[_The Legacy._] The remark made above applies especially to _The Legacy_, for there are no known or likely circumstances in King's life corresponding to it; while at the same time it might be the fancy of a young lover-husband. The first six stanzas have something of the 'yew-and-roses' charm of their great originals: the last four justify the ancients in holding that extravagance too often comports frigidity.]
Like an oblation set before a shrine, Fair one! I offer up this heart of mine. Whether the Saint accept my gift or no, I'll neither fear nor doubt before I know. For he whose faint distrust prevents reply, Doth his own suit's denial prophesy.
Your will the sentence is; who free as Fate Can bid my love proceed, or else retreat. And from short views that verdict is decreed Which seldom doth one audience exceed. 10 Love asks no dull probation, but like light Conveys his nimble influence at first sight.
I need not therefore importune or press; This were t' extort unwilling happiness: And much against affection might I sin: To tire and weary what I seek to win. Towns which by ling'ring siege enforced be Oft make both sides repent the victory.
Be Mistress of yourself: and let me thrive Or suffer by your own prerogative. 20 Yet stay, since you are Judge, who in one breath Bear uncontrolled power of Life and Death, Remember (Sweet) pity doth best become Those lips which must pronounce a suitor's doom.
If I find that, my spark of chaste desire Shall kindle into Hymen's holy fire: Else like sad flowers will these verses prove, To stick the coffin of rejected Love.
[_The Short Wooing._] A fair average metaphysicality.]
Now that each feather'd chorister doth sing The glad approaches of the welcome Spring: Now Ph[oe]bus darts forth his more early beam And dips it later in the curled stream, I should to custom prove a retrograde Did I still dote upon my sullen shade.
Oft have the seasons finish'd and begun; Days into months, those into years have run, Since my cross stars and inauspicious fate Doom'd me to linger here without my mate 10 Whose loss ere since befrosting my desire, Left me an Altar without gift or fire.
I therefore could have wish'd for your own sake That Fortune had design'd a nobler stake For you to draw, than one whose fading day Like to a dedicated taper lay Within a tomb, and long burnt out in vain, Since nothing there saw better by the flame.