[Begin Pg. 8, Continue Stanza # 13] Hopst thy honour ? for I have not halfe thy might, / And yet in these eyes, I conquer all the world: / Death hearing this, let him live styll in the syght: / Fro whence he shewteth such sharpe arrowes of gold. // Sonnet. 4. / 14.WHen nature made my Diana, that before / All other Nymphes: showld force the heartes rebellant: / She gave her the masse, of beauties excellent, / That she keepe since long, in her coffers in store. And at her framing, Paphae came fro the skies. / With the sweetnes, and graces, of Eryceene:/ And swore that it should make her so fayre a Queene, / Of Beautie: that the Gods should dwell in her eyes. / But she hardlie was come to us, fro above: / Though ? but my soule was inflamed with her love. / And I serve her in spite of the troupe Celest. / For tell mee ? why did not they lykewise ordaine: That in reward of my love, she shewd againe, / Esteeme me onely, and onely, love me best. // Sonnet. 5. / 15.OF stars, and of forrests, Dian, is the honor: / And to the seas, to the Goddesse, to the guide: / And she hath Luna, Charon, and Eumenide:/ To make brightnes, to give death, and to cause horror. / And my warrier, my light, shines in the fayre eyes: / My dread is of thee, th[in]e to[o] great excellence: / Thy wordes kyll mee: and thus thou hast the puissaunce,/ Of her that rules the flodes, and lyghtnes the skies. / And as sylver Pheb, is the aster, most clare: / So is thy beauty the beauty, the most rare. / Wherefore I call thee Dian, for thy beautee, / For thy wisedome, and for thy puissaunce Celest[ial]. / And yet thou must be but a Goddesse terest[ial]: / And onely because of thy great cruelte. [End Pg. 8] ///
[Begin Pg. 9] Sonnet. 6. / 16.OF Pyladeus, and of Oresteus, we have / made many disputes, in the temple of death: / And in the Church of Troy, we proove Choreb's faith, / Who made for Cassander, his harnes, his grave. / And there is one, on the mountaine Caucasein, / With an Eagle, on his heart Philosiphall. / And there is a stone of a mad Cisyphall, / Leaft alwayes behind him, and caried in vaine. / These temples, and this rocke, is in my object: / The church is my soule, the flint is my subject. / My verses are the labours of Sisypheus: / And for willing shew your fayre beauties, its vaine. / Of Promet[heus], for not canning. I have the paine: / Th' Eagle's crue[l]ti, and (Nymphe) you are rigrous. / Sonnet. 7. / 17.I Am not (my cruell warrier) the Thebain, / That my infancie, should be strangled with Serpents:/ Nor neither did my nurse give thee any torments: / nor I suckt neither Uropae, nor Elthain. / I came not (my warrier) of the blood Lidain: / Nor neyther am I of the race, of Ixion: / Nor Jove, neither bare my mother, affection: / Nor I am no infant Egier, nor Danain. / Nor I am neither the nephew of Atlas, / That made the earth dronke, with the blood of Arguss:/ But yet I know wherefore I have all my wounds. / I am none of these which I have sayd (Dian) / But I am that verie miserable man, / Who for regarding thee, was eaten of Houndes.// Elegia. I. To the Echon. / O Dolefull voice, that doost aunswer, / The weepings of my care: / And that heere in these mozic groves, / Hast pittie on my dolance, / [Printer's Mark of "B.y."] / [End Pg. 9] ///
Copyright © 1997-2005
by Mark Alexander.
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