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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

17

birds sang

Golden lads and girls all must, And with old woes new wail my dear

time's waste: As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, Fear no more the frown o' the great,

For precious friends hid in death's dateThou art past the tyrant's stroke;

less night, Care no more to clothe, and eat; And weep afresh love's long-since-canTo thee the reed is as the oak:

celled woe, The sceptre, learning, physic, must

And moan the expense of many a vanAll follow this, and come to dust.

ished sight.

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, Fear no more the lightning flash,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan, Fear not slander, censure rash;

Which I new pay as if not paid before. Thou hast tinished joy and moan:

But if the while I think on thee, dear All lovers young, all lovers must

friend, Consign to thee, and come to dust.

All losses are restored, and sorrows

end.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

That time of year thou mayst in me be-
Nothing ill come near thee!

hold Quiet consummation have; And renownéd be thy grave.

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do

hang
Upon those boughs which shake against

the cold,
SONNETS.

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet
WHEN in disgrace with fortune and in me thou seest the twilight of such day,

As after sunset fadeth in the west,
I all alone beweep my outcast state, Which by and by black night doth take
And trouble deaf heaven with my boot-

away,
less cries,

Death's second self, that seals up all in And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

rest. Wishing me like to one more rich in In me thou seest the glowing of such hope,

fire, Featured like him, like him with friends That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, possessed,

As the death-bed whereon it must exDesiring this man's art, and that man's

pire,
scope,

Consumed with that which it was nour-
With what I most enjoy contented least; ished by.
Yet in these thoughts myself almost de.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy
spising,

love more strong, Haply I think on thee,

and then my

To love that well which thou must state

leave erelong. (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heav

en's gate ; For thy sweet love remembered, such They that have power to hurt and will wealth brings,

do none,
That then I scorn to change my state that do not do the thing they most do
with kings.

show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as

stone,
When to the sessions of sweet silent Unmovéd, cold, and to temptation slow;
thought

They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
I summon up remembrance of things past, And husband nature's riches from ex-
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, pense;

men's eyes,

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They are the lords and owners of their | No! Time, thou shalt not boast tha: I faces,

do change : Others but stewards of their excellence. Thy pyramids built up with newer night The summer's flower is to the summer To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; sweet,

They are but dressings of a fornier sight. Though to itself it only live and die; Our dates are brief, and therefore we But if that flower with base infection

admire meet,

What thou dost foist upon us that is old; The basest weed outbraves his dignity: And rather inake them born to our desire, For sweetest things turn sourest" by Than think that we before have heard their deeds ;

them told.
Lilies that fester smell far worse than Thy registers and thee I both defy,
weeds.

Not wondering at the present nor the past;
For thy records and what we see do lie,

Made more or less by thy continual haste: Alas, 't is true, I havegone here and there, This I do vow, and this shall ever be, And made myself a motley to the view, I will be true, despite thy scythe and Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap thee.

what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new. Most true it is, that I have looked on

truth Askance and strangely; but, by all above,

BEN JONSON. These blenches gave my heart another youth,

(1574- 1637.) And worse essays proved thee my best of love.

THE NOBLE NATURE. Now all is done, save what shall have no end:

It is not growing like a tree Mine appetite I never more will grind

In bulk, doth make man better be; On newer proof, to try an older friend,

Or standing long an oak, three hundred A God in love, to whom I am contined.

year, Then give me welcome, next my heaven To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : the best,

A lily of a day Even to thy pure and most most loving

Is fairer far in May, breast.

Although it falland die that night,

It was the plant and flower of Light.

In small proportions we just beauties see ; Let me not to the marriage of true minds And in short measures life may perfect be. Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove; O no; it is an ever-tixed mark,

SONG OF HESPERUS. That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;

Queen, and huntress, chaste and fair, It is the star to every wandering bark,

Now the sun is laid to sleep, Whose worth's unknown, although his

Seated in thy silver chair, height be taken.

State in wonted manner keep: Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips

Hesperus entreats thy light, and cheeks

Goddess excellently bright. Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Earth, let not thy envious shade Love alters not with his brief hours and Dare itself to interpose ; weeks,

Cynthia's shining orb was made But bears it ont even to the edge of doom. Heaven to clear, when day did close :

If this be error, and upon me proved, Bless us then with wished sight, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. Goddess excellently bright.

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