XLIX

SONNET.

Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fooled by these rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,

Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end?
Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more :-
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men;
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.
William Shakespeare.

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SONNET.

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoyed no sooner than despisèd straight;
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated; as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so ;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof-and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream:

All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

William Shakespeare.

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TIMES GO BY TURNS.

The lopped tree in time may grow again;
Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower;
The sorriest wight may find release of pain,

The driest soil suck in some moistening shower; Times go by turns, and chances change by course, 5 From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.

The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow,

She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; Her tides have equal times to come and go;

Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; 10 No joy so great but runneth to an end, No hap so hard but may in fine amend.

Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring;

No endless night, yet no eternal day; The saddest birds a season find to sing;

The roughest storm a calm may soon allay; Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all, That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. A chance may win that by mischance was lost; That net that holds no great, takes little fish ; In some things all, in all things none are crossed ; Few all they need, but none have all they wish; Unmeddled joys here to no man befall,

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Who least hath some, who most hath never all. Robert Southwell.

LII

LIFE A bubble.

This Life, which seems so fair,

Is like a bubble blown up in the air,

By sporting children's breath,

Who chase it everywhere,

And strive who can most motion it bequeath;

And though it sometimes seem of its own might
Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there,
And firm to hover in that empty height,
That only is because it is so light.

But in that pomp it doth not long appear;
For when 'tis most admirèd, in a thought,
Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought.

LIII

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William Drummond.

MAN'S MORTALITY.

Like as the damask rose you see,
Or like the blossom on the tree,
Or like the dainty flower in May,
Or like the morning of the day,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,

Or like the gourd which Jonas had—
E'en such is man; whose thread is spun,
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done.
The rose withers; the blossom blasteth;
The flower fades; the morning hasteth;
The sun sets, the shadow flies;
The gourd consumes; and man he dies!
Like to the grass that's newly sprung,

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Or like a tale that's new begun,

Or like the bird that's here to day,

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Or like the pearlèd dew of May,

Or like an hour, or like a span,

Or like the singing of a swan

E'en such is man; who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life, and death.
The grass withers, the tale is ended;
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended;
The hour is short, the span is long;
The swan's near death; man's life is done!
Simon Wastell.

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ON GOD'S OMNIPOTENCY.

O every living worldly wight,

Awake and dress yourself with speed, To serve and praise the God of might, From whom all bounty does proceed : For if ye drift and still refuse,

The heaven and earth will you accuse.

The brutal beasts without all strife

They willingly his voice obey; The creatures that have no life

Set forth his glory day by day; The earth, the air, the sea, and fire Are subject all to his empire.

The heaven it is his dwelling place,

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From every airth by day and night;

We hear them thudding by us go,

Yet not conceive them with our sight:

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But in a clap the Lord to please
Their blasts they quietly appease.

Like flocks of fowls the clouds above
Forth fly and cover all the sky;

Again they suddenly remove,

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We wot not where, nor reason why:

But to obey his holy law

They pour out rain, sharp hail, and snaw.

He made the sun, a lamp of light,

A well of heat, to shine by day;

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He made the moon to guide the night,
And set the stars in good array;

Ye pride your pens men's ears to please
With fables and fictitious leis.

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He is above Mercurius,

Above Neptunus on the sea,