Suckling. Sonnet III.

SONNET III
by Sir John Suckling

I
O ! for some honest lover's ghost,
Some kind unbodied post
Sent from the shades below !
I strangely long to know,
Whether the noble chaplets wear,
Those that their mistress' scorn did bear,
Or those that were us'd kindly.

2
For whatsoe'er they tell us here
To make those sufferings dear,
'Twill there I fear be found,
That to the being crown'd
T' have loved alone will not suffice,
Unless we also have been wise,
And have our loves enjoy'd.

3
What posture can we think him in,
That here unlov'd again
Departs, and 's thither gone
Where each sits by his own ?
Or how can that elysium be
Where I my mistress still must see
Circled in others' arms ?

4
For there the judges all are just,
And Sophonisba must
Be his whom she held dear,
Not his who lov'd her here :
The sweet Philoclea, since she died,
Lies by her Pirocles his side,
Not by Amphialus.

5
Some bays, perchance, or myrtle bough,
For difference crowns the brow
Of those kind souls that were
The noble martyrs here ;
And if that be the only odds
(As who can tell ?) ye kinder gods,
Give me the woman here.

Source:
Suckling, John. The Works of Sir John Suckling. A. Hamilton Thompson, ed.
London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., 1910. 16.

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