XXXI. Thy bofom is endeared with all hearts, And there reigns Love, and all Love's loving parts. Hath dear religious love ftol'n from mine eye, XXXII. If thou furvive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, [cover, O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: But fince he died, and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.' XXXIII. Full many a glorious morning have I feen Suns of the world may stain when heaven's fun staineth. XXXIV. Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak That heals the wound and cures not the difgrace: To him that bears the ftrong offence's cross. And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds. XXXV. No more be grieved at that which thou haft done : And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence : That I an acceffary needs must be To that sweet thief which fourly robs from me. ∞ |