7 If all the world were sought so far, Who could find such a wight? Her beauty twinkleth like a star Within the frosty night. 8 Her rosial colour comes and goes "With such a comely grace, More ruddier, too, than doth the rose, Within her lively face." 9 At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet, Nor at no wanton play, Nor gazing in an open street, Nor gadding, as astray. 10 The modest mirth that she doth use, Is mix'd with shamefastness; All vice she doth wholly refuse, And hateth idleness. 11 O Lord, it is a world to see How virtue can repair, And deck in her such honesty, Whom Nature made so fair. 12 Truly she doth as far exceed Our women now-a-days, As doth the gilliflower a wreed, And more a thousand ways. 13 How might I do to get a graff Of this unspotted tree? For all the rest are plain but chaff Which seem good corn to be. 14 This gift alone I shall her give, When death doth what he can: Her honest fame shall ever live Within the mouth of man. THAT ALL THINGS SOMETIME FIND EASE OF THEIR PAIN, SAVE ONLY THE LOVER. 1 I see there is no sort Of things that live in grief, Which at sometime may not resort Where as they have relief. 2 The stricken deer by kind Of death that stands in awe, For his recure an herb can find The arrow to withdraw. 3 The chased deer hath soil To cool him in his heat; The ass, after his weary toil. In stable is up set. 4 The coney hath its cave, The little bird his nest, From heat and cold themselves to save At all times as they list. 5 The owl, with feeble sight, Lies lurking in the leaves, The sparrow in the frosty night May shroud her in the eaves. 6 But woe to me, alas! In sun nor yet in shade, I cannot find a resting-place, My burden to unlade. 7 But day by day still bears The burden on my back, With weeping eyes and wat'ry tears, To hold my hope aback. 8 All things I see have place Wherein they bow or bend, Save this, alas! my woful case, Which nowhere findeth end. FROM 'THE PHOENIX' NEST.' O Night, O jealous Night, repugnant to my pleasure, O Night so long desired, yet cross to my content, There's none but only thou can guide me to my treasure, Yet none but only thou that hindereth my intent. Sweet Night, withhold thy beams, withhold them till to-morrow, Whose joy, in lack so long, a hell of torment breeds, Sweet Night, sweet gentle Night, do not prolong my sorrow, Desire is guide to me, and love no loadstar needs. Let sailors gaze on stars and moon so freshly shining, Let them that miss the way be guided by the light, I know my lady's bower, there needs no more divining, Affection sees in dark, and love hath eyes by night.