| From Caelia |
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| Sonnet
10 |
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| My Celia sat once by a christal brooke, |
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| Gazing how smoothly the cleere streams did slide, |
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| Who had no sooner her sweet sight espi'd, |
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| When with amazement they did on her looke; |
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| The waters slyding by her seem'd to mourne, |
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| Desirous stil for to behold her beauty, |
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| Neglecting to the Ocean their duty, |
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| In thousand strange meanders made returne; |
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| But oh! againe with what an heavenly tune, |
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| Those pleasant streames that issued from the
spring, |
10 |
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| To see that goddesse did appeare to sing, |
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| Whom having view'd did as the first had done. |
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| If those pure streames delighted so to eye her, |
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| Judge how my soule doth surfet when I see her. |
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| Sonnet
20 |
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| Ponder thy cares, and summe them all in one, |
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| Get the account of all thy hearts disease, |
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| Recken the torments do thy mind displease, |
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| Write up each sigh, each plaint, each teare,
each grone, |
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| Remember on thy griefe conceav'd by day, |
5 |
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| And call to minde thy nights disturbed rest, |
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| Thinke on those visions did thy soule molest, |
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| While as thy wearied corpes a-sleeping lay, |
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| And when all those thou hast enrold aright, |
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| Into the count-booke of thy daily care, |
10 |
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| Extract them truly, then present the sight, |
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| With them of flinty Celia the faire, |
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| That she may see, if yet moe ills remaines, |
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| For to be paid to her unjust disdaines. |
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| The
Complaint of the Shepheard Harpalus |
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| Poore Harpalus opprest with loue, |
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| Sate by a christall brooke: |
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| Thinking his sorrowes to remoove, |
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| Oft-times therein did looke. |
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| And hearing how on pibble stones, |
5 |
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| The murmuring river ran, |
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| As if it had bewail'd his grones, |
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| Unto it thus began: |
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| Faire streame (quoth he) that pitties me, |
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| And heares my matchlesse moane, |
10 |
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| If thou be going to the sea, |
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| As I do so suppone, |
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| Attend my plaints past all releefe, |
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| Which dolefully I breath, |
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| Acquaint the sea nymphes with the greefe, |
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| Which stil procures my death. |
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| Who sitting on the cliffy rockes, |
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| May in their songs expresse: |
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| While as they combe their golden lockes, |
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| Poore Harpalus distresse. |
20 |
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| And so perhaps some passenger, |
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| That passeth by the way: |
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| May stay and listen for to heare |
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| Them sing this dolefull lay. |
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| Poore Harpalus, a shepheard swaine, |
25 |
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| More rich in youth then store, |
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| Lov'd faire Philena, haplesse man, |
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| Philena, oh therefore! |
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| Who still remorceles-hearted maide, |
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| Tooke pleasure in his paine: |
30 |
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| And his good will (poore soule) repayd |
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| With uvndeservu'd disdayne. |
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| Ne're shepheard lou'd aa shepherdesse |
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| More faithfully then he: |
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| Ne're shepheard yet belovued lesse, |
35 |
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| Of shepheardesse could be. |
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| How oft with dying lookes did he |
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| To her his woes impart? |
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| How oft his sighes did testifie |
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| The dolor of his hart? |
40 |
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| How oft from vallies to the hils, |
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| Did he his griefes rehearse? |
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| How oft re-eccho'd they his ills, |
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| Aback againe (alas)? |
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| How oft on barkes of stately pines, |
45 |
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| Of beech, of holen greene, |
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| Did he ingraue in mournfull lines, |
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| The dole he did sustaine? |
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| Yet all his plaints could have no place, |
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| To change Philena's mind: |
50 |
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| The more his sorrowes did increase, |
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| The more she prov'd unkind. |
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| The thought whhereof through verie care, |
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| Poore Harpalus did move: |
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| That overcome with high despaire, |
55 |
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| He quat both life and love. |
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