Henry King, Bishop of Chichester (Генри Кинг, епископ Чичестерский)

Sonnet. VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire

VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire,
Thou wer't a wonder past compare:
But frozen Love and fierce disdain
By their extremes thy graces stain.
Cold coyness quenches the still fires
Which glow in Lovers warm desires;
And scorn, like the quick Lightnings blaze,
Darts death against affections gaze.
O Heavens, what prodigy is this
When Love in Beauty buried is!
Or that dead pity thus should be
Tomb'd in a living cruelty.

1. An Elegy Upon The Death Of Mr. Edward Holt
2. Sonnet. Go thou that vainly do'st mine eyes invite
3. On the Earl of Essex
4. To My Sister Anne King, Who Chid Me In Verse For Being Angry
5. Upon A Table-Book Presented To A Lady

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