Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/324

 Then, Celia, let us reap our joys Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys.

Or if that golden fleece must grow. For ever free from agèd snow; If those bright suns must know no shade, Nor your fresh beauties ever fade; Then fear not, Celia, to bestow What, still being gather'd, still must grow.

Thus either Time his sickle brings In vain, or else in vain his wings.

291. To His Inconstant Mistress

When thou, poor Excommunicate From all the joys of Love, shalt see The full reward and glorious fate Which my strong faith shall purchase me, Then curse thine own inconstancy!

A fairer hand than thine shall cure That heart which thy false oaths did wound; And to my soul a soul more pure Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound, And both with equal glory crown'd.

Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain To Love, as I did once to thee; When all thy tears shall be as vain As mine were then: for thou shalt be Damn'd for thy false apostasy.