LXVI.

To all those happy blessings which ye have
With plenteous hand by heaven upon you thrown,
This one disparagement they to you gave,
That ye your love lent to so meane a one. 
Ye, whose high worths surpassing paragon
Could not on earth have found one fit for mate,
Ne but in heaven matchable to none,
Why did ye stoup unto so lowly state? 
But ye thereby much greater glory gate,
Then had ye sorted with a princes pere: 
For now your light doth more it selfe dilate,
And, in my darknesse, greater doth appeare. 
  Yet, since your light hath once enlumind me,
  With my reflex yours shall encreased be.

LXVII.

Lyke as a huntsman, after weary chace,
Seeing the game from him escapt away,
Sits downe to rest him in some shady place,
With panting hounds, beguiled of their pray,
So, after long pursuit and vaine assay,
When I all weary had the chace forsooke,
The gentle deer returnd the selfe-same way,
Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke. 
There she, beholding me with mylder looke,
Sought not to fly, but fearlesse still did bide,
Till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke,
And with her own goodwill her fyrmely tyde. 
  Strange thing, me seemd, to see a beast so wyld
  So goodly wonne, with her owne will beguyld.

LXVIII

Most glorious Lord of lyfe! that on this day
Didst make thy triumph over death and sin,
And, having harrowd* hell, didst bring away
Captivity thence captive, us to win,
This ioyous day, dear Lord, with ioy begin;
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dy,
Being with thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
May live for ever in felicity;
And that thy love we weighing worthily,
May likewise love thee for the same againe,
And for thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy. 
With love may one another entertayne! 
  So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought: 
  Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
[* Harrowd, despoiled.]

LXIX.

The famous warriors of the anticke world
Us’d trophees to erect in stately wize,
In which they would the records have enrold
Of theyr great deeds and valorous emprize. 
What trophee then shall I most fit devize,
In which I may record the memory
Of my loves conquest, peerlesse beauties prise,
Adorn’d with honour, love, and chastity! 
Even this verse, vowd to eternity,
Shall be thereof immortall moniment,
And tell her praise to all posterity,
That may admire such worlds rare wonderment;
  The happy purchase of my glorious spoile,
  Gotten at last with labour and long toyle.

LXX.