167. FOLLOW THY FAIR SUN FOLLOW thy fair sun, unhappy | Follow those pure beams, whose shadow, Though thou be black as night, And she made all of light; Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow! Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth! Though here thou livest disgraced, And she in heaven is placed; Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth! beauty burneth! That so have scorchèd thee; As thou still black must be, Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth! Follow her, while yet her glory shineth! There comes a luckless night That will dim all her light; And this the black unhappy shade divineth. Follow still, since so thy Fates ordained! The sun must have his shade, Till both at once do fade; The sun still proved, the shadow still disdainèd ! 168. FOLLOW YOUR SAINT FOLLOW your saint. Follow, with accents sweet! T. CAMPION. And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love. But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, Then burst with sighing in her sight, and ne'er return again! All that I sang, still to her praise did tend. Still she was first, still she my songs did end; Yet she my love and music both doth fly, The music that her echo is, and beauty's sympathy: Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight! It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her delight. T. CAMPION. 169. MY SWEETEST LESBIA My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive If all would lead their lives in love like me, When timely death my life and fortune ends, And crown with love my ever-during night. THE man upright of life, whose guiltless heart is free The man whose silent days in harmless joys are spent, That man needs neither towers nor armour for defence, He, only, can behold with unaffrighted eyes Thus, scorning all the cares that fate or fortune brings, T. CAMPION. 172. THINK'ST THOU TO SEDUCE ME THINK'ST thou to seduce me then with words that have no meaning? Learn to speak first, then to woo: to wooing much pertaineth : 173. THOU ART NOT FAIR THOU art not fair, for all thy red and white, I will not soothe thy fancies: thou shalt prove Yet love not me, nor seek thou to allure My thoughts with beauty, were it more divine; I'll not be wrapped up in those arms of thine: 174. TURN ALL THY TURN all thy thoughts to eyes, T. CAMPION. THOUGHTS TO EYES Wrest every word and look, T. CAMPION. 175. WERE MY HEART AS SOME MEN'S ARE WERE my heart as some men's are, thy errors would not move me; Foes sometimes befriend us more, our blacker deeds objecting, T. CAMPION. 176. WHEN TO HER LUTE CORINNA SINGS WHEN to her lute Corinna sings, | And as her lute doth live or die, My thoughts enjoy a sudden But if she doth of sorrow speak, E'en from my heart the strings do break. T. CAMPION. 177. THE PILOT THAT WEATHERED THE STORM And shall not his memory to Britain be dear, A statesman unbiased by interest or fear, By power uncorrupted, untainted by gold? Who, when terror and doubt through the universe reigned, The heart and the hopes of his country maintained, And one kingdom preserved 'midst the wreck of the world. Lo! Pitt, when the course of thy greatness is o'er, G. CANNING. 178. A POLITICAL DISPATCH IN matters of commerce the fault of the Dutch We clap on Dutch bottoms just 20 per cent. 179. SAPPHICS G. CANNING. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER NEEDY Knife-grinder! whither are you going? Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day, 'Knives and Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives: Was it the 'Squire ? or Parson of the Parish ? Was it the 'Squire, for killing of his game? or All in a lawsuit ? (Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine ?) Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story. Knife-grinder. Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, Sir, Constables came up for to take me into Stocks for a vagrant. |