The Golden Treasury | Page 4

no stronger than a flower?

O how shall summer's honey breath hold out,
Against the wreckful
siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,

Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays?
O fearful meditation, where, alack!
Shall Time's best jewel from
Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,

Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O! none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love
may still shine bright.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
5. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.
Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures
prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy
mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their
flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing
madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of
myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we
pull,
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest
gold.
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:

And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my
Love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall

on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each
May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with
me and be my Love.
C. MARLOWE.
6. A MADRIGAL.
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of
pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like
winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare:

Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is
lame:
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild,
and Age is tame:--
Age, I do abhor thee,
Youth, I do adore thee;

O! my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee--
O, sweet
shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
7.
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his
merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat--
Come hither, come hither,
come hither!
Here shall we see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the
food he eats
And pleased with what he gets--
Come hither, come
hither, come hither!
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
W. SHAKESPEARE.

8.
It was a lover and his lass
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonino!

That o'er the green cornfield did pass,
In the spring time, the only
pretty ring time,
When birds do sing hey ding a ding:
Sweet lovers
love the Spring.
Between the acres of the rye
These pretty country
folks would lie:
This carol they began that hour,
How that life was
but a flower:
And therefore take the present time
With a hey, and a
ho, and a hey-nonino!
For love is crownéd with the prime
In spring
time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding;

Sweet lovers love the Spring.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
9. PRESENT IN ABSENCE.
Absence, hear thou my protestation
Against thy strength,
Distance, and length:
Do what thou canst for
alteration:
For hearts of truest mettle
Absence doth join, and Time
doth settle.
Who loves a mistress of such quality,
He soon hath found
Affection's ground
Beyond time, place, and all
mortality.
To hearts that cannot vary
Absence is Presence, Time
doth tarry.
By absence this good means I gain,
That I can catch her,
Where none can watch her,
In some close
corner of my brain:
There I embrace and kiss her,
And so I both
enjoy and miss her.
ANON.
10. ABSENCE.

Being your slave what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times
of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services
to do, till you require:
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign,
watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour

When you have bid your servant once adieu:
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or
your affairs suppose,
But like a sad slave, stay and think of nought

Save where you are, how happy you make those;--
So true a fool is love, that in your will,
Though you do any thing, he
thinks no ill.
W. SHAKESPEARE.
11.
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 lords' 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, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale,
dreading the winter's near.
W.