Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
| 21 |  |
| 13 |  | I. |
| II. |
| 4 | | III. |
| 4 | | CVIII. |
| IV. |
| 2 | | V. |
| VI. |
| 2 | | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
CXIV
[At last withdraw youre crueltye]
At last withdraw youre crueltye,
Or let me dy at ons;
Hit ys to mych extremety
Devysid for the nons,
To hold me styll alyve
In paynes styll for to stryve.
What may I more susteigne?
Alas! that dy wold fayne,
And cannot dy for payne.
Or let me dy at ons;
Hit ys to mych extremety
Devysid for the nons,
130
In paynes styll for to stryve.
What may I more susteigne?
Alas! that dy wold fayne,
And cannot dy for payne.
For to the flame wherwith I burne
My thought and my desyre,
When into ashes hit shuld turne
My harte by faruent fyer,
You send a stormy rayne
That doth yt quench agayne
And makes my Eyes expresse
The teyres that do redresse
My lyffe in wretchednes.
My thought and my desyre,
When into ashes hit shuld turne
My harte by faruent fyer,
You send a stormy rayne
That doth yt quench agayne
And makes my Eyes expresse
The teyres that do redresse
My lyffe in wretchednes.
Then when they shuld haue drowned
And ouerwhelmed my harte,
The hete doth them confound,
Renewyng all my Smarte;
Then doth the flame encresse,
My turment cannot seasse;
My paynes doth than revyve,
And I remayne alyve,
With deth styll for to stryve.
And ouerwhelmed my harte,
The hete doth them confound,
Renewyng all my Smarte;
Then doth the flame encresse,
My turment cannot seasse;
My paynes doth than revyve,
And I remayne alyve,
With deth styll for to stryve.
But yf that you wyll haue my deth,
And that you wold no nother,
Then shortly for to stope my breth
Withdrawe the one or other;
For this youre cruelnes
Doth let yt self doughtles,
And that ys reason why
No man a lyve nor I
Of dowble deth canne dy.
And that you wold no nother,
Then shortly for to stope my breth
Withdrawe the one or other;
For this youre cruelnes
Doth let yt self doughtles,
And that ys reason why
No man a lyve nor I
Of dowble deth canne dy.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |