadows in imaginary lines,
Which well the reach of their high wits records ;
But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes!

Authentic shall my verse in time to come;
When yet the’unborn shall say "Lo, where she lies,

Whose beauty made him speak, thatelse was dumb!" These are the arks, the trophies I crect,

That fortify thy name against old age ;
And these thy sacred virtues must protect

Against the dark, and time's consuming rage. Though the error of my youth they shall discover; Suffice they shew-I liv'd, and was thy lover!

SONNETS.

RE
ESTORE thy tresses to the Golden fore;

To Cytherea's son those arks of love;
Bequeath the Heavens' the stars that I adore ;
And to the Orient do thy pearls remove :
Yield thy hands' pride unto the Ivory white ;
To' Arabian odours give thy breathing sweet;
Restore thy blush unito Autora bright;
To Thetis give the honour of thy feet:
Let Venus have thy graces her resign'd;
And thy sweet voice give back upto the Spheres;
But then restore thy fierce and cruel mind
To Hyrcan tigers, and to rushless bears :
Yield to the marble thy hard heart again;
So shalt thou cease to plague, and I to plain.. ?

A
ND Whither, poor Forsaken bwilt thou go,

To go from sortow, and thine own distress ;
When ev'ry place presents like face of woe,
And no remove can make thy sorrows less ?
Yet go, Forsaken ! leave these woods, these plains;

Leave her and all, and all for her that leaves Thee and thy love forfora, and both disdains ; And of both wrongful deems, and ill-conceives. Seek out some place and see if any place Can give the least release unto thy grief; Convey' thee from the thought of thy disgrace, Steal from thyself, and be thy care's own thief. Bat yet what comfort shall I hereby gain? Bearing the wound, I needs must feel the pain !

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