Thrice happy she, that is so well assured Unto herself, and settled so in heart,

That neither will for better be allured, Ne feared with worse to any chance to start;

But, like a steady ship, doth strongly part The raging waves, and keeps her course aright;

Ne aught for tempest doth from it depart, Ne aught for fairer weather's false delight. Such self-assurance need not fear the spite Of grudging foes, ne favour seek of friends: But, in the stay of her own steadfast might, Neither to one herself nor other bends.

Most happy she, that most assured doth rest;

But he most happy, who such one loves best.

Sonnet LXI

The glorious image of the Maker's beauty, My sovereign saint, the idol of my thought, Dare not henceforth, above the bounds of duty,

To accuse of pride, or rashly blame for aught.

For being, as she is, divinely wrought, And of the brood of Angels heavenly born; And with the crew of blessed Saints upbrought,

Each of which did her with their gifts adorn;

The bud of joy, the blossom of the morn, The beam of light, whom mortal eyes admire ;

What reason is it then but she should

scorn

Base things, that to her love too bold aspire?

Such heavenly forms ought rather worshipped be,

Than dare be loved by men of mean degree.

Most glorious Lord of life, that, on this day, Did'st make thy triumph over death and sin,

And, having harrowed hell, did'st bring away

Captivity thence captive, us to win:

This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin, And grant that we, for whom thou diddest die,

Being with thy dear blood clean washed from sin,

May live for ever in felicity;

And that thy love we, weighing worthily, May likewise love thee for the same again; And for thy sake, that all like dear did'st buy,

With love may one another entertain.

So let us love, dear love, like as we ought:

Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

Sonnet LXXII

Oft, when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings,

In mind to mount up to the purest sky, It down is weighed with thought of earthly things,

And clogged with burden of mortality; Where, when that sovereign beauty it doth spy,

Resembling heaven's glory in her light, Drawn with sweet pleasure's bait, it back doth fly,

And unto heaven forgets her former flight. There my frail fancy, fed with full delight, Doth bathe in bliss, and mantleth most at ease;

Ne thinks of other heaven, but how it might

Her heart's desire with most contentment please.

Heart need not wish none other happi

ness,

But here on earth to have such heaven's bliss.