They round about her into arbours crowd;
Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand,
Like some well-marshall'd and obsequious band.
Amphion so made stones and timber leap
Into fair figures from a confused heap;
And in the symmetry of her parts is found
A power like that of harmony in sound. 20
Ye lofty beeches, tell this matchless dame,
That if together ye fed all one flame,
It could not equalise the hundredth part
Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart!
Go, boy, and carve this passion on the bark
Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark
Of noble Sidney's birth; when such benign,
Such more than mortal-making stars did shine,
That there they cannot but for ever prove
The monument and pledge of humble love; 30
His humble love whose hope shall ne'er rise higher,
Than for a pardon that he dares admire.




OF THE LADY WHO CAN SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASES.[1]


No wonder sleep from careful lovers flies,
To bathe himself in Saccharissa's eyes.
As fair Astraæ once from earth to heaven,
By strife and loud impiety was driven;