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��THOMAS CAREW
303 Another
SHIS little vault, this narrow room, Of Love and Beauty is the tomb; The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear Our clouded sky, lies darken'd here, For ever set to us: by Death Sent to enflame the World Beneath. 'Twas but a bud, yet did contain More sweetness than shall spring again; A budding Star, that might have grown Into a Sun when it had blown. This hopeful Beauty did create New life in Love's declining state; But now his empire ends, and we From fire and wounding darts are free; His brand, his bow, let no man fear: The flames, the arrows, all lie here.
JASPER MAYNE
304 Time
MME is the fcather'd thing, And, whilst I praise The sparklings of thy looks and call them rays,
Takes wing,
Leaving behind him as he flies An unpcrccived dimness in thine eyes. His minutes, whilst they're told,
Do make us old ,
And every sand of his fleet glass, Increasing age as it doth pass,
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