VII. These manacles upon mine arm I as my mistress' favours wear; And for to keep mine ancles warm, I have fome iron fhackles there. These walls are but my garrifon; this cell,. Which men call jail, doth prove my citadek VIII. Thus he that ftruck at Jafon's life, Thinking to make his purpose sure, By a malicious friendly knife Did only wound him to his cure. Malice, we fee, wants wit; for what is meant Mischief, oft-times proves favour by th' event. IX.. Altho' I cannot fee my king,. Neither in perfon, nor in coin; Yet contemplation is a thing That renders what I have not, mine. My king from me no adamant can. part, Whom I do wear engraven in my heart.. X. Have you not heard the nightingale, In that her narrow hermitage.? Ev'n that her melody doth plainly prove, XI. My foul is free as is the ambient air, Which doth my outward parts include; Whilft loyal thoughts do ftill repair To company my folitude. What tho' they do with chains my body bind, XII. I am that bird which they combine Yet maugre that my foul is free. Tho' I'm mew'd up, yet I can chirp and fing, In fome copies of this poem the following ftanza is inferted between the feventh and eighth : When once my prince affliction hath,. Profperity doth treason feem; I can learn patience from him. But now to fuffer fhews a legal part; When kings want eafe, fubjects must learn to fmart. But But this ftanza utterly deftroys the uniformity of the poem, and is inconfiftent with every other part of it. The defign of the whole is, to reprefent as benefits what . had by his enemies been intended as punishments, and to fhew, that "malice wants wit to effect its purpose :” but this ftanza contains an acknowledgment, that malice has effected its purpose upon him; that he suffers; and that it is fit he should suffer. For this reason, and because it is not in all copies, it is omitted in this, either as compofed by the author, and afterwa: ds rejected, er as interpolated by fome other. VERSES BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH Go foul, the body's guest, Upon a thanklefs errant, Fear not to touch the beft, The truth fhall be thy warrant.. Go, fince I needs must dye, Go, tell the court it glowfe And fhines like painted wood.; Tell Tell potentates they live Not strong, but by their factions. Give potentates the lye. Tell me not of high condition, And if they do replye, Tell thofe that brave it mofte, They begge more by spendinge; Who, in their greatest coste, Seek nothing but commendinge. And if they make replye, Tell zeal it lacks devotion; Tell Tell age it daily wafteth; Tell beautye that it blafteth; Tell favour that fhe falters. And as they do replye, Give every one the lye. Tell wit how much it wrangles And if they do replye, Tell phyfick of her boldness; Tell charity of coldness; Tell law it is contention. And if they yield replye, Tell fortune of her blindness; Tell juftice of delay. And if they do replye, Then give them all the lye.. Telt |