SONNETS. 1. TO THE NIGHTINGALE. O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still ; Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretel my hopeless doom in some grove nigh; As thou from year to year hast sung too late Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate, II. On his being arrived at the age of 23. How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, ' Stoln on his wing my three and twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, That I to manhood am arriv'd so near; That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. It shall be still in strictest measure even To that same lot, however mean or high, Heaven; CAPTAIN, or Colonel, or Knight in arms, seise, Guard them, and him within protect from harms! He can requite thee; for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muse's bower : The great Emathian conquerour bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground : And the repeated air.. Of sad Electra's poét had the power IV. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth That labour up the hill of heavenly truth: Chosen thou hast; and they that overween, To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friend Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, sure TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. DAUGHTER to that good Earl, once President Of England's Council and her Treasury, And left them both, more in himself content, Till sad the breaking of that Parliament , Broke him, as that dishonest victory , Kill’d with report that old man eloquent. Though later born than to have known the days Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you, Madam, methinks I see him living yet; So well your words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them true, And to possess them, honour'd Margaret. |