THE LOVER BESEECHETH HIS MISTRESS 189

CCXII

THE LOVER BESEECHETH HIS MISTRESS NOT TO FORGET HIS STEADFAST FAITH AND TRUE INTENT

FORGET not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant ;
My great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye know, since whan
The suit, the service, none tell can;
Forget not yet!

Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in delays,
Forget not yet!

Forget not! O, forget not this !—
How long ago hath been, and is

The mind that never meant amiss-
Forget not yet!

Forget not then thine own approved,
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved :
Forget not this!

Sir Thomas Wyat.

CCXIII

CONSTANCY

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 the home of love; if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again,

Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
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 prepost'rously 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.
Shakespeare.

CCXIV

HOW CAN THE HEART FORGET HER?

AT her fair hands how have I grace entreated, With prayers oft repeated!

Yet still my love is thwarted:

Heart, let her go, for she'll not be converted— Say, shall she go?

O no, no, no, no, no!

She is most fair, though she be marble-hearted.

SINCE FIRST I SAW YOUR FACE

How often have my sighs declared my anguish, Wherein I daily languish !

Yet still she doth procure it:

Heart, let her go, for I can not endure it—
Say, shall she go?

O no, no, no, no, no!

191

She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it.

But shall I still a true affection owe her,

Which prayers, sighs, tears do show her,
And shall she still disdain me?

Heart, let her go, if they no grace can gain me—
Say, shall she go?

O no, no, no, no, no!

She made me hers, and hers she will retain me.

But if the love that hath and still doth burn me No love at length return me,

Out of my thoughts I'll set her:

Heart, let her go, O heart I pray thee, let her! Say, shall she go?

O no, no, no, no, no!

Fix'd in the heart, how can the heart forget her.

F. or W. Davison.

CCXV

SINCE FIRST I SAW YOUR FACE

SINCE first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye;

If now I be disdainèd, I wish my heart had never

known ye.

What? I that loved and you that liked, shall we begin to wrangle?

No, no, no, my heart is fast and cannot disentangle.

If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me;

Or if my hands had stray'd but a touch, then justly might you leave me.

I asked you leave, you bade me love; is 't now a time to chide me?

No, no, no, I'll love you still what fortune e'er betide me.

The sun, whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder,

And

your

sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder:

Where beauty moves and wit delights and signs of kindness bind me,

There, O there! where'er I go I'll leave my heart

behind me!

CCXVI

Anon.

FALSE LOVE

WHEN LOVE on time and measure makes his ground,— Time that must end, though Love can never die,— 'Tis Love betwixt a shadow and a sound,

A love not in the heart but in the eye;

A love that ebbs and flows, now up, now down,
A morning's favour and an evening's frown.

LOVE UNALTERABLE

193

Sweet looks show love, yet they are but as beams; Fair words seem true, yet they are but as wind; Eyes shed their tears, yet are but outward streams; Sighs paint a shadow in the falsest mind.

Looks, words, tears, sighs, show love when love they leave,

False hearts can weep, sigh, swear, and yet deceive. Anon.

CCXVII

LOVE UNALTERABLE

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-fixèd mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
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.

N

Shakespeare.