Say what guerdon, if to thee I give it,
Fill it for thee with a rarer nectar?"
Oh, he kept his promise, and how truly!
Lida, when with thy dear love he blessed me—
Me, that for thy sake had long been pining.
When I clasp thy beauties to my bosom,
And from thy fond lips, so fond and faithful,
Drink the balm of long, long stored affection,
Thus entranced, I commune with my spirit.
"No; has never God, save Amor, fashioned
Vessel such as this, nor e'er possessed it!
Forms so glorious ne'er were shaped by Vulcan,
With his finest soul-enprompted mallet.
"On the leaf-clad mountains may Lyæus
With his fauns, the hoariest, the sagest,
Cull the clusters of the daintiest savour,
Yea, may guide the mystic fermentation,
Draughts like this not all his skill can furnish!"
FROM AN ALBUM OF 1604.
Hope provides wings to thought, and love to hope.
Rise up to Cynthia, love, when night is clearest,
And say, that as high on her figure changeth,
So, upon earth, my joy decays and grows.
And whisper in her ear with modest softness,
How doubt oft hung its head, and truth oft wept.
If ye are therefore by the loved one chided,
And, oh, ye thoughts, distrustfully inclined,
Answer: 'tis true ye change, but alter not.
As she remains the same, yet changeth ever.
