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- # SONNERS.
The bafest Jewell will be well esteem'ds
So are those errors that in thee are feene,
To truths tranflated, and for true things deem'd.
How many Lambs might the fterne Wolfe betray,
If like a Lambe he could his lookes tranflate,
How many gazers might thou lead away,
If thou wouldft vfe the ftrength of all thy ftare?
But doe not fo, I loue thee in fuch fort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
97
How like a Winter hath my absence beene
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting yeare?
What freezings haue I felt, what darke daies feene?
What old Decembers barencfie euery where?
And yet this time remou'd was fommers time,
The teeming Autumne big with ritch increase,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like widdowed wombes after their Lords decease:
Yet this aboundant iffue seem'd to me,
But hope of Orphans, and vn-fathered fruite,
For Sommer and his pleasures waite on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute,
Or if they fing, tis with fo dull a cheere,
That leaues looke pale, dreading the Winters neere.
98
From you haue I beene absent in the fbring,
When proud pide Aprill (dref in all his trim)
Hath put a Spirit of yoush in euery thing:
That heauie Saturne laught and leapt with him,
Yet nor the laies of birds, nor the fweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hew,
Could make me any fommers ftory tell:
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the Lillies white,
Nor praife the deepe vermillion in the Rose,
They weare but fweet, but figures of delight:
G
Drawne
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