Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe:

XLV.

The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,

My life being made of four, with two alone

Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; Until life's composition be recured

By those swift messengers return'd from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me :
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again, and straight grow sad.

XLVI.

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead, that thou in him dost lie,
(A closet never pierced with crystal eyes,)
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To 'cide 1 this title is impannelled

A quest2 of thoughts, all tenants to the heart; And by their verdict is determinèd

The clear eye's moiety,3 and the dear heart's

part:

6

''Cide:' decide.-2 Quest:' inquest, jury.—3 'Moiety:' portion.

As thus; mine eyo's due is thine outward part,
And my heart's right thine inward love of heart.

XLVII.

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other:
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,

Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart:
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,

And in his thoughts of love doth share a part : So, either by thy picture or my love,

Thyself away art present still with me;

For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee;
Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.

XLVIII.

How careful was I when I took my way,

Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,

That, to my use, it might unused stay

From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!

But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,

Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou, best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.

Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,

Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, Within the gentle closure of my breast,

From whence at pleasure thou may'st come and part;

And even thence thou wilt be stolen, I fear,

For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

XLIX.

Against that time, if ever that time come,
When I shall see thee frown on my defects,
Whenas thy love hath cast his utmost sum,

Call'd to that audit by advised respects;
Against that time, when thou shalt strangely pass,
And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye,
When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shafl reasons find of settled gravity;
Against that time do I ensconce1 me here
Within the knowledge of mine own desert,
And this my hand against myself uprear,

To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:
To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws,
Since, why to love, I can allege no cause.

L.

How heavy do I journey on the way,

When what I seek-my weary travel's endDoth teach that ease and that repose to say, Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!'

The beast that bears me, tirèd with my woe,

Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider loved not speed, being made from thee: The bloody spur cannot provoke him on

That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a groan,

More sharp to me than spurring to his side; For that same groan doth put this in my mind, My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.

LI.

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
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.

Oh, 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 winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire, of perfect 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.

LII.

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key

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 1 so solemn and so rare,

Since seldom coming, in the long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain 2 jewels in the carcanet. 3

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.

1

Feasts' festivals.-2 Captain:' chief. Carcanet :' necklace.

LIII.

What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one's shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit1
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 foizon2 of the year;
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear,

And you in every blessed shape we know.
In all external grace you have some part,
But you like none, none you, for constant heart.

LIV.

Oh 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-blooms3 have full as deep a dye,
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly

When summer's breath their masked buds discloses :

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, by verse distils your truth.

1 'Counterfeit :' portrait.-2 Foizon:' plenty; hence the foizon of the year is autumn.- Canker-blooms: ' the blossoms of the canker, or dog-rose.