Poem by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester

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. Tell Me No More How Fair She Is
2. The Boyes Answer To The Blackmoor
3. The Retreat
4. The Forfeiture
5. Sonnet. Dry those fair, those chrystal eyes

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