The gulf of guile, the pit of pain, of grief the hollow chest;
A fiery frost, a flame that frozen is with ice,
A heavy burden light to bear, a virtue fraught with vice;
It is a worldlike peace, a safety seeing dread,
A deep despair annexed to hope, a fancy that is fed,
Sweet poison for his taste, a port Charybdis like,
A Scylla for his safety, though a lion that is meek.

TURBERVILLE.

* * * * *

KISSING.

O kiss! which dost those ruddy gems impart,
Or gems, or fruits, of new found Paradise;
Breathing all bliss and sweet'ning to the heart;
Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise.
O kiss! which souls, ev'n souls, together ties
By links of love, and only nature's art;
How fain would I paint thee to all men's eyes.
Or of thy gifts, at least, shade out some part.
But she forbids, with blushing words, she says,
She builds her fame on higher-seated praise;
But my heart burns, I cannot silent be.
Then since (dear life,) you fain would have me peace,
And I mad with delight want wit to cease,
Stop you my mouth, with still, still kissing me.

SIR P. SIDNEY.