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FAREWELL

GOOD night, good rest. Ah, neither be my

share :

She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.

Farewell, quoth she, and come again to-morrow:
Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.

Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether :
'T may be, she joyed to jest at my exile,
'T may be, again to make me wander thither :
Wander, a word for shadows like myself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.

BEAUTY

BEAUTY is but a vain and doubtful good; A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly; A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud; A brittle glass that's broken presently :

A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.

And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,

So beauty blemish'd once, 's for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost.

AN ELEGY

SWEET Rose, fair Flower, untimely pluck'd, soon

vaded,

Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded!

Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,

And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.

I

weep

for thee, and yet no cause I have;
For why, thou left'st me nothing in thy will:
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
For why, I cravéd nothing of thee still:

-O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE

LET the bird of loudest lay,

On the sole Arabian tree,

Herald sad and trumpet be,

To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou shrieking harbinger,

Foul precurrer of the fiend,

Augur of the fever's end,

To this troop come thou not near!

From this session interdict

Every fowl of tyrant wing,
Save the eagle, feather'd king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.

Let the priest in surplice white

That defunctive music can,
Be the death-divining swan,

Lest the requiem lack his right.

And thou treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender makest
With the breath thou giv'st and takest,
'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

Here the anthem doth commence :
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled

In a mutual flame from hence.

So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none :
Number there in love was slain.

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