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To the Right Honourable the Lady Mary, Countess of Pembroke |
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I. |
Vnto the boundless Ocean of thy beauty |
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IV. |
These plaintive verse[s], the Posts of my desire |
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V. |
Whilst Youth and Error led my wandering mind |
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VI. |
Fair is my love, and cruel as she’s fair |
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VII. |
O had she not been fair, and thus unkind! |
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VIII. |
Thou, poor Heart! sacrificed unto the fairest |
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X. |
O then love I, and draw this weary breath |
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XII. |
My spotless love hovers, with purest wings |
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XIV. |
Those snary locks are those same nets, my Dear! |
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XVII. |
Why should I sing in verse? Why should I frame |
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XXIII. |
False Hope prolongs my ever certain grief |
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XXVII. |
Still in the trace of my tormented thought |
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XXVIII. |
Oft do I marvel, whether Delia’s eyes |
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XXX. |
And yet, I cannot reprehend the flight |
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XXXIV. |
Look, Delia! how we ’steem the half-blown rose |
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XXXV. |
But love! whilst that thou may’st be loved again! |
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XXXVI. |
When men shall find thy flower, thy glory pass |
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XXXVII. |
When Winter snows upon thy golden hairs |
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XXXVIII. |
Thou canst not die, whilst any zeal abound |
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XXXIX. |
O be not grieved that these my papers should |
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XL. |
Delia! These eyes that so admireth thine! |
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XLI. |
Fair and lovely Maid! Look from the shore! |
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XLII. |
Read in my face, a volume of despairs! |
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XLIII. |
My Delia hath the waters of mine eyes |
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XLIV. |
How long shall I, in mine affliction mourn? |
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XLV. |
Beauty, sweet love! is like the morning dew |
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XLVI. |
I must not grieve my love! whose eyes would read |
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XLVII. |
O whither, poor Forsaken! wilt thou go? |
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XLVIII. |
Drawn with th’attractive virtue of her eyes |
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XLIX. |
Care-charmer Sleep! Son of the sable Night! |
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L. |
Let others sing of Knights and Palladins |
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LI. |
As to the Roman, that would free his land |
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LII. |
Like as the lute, that joys or else dislikes |
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LIII. |
None other fame, mine unambitious Muse |
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LIV. |
Unhappy pen! and ill accepted papers! |
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LV. |
Lo here, the impost of a faith unfeigning |
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An Ode. Now each creature joys the other |
