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Arose the virgin, born of heavenly

SOXNET. brood, And to her showv palfrey got again | To me, fair friend, you nerer can be To seek her traved champion if she

old, might attain.

For as you were, when first your eye

leved, The lion would not leave her deso Such seems your beauty still. Three - late,

winters cold But with her went along, as a strong Have from the forest shook three guard

summers' pride; Of her chaste person, and a faithful Three beauteous spring, to yellow mate.

autumn turned, Still, when she slept, he kept both In process of the seasons have I watch and waril;

seen, And, when she waked, he waited Three April perfumes in three hot diligent,

June's burned, With humble service to her will pre Since first I saw you fresh which yet pared:

are green. From her fair eyes he took com Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dialmandment

hand. And ever by her looks conceived her Steal from his figure, and no pace intent.

perceived: SPENSER So your sweet hue, which methinks

still doth stand, Hath motion, and mine eye may be

deceived. WIEN I DO COUNT THE For fear of whiclı, hear this, thou CLOCK.

age unbred,

Ere you were born, was beauty's WHEN I do count the clock that tells

summer dead. the time,

SILAKSPEARE. And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

TRUTII needs no color with his color When I behold the violet past

fixeil, prime,

Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to And sable curls all silvered o'er with

lay: white;

But best is best, if nerer intermix it. When lofty trees I see barren of

SILAKSPEARE. leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the HYMN TO THE GRACES.

herd, And summer's green, all girded up When I love, as some have told, in heaves

Love I shall when I am old, Borne on the bier with white and ( ve Graces! make me fit bristlv beard;

For the welcoming of it. Then of thy beauty do I question Clean my rooms is temples be, make,

To entertain that deity; That thon among the wastes of time Give me words wherewith to woo, must go,

Suppling and successful too; Since sweets and beauties do them Winning postures, and withal, welves forsake,

Manners each was musical; And die als fast as they see others Sweetnesse to allay my sour grow;

And wismooth behavior: And nothing'gainst Time's scythe For I know you have the skill can make defence,

Vines to prue, though not to kill; Save breed, to brave him when he | And of any wood ve see, takes thee hence.

You can make a Mercury.


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Quotque aderant vates, rebar adesse Deos.” - Ovid.

“ By pain of heart, now checked, and now im

The intellectual power from words to things
Went sounding oil, -- a dim and perilous way." - WORDSWORTH.

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