Imagine a jealous spirit hiding gold deep underground, always darting away just as seekers approach. That is how the speaker sees his beloved’s beauty in this sonnet. She handles her “rich beauties”—the charms Heaven gave her—like buried treasure from old superstition. People once trusted their coins to earthbound spirits, expecting to return from war and reclaim them; when they never came home, others tried magic to drag the hoard out, but the spirit only pushed it deeper. In the same way, she keeps her gifts so tightly hoarded that they neither warm her own life nor bring anyone else joy. The final couplet softens into pity: she is left with nothing but the “coldness of your blood,” a lonely chill that serves no one. The mood is one of regretful tenderness, a lover’s quiet ache at so much loveliness locked away, doomed to remain unseen and unfelt.
Sonnet LVIII: In Former Times — Summary
In former times such as had store of coin, In wars at home, or when for conquests bound, For fear that some their treasure should purloin, Gave it to keep to spirits within the ground, And to attend it them as strongly tied Till they return'd; home when they never came, Such as by art to get the same have tried From the strong Spirit by no means force the same; Nearer men come, that further flies away, Striving to hold it strongly in the deep. E'en as this Spirit, so you alone do play With those rich beauties Heav'n gives you to keep; Pity, so left to the coldness of your blood, Not to avail you, nor do the others good.