Elizabethan Sonnet-Cycles Part 11

Prometheus for stealing living fire From heaven's king, was judged eternal death; In self-same flame with unrelenting ire Bound fast to Caucasus' low foot beneath.

So I, for stealing living beauty's fire Into my verse that it may always live, And change his forms to shapes of my desire, Thou beauty's queen, self sentence like dost give.

Bound to thy feet in chains of life I lie; For to thine eyes I never dare aspire; And in thy beauty's brightness do I fry, As poor Prometheus in the scalding fire; Which tears maintain as oil the lamp revives; Only my succour in thy favour lies.

THE SIXTH DECADE

I

One sun unto my life's day gives true light.

One moon dissolves my stormy night of woes.

One star my fate and happy fortune shows.

One saint I serve, one shrine with vows I dight.

One sun transfix'd hath burnt my heart outright, One moon opposed my love in darkness throws.

One star hath bid my thoughts my wrongs disclose.

Saints scorn poor swains, shrines do my vows no right.

Yet if my love be found a holy fire, Pure, unstained, without idolatry, And she nathless in hate of my desire, Lives to repose her in my misery, My sun, my moon, my star, my saint, my shrine, Mine be the torment but the guilt be thine!

II

To live in h.e.l.l, and heaven to behold; To welcome life, and die a living death; To sweat with heat, and yet be freezing cold; To grasp at stars, and lie the earth beneath; To treat a maze that never shall have end; To burn in sighs, and starve in daily tears; To climb a hill, and never to descend; Giants to kill, and quake at childish fears; To pine for food, and watch th' Hesperian tree; To thirst for drink, and nectar still to draw; To live accurs'd whom men hold blest to be, And weep those wrongs which never creature saw: If this be love, if love in these be founded, My heart is love, for these in it are grounded.

III

A carver, having loved too long in vain, Hewed out the portraiture of Venus' son In marble rock, upon the which did rain Small drizzling drops, that from a fount did run: Imagining the drops would either wear His fury out, or quench his living flame; But when he saw it bootless did appear, He swore the water did augment the same.

So I, that seek in verse to carve thee out, Hoping thy beauty will my flame allay, Viewing my verse and poems all throughout, Find my will rather to my love obey, That with the carver I my work do blame, Finding it still th' augmenter of my flame.

IV

Astronomers the heavens do divide Into eight houses, where the G.o.d remains; All which in thy perfections do abide.

For in thy feet, the queen of silence reigns; About thy waist Jove's messenger doth dwell, Inchanting me as I thereat admire; And on thy dugs the queen of love doth tell Her G.o.dhead's power in scrolls of my desire; Thy beauty is the world's eternal sun; Thy favours force a coward's heart to dare, And in thy hairs Jove and his riches won.

Thy frowns hold Saturn; thine's the fixed stars.

Pardon me then, divine, to love thee well, Since thou art heaven, and I in heaven would dwell!

V

Weary of love, my thoughts of love complained, Till reason told them there was no such power, And bade me view fair beauty's richest flower, To see if there a naked boy remained.

Dear, to thine eyes, eyes that my soul hath pained, Thoughts turned them back in that unhappy hour To see if love kept there his royal bower, For if not there, then no place him contained.

There was he not, nor boy, nor golden bow; Yet as thou turned thy chaste fair eye aside, A flame of fire did from thine eyelids go, Which burnt my heart through my sore wounded side; Then with a sigh, reason made thoughts to cry, "There is no G.o.d of love, save that thine eye!"

VI

Forgive me, dear, for thundering on thy name; Sure 'tis thyself that shows my love distrest.

For fire exhaled in freezing clouds possessed, Warring for way, makes all the heavens exclaim.

Thy beauty so, the brightest living flame, Wrapt in my cloudy heart, by winter prest, Scorning to dwell within so base a nest, Thunders in me thy everlasting flame.

O that my heart might still contain that fire!

Or that the fire would always light my heart!

Then should'st thou not disdain my true desire, Or think I wronged thee to reveal to my smart; For as the fire through freezing clouds doth break, So not myself but thou in me would'st speak.

VII

My heart mine eye accuseth of his death, Saying his wanton sight bred his unrest; Mine eye affirms my heart's unconstant faith Hath been his bane, and all his joys repressed.

My heart avows mine eye let in the fire, Which burns him with an everliving light.

Mine eye replies my greedy heart's desire Let in those floods, which drown him day and night.

Thus wars my heart which reason doth maintain, And calls my eye to combat if he dare, The whilst my soul impatient of disdain, Wrings from his bondage unto death more near; Save that my love still holdeth him in hand; A kingdom thus divided cannot stand!

VIII

Unhappy day, unhappy month and season, When first proud love, my joys away adjourning, Poured into mine eye to her eye turning A deadly juice, unto my green thought's reason.

Prisoner I am unto the eye I gaze on; Eternally my love's flame is in burning; A mortal shaft still wounds me in my mourning; Thus prisoned, burnt and slain, the spirit, soul and reason.

What tides me then since these pains which annoy me, In my despair are evermore increasing?

The more I love, less is my pain's releasing; That cursed be the fortune which destroys me, The hour, the month, the season, and the cause, When love first made me thrall to lovers' laws.

IX

Love hath I followed all too long, nought gaining; And sighed I have in vain to sweet what smarteth, But from his brow a fiery arrow parteth, Thinking that I should him resist not plaining.

But cowardly my heart submiss remaining, Yields to receive what shaft thy fair eye darteth.

Well do I see thine eye my bale imparteth, And that save death no hope I am detaining.

For what is he can alter fortune's sliding?

One in his bed consumes his life away, Other in wars, another in the sea; The like effects in me have their abiding; For heavens avowed my fortune should be such, That I should die by loving far too much.

X

My G.o.d, my G.o.d, how much I love my G.o.ddess, Whose virtues rare, unto the heavens arise!

My G.o.d, my G.o.d, how much I love her eyes One shining bright, the other full of hardness!

My G.o.d, my G.o.d, how much I love her wisdom, Whose works may ravish heaven's richest maker!

Of whose eyes' joys if I might be partaker Then to my soul a holy rest would come.

My G.o.d, how much I love to hear her speak!

Whose hands I kiss and ravished oft rekisseth, When she stands wotless whom so much she blesseth.

Say then, what mind this honest love would break; Since her perfections pure, withouten blot, Makes her beloved of thee, she knoweth not?

THE SEVENTH DECADE

I

The first created held a joyous bower, A flowering field, the world's sole wonderment, High Paradise, from whence a woman's power Enticed him to fall to endless banishment.

This on the banks of Euphrates did stand, Till the first Mover, by his wondrous might, Planted it in thine eyes, thy face, thy hands, From whence the world receives his fairest light.

Thy cheeks contain choice flowers; thy eyes, two suns; Thy hands, the fruit that no life blood can stain; And in thy breath, that heavenly music wons, Which, when thou speak'st, angels their voices strain.

As from the first thy s.e.x exiled me, So to this next let me be called by thee!