A FEVER.
O ! DO not die, for I shall hate
All women so, when thone,
That thee I shall not celebrate,
When I remember thou wast one.
But yet thou st not die, I know ;
To leave this world behind, is death ;
But when thou from this world wilt go,
The whole world vapours with thy breath.
Or if, when thou, the worlds soul, gost,
It stay, tis but thy carcase then ;
The fairest woman, but thy ghost,
But corrupt worms, the worthiest men.
ling schools, that search what fire
Shall burn this world, had he wit
Unto this knowledge to aspire,
That this her feaver might be it?
A she ot waste by this,
Nor lohis t wrong,
For more corruption needful is,
To fuel such a fever long.
These burning fits but meteors be,
Whose matter in thee is soo ;
Thy beauty, and all parts, which are thee,
Are ungeable firmament.
Yet twas of my mind, seizing thee,
Though it in thee ot perséver ;
For I had rather owner be
Of thee one hour, than all else ever.
AIR AND ANGELS.
TWICE or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I khy face or name ;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
Angels affect us oft, and worshippd be.
Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
Some lovely glorious nothing did I see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is
Love must not be, but take a body too ;
And therefore what thou wert, and who,
I bid Love ask, and now
That it assume thy body, I allow,
And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.
Whilst thus to ballast love I thought,
And so more steadily to have gone,
With wares which would sink admiration,
I saw I had loves pinnace overfraught ;
Thy every hair for love to work upon
Is muuch ; some fitter must be sought ;
For, nor in nothing, nor in things
Extreme, and scattering bright, love inhere ;
Then as an angel fad wings
Of air, not pure as it, yet pure doth wear,
So thy love may be my loves sphere ;
Just such disparity
As is twixt airs and angels purity,
Twixt womens love, and mens, will ever be.
BREAK OF DAY.
STAY, O sweet, and do not rise ;
The light that shines es from thine eyes ;
The day breaks not, it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.
Stay, or else my joys will die,
And perish in their infancy.
[ANOTHER OF THE SAME.]
TIS true, tis day ; what though it be?
O, wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise because tis light?
Did we lie down because twas night?
Love, whi spite of darkness brought us hither,
Should ie of light keep us together.
Light hath no tongue, but is all eye ;
If it could speak as well as spy,
This were the worst that it could say,
That being well I fain would stay,
And that I loved my heart and honour so
That I would not from him, that had them, go.
Must busihee from hence remove?
O ! thats the worst disease of love,
The poor, the foul, the false, love
Admit, but not the busied man.
He which hath business, and makes love, doth do
Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.
THE ANNIVERSARY.
ALL kings, and all their favourites,