But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end.--30.
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns love and all love's loving
parts,

And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed, that hidden in thee lie?
Thou art the grave where buried love doth
live,

Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
That due of many now is thine alone:

Their images I loved I view in thee, And thou (all they) hast all the all of me.-31.

If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust
shall cover,

And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Compare them with the bettering of the time;
And, though they be outstripp'd by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought!
Had my friend's muse grown with this

growing age,

A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:

But since he died, and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his
love.-32.

Immediately succeeding these are the three stanzas we have already quoted, in which the poet is held to accuse his friend of having robbed him of his mistress. In these stanzas the friend is spoken of in connexion with a "sensual fault," a "trespass," &c. But, in those which follow, the "bewailed guilt' belongs to the poet-the "worth and truth" to his friend. Surely these are not continuous. In the 36th, 37th, 38th, and 39th Sonnets, we have the expression of that deep humility which may be traced through many of these remarkable compositions, and of which we find the first sound in the 29th Sonnet :

Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which, though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's
delight.

I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame;
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so; I love thee in such sort,
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good
report.-36.

As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth;
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts, do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance

give,

That I in thy abundance am sufficed,
And by a part of all thy glory live.

Look what is best, that best I wish in thee; This wish I have; then ten times happy me!-37.

How can my muse want subject to invent, While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse

Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?

O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in
worth

Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my slight muse do please these curious days,

The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.-38.

O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me?

What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?

And what is 't but mine own, when I praise thee?

Even for this let us divided live,

And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give

That due to thee which thou deservest alone. O, absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,

Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave To entertain the time with thoughts of love, (Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,)

And that thou teachest how to make one twain,

By praising him here, who doth hence remain -39.

The 40th, 41st, and 42nd Sonnets return to the complaint of his friend's faithlessness. Surely, then, the Sonnets we have just quoted must be interpolated. The 43rd is entirely isolated from what precedes and what follows. But in the 39th we have allusions to "separation" and "absence;" and in the 44th we return to the subject of "injurious distance." With some alterations of arrangement we can group nine Sonnets together, which form a connected epistle to an absent friend, and which convey those sentiments of real affection which can only be adequately transmitted in language and imagery possessing, as these portions do, the charm of nature and simplicity. The tone of truth and reality is remarkably contrasted with those artificial passages which have imparted their character to the whole series in the estimation of many :

How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seck,-my weary travel's end,Doth teach that ease and that repose to say, "Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!"

The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,
As if by some instinct the wretch did know
His rider loved not speed, being made from

thee:

The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side;

For that same groan doth put this in my mind,

My grief lies onward, and my joy behind. -50.

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me
thence?

Till I return, of posting is no need.

O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, When swift extremity can seem but slow! Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;

In winged speed no motion shall I know: Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; Therefore desire, of perfect love being made, Shall neigh (no dull flesh) in his fiery race; But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; Since from thee going he went wilful slow, Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.-51.

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked trea-

sure,

The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom plea

sure.

Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet.

So is the time that keeps you as my chest, Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,

To make some special instant special-bless'd, By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.

Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives

scope,

Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope.-52.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work 's ex-
pired:

For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,

Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face

new.

Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

27.

How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarr'd the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night and night by day oppress'd?
And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the
heaven:

So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night; When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild'st the even.

But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's length
scem stronger.-28.

Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be
broken,

While shadows, like to thee, do mock my sight?

Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home, into my deeds to pry;
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O no thy love, though much, is not so great;
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake;
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:

For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake
elsewhere

From me far off, with others all too near.

61.

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best

see,

For all the day they view things unrespected: But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

And, darkly bright, are bright in dark directed;

To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so? How would (I say) mine eyes be blessed made By looking on thee in the living day,

When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?

All days are nights to sec, till I see thee, And nights, bright days, when dreams do show thee me.-43.

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way; For then, despite of space, I would be brought From limits far remote, where thou dost stay. No matter then, although my foot did stand Upon the farthest earth removed from thee, For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,

As soon as think the place where he would

be.

But ah! thought kills me, that I am not thought,

To leap large lengths of miles when thou art

gone,

But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leisure with my moan;
Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe:-

44.

The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,

My life, being made of four, with two alone, Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy;

Until life's composition be recured

By those swift messengers return'd from thee,
Who even but now come back again, assured
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me:

This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again, and straight grow
sad.-45.

The transpositions we have made in the arrangement are justified by the consideration that in the original text the 50th, 51st,

show

that the 61st stands equally alone; and that

the 43rd, 44th, and 45th are in a similar position. We have now a perfect little poem describing the journey-the restless pilgrimage of thought-the desire for return.

The thoughts of a temporary separation lead to the fear that absence may produce estrangement:

How careful was I, when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
That, to my use, it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of
trust!

But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou, best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest,
Save where thou art not, though I feel thou
art,

Within the gentle closure of my breast,
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come
and part;

And even thence thou wilt be stolen I fear,
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

-48.

The sentiment is somewhat differently re-
peated in a Sonnet which is entirely isolated
in the place where it stands in the original :—
So are you to my thoughts, as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found:
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his trea-

sure;

Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure:

Sometime, all full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had or must from you be took
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.—75.

But the 49th Sonnet carries forward the dread expressed in the 48th that his friend will "be stolen," into the apprehension that coldness, and neglect, and desertion may one day ensue :

Against that time, if ever that time come,
When I shall see thee frown on my defects,

When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Call'd to that audit by advised respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely

pass,

And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye,

When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shall reasons find of settled gravity;
Against that time do I ensconce me here
Within the knowledge of mine own desert,
And this my hand against myself uprear,
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:
To leave poor me thou hast the strength
of laws,

Since, why to love, I can allege no cause.

-49.

This Sonnet is also completely isolated; but much further on, according to the original arrangement, we find the idea here conveyed of that self-sacrificing humility which will endure unkindness without complaint, worked out with exquisite tender

ness:

When thou shalt be disposed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of Scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art
forsworn.

With mine own weakness being best aequainted,

Upon thy part I can set down a story

Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted;
That thou, in losing me, shalt win much glory :
And I by this will be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.

Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all
wrong.-88.

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment upon that offence:
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will
halt;

Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange;
Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet-beloved name no more shall dwell;

Lest I (too much profane) should do it wrong, And haply of our old acquaintance tell.

For thee, against myself I'll vow debate, For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.-89.

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to

cross,

Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after loss:

Ah! do not, when my heart hath scaped this

sorrow,

Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; ·
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite.
But in the onset come; so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might;

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,

Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.-90.

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their body's force;

Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill;

Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,

Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.

O what a happy title do I find,

Happy to have thy love, happy to die!

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot?

Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not:-92.

So shall I live, supposing thou art true,
Like a deceived husband; so love's face
May still seem love to me, though alter'd-new;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place :
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
In many's looks the false heart's history
Is writ, in moods and frowns and wrinkles
strange;

But Heaven in thy creation did decree
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell;
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's work-
ings be,

Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell.

How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

-93.

their horse;

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest;
But these particulars are not my measure,
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments'
cost,

Of more delight than hawks or horses be;
And having thee, of all men's pride I boast.
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst
take

All this away, and me most wretched make.-91.

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs

Than that which on thy humour doth depend.

defects in his character)-we have a second little poem on Absence. It would be difficult to find anything more perfect in our own or any other language:

How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days

seen!

What old December's bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed was summer's

time;

The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lord's
decease:

Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;

Or, if they sing, 't is with so dull a cheer, That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.-97.