THE RETURN

HUS can my love excuse the slow offence

THUS

Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed : From where thou art why should I haste me thence? Till I return, of posting is no need.

O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In wingéd speed no motion shall I know:

Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire, of perfect' st love being made,
Shall neigh-no dull flesh-in his fiery race;
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;

Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.

CARUM QUOD RARUM

am I as the rich, whose blesséd key

So an

Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey,

For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.

Therefore are feasts so seldom and so rare,
Since, seldom coming, in the long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.

So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide
To make some special instant special-blest
By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.

Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope.

REALITY AND SHADOW

WHAT is your substance? whereof are you

made,

That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.

Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;

On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new :

Speak of the spring and foison of the year;
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear;
And you in every blesséd shape we know:-

In all external grace you have some part,
But you like none, none you, for constant heart.

O,

THE TRUE AND THE FALSE

HOW much more doth beauty beauteous seem,

By that sweet ornament which truth doth

give!

The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live:

The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfuméd tincture of the roses,

Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their maskéd buds dis-
closes :

But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:

And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth.

EXEGI MONUMENTUM

NOT marble, nor the gilded monuments

Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time.

When wasteful war shall statues overturn,

And broils root out the work of masonry,

Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory.

Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity

Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find

room

Even in the eyes of all posterity

That wear this world out to the ending doom.

So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.