‘The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee:
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me,
And were I not immortal, life were done197
Between this heavenly and earthly sun198.
‘Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel?
Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth:
Art thou a woman’s son and canst not feel
What ’tis to love, how want202 of love tormenteth?
O, had thy mother203 borne so hard a mind,
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind204.
‘What am I that thou shouldst contemn205 me this?
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit206?
What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?
Speak, fair, but speak fair words or else be mute:
Give me one kiss, I’ll give it thee again,
And one for int’rest, if thou wilt have twain.
‘Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Well-painted idol, image dull and dead,
Statue213 contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred:
Thou art no man, though of a man’s complexion215,
For men will kiss even by their own direction216.’
This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause,
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth219 her wrong:
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause220;
And now she weeps and now she fain221 would speak,
And now her sobs do her intendments222 break.
Sometime she shakes her head and then his hand,
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;
Sometime her arms enfold him like a band,
She would226, he will not in her arms be bound:
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lily fingers one228 in one.
‘Fondling229,’ she saith, ‘since I have hemmed thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale230,
I’ll be a park231 and thou shalt be my deer :
Feed where thou wilt on mountain or in dale232,
Graze on my lips and, if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
‘Within this limit235 is relief enough,
Sweet bottom-grass236 and high delightful plain,
Round rising hillocks237, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain:
Then be my deer, since I am such a park,
No dog shall rouse240 thee, though a thousand bark.’
At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple;
Love made those hollows, if243 himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple,
Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
Why, there love lived and there he could not die.
These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits247,
Opened their mouths to swallow Venus’ liking:
Being mad before, how doth she now for wits249?
Struck dead at first250, what needs a second striking?
Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn251,
To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn.
Now which way shall she turn? What shall she say?
Her words are done, her woes are more increasing,
The time is spent, her object will away,
And from her twining arms doth urge releasing:
‘Pity!’ she cries, ‘Some favour, some remorse257!’
Away he springs and hasteth to his horse.
But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by259,
A breeding260 jennet, lusty, young and proud,
Adonis’ trampling courser261 doth espy,
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud.
The strong-necked steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein and to her straight264 goes he.
Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girths266 he breaks asunder,
The bearing267 earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven’s thunder,
The iron bit he crusheth ’tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controllèd with.
His ears up-pricked, his braided hanging mane
Upon his compassed crest272 now stand on end,
His nostrils drink the air and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:
His eye, which scornfully glisters275 like fire,
Shows his hot courage276 and his high desire.
Sometime he trots, as if he told277 the steps
With gentle278 majesty and modest pride,
Anon279 he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who should280 say, ‘Lo, thus my strength is tried
And this I do to captivate the eye
Of the fair breeder that is standing by.’
What recketh he283 his rider’s angry stir,
His flattering284 ‘Holla’, or his ‘Stand, I say’?
What cares he now for curb285 or pricking spur?
For rich caparisons286 or trappings gay?
He sees his love and nothing else he sees,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.
Look when a painter would surpass the life
In limning out290 a well-proportioned steed,
His art with nature’s workmanship at strife,
As if the dead the living should exceed:
So did this horse excel a common one
In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone294.
Round-hoofed, short-jointed, fetlocks295 shag and long,
Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,
High crest297, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:
Look what a horse should have he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Sometime he scuds301 far off and there he stares,
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather:
To bid the wind a base303 he now prepares,
And where304 he run or fly they know not whether:
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
Fanning the hairs, who306 wave like feathered wings.
He looks upon his love and neighs unto her,
She answers him as if she knew his mind:
Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,
She puts on outward strangeness310, seems unkind,
Spurns at311 his love and scorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements312 with her heels.
Then, like a melancholy malcontent,
He vails314 his tail that like a falling plume
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent.
He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume316:
His love, perceiving how he was enraged,
Grew kinder and his fury was assuaged.
His testy319 master goeth about to take him,
When, lo, the unbacked320 breeder, full of fear,
Jealous of catching321, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:
As323 they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
Outstripping crows that strive to overfly them.
All swoll’n with chafing325, down Adonis sits,
Banning326 his boist’rous and unruly beast;
And now the happy season once more fits327
That lovesick love328 by pleading may be blest:
For lovers say the heart h
ath treble wrong
When it is barred the aidance330 of the tongue.
An oven that is stopped331 or river stayed
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:
So333 of concealèd sorrow may be said
Free vent334 of words love’s fire doth assuage,
But when the heart’s attorney335 once is mute,
The client336 breaks, as desperate in his suit.
He sees her coming and begins to glow,
Even as a dying coal revives with wind,
And with his bonnet339 hides his angry brow,
Looks on the dull earth with disturbèd mind,
Taking no notice that she is so nigh341,
For all askance he holds her in his eye342.
O, what a sight it was, wistly343 to view
How she came stealing to the wayward344 boy,
To note the fighting conflict of her hue,
How white and red each other did destroy:
But347 now her cheek was pale and by and by
It flashed forth fire, as lightning from the sky.
Now was she just before349 him as he sat,
And like a lowly lover down she kneels,
With one fair hand she heaveth351 up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:
His tend’rer cheek receives her soft hand’s print,
As apt354 as new-fall’n snow takes any dint.
O, what a war of looks was then between them,
Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing356,
His eyes saw her eyes, as357 they had not seen them,
Her eyes wooed still, his eyes disdained the wooing:
And all this dumb play359 had his acts made plain
With tears, which chorus-like360 her eyes did rain.
Full361 gently now she takes him by the hand,
A lily prisoned362 in a jail of snow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band363,
So white a friend engirts364 so white a foe:
This beauteous combat, wilful365 and unwilling,
Showed like two silver doves that sit a-billing366.
Once more the engine367 of her thoughts began,
‘O fairest mover368 on this mortal round,
Would thou wert369 as I am, and I a man,
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound370,
For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee371,
Though nothing but my body’s bane372 would cure thee.’
‘Give me my hand,’ saith he, ‘why dost thou feel it?’
‘Give me my heart’, saith she, ‘and thou shalt have it.
O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel375 it,
And being steeled, soft sighs can never grave376 it.
Then love’s deep groans I never shall regard377,
Because Adonis’ heart hath made mine hard.’
‘For shame!’ he cries, ‘Let go and let me go:
My day’s delight is past, my horse is gone,
And ’tis your fault I am bereft381 him so.
I pray you hence382 and leave me here alone,
For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
Is how to get my palfrey384 from the mare.’
Thus she replies, ‘Thy palfrey, as he should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire:
Affection387 is a coal that must be cooled,
Else, suffered388, it will set the heart on fire.
The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none,
Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.
‘How like a jade391 he stood, tied to the tree,
Servilely mastered with a leathern rein,
But when he saw his love, his youth’s fair fee393,
He held such petty bondage in disdain,
Throwing the base thong395 from his bending crest,
Enfranchising396 his mouth, his back, his breast.
‘Who sees his true-love in her naked bed397,
Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed,
His other agents400 aim at like delight?
Who is so faint401 that dares not be so bold
To touch the fire, the weather being cold?
‘Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy,
And learn of404 him, I heartily beseech thee,
To take advantage on405 presented joy.
Though406 I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee.
O, learn to love: the lesson is but plain,
And once made perfect408, never lost again.’
‘I know not love,’ quoth409 he, ‘nor will not know it,
Unless it be a boar and then I chase it,
’Tis much to borrow and I will not owe411 it.
My love to love is love but to disgrace it412,
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs and weeps and all but with a breath414.
‘Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinished?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If springing417 things be any jot diminished,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:
The colt that’s backed and burdened419 being young
Loseth his pride and never waxeth420 strong.
‘You hurt my hand with wringing, let us part
And leave this idle422 theme, this bootless chat.
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart:
To love’s alarms424 it will not ope the gate.
Dismiss your vows, your feignèd tears, your flattery,
For where a heart is hard they make no battery426.’
‘What, canst thou talk?’ quoth she, ‘Hast thou a tongue?
O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing.
Thy mermaid’s429 voice hath done me double wrong:
I had my load before, now pressed430 with bearing:
Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh sounding,
Ear’s deep-sweet music and heart’s deep-sore wounding.
‘Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love
That inward beauty and invisible434,
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts435 would move
Each part in me that were but sensible436:
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
Yet should I be in love by touching thee.
‘Say that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see nor hear nor touch,
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much:
For from the stillatory443 of thy face excelling
Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love by smelling.
‘But O, what banquet wert thou to the taste,
Being nurse and feeder of the other four446.
Would they not wish the feast might ever last
And bid suspicion448 double-lock the door,
Lest jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
Should by his stealing in disturb the feast?’
Once more the ruby-coloured portal451 opened,
Which to his speech did honey passage yield,
Like a red morn that ever yet betokened
Wrack453 to the seaman, tempest to the field,
Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,
Gusts and foul flaws456 to herdmen and to herds.
This ill presage457 advisedly she marketh,
Even as the wind is hushed before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth grin459 before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,
Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
His meaning struck her ere462 his words begun.
And at his look she flatly463 falleth down,
For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth:
A smile recures465 the wounding of a frown.
But blessèd bankrupt th
at by love466 so thriveth,
The silly boy, believing she is dead,
Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red,
And all amazed brake off his late intent469,
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which cunning471 love did wittily prevent:
Fair fall472 the wit that can so well defend her!
For on the grass she lies as she were slain,
Till his breath breatheth life in her again.
He wrings475 her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
He chafes her lips: a thousand ways he seeks
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marred.
He kisses her and she, by her good will,
Will never rise, so he will kiss her still480.
The night of sorrow now is turned to day.
Her two blue windows482 faintly she upheaveth,
Like the fair sun when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth:
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
So is her face illumined with her eye,
Whose beams upon his hairless face are fixed,
As if from thence they borrowed all their shine.
Were never four such lamps together mixed,
Had not his clouded with his brow’s repine490,
But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,
The Sonnets and Other Poems Page 4