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POEMS

ON

SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

POEMS

ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

THE GLORY OF BEAUTY.

Ah, wherefore with infection should he live,
And with his presence grace impiety,
That sin by him advantage should achieve,
And lace itself with his society 2
Why should false painting imitate his cheek,
And steal dead seeing of his living hue?
Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
Roses of shadow, since his rose is true ?
Why should he live, now nature bankrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood, to blush thro’lively veins ;
For she hath no exchequer now but his,
And proud of many, lives upon his gains.

0! him she stores, to shew what wealth she had,

In days long since, before these last so bad.
This is his cheek, the map of days, outworn,
When beauty liv'd and dy'd as flowers do now;
Before these bastard signs of fair were born,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow :
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchre were shorn away, 3
To live a second life on second head.
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay,
In him those holy antique hours are seen,

[!] Shakspeare's Sonnets were entered on the Stationers' books by Thonas Thrope, May 20. 1609, and printed in quarto in the same year. They were, however, written some years before. The general style of these poems, and the numerous passages in them, which remind us of our author's plays, leave not the smallest doubt of their authenticity. As these Sonnets are in 154 stanzas, peculiar passages have been selected, under appropriate heads, which will be more acceptable to readers in general. MALONE.

[2] i. e. Embellish itself. MALONE.

[3] In our author's time the false hair, usually worn, perhaps in compli. ment to the queen was of a sandy colour. Hence the epithet golden. MAL.

21 VOL. IX.

Without all ornament itself, and true,
Making no summer of another's green,
Robbing no old, to dress his beauty new ;

And him as for a map doth nature store,

To show false art what beauty was of yore.
Those parts of thee, that the world's eye doth view,
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend :
All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee thy due,
Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.
Their outward thus with outward praise is crown'd,
But those same tongues that give thee so thine own,
In other accents do this praise confound,
By seeing farther than the eye hath shown.
They look into the beauty of thy mind,
And that in guess they measure by thy deeds ;
Then theirchurl thoughts(although theireyes were kind)
To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds.

But why, thy odour matcheth not thy show,
The toil is this, that thou dost common grow.

INJURIOUS TIME. Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end : Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity once in the main of light, 4 Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And time that gave, doth now his gift confound; Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,5 And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.

And yet to times, in hope my verse shall stand,

Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. Against my love shall be as I am now, With time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn; When hours have drain’d his blood, and fillid his brow With lines and wrinkles ; when his youthful morn Hath travell’d on to age's steepy night, And all those beauties, whereof now he's king, Are vanishing, or vanish'd out of sight,

MALONE

[4] In the great body of light. So the main of waters. ISL. e. the external decorations. MALONE

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