Fidessa more chaste then kinde. By B. Griffin |
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SONNET. VII.
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 | Fidessa |  |
SONNET. VII.
[Oft haue mine eyes the Agents of mine heart]
Oft haue mine eyes the Agents of mine heart,(False traytor eyes conspiring my decay)
Pleaded for grace with dumbe and silent art,
Streaming foorth teares my sorrowes to allay.
Moning the wrong they doe vnto their Lord,
Forcing the cruell faire by meanes to yeeld:
Making her (gainst her will) some grace t'affoord,
And striuing sore at length to winne the field.
Thus worke they meanes to feed my fainting hope,
And strēgthened hope ads matter to each thought:
Yet when they all come to their end and scope,
They doe but whollie bring poore me to nought.
She'l neuer yeeld, although they euer crye,
And therefore we must altogether dye.
| Fidessa | |