As other men, so I myself do muse Why in this sort I wrest invention so, And why these giddy metaphors I use, Leaving the path the greater part do go. I will resolve
Love, banish’d Heav’n, on Earth was held in scorn, Wand’ring abroad in need and beggary, And wanting friends, though of a Goddess born, Yet crav’d the alms of such as passed by. I, like
Eternal and all-working God, which wast Before the world, whose frame by Thee was cast, And beautified with beamful lamps above, By thy great wisdom set how they should move To guide the seasons,
Calling to mind since first my love begun, Th’ incertain times oft varying in their course, How things still unexpectedly have run, As t’ please the fates by their resistless force: Lastly, mine eyes
How many paltry, foolish, painted things, That now is coaches trouble every street, Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings, Ere they be well wrapt in their winding-sheet. Where I to thee eternity shall
You brave heroic minds, Worthy your country’s name, That honour still pursue, Go, and subdue, Whilst loit’ring hinds Lurke here at home with shame. Britons, you stay too long, Quickly aboard bestow you; And
To the Celestial Numbers To this our world, to Learning, and to Heav’n, Three Nines there are, to every one a Nine, One number of the Earth, the other both divine; One woman now
To the Senses When conquering Love did first my Heart assail, Unto mine aid I summon’d every Sense, Doubting, if that proud tyrant should prevail, My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes’ offence; But
To Imagination Whilst yet mine Eyes do surfeit with delight, My woeful Heart, imprison’d in my breast, Wisheth to be transformed to my sight, That it, like these, by looking might be blest. But
An Allusion to the Phoenix ‘Mongst all the creatures in this spacious round Of the birds’ kind, the Phoenix is alone, Which best by you of living things is known; None like to that,
To nothing fitter can I thee compare Than to the son of some rich penny-father, Who, having now brought on his end with care, Leaves to his son all he had heap’d together; This
Our flood’s-queen Thames for ships and swans is crown’d, And stately Severn for her shore is prais’d, The crystal Trent for fords and fish renown’d, And Avon’s fame to Albion’s cliffs is rais’d; Carlegion
You best discern’d of my mind’s inward eyes, And yet your graces outwardly divine, Whose dear remembrance in my bosom lies, Too rich a relic for so poor a shrine; You, in whom Nature
Dear, why should you command me to my rest When now the night doth summon all to sleep? Methinks this time becometh lovers best; Night was ordain’d together friends to keep. How happy are
If he from Heav’n that filch’d that living fire Condemn’d by Jove to endless torment be, I greatly marvel how you still go free That far beyond Prometheus did aspire. The fire he stole,
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