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William Shakespeare, 1564-1616 [1640], Poems: vvritten by Wil. Shake-speare. Gent (Printed... by Tho. Cotes, and are to be sold by Iohn Benson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11600].

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[The Phoenix and Turtle]
Let the bird of lowest lay
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herauld sad and Trumpet be,
To whose sound, chast wings obay.
But thou shriking harbinger,
Foule precurrer of the fiend,
Augour of the feavers end,
To this Troope come thou not neere.
From this Session interdict,
Every foule of Tyrant wing,
Save the Eagle feathered King,
Keepe the obsequie so strict.
Let the Priest in Surplis white,
That defuntive Musicke can,
Be the death divining Swan,
Lest the Requiem lack his right.
And thou treble dated Crow,
That thy sable gender mak'st,
With the breath thou giv'st and tak'st,
'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the Anthem doth commence,
Love and constancie is dead,
Pœnix and the Turtle Fled,
In a mutuall flame from hence.
So they loved as love in twaine,
Had the essence but in one,
Two distincts but in none,
Number there in love was slaine.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder,

-- --

Distance and no space was seene,
Twixt thy Turtle and his Queene,
But in them it were a wonder.
So betweene them Love did shine,
That the Turtle saw his right,
Flaming in the Phœnix sight,
Either was the others mine.
Propertie was thus appalled,
That the selfe was not the same,
Single Natures double name,
Neither two nor one was called.
Reason in it selfe confounded,
Saw division grow together,
To themselves yet either neither,
Simple were so well compounded.
That it cried how true a twaine,
Seemeth this concordant one,
Love hath Reason, Reason none,
If what parts can so remaine.
Whereupon it made this Threne,
To the Phœnix and the Dove,
Co-supreames and starres of Love,
As Chorus to their tragique Scene.
Beauty, Truth, and Raritie,
Grace in all Simpliicity,
Hence inclosed, in cnders lie.

-- --

Death is now the Phœnix nest,
And the Turtles loyall breast,
To eternity doth rest.
Leaving no posterity
Twas not their infirmity,
It was married Chastity.
Truth may seeme but cannot be,
Beauty bragge, but tis not shee,
Truth and Beautie buried be.
To this Vrne let those repaire,
That are either true or faire,
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
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William Shakespeare, 1564-1616 [1640], Poems: vvritten by Wil. Shake-speare. Gent (Printed... by Tho. Cotes, and are to be sold by Iohn Benson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11600].