SONNETS. Lock up, In this rare subject, from thy common right, SOUL'S Joy! bend not those morning stars from me, Let not mine eyes be hell-driv'n from that light. Yet since my death-wound is already got, SONNETS. O KISS! which do'st those ruddy gems impart, Or gems or fruits of new found Paradise, Breathing all bliss, and sweetness to the heart; Teaching dumb lips a nobler exercise: O kiss! which souls, ev'n souls together ties, Now fain would I paint thee to all men's eyes, Then since, dear Life! you fain would have me peace; O HAPPY Thames, that didst my STELLA bear! I saw thee, with full many a smiling line, Upon thy cheerful face joy's livery wear; While those fair planets on thy streams did shine. The boat, for joy, could not to dance forbear; While wanton winds, with beauties so divine, Ravish'd, staid not till in her golden hair They did themselves (O sweetest prison !) twine; And fain those Eol's youth there would their stay Have made; but forc'd by nature still to fly, First did with puffing kiss those locks display. She, so dishevell'd, blush'd: from window I, With sight thereof, cried out-O fair disgrace, Let honour's self to thee grant highest place! SONNET. Be your words made, good Sir! of Indian ware, That you allow me them by so small rate? Or do you courted Spartans imitate? Or do you mean my tender ears to spare, That to my questions you so total are? When I demand of Phoenix-Stella's state, You say, forsooth, you left her well of late : O God! think you, that satisfies my care? I would know, whether she do sit or walk? How cloth'd? How waited on? Sigh'd she, or smil'd? Whereof? with whom? how often did she talk? With what pastime, time's journey she beguil❜d? If her lips deign'd to sweeten my poor name? Say all, and all well said, still say the same. MICHAEL DRAYTON, 1592. The family of Drayton was originally settled in the town of Drayton in Leicestershire: but of the life of this distinguished poet few memorials are preserved. His birth is believed to have been at Harsall, Warwickshire, in 1563. While living, he enjoyed the friendship of many persons distinguished either for their rank or talents; and his name has been transmitted to posterity, with the highest moral reputation. Dying in 1631, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, among the poets; where the Countess of Dorset, who had given monuments to Spenser and Daniel, raised a handsome table of blue marble to his memory, adorned with his effigies laureated in busto, and enriched with an epitaph by Quarles, written in letters of gold, which is still legible. Having, in a preliminary sonnet, disclaimed any experience of the passion that he afterwards proceeds to describe, Drayton has been regarded as writing only with a view to ridicule the compositions of his contemporaries. There does not, however, appear sufficient reason so completely to disqualify his amatorial pretensions. He may not be less sincere, because less sentimental than others. SONNETS. LOVE, banish'd Heaven, on earth was held in scorn, Clothed the naked, lodg'd this wand'ring Guest; Well, well my friends! when beggars grow thus bold, DEAR! Why should you command me to my rest, Why should'st thou, Night! abuse me only thus ; Well could I wish it would be ever day, |