SONNET XXIII.
My YEARS draw on my everlasting night,
And HORROR'S sable clouds dim my life's sun;
That my life's sun, and Thou my worldly light
Shall rise no more to me. My days are done!
I'll go before unto the myrtle shades,
To attend the presence of my world's dear:
And dress a bed of flowers that never fade,
And all things fit against her coming there.
If any ask, "Why that so soon I came?"
I'll hide her fault, and say " It was my lot."
In life and death I'll tender her good name;
My life and death shall never be her blot.
Although the world this deed of hers may blame;
The Elysian ghosts shall never know the same.
SONNET XXIV.
The STAR of my mishap imposed my paining
To spend the April of my years in crying;
That never found my fortune but in waining,
With still fresh cares my blood and body trying.
Yet her I blame not, though she might have blest me;
But my DESIRE'S wings so high aspiring:
Now melted with the sun that hath possest me
Down do I fall from off my high desiring.
And in my fall do cry for mercy speedy,
No piteous eye looks back upon my mourning;
No help I find, when now most favour need I:
My ocean tears drown me, and quench my burning.
And this my death must christen her anew,
Whiles faith doth bid my cruel Fair, "Adieu!"
