NON TARDUM OPPERIOR 



But O short pleasure, bought with lasting paine ! 

 Why will hereafter anie flesh delight 

 In earthlie blis, and joy in pleasures vaine, 

 Since that I saw this gardine wasted quite, 

 That where it was scarce seemed anie sight? 

 That I, which once that beautie did beholde, 

 Could not from teares my melting eyes with- 

 holde. 



EDMUND SPENSER. 

 The Ruines of Time. 



There the most daintie Paradise on ground 



It selfe doth offer to his sober eye, 



In which all pleasures plenteously abound, 



And none does others happinesse enoye; 



The painted flowres, the trees upshooting hye, 



The dales for shade, the hilles for breathing 



space, 



The trembling groves, the christall running by, 

 And, that which all faire workes doth most 



aggrace, 

 The arb which all that wrought appeared in 



no place. 



