case;

110

So ended she; and all the rest around
To her redoubled that her undersong,
Which said their bridal day should not be long:
And gentle Leho from the neighbour ground
Their accents did resound.

So forth those joyous birds did pass along
Adown the Lee that to them murmur'd low,
As he would speak but that he lack'd a tongue;
Yet did by signs his glad affection show,
Making his stream run slow.

121

And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell
'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel
The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend5
The lesser stars. So they, enrangéd well,
Did on those two attend,

And their best service lend

Against their wedding day, which was not long! Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

At length they all to merry London came,
To merry London, my most kindly nurse,
That to me gave this life's first native source,
Though from another place I take my name, 130
An house of ancient fame:

There when she came wherease those bricky towers

The which on Thames' broad agéd back do ride,

Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,

There whilome wont the Templar-knights to bide,

Till they decay'd through pride;

Next whereunto there stands a stately place,
Where oft I gained gifts and goodly grace
Of that great lord, which therein wont to
dwell,

5 the moon doth shame 7 Lord Leicester, Spen-
6 where
ser's patron, whose
death left him in
"friendless case."

170

Above the rest were goodly to be seen
Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature,
Beseeming well the bower of any queen,
With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,
Fit for so goodly stature,

That like the twins of Jove11 they seem'd in sight

Which deck the baldric of the Heavens bright;
They two, forth pacing to the river's side,
Received those two fair brides, their love's
delight;

Which, at th' appointed tide,
Each one did make his bride
Against their bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

8 Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex 9 At Cadiz, 1596.

10 Apparently an allusion to the fact that the words ever and heureux (Fr., "happy") can be seen in the name Devereux. 11 Castor and Pollux, who were placed among the stars as the constellation Gemini.

Relieve my languish, and restore the light;
With dark forgetting of my care return.
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires,
To model forth the passions of the morrow;
Never let rising Sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow:
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain,
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.

MICHAEL DRAYTON (1563-1631)
IDEA LXI.

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and

part,

Nay I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,

-Now if thou would 'st, when all have given

him over,

From death to life thou might'st him yet

recover!

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616)

SONNET XXIX.

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless
cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate;
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possest,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee;-and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's
gate;

For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

SONNET XXX.

When to the sessions3 of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's
waste;

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless
night,

And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanished sight.

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before:
-But if the while I think on thee, dear
Friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

SONNET LXIV.

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of out-worn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed,
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,

And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;
or state itself confounded to decay,
When I have seen such interchange of state,

That Time will come and take my Love away:
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate-
-This thought is as a death, which cannot
choose

But weep to have that which it fears to lose.

SONNET LXXIII.

That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds

sang:

In me thou see 'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west.

Which by and by black night doth take away.
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest:
In me thou see 'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by:
-This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love
more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

SONNET LXXIV.

But be contented: when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away,
My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.
When thou reviewest this, thou dost review
The very part was consecrate to thee:

The earth can have but earth, which is his due;
My spirit is thine, the better part of me:
So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,
The prey of worms, my body being dead,
The coward conquest of a wretch's knife,
Too base of thee to be remembered.

The worth of that is that which it contains,
And that is this, and this with thee remains.