NYMPHOLEPTOS

'There is none, O none but you'

THERE is none, O none but you,
That from me estrange your sight,
Whom mine eyes affect to view,

Or chainèd ears hear with delight.

Other beauties others move,
In you I all graces find;
Such is the effect of Love,

To make them happy that are kind

Women in frail beauty trust,

Only seem you fair to me;

Yet prove truly kind and just,
For that may not dissembled be.

Sweet, afford me then your sight,
That, surveying all your looks,

Endless volumes I may write

And fill the world with envied books.

Which, when after ages view,

All shall wonder and despair,
Woman, to find man so true,
Or man, a woman half so fair!

THOMAS CAMPION

W

Vobiscum est Tope

HEN thou must home to shades of underground,
And there arrived, a new admirèd guest,

The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,

White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest, To hear the stories of thy finished love

From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move; Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,

Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make, Of tourneys and great challenges of knights,

And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake: When thou hast told these honours done to thee, Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me!

THOMAS CAMPION.

'Wrong not, sweet empress of my heart

WRONG not, sweet

empress of my heart,
The merit of true passion,

With thinking that he feels no smart,
That sues for no compassion.

Silence in love bewrays more woe

Than words, though ne'er so witty:
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.

Then wrong not, dearest to my heart,
My true, though secret passion;
He smarteth most that hides his smart,
And sues for no compassion.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

NYMPHOLEPTOS

Because I breathe not love to every one' BECAUSE I breathe not love to every one,

Nor do not use set colours for to wear,

Nor nourish special locks of vowèd hair,
Nor give each speech a full point of a groan,-
The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan
Of them which in their lips Love's standard bear,
What, he! (say they of me) Now I dare swear
He cannot love: no, no, let him alone!
And think so still, so Stella know my mind!
Profess indeed I do not Cupid's art;

But you, fair maids, at length this true shall find,
That his right badge is but worn in the heart.
Dumb swans, not chattering pies, do lovers prove;
They love indeed who quake to say they love.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

To Anthea, who may command him Any Thing

BID me to live, and I will live

Thy Protestant to be:

Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,

A heart as sound and free,

As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,

To honour thy decree:

Or bid it languish quite away,
And't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see:
And having none, yet will I keep
A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree :
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me :

And hast command of every part,

To live and die for thee.

ROBERT HERRICK.

On a Girdle

THAT which her slender waist confined
Shall now my joyful temples bind;

No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my Heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer :
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love
Did all within this circle move.

A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair:
Give me but what this ribbon bound,

Take all the rest the sun goes round!

EDMUND WALLER