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2. TO CHRIST.

In what torn ship soever I embark,

That ship shall be my emblem of thy ark:
What sea soever swallow me, that flood
Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood.
Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise
Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes,
Which though they turn away sometimes,
Thev never will despise.

3. SONG.

Sweetest love, I do not go

For weariness of thee,

Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me:

But since that I

Must die at last, 'tis best
Thus to use myself in jest
By feigned death to die.

Yesternight the sun went hence,
And yet is here to-day;

He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way:
Then fear not me,

But believe that I shall make

Hastier journeys, since I take

More wings and spurs than he.

O how feeble is man's power!

That, if good fortune fall,

Cannot add another hour,

Nor a lost hour recall.

But come bad chance,

And we join to it our strength,
And we teach it art and length
Itself o'er us to advance.

When thou sigh'st thou sigh'st not wind,
But sigh'st my soul away;

When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay.
It cannot be

That thou lov'st me as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
Which art the life of me.

Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill;
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil;
But think that we

Are but laid aside to sleep :
They who one another keep
Alive ne'er parted be.

XXXV. WILLAM WARNER.

1. THE OLD MAN AND THE ASS.

An ass, an old man, and a boy did through the city pass,
And whilst the wanton boy did ride, the old man led the ass.
"See yonder doting fool," said folk, "that crawleth scarce for age,
Doth set the boy upon the ass and makes himself his page."
Anon the blamed boy alights, and lets the old man ride,
And, as the old man did before, the boy the ass did guide.
But, passing so, the people there did much the old man blame,
And told him "Churl, thy limbs be tough, let ride the boy for shame
The fault thus found, both man and boy did back the ass and ride
Then that the ass was overcharged, each man that met them cried.
Now both alight and go on foot and lead the empty beast,
But then the people laugh and say that one might ride at least,
The old man, seeing by no ways he could the people please,
Not blameless then, did drive the ass and drown him in the seas.

2. KING LEAR.

His aged eyes pour out their tears, when holding up his hands,
He said, "O God, whoso thou art that my good hap withstands,
Prolong not life, defer not death; myself I overlive,

When those that owe to me their lives, to me my death would give.
Thou town, whose walls rose of my wealth, stand evermore to tell
Thy founder's fall, and warn that none do fall as Leir fell.
Bid none affy in friends; for say His children wrought his wrack
Yea, those to him that were most dear did loath and let him ack
Cordella, well Cordella said she lovèd as a child,

But sweeter words we seek than sooth, and so are men beguiled
She only rests untried yet; but what may I expect
From her, to whom I nothing gave, when these do me reject?
Then die-nay try; the rule may fail; and nature may ascend,
Nor are they ever surest friends on whom we most depend.

XXXVI. GEOFFREY WHITNEY.

ALL FLESH IS HAY.

All life is grass and withereth like the hay;
To-day man laughs, to-morrow lies in clay.
Then let him mark the frailty of his kind,
For here his term is like a puff of wind:
Like bubbles small that on the waters rise;
Or like the flowers whom Flora freshly dyes,
Yet in one day their glory all is gone;
So worldly pomp which here we gaze upon;
Which warneth all that here their pageants play,
How well to live, but not how long to way.

XXXVII. SAMUEL DANIEL.

1. GREATNESS OF SOUL.

He that of such an height hath built his mind,
And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong,
As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame

Of his resolvéd powers; nor all the wind

Of enmity, or malice pierce to wrong

His settled peace; or to disturb the same; What a fair seat hath he, from whence he may The boundless wastes and wilds of man survey! And with how free an eye doth he look down Upon these lower regions of turmoil ?

Where all the storms of passion mainly beat On flesh and blood;where honours, power, renown, Are only gay afflictions, golden toil;

Where greatness stands upon as feeble feet
As frailty doth; and only great doth seem
To little minds, who do it so esteem.
Nor is he moved with all the thunder-cracks
Of tyrant's threats, or with the surly brow
Of power, that proudly sits on other's crimes,
Charg'd with more crying sins than those he checks.
The storms of sad confusion, that may grow

Up in the present for the coming times,
Appal not him, that hath no side at all,
But of himself, and knows the worst can fall.

2. ULYSSES AND THE SIREN.

Siren. Come, worthy Greek, Ulysses, come,
Possess these shores with me,
The winds and seas are troublesome,
And here we may be free.
Here may we sit and view their toil,
That travail in the deep,
Enjoy the day in mirth the while,
And spend the night in sleep.

Ulysses. Fair nymph, if fame or honour were
To be attained with ease,
Then I would come and rest with thee,
And leave such toils as these:
But here it dwells, and here must I
With danger seek it forth!
To spend the time luxuriously
Becomes not man of worth.

Siren. Ulysses, O be not deceived
With that unreal name:

This honour is a thing conceived
And rests on others' fame.

Begotten only to molest

Our peace, and to beguile

(The best thing of our life) our rest,
And give us up to toil.

Ulysses. Delicious nymph, suppose there were
Nor honour nor report,

Yet manliness would scorn to wear
The time in idle sport:

For toil doth give a better touch
To make us feel our joy;

And ease finds tediousness, as much
As labour yields annoy.

Siren. Then pleasure likewise seems the shore,

Whereto tends all

your toil;

Which you forego to make it more,
And perish oft the while.

Who may disport them diversely,
Find never tedious day;

And ease may have variety,
As well as action may.

Ulysses. But natures of the noblest frame
These toils and dangers please;

And they take comfort in the same,
As much as you in ease.

And with the thought of actions past
Are recreated still:

When pleasure leaves a touch at last
To show that it was ill.

Siren. That doth opinion only cause,
That's out of custom bred;

Which makes us many other laws
Than ever nature did.

No widows wail for our delights,
Our sports are without blood;
The world we see by warlike wights
Receives more hurt than good.

Ulysses. But yet the state of things require
These motions of unrest,
And these great spirits of high desire
Seem born to turn them best:
To purge the mischiefs, that increase
And all good order mar:

For oft we see a wicked peace
To be well changed for war.

Siren. Well, well, Ulysses, then I see
I shall not have thee here;
And therefore I will come to thee,
And take my fortune there.
I must be won that cannot win:
Yet lost were I not won,

For beauty hath created been,
To undo or be undone.

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