XXXIII.

Full many a glorious morning have I feen
Flatter the mountain tops with fovereign eye,
Kiffing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale ftreams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celeftial face,

And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unfeen to weft with this disgrace:
Even fo my fun one early morn did shine
With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;
But, out, alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;

Suns of the world may stain when heaven's fun
ftaineth.

XXXIV.

Why didft thou promise fuch a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?

'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,

For no man well of fuch a falve can speak

That heals the wound and cures not the difgrace:
Nor can thy fhame give phyfic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the lofs:
The offender's forrow lends but weak relief

To him that bears the ftrong offence's cross.
Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love fheds,

And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.