[A Fragment Of A Love Elegie.]

But those impressions by this forme are staynde, and blotted out as if they had not beene: And yet if nothing else in mynde I beare, makes me not lesse learn[è]d then before: For that in her as in a merrour cleare, I see and learne far better things and more. The students of the world and Natur's booke, Beauty and order in the world doe noate; She is my little world; on her I looke, and doe in her the same p'fections quoate: For in her eyes the beames of beauty shine, and in her sweete behaviour and her grace, Order apears, and comlines divine, Befitting every tyme and every place.

3.

Vnto that sparkling wit, that spirit of fire, That pointed diomond looke, that ægle's eye Whose lyghtning makes audacity retire and yet drawes on respectiue modesty, With wings of feare and loue, my spirit doth fly and doth therein a flame of fire resemble; Which, when it burnes most bright and mounts most high, then doth it waver most and most doth tremble. O that my thoughts were words, or could I speake The tongue of Angells, to expresse my mynde: For mortall speach is far too faint and weeke to utter passion of so high a kynde. You have a beauty of such life and light As it hath power all wandring eyes to stay: To move dombe tongues to speake, lame hands to write, Stayde thoughts to run, hard harts to melt a way: Yet painters' can of this draw every line And every wittles person that hath eyes, Can se[e] and judg and sweare it is divine: For in these outwarde formes all fooles are wise. But that which my admireing spirit doth veiw, I[n] thought whereof it would for ever dwell, Eie never saw, the pensill never drew, Pen neuer coulde describe, tongue never tell: It is the invisible beauty of your mynde, Your cleare immagination, lively witt, So tund, so temp'rd, of such heavenly kind, As all mens spirits ar charmd and rapt with it. This life within begetts your lively looke, As fier doth make all metalls looke like fier; Or your quicke soule by choise this body tooke, As angells w^{th} bright formes themselves attire. O that my brest might ope, and hart might cleave That so you might my silent wondring veiw: O that you might my soreing spirit p'ceive, How still with trembling wings it waites on you. Then should you se[e] of thoughts an endles chaine, Whose links are vertues, and yor vertues bee; Then should you see how your faire forme doth raigne Through all the regions of my fantesie. Then should you fynde that I was yours as much As ar your sharpe conceits borowd of none; Or as your native beautyes, that are such As all the world will sweare it is your owne.

4.

As they that worke in mines, rich vaines beray, By some few garaines of ore whereon the[y] hit: And as one letter found is oft a kay To many lines that ar in cipher writt; So I by your few loveing lines descry Of your long hiden love the golden mine; And reade therein with a true lover's eye Of the hart's volume, every secrett line. But what availes it now, alas to know That once a blessed man I might haue beene? Since I haue lett, by lookeing downe too low My highest fortunes sore away vnseene: And yett if I had raisd my humble eyes As high as heauen I could not haue discer[n]d Of invisible thoughts which in your hart did rise, Unles of you I had my lesson learnd. But all was darke and folden vp to me; As soon might I my selfe, my selfe haue taught To read y^{e} blacke records of destiny, As read the ridles of the silent thought: But whereto may I best resemble this? Your loue was like the springing of a tree: We cannot see the growing when it is, But that it hath sprunge up and growne, we see. Or it is like to wealth by fairyes brought, Which they bring still while they invisible goe; But all doth vanish and doth turne to nought, If once a man enricht, those fairyes know: But now your loue (say you) is dead and gone: But my strong faith shall giue it life againe. By strength of fancy miricles are done, And true beleefe doth seldom hope in vaine. Your Ph[oe]nix loue is vnto ashes turnd, But now the fier of my affection true, Which long within my hart hath kyndly burnd, Shall spreade such heate as it shall liue anew. Or if the fyer of your celestiall loue, Be mounted vp to heauen and cannot dye: Another slye Prometheus will I prove, and play the theife to steale it from the skye. When you vouchsaft to love vnworthy me, Your loue discended like a shower of raine; Which on the earth, euen senceles though she bee, when once it falls, returneth not againe. Then why should you withdraw the heauenly dew Which fell sometymes on your despairing lover? Though then his earthly spirit full little knew How good an Angel did about him houer. O you the glory of your sex and race! You that all tymes and places hapie make! You that in beeing vertuous vertue grace, and make men love it better for your sake: One sunbeame yet of favour cast on mee, Let one kinde thought in your cleare fancy rise: Loue but a thought, or if that may not be Be pleasd that I may love, it shall suffise.