IN youth, before I waxèd old,
The blind boy, VENUS' baby,
For want of cunning, made me bold
In bitter hive to grope for honey:

But when he saw me stung, and cry;
He took his wings, and away did fly!

AS DIANE hunted on a day,
She chanced to come where CUPID lay,
His quiver by his head;

One of his shafts, she stole away;
And one of hers did close convey
Into the other's stead.

With that, LOVE wounded my Love's heart; But DIANE, beasts with CUPID'S dart!

I SAW, in secret, to my Dame,
How little CUPID humbly came,
And said to her, 'All hail! my mother!'
But when he saw me laugh; for shame,
His face with bashful blood did flame;
Not knowing VENUS from the other.

'Then never blush, CUPID!' quoth I,
'For many have erred in this Beauty!'

MARK, when She smiles with amiable cheer!
And tell me, Whereto can ye liken it?
When on each eyelid sweetly do appear

A hundred Graces, as in shade to sit.
Likest, it seemeth, in my simple wit,

Unto the fair sunshine, in summer's day, That, when a dreadful storm away is flit,

Through the broad world doth spread his goodly ray. At sight whereof, each bird that sits on spray, And every beast that to his den was fled, Comes forth afresh out of their late dismay;

And to the light lift up their drooping head. So my storm-beaten heart likewise is cheered With that sunshine, when cloudy looks are cleared.

SWEET Smile, the Daughter of the Queen of Love,
Expressing all thy mother's powerful art!
With which she wonts to temper angry JOVE;

When all the Gods he threats with thund'ring dart. Sweet is thy virtue, as thyself sweet art!

For when on me thou shinedst late, in sadness, A melting pleasance ran through every part;

And me revived with heart-[th]robbing gladness. Whilst wrapt with joy resembling heavenly madness, My soul was ravished quite, as in a trance; And feeling thence no more her sorrow's sadness, Fed on the fullness of that cheerful glance. More sweet than Nectar, or ambrosial meat, Seemed every bit, which thenceforth I did eat.

'I PRAY thee, LOVE! say, Whither is this posting?
Since with thy deity first I was acquainted,
I never saw thee, thus distracted, coasting,
With countenance tainted,

Thy conquering arrows broken in thy quiver,
Thy brands, that wont the inward marrow sunder,
Fireless and forceless, all-a-pieces shiver,
With mickle wonder.

'That maketh, next, my stayless thoughts to hover;
I cannot sound this uncouth cause of being!
The veil is torn, that did thy visage cover;
And thou art seeing!'

'A stranger, one,' quoth Love, 'of good demerit,
Did suit and service to his Sovereign proffer.
In any case, She would not seem to hear it;
But scorned the offer!

'And, very now, upon this Maying morrow,
By break of day, he found me at my harbour.
I went with him, to understand his sorrow,
Unto her arbour;

Where he, love torments dolefully unfolded,
With words that might a tiger's heart have charmed!
His sighs and tears, the mountain, yea, had moulted;
And She not warmed!

'Her great disdain against her Lover proved,

Kindled my brand, that to her breast I seated; The flames, between her paps them often moved; Nor burnt! nor heated!

'My arrows keen I afterward assayed!

Which from her breast, without effect rebounded; And, as a ball, on marble floor they played; With force confounded.

'The brand that burnt old PRIAM's town to ashes;
Now first his operation wants it then:
The dart that emerald skies in pieces dashes,
Scorned by a woman!

'Thus, while I said, She toward me arrived,

And with a touch of triumph, never doubted
To tear the veil, that use of sight bereaved.
So LOVE was louted!

The veil of error from mine eyes bereaved; I saw Heaven's Hope! and Earth her Treasury! "Well mayst thou err!" said I, "I am deceived! Bent to pleasure thee.

"Cease, hapless man! my succours to importune! She only, She, my stratagems repelleth! Vainly endeavour I to tempt her fortune,

That so excelleth!

""Content thee, man! that thou didst see and suffer!
And be content to suffer, see, and die!
And die content; thou once didst move her!
She displeased thereby."

'And herewithal, I left the man adying;
For, by his Passions, I perceived none other.
I hie me, thus ashamed, with speedy flying,
To tell my mother!'

WEEP you no more, sad fountains!
What need you flow so fast!
Look, how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste!
But my Sun's heavenly eyes

View not your weeping!
That now lies sleeping
Softly; now softly lies
Sleeping.

Sleep is a reconciling;

A rest that peace begets!
Doth not the sun rise smiling,
When fair at e'en he sets!
Rest you; then, rest, sad eyes!
Melt not in weeping;
While She lies sleeping
Softly; now softly lies

Sleeping.