That thee is sent receive in buxomnesse, Geoffrey Chaucer. 15 20 What woeful wight would wish his woe? O Fancy frail, that feeds on earth, And stays on slippery joys; O noble mind, O happy man, Such toys as neither perfect are, For life is short, and learning long, All pleasure mixt with woe; IO 15 20 Thus learning is but learned by halves, And joy enjoyed no while; That serves to show thee what thou want'st, This helps thee to beguile. But after death is perfect skill, And joy without decay; When sin is gone, that blinds our eyes, And steals our joys away; No crowing cock shall raise us up, To spend the day in vain; 25 No weary labour shall us drive 30 The fairest pearls that northern seas do breed, For precious stones from eastern coasts are sold; Where goodness wants an equal change to make, No mortal thing can bear so high a price, French wine of us, of them our cloth is sought. 5 10 What thing is Love, which nought can countervail ? Nought save itself, ev'n such a thing is Love. Anon. 15 IV A POESY TO PROVE AFFECTION IS NOT LOVE. Conceit, begotten by the eyes, Is quickly born, and quickly dies; For as the seeds, in springtime sown, Affection follows Fortune's wheels, Desire himself runs out of breath, And, getting, doth but gain his death; 20 Desire nor reason hath, nor rest, And, blind, doth seldom choose the best : But as the cinders of the fire. As ships in ports desired are drowned; As fruit, once ripe, then falls to ground; So fond Desire, when it attains, 25 The life expires, the woe remains. 30 And yet some poets fain would prove And that Desire is of that kind, As if wild beasts and men did seek To like, to love, to choose alike. Sir Walter Raleigh. 35 V NATURAL COMPARISONS WITH PERFECT LOVE. The lowest trees have tops; the ant her gall; Where rivers smoothest run, deep are the fords; The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love. 5 10 Anon. VI LIFE. The world's a bubble, and the life of man In his conception wretched; from the womb Curst from his cradle, and brought up to years Who then to frail mortality shall trust, But limns on water, or but writes in dust. Yet whilst with sorrow here we live opprest, What life is best? Courts are but only superficial schools To dandle fools: The rural parts are turned into a den Of savage men : And where's a city from foul vice so free, But may be termed the worst of all the three? Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, Or pains his head : Those that live single, take it for a curse, Or do things worse: Some would have children; those that have them, moan, Or wish them gone: What is it, then, to have, or have no wife, But single thraldom, or a double strife? Our own affections still at home to please To cross the seas to any foreign soil, 5 ΙΟ 15 20 25 |