For, knowing that I sue to serve
A saint of such perfection,
As all desire, but none deserve,
A place in her affection,

I rather choose to want relief
Than venture the revealing;
Where glory recommends the grief,
Despair distrusts the healing.

Thus those desires that aim too high
For any mortal lover,

When reason cannot make them die,
Discretion doth them cover.

Yet, when discretion doth bereave
The plaints that they should utter,
Then thy discretion may perceive
That silence is a suitor.

Silence in love bewrays more woe
Than words, though ne'er so witty:
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.

Then wrong not, dearest to my heart,
My true, though secret, passion :
He smarteth most that hides his smart,
And sues for no compassion.

Sr W. R.

XV.

A POESY TO PROVE AFFECTION

IS NOT LOVE.1

(Before 1602.)

CONCEIT, begotten by the eyes,
Is quickly born and quickly dies;
For while it seeks our hearts to have,
Meanwhile, there reason makes his
grave;

For many things the eyes approve,
Which yet the heart doth seldom love.

For as the seeds in spring time sown
Die in the ground ere they be grown,
Such is conceit, whose rooting fails,
As child that in the cradle quails;
Or else within the mother's womb
Hath his beginning and his tomb.
Affection follows Fortune's wheels,
And soon is shaken from her heels;
For, following beauty or estate,
Her liking still is turned to hate;
For all affections have their change,
And fancy only loves to range.

Desire himself runs out of breath,
And, getting, doth but gain his death:

'Davison's "Poetical Rhapsody," 1602-1621.

Desire nor reason hath nor rest,

And, blind, doth seldom choose the best:
Desire attained is not desire,

But as the cinders of the fire.

As ships in ports desired are drowned,
As fruit, once ripe, then falls to ground,
As flies that seek for flames are brought
To cinders by the flames they sought;
So fond desire when it attains,

The life expires, the woe remains.

And yet some poets fain would prove
Affection to be perfect love;
And that desire is of that kind,
No less a passion of the mind;

As if wild beasts and men did seek
To like, to love, to choose alike.

W. R.

XVI.

THE LIE.1

(Certainly before 1608; possibly before 1596.)

O, Soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless arrant:

Fear not to touch the best;

The truth shall be thy warrant :

Signed "Wa: Raleigh" in MS. Chetham, 8012, p. 103, and headed "Sir Walter Wrawly his lye" in a MS. of Mr. Collier's; see his "Bibl. Cat.," vol. ii. p. 224. Also ascribed

Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

Say to the court, it glows

And shines like rotten wood;
Say to the church, it shows

What's good, and doth no good:
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others' action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction:
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition,

That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate:
And if they once reply,

Then give them all the lie.

to Raleigh by name in a contemporary answer in the Chetham MS. p. 107, and by implication in some other early replies; see appendix to the Introduction, A. No. IV. It was in

serted by Birch in 1751 among Raleigh's " Minor Works," vol. ii. p. 396, as "The Farewell." Many other old copies are anonymous; e. g. in Davison's "Poetical Rhapsody," 16081621 (p. 100); in MS. Tann., 306, fol. 188; in Harl. MS. 6910, fol. 141, verso, and in Harl. MS. 2296, fol. 135. Some of these texts contain both additions and mutilations; and spurious copies are found among the poems of Sylvester, p. 652, editions 1633 and 1641, and of Lord Pembroke, p. 104, edition 1660.

Tell them that brave it most,

They beg for more by spending, Who, in their greatest cost,

Seek nothing but commending:
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time it is but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust:
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.

Tell age it daily wasteth;

Tell honour how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favour how it falters:

And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.

Tell wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in over-wiseness:
And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.

Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is pretension;

Tell charity of coldness;

Tell law it is contention :

And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.