Page:An English Garner Ingatherings from Our History and Literature (Volume 1 1877).pdf/539

 LVI.

Fie! School of PATIENCE, fie! your lesson is Far far too long to learn it without book. What! a whole week without one piece of look! And think I should not your large precepts miss? When I might read those letters fair of bliss Which in her face teach virtue: I could brook Somewhat thy leaden counsels; which I took As of a friend that meant not much amiss. But now that I, alas, do want her sight; What! dost thou think that I can ever take In thy cold stuff a phlegmatic delight? No, PATIENCE! If thou wilt my good; then make Her come, and hear with patience my desire: And then, with patience bid me bear my fire!

LVII.

Woe, having made with many fights his own, Each sense of mine, each gift, each power of mind: Grown now his slaves; he forced them out to find The thoroughest words, fit for WOE'S self to groan. Hoping that when they might find STELLA alone, Before she could prepare to be unkind; Her soul, armed but with such a dainty rind, Should soon be pierced with sharpness of the moan. She heard my plaints, and did not only hear, But them (so sweet is she) most sweetly sing; With that fair breast making WOE'S darkness clear. A pretty case! I hoped her to bring To feel my griefs: and she with face and voice, So sweets my pains; that my pains me rejoice.