And though that she be now thine own,
And knows thee well, as may be known;
And thinks thee to be such a one
As she likes best to be her own;
Think'st thou that others have not grace
To show and plain their woful case,
And choose her for their lady now,
And swear her truth, as well as thou?
And what if she do alter mind,
Where is the love that thou wouldst find?
Absence, my friend, works wonders oft;
Now brings full low that lay full loft,
Now turns the mind, now to, now fro,
And where art thou, if it were so?'
'If absence,' quoth I, 'be marvellous,
I find her not so dangerous;
For she may not remove me fro
The poor good-will that I do owe
To her, whom erst 1 I love, and shall,
And chosen have above them all
To serve and be her own as far
As any man may offer her;
And will her serve, and will her love,
And lowly, as it shall behove;
And die her own, if fate be so:
Thus shall my heart nay part her fro.
And witness shall my good-will be,
That absence takes her not from me;
But that my love doth still increase
To mind her still, and never cease:
And what I feel to be in me,
The same good-will, I think, hath she
''Erst:' formerly, long since.
As firm and fast to biden aye,
Till death depart us both away.'
And as I have my tale thus told,
Steps unto me, with countenance bold,
A steadfast friend, a counsellor,
And named is Hope, my comforter;
And stoutly then he speaks and says,
'Thou hast said truth withouten nays;
For I assure thee, even by oath,
And thereon take my hand and troth,
That she is one the worthiest,
The truest, and the faithfullest,
The gentlest and the meekest of mind,
That here on earth a man may find:
And if that love and truth were gone,
In her it might be found alone.
For in her mind no thought there is,
But how she may be true, I wis;
And tenders thee, and all thy heal,1
And wishes both thy health and weal;
And loves thee even as far-forth than
As any woman may a man ;
And is thine own, and so she says;
And cares for thee ten thousand ways.
On thee she speaks, on thee she thinks;
With thee she eats, with thee she drinks;
With thee she talks, with thee she moans;
With thee she sighs, with thee she groans;
With thee she says, "Farewell, mine own!"
When thou, God knows, full far art gone ;
And even, to tell thee all aright,
To thee she says full oft, "Good night!"
And names thee oft her own most dear,
Her comfort, weal, and all her cheer;
And tells her pillow all the tale
How thou hast done her woe and bale;
And how she longs, and plains for thee,
And says, "Why art thou so from me?
Am I not she that loves thee best?
Do I not wish thine ease and rest?
Seek I not how I may thee please?
Why art thou then so from thine ease
If I be she for whom thou carest,
For whom in torments so thou farest,
Alas! thou know'st to find me here,
Where I remain thine own most dear;
Thine own most true, thine own most just;
Thine own that love thee still, and must;
Thine own that cares alone for thee,
As thou, I think, dost care for me;
And even the woman, she alone
That is full bent to be thine own."
What wilt thou more? what canst thou crave?
Since she is as thou would'st her have.
Then set this drivel out of door,
That in thy brains such tales doth pour,
Of absence, and of changes strange ;
Send him to those that use to change :
For she is none, I thee avow,
And well thou mayst believe me now.'
When Hope hath thus his reason said,
Lord! how I feel me well a-paid!
A new blood then o'erspreads my bones,
That all in joy I stand at ones.
My hands I throw to heaven above,
And humbly thank the god of love,
That of his grace I should bestow
My love so well as I it owe;
And all the planets as they stand,
I thank them too with heart and hand,
That their aspects so friendly were,
That I should so my good-will bear
To you, that are the worthiest,
The fairest, and the gentilest,
And best can say, and best can do
That 'longs, methinks, a woman to,
And therefore are most worthy far,
To be beloved as you are,
And so says Hope in all his tale,
Whereby he easeth all my bale;
For I believe, and think it true,
That he doth speak or say of you.
And thus contented, lo! I stand
With that that Hope bears me in hand,
That you are mine, and shall so be;
Which Hope I keep full sure in me,
As he, that all my comfort is,
On you alone, which are my bliss,
My pleasure chief, which most I find,
And e'en the whole joy of my
mind;
And shall so be, until the death
Shall make me yield up life and breath.
Thus, good mine own, lo! here my trust;
Lo! here my truth, and service just ;
Lo! in what case for you I stand;
Lo! how you have me in
And if you can requite a man,
Requite me, as you find me than.
I, SOLOMON, David's son, King of Jerusalem, Chosen by God to teach the Jews, and in his laws to lead them,
Confess, under the sun that everything is vain ;
The world is false; man he is frail, and all his pleasures
Alas! what stable fruit may Adam's children find
In that they seek by sweat of brows and travail of their mind!
We, that live on the earth, draw toward our decay; Our children fill our place a while, and then they vade1
Such changes maketh earth, and doth remove for none, But serves us for a place to play our tragedies upon. 10 When that the restless sun westward his course hath
Towards the east he hastes as fast, to rise where he begun. When hoary Boreas hath blown his frozen blast,
Then Zephyrus, with his gentle breath, dissolves the ice as fast.
Floods that drink up small brooks, and swell by rage of rain,
Discharge in seas, which them repulse, and swallow straight again.
These worldly pleasures, Lord! so swift they run their
That scarce our eyes may them discern, they bide so
1 'Vade:' go, or pass, from vado.
|