VII.

Lo, in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing fight,
Serving with looks his facred majesty;
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling ftrong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;

But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract, and look another way:
So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,
Unlook'd on dieft, unless thou get a son.

VIII.

Music to hear, why hear'ft thou mufic fadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why loveft thou that which thou receivest not gladly,
Or else receiveft with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,

By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In fingleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one ftring, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;

Refembling fire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do fing:

Whose speechlefs fong, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: "Thou fingle wilt prove none.'