University of Virginia Library

7.

[Let him whois hapeles state]

Let him whois hapeles state
is as it aye hes beine,
And hes bene euer as it is,
ane cave caires to conteine,
Still strampld doune with sturts,
let him the weird's Imploir
That they may fill his dayes with ȝeir's
nor ȝeer's with dayes no moir.
I clame no right to lyfe,
tho' lyfe acclame to me,
The comfoirt that my lyfe impoirt's
Is that it liue to dye.
Ȝit by constran'te of loue
my pennance sall furth proue
That tho' I doe not loue to liue,
ȝit doe I liue to love
Her with whom I be ay,
in absence present bee,
Quhois matchles nevir deying worth
I sall adoiring dye
Giue then, ȝee plideris power
of never purchast peace,
Resigne my loue her awin disdaine,
liue me with my disgrace,
Tell to her secreete sight,
since better could nocht bee,
Lang haue I foughtin with my fate
and now am forcit to flee.
Sall never loue dissolue
the lyfe that loue beganne.
How lang sall langour be the lord,
the louer be the man?
The darkeest cloudes will cleir,
ill storme will sumtyme ceas,
And everie battell sum tyme hes
ane day perfixt for peace.
But where love lyis intrinch't
within a breist of feares,
Na kynde of comfoirt clair's there croce
nor joy dryis vp yr teir's.
Reid thenn, remorsles fair,
quha knawes nor it maȝ be
That pittie, pittieles befoir,
proue pittiefull to me.
My tempted hee attempt's
flew soiring out of sight,
My mounting mynde did clume, allace,
but came not to ye hicht,
Thy face, the field wherein
my loue and thy disdaine,
Vnreconceild compeditoris,
vowes euer to remayne.
Sen so it is allace,
giue her gude nicht and goe,
Devoirc't from weell, espousit to wrong,
and interteinit wt woe.
Ȝit nether contrair care
nor prosperous event's
Sall mak my pen leive of to blote
the lynnis of my lament's.
And for thy worth I vow
In forrand lands to fair,
Thy [inter]dyti[t] pilgr[i]me puire
foreuer heir and thair.
And as thow was that one
to quhome I faith p[ro]fest,
Looke in quhat corner of the eirth
thy loouer po[o]re sall re[st].
There, be assuir't, sweet saull,
som sonnet salbe sung,
And sowst with sorrow for thy saik,
cald with a tru[th]full tung.
Had I als manie hearts
as my harte thouchts [com]mands,
And euerie hart of all these heart's
I sweere als manye hands,
Eache hand sould hold a pen
to wryte thy worthie rair
As post's of thy eternall prais
to tell the world thour't fair.
Let it suffice the pen,
puire saull, her sicht to flee,
Since thow hes founde thy marterdome
remedyles to bee.
Rest ȝee in thy wnrest,
and murray be thow still,
The maike where meneles miseries
directes yere endles ill.
Giue her ane long gudenyt
and seeke vnto thy soir
Sum hermitadge where broken herts
are heipit vp in stoir,
And there releefles dead
vp gaue the ghoist and all
That woorthie fame maȝ fetche of thee,
a fate memoriall,
That as thow loueing liued
her louer poore and trew,
Sua at thy letter dying breathe,
thow badd her last adew.
Thus all thy ending bee
begging vnto her prais,
Her prais whilk never sall have end
sall end my wretchit days.