Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/338

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search
This page needs to be proofread.



298 Persuasions to Joy: a Song

PF the quick spirits in your eye

Now languish and anon must die; If every sweet and every grace Must fly from that forsaken face;

Then, Celia, let us reap our joys Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys.

Or if that golden fleece must grow

For ever free from aged snow;

If those bright suns must know no shade,

Nor your fresh beauties ever fade; Then fear not, Celia, to bestow What, still being gather'd, still must grow.

Thus cither Time his sickle brings In vain, or else in vain his wings.

��p To His Inconstant Mistress

WHEN thou, poor Excommunicate From all the joys of Love, shalt see The full reward and glorious fate

Which my strong faith shall purchase me, Then curse thine own inconstancy '

A fairer hand than thine shall cure

That heart which thy false oaths did wound;

And to my soul a soul more pure

Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound, And both with equal glory crown'd.

�� �