Ode 8

    Singe wee the Rose
    Then which no flower there growes
      Is sweeter: 
    And aptly her compare
    With what in that is rare
      A parallel none meeter.

    Or made poses,
    Of this that incloses
      Suche blisses,
    That naturally flusheth 10
    As she blusheth
      When she is robd of kisses.

    Or if strew’d
    When with the morning dew’d
      Or stilling,
    Or howe to sense expos’d
    All which in her inclos’d,
      Ech place with sweetnes filling.

    That most renown’d
    By Nature richly crownd 20
      With yellow,
    Of that delitious layre
    And as pure, her hayre
      Vnto the same the fellowe,

    Fearing of harme
    Nature that flower doth arme
      From danger,
    The touch giues her offence
    But with reuerence
      Vnto her selfe a stranger. 30

    That redde, or white,
    Or mixt, the sence delyte
      Behoulding,
    In her complexion
    All which perfection
      Such harmony infouldinge.

    That deuyded
    Ere it was descided
      Which most pure,
    Began the greeuous war 40
    Of York and Lancaster,
      That did many yeeres indure.

    Conflicts as greate
    As were in all that heate
      I sustaine: 
    By her, as many harts
    As men on either parts
      That with her eies hath slaine.

    The Primrose flower
    The first of Flora’s bower 50
      Is placed,
    Soo is shee first as best
    Though excellent the rest,
      All gracing, by none graced.

ELEGIES VPON SVNDRY OCCASIONS

[from the Edition of 1627]

Of his Ladies not Comming to London

    That ten-yeares-trauell’d Greeke return’d from Sea
    Ne’r ioyd so much to see his Ithaca,
    As I should you, who are alone to me,
    More then wide Greece could to that wanderer be. 
    The winter windes still Easterly doe keepe,
    And with keene Frosts haue chained vp the deepe,
    The Sunne’s to vs a niggard of his Rayes,
    But reuelleth with our Antipodes;
    And seldome to vs when he shewes his head,
    Muffled in vapours, he straight hies to bed. 10
    In those bleake mountaines can you liue where snowe
    Maketh the vales vp to the hilles to growe;
    Whereas mens breathes doe instantly congeale,
    And attom’d mists turne instantly to hayle;
    Belike you thinke, from this more temperate cost,