Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/321

 286. Love

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack'd anything.

'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:' Love said, 'You shall be he.' 'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on Thee.' Love took my hand and smiling did reply, 'Who made the eyes but I?'

'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame Go where it doth deserve.' 'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame ?' 'My dear, then I will serve.' 'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.' So I did sit and eat.

JAMES SHIRLEY

1596-1666

287. A Hymn

Fly, my Soul! What hangs upon Thy drooping wings, And weighs them down With love of gaudy mortal things?

The Sun is now i' the east: each shade As he doth rise Is shorter made, That earth may lessen to our eyes.