Faire eyes, sweete lips, deare heart, that foolish I
Could hope by Cupids helpe on you to pray;
Since to himself he doth your gifts apply,
As his main force, choice sport, and easefull stray.
For when he will see who dare him gainsay,
Then with those eyes he lookes; by and by
Each soule doth at Loves feet his weapon lay,
Glad if for her he give them leave to die.
When he will play, then in her lips he is,
Where blushing red, that Love selfe them doth love,
With either lip he doth the other kisse.
But when he will for quiet sake remove
From all the world, her heart is then his rome,
Where well he knowes, no man to him can come.
(3e sonnet.)
My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys,
My witt doth strive those passions to defend,
Which for reward spoile it with vaine annoies;
I see my course to lose myself doth bend:
I see and yet no greater sorrow take,
Than that I lose no more for Stella's sake.
[301]: Dernier sonnet, page 490.
Leave me, o Love, which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things.
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust;
Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings....
O take fast hold, let that light be thy guide,
In this small course which birth draws out to death.