Songes and Sonettes | ||
The louer asketh pardon of his dere, for fleeyng from her.
From the blinde fire in case they wold liue free.
Ay mee, how oft haue I fled thee, my Day?
I flee, but loue bides in my brest alway.
Lo yet agayn, I graunt, I gan remoue:
But both I could, and can say still, I loue.
If woods I seek, cooms to my thought Adone:
And well the woods do know my heauy mone.
In gardens if I walk: Narcissus there
I spy, and Hyacints with weepyng chere:
If meads I tred, O what a fyre I feel?
In flames of loue I burn from hed to heel.
Here I behold dame Ceres ymp in flight:
Here bee, methynk, black Plutoes steeds in sight.
Stronds if I look vpon, the Nymphs I mynde:
And, in mid sea, oft feruent powrs I fynde.
The hyer that I clyme, in mountanes wylde,
The nearer mee approcheth Uenus chylde.
Towns yf I haunt: in short, shall I all say?
There soondry fourms I view, none to my pay.
Her fauour now I note, and now her yies:
Her hed, amisse: her foot, her cheeks, her guyse.
In fyne, where mater wants, defautes I fayn:
Whom other, fayr: I deem, she hath soom stayn.
What boots it then to flee, sythe in nightyde,
And daytyme to, my Day is at my side?
A shade therfore mayst thou be calld, by ryght:
But shadowes, derk, thou, Day, art euer bright.
Nay rather, worldly name is not for thee:
Sithe thou at once canst in twoo places bee.
Forgiue me, goddesse, and becoom my sheeld:
Euen Uenus to Anchise herself dyd yeeld.
Lo, I confesse my flight: bee good therfore:
Ioue, oftentimes, hath pardond mee for more.
Next day, my Day, to you I coom my way:
And, yf you suffer mee, due payns wyll pay.
Songes and Sonettes | ||