 | Poems of Thomas, Lord Vaux |  |
X. HE RENOUNCETH ALL THE EFFECTS OF LOUE.
Like as the Harte that lifteth vp his eares,
To heare the hounds, that hath hym in the chase:
Doeth cast the winde, in daungers and in feares,
With flying foote, to passe awaie apace:
So must I flie of Loue, the vaine pursute,
Whereof the gaine is lesser then the fruite.
To heare the hounds, that hath hym in the chase:
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With flying foote, to passe awaie apace:
So must I flie of Loue, the vaine pursute,
Whereof the gaine is lesser then the fruite.
And I also must lothe those learyng looks,
Where Loue doeth lurke still with his subtill slaite,
With painted mocks, and inward hidden hooks,
To trapp by trust, that lieth not in waite.
The end whereof, assaie it who so shall,
As sugred smart, and inward bitter gall.
Where Loue doeth lurke still with his subtill slaite,
With painted mocks, and inward hidden hooks,
To trapp by trust, that lieth not in waite.
The end whereof, assaie it who so shall,
As sugred smart, and inward bitter gall.
And I must flie such Circian songs,
Wherewith that Circes, Ulisses did enchaunt:
Those wilie Witts I meane, with filèd tongs,
That harts of steele, haue power to daunt.
Who so as Hauke that stoupeth to their call,
For moste desarte, receiueth least of all.
Wherewith that Circes, Ulisses did enchaunt:
Those wilie Witts I meane, with filèd tongs,
That harts of steele, haue power to daunt.
Who so as Hauke that stoupeth to their call,
For moste desarte, receiueth least of all.
But woe to me that first beheld these eyes,
The trapp wherein I saie, that I was tane:
An outward salue, whiche inward me destroies,
Whereto I runne, as Rat vnto her bane.
As to the fishe, sometyme it doeth befall,
That with the baite, doth swallow hooke and al.
The trapp wherein I saie, that I was tane:
An outward salue, whiche inward me destroies,
Whereto I runne, as Rat vnto her bane.
As to the fishe, sometyme it doeth befall,
That with the baite, doth swallow hooke and al.
Within my breast, wherewith I daiely fedd,
The vaine repast of amourous hott desire:
With loitryng lust, so long that hath me sedd,
Till he hath brought me to the flamyng fire.
In tyme, as Phenix ends her care and carks,
I make the fire, and burne my self with sparks.
The vaine repast of amourous hott desire:
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Till he hath brought me to the flamyng fire.
In tyme, as Phenix ends her care and carks,
I make the fire, and burne my self with sparks.
| Poems of Thomas, Lord Vaux | |