the 43rd, 44th, and 45th are in a similar position. We have now a perfect little poem describing the journey—the restless pilgrimage of thought-the desire for return.

The thoughts of a temporary separation lead to the fear that absence may produce estrangement:

How careful was I, when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
That, to my use, it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of
trust!

But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou, best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
Save where thou art not, though I feel thou
art,

Within the gentle closure of my breast,
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come
and part;

And even thence thou wilt be stolen I fear,
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

-48.

The sentiment is somewhat differently re-
peated in a Sonnet which is entirely isolated
in the place where it stands in the original:-
So are you to my thoughts, as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found:
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his trea-

sure;

Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure :

Sometime, all full with feasting on your sight, And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight, Save what is had or must from you be took Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away.—75. But the 49th Sonnet carries forward the dread expressed in the 48th that his friend will "be stolen," into the apprehension that coldness, and neglect, and desertion may one day ensue:

Against that time, if ever that time come, When I shall see thee frown on my defects,

When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Call'd to that audit by advised respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely

pass,

And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye,

When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shall reasons find of settled gravity;
Against that time do I ensconce me here
Within the knowledge of mine own desert,
And this my hand against myself uprear,
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:
To leave poor me thou hast the strength
of laws,

Since, why to love, I can allege no cause.

49.

This Sonnet is also completely isolated; but much further on, according to the original arrangement, we find the idea here conveyed of that self-sacrificing humility which will endure unkindness without complaint, worked out with exquisite tender

ness:

When thou shalt be disposed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of Scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art
forsworn.

With mine own weakness being best ac¦ quainted,

Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted;
That thou, in losing me, shalt win much glory:
And I by this will be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.

Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all
wrong.-88.

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment upon that offence :
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will
halt;

Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange:
Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet-beloved name no more shall dwell;

Lest I (too much profane) should do it wrong, And haply of our old acquaintance tell.

For thee, against myself I'll vow debate, For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.-89.

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,

Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after loss:

Ah! do not, when my heart hath scaped this sorrow,

Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite.
But in the onset come; so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem
woe,

Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.-90.

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their body's

force;

Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O what a happy title do I find,

Happy to have thy love, happy to die!

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot

Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not:-92.

So shall I live, supposing thou art true,
Like a deceived husband; so love's face
May still seem love to me, though alter'd-new;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place:
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
In many's looks the false heart's history

Is writ, in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange;

But Heaven in thy creation did decree
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell;
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's work-

ings be,

Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell.

How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

-93.

Separated from the preceding stanzas by

ill;

Some in their hawks and hounds, some in

their horse;

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest;
But these particulars are not my measure,
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments'
cost,

Of more delight than hawks or horses be;
And having thee, of all men's pride I boast.
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst
take

All this away, and me most wretched make.-91.

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs

Than that which on thy humour doth depend.

we have already given-(they are those in which a friend is mildly upbraided for the defects in his character)—we have a second little poem on Absence. It would be difficult to find anything more perfect in our own or any other language:—

How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days

seen!

What old December's bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed was summer's time;

The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lord's
decease:

Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;

Or, if they sing, 't is with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's
near.-97.

and one of which we shall give as an isolated fragment:

O, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify!
As easy might I from myself depart,

As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time ex-
changed,-

So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stain'd,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my
all.-109.

Alas, 't is true, I have gone here and there,
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is
most dear,

Made old offences of affections new.
Most true it is that I have look'd on truth
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays proved thee my best of love.
Now all is done, save what shall have no end:
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A God in love, to whom I am confined.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the
best,

Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.-110.

O, for my sake do you with fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide,
Than public means, which public manners
breeds.

Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,

And almost thence my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand:
Pity me then, and wish I were renew'd;
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink
Potions of eysell, 'gainst my strong infection;
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance, to correct correction.

Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye,
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.

-111.

Your love and pity doth the impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my all-the-world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your
tongue;

None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel'd sense or changes, right or

wrong.

In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of other's voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:--
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides methinks are
dead.-112.

Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart

Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch;

Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet favour, or deformed'st crca-
ture,

The mountain or the sea, the day or night, The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature.

Incapable of more, replete with you,

My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.-113.

Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you,

Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery,
Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchymy,
To make of monsters and things indigest
Such cherubims as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best,

As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
O, 't is the first; 't is flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is
'greeing,

And to his palate doth prepare the cup:
If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin

That mine eye loves it, and doth first begin.-114.

Those lines that I before have writ, do lie, Even those that said I could not love you dearer;

Yet then my judgment knew no reason why My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.

But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,

Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;

Alas! why, fearing of time's tyranny,
Might I not then say, "Now I love you best,"
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?

Love is a babe; then might I not say so, To give full growth to that which still doth grow?-115.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height
be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and checks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.-116.

Accuse me thus; that I have scanted all Wherein I should your great deserts repay; Forget upon your dearest love to call, Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; That I have frequent been with unknown minds,

And given to time your own dear-purchased

right;

That I have hoisted sail to all the winds

Which should transport me farthest from your sight.

Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
And, on just proof, surmise accumulate,
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate:
Since my appeal says, I did strive to prove
The constancy and virtue of your love.-117.

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full character'd with lasting memory,
Which shall above that idle rank remain,
Beyond all date, even to eternity:
Or at the least so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist;
Till each to raz'd oblivion yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.
That poor retention could not so much hold,
Nor need I tallies, thy dear love to score;
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To trust those tables that receive thee more;
To keep an adjunct to remember thee,
Were to import forgetfulness in me.-122.

No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:

Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old;
And rather make them born to our desire,
Than think that we before have heard them

told.

Thy registers and thee I both defy,

Not wondering at the present nor the past; For thy records and what we see do lie, Made more or less by thy continual haste: This I do vow, and this shall ever be,

I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee:-123.

If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for fortune's bastard be unfather'd,
As subject to time's love, or to time's hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers
gather'd.

No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralled discontent,
Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls:
It fears not policy, that heretic,

Which works on leases of short-number'd

hours,

But all alone stands hugely politic,

That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.

To this I witness call the fools of time, Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.-124.

Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring.