Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/88

68 The waving sea can with each flood Bathe some high promont that hath stood Far from the main up in the river: O, think not then but love can do As much; for that's an ocean too, Which flows not every day, but ever!

me, ye juster deities, That pity lovers' miseries, Why should my own unworthiness Fright me to seek my happiness? It is as natural as just Him for to love, whom needs I must: All men confess that love's a fire; Then who denies it to aspire?

Tell me, if thou wert fortune's thrall, Would'st thou not raise thee from the fall, Seek only to o'erlook thy state Whereto thou art condemn'd by fate? Then let me love my Coridon, And, by love's leave, him love alone: For I have read of stories oft, That love hath wings and soars aloft.

Then let me grow in my desire, Though I be martyr'd in that fire; For grace it is enough for me, But only to love such as he: For never shall my thoughts be base, Though luckless, yet without disgrace: Then let him that my love shall blame Or clip love's wings, or quench love's flame.

vermin slander, bred in abject minds Of thoughts impure, by vile tongues animate, Canker of conversation! couldst thou find Nought but our love whereon to show thy hate? Thou never wert, when we two were alone; What canst thou witness then? thy base dull aid