XLVIII. A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. LT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, WILT Which was my sin, though it were done before? Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun I fear no more. XLIX. WHOEVE THE FUNERAL. HOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm; The mystery, the sign you must not touch, Viceroy to that which, then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to control And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution. For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall Can tie those parts, and make me one of all, The hairs, which upward grew, and strength and art Have from a better brain, Can better do't: except she meant that I By this should know my pain, As prisoners then are manacled, when they're condemned to die. Whate'er she meant by 't, bury it with me! For since I am Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry If into other hands these relics came. To afford to it all that a soul can do, So 'tis some bravery That, since you would have none of me, I bury some of you. L. BEN JONSON, 1573-1637. Q HESPERUS' SONG. UEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep; Seated in thy silver chair, Hesperus entreats thy light, Earth, let not thy envious shade Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear, when day did close; Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal-shining quiver; Ĝive unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever: Thou that makest a day of night, LI. CRISPINUS' AND HERMOGENES' SONG F I freely can discover I What would please me in my lover : She should be allowed her passions, Sometimes froward, and then frowning, Every fit with change still crowning. Purely jealous I would have her, Then only constant when I crave her. Thus, nor her delicates would cloy me, |