For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
Unlocked the treasure of his happy state;
What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent
In the possession of his beauteous mate;
Reck'ning his fortune at such high-proud rate
That kings might be espoused to more fame,
But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.
O happiness enjoyed but of a few!
And, if possessed, as soon decayed and done
As is the morning silver-melting dew
Against the golden splendour of the sun!
An expired date, cancelled ere well begun:
Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms,
Are weakly fortressed from a world of harms.
Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
The eyes of men without an orator;
What needeth then apology be made,
To set forth that which is so singular?
Or why is Collatine the publisher
Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown
From thievish ears, because it is his own?
darling in chalet. PP work piling mouuntain high.
someone save me...
tired..
bored...
missing old times..
reminescenes...
things changed...
people changed...
o thy lord i plead.
take me away from the wretches claws.
of treachery and consummated hate.
my bateless edge of forgotten faith.
cant wait for the better times to come.
for me & you. :)
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