142. Dirge of the Three Queens URNS and odours bring away! 143. Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dying; And clamours through the wild air flying! Come, all sad and solemn shows, Οι Orpheus ? or John Fletcher. RPHEUS with his lute made trees Every thing that heard him play, 42. dole] lamentation. ? or John Fletcher. convent] summon. 144. can] knows. The Phoenix and the Turtle LET ET the bird of loudest lay But thou shrieking harbinger, Foul precurrer of the fiend, Let the priest in surplice white And thou, treble-dated crow, That thy sable gender mak'st With the breath thou giv'st and takʼst So they loved, as love in twain Hearts remote, yet not asunder; Distance, and no space was seen "Twixt the turtle and his queen: But in them it were a wonder. So between them love did shine, Property was thus appall'd, That the self was not the same; Single nature's double name Neither two nor one was call'd. Reason, in itself confounded, That it cried, 'How true a twain Whereupon it made this threne THRENOS BEAUTY, truth, and rarity, Here enclosed in cinders lie. Death is now the phoenix' nest; Leaving no posterity: Truth may seem, but cannot be; To this urn let those repair SHALL I compare thee to a Summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And Summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd: But thy eternal Summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. WHEN, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possest, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despisingHaply I think on thee: and then my state, Like to the Lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven's gate; For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with Kings. 147. WHEN iii to the Sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, |