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Strook home but to the frail and mortal parts

Of his humanity, but could not touch

His flourishing and fair long-liv'd deserts,

Above fate's reach, his singleness was such-

495 So that he dies but once, but doubly lives,

Once in his proper self, then in his name;

Predestinated Time, who all deprives,

Could never yet deprive him of the same.

And had the Genius which attended on him

500 Been possibilited to keep him safe

Against the rigor that hath overgone him,

He had been to the public use a staff,

Leading by his example in the path

Which guides to doing well, wherein so few

505 The proneness of this age to error hath

Informed rightly in the courses true.

As then the loss of one, whose inclination

Strove to win love in general, is sad,

So specially his friends, in soft compassion

510 Do feel the greatest loss they could have had.

Amongst them all, she who those nine of years

Liv'd fellow to his counsels and his bed

Hath the most share in loss: for I in hers

Feel what distemperature this chance hath bred.

515 The chaste embracements of conjugal love,

Who in a mutual harmony consent,

Are so impatient of a strange remove

As meager death itself seems to lament,

And weep upon those cheeks which nature fram'd

520 To be delightful orbs in whom the force

Of lively sweetness plays, so that asham'd

Death often pities his unkind divorce.

Such was the separation here constrain'd

(Well-worthy to be termed a rudeness rather),

525 For in his life his love was so unfeign'd

As he was both an husband and a father-

The one in firm affection and the other

In careful providence, which ever strove

With joint assistance to grace one another

530 With every helpful furtherance of love.

But since the sum of all that can be said

Can be but said that "He was good" (which wholly

Includes all excellence can be display'd

In praise of virtue and reproach of folly).

535 His due deserts, this sentence on him gives,

"He died in life, yet in his death he lives."

Now runs the method of this doleful song

In accents brief to thee, O thou deceas'd!

To whom those pains do only all belong

540 As witnesses I did not love thee least.

For could my worthless brain find out but how

To raise thee from the sepulcher of dust,

Undoubtedly thou shouldst have partage now

Of life with me, and heaven be counted just

545 If to a supplicating soul it would

Give life anew, by giving life again

Where life is miss'd; whereby discomfort should

Right his old griefs, and former joys retain

Which now with thee are leap'd into thy tomb

550 And buried in that hollow vault of woe,

Expecting yet a more severer doom

Than time's strict flinty hand will let 'em know.

And now if I have level'd mine account

And reckon'd up in a true measured score

555 Those perfect graces which were ever wont

To wait on thee alive, I ask no more

(But shall hereafter in a poor content

Immure those imputations I sustain,

Learning my days of youth so to prevent

560 As not to be cast down by them again)-

Only those hopes which fate denies to grant

In full possession to a captive heart

Who, if it were in plenty, still would want

Before it may enjoy his better part;

565 From which detain'd, and banish'd in th' exile

Of dim misfortune, has none other prop

Whereon to lean and rest itself the while

But the weak comfort of the hapless, Hope.

And Hope must in despite of fearful change

570 Play in the strongest closet of my breast,

Although perhaps I ignorantly range

And court opinion in my deep'st unrest.

But whether doth the stream of my mischance

Drive me beyond myself, fast friend, soon lost,

575 Long may thy worthiness thy name advance

Amongst the virtuous and deserving most,

Who herein hast forever happy prov'd:

In life thou liv'dst, in death thou died'st belov'd.

FINIS

SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC

This collection has often been attributed to Shakespeare, but only the second composition is clearly his, with lines that occur in Love's Labour's Lost. The fifth verse is