The pilgrime and heremite In forme of a Dialogue, By Master Alexander Craig |
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Polyphila her Complaint, and Testament.
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 | The pilgrime and heremite |  |
Polyphila her Complaint, and Testament.
O endlesse Night of noyse, which hath no Morrow!
O lowring Heavens, which harmes still haue threat!
Ov'r mantling mee with sable Clowds of Sorrow!
UUhereas no Starre doeth shine earlie nor late.
Although I skip from Craig, to seeke my Mate,
And from a glorious Garland to my Crowne,
I finde by death my daintie Rose dung downe.
O lowring Heavens, which harmes still haue threat!
Ov'r mantling mee with sable Clowds of Sorrow!
UUhereas no Starre doeth shine earlie nor late.
Although I skip from Craig, to seeke my Mate,
And from a glorious Garland to my Crowne,
I finde by death my daintie Rose dung downe.
Yee swelling Seas, with waltering UUaues that roll,
To resolute the weather-beaten Shoare:
They eb, they flow, and changing, Courses tholl,
And dare transcende their bounded banks no more.
But I, alace, whom Duill doeth still devoure,
I finde no entermissions to my Moanes,
But ere and late lament my grievous Groanes.
To resolute the weather-beaten Shoare:
They eb, they flow, and changing, Courses tholl,
And dare transcende their bounded banks no more.
But I, alace, whom Duill doeth still devoure,
I finde no entermissions to my Moanes,
But ere and late lament my grievous Groanes.
How can my wofull Heart, and weeping Eyes,
Beholde the dearest of my life bereaft?
How can my minde admit the least surmyze,
Of anie Hope, that hath but Horrour left?
My Pilote now, by North, nor yet by East,
Espies no Calmes, but Mercie-wanting Stormes;
Pretending Death, in blacke and vglie Formes.
Beholde the dearest of my life bereaft?
How can my minde admit the least surmyze,
Of anie Hope, that hath but Horrour left?
My Pilote now, by North, nor yet by East,
Espies no Calmes, but Mercie-wanting Stormes;
Pretending Death, in blacke and vglie Formes.
I grouelinges on the Ocean of my pride,
Did misregard each true and loving Sute.
So manie sude for favour on each side,
Which made my Seede to yeelde much barren Fruite.
Though I bewaile, as nowe, it bringes no buite.
Sighes, Teares, and Uowes, and all are waird in vaine:
Since nothing can redeeme thy life againe.
Did misregard each true and loving Sute.
So manie sude for favour on each side,
Which made my Seede to yeelde much barren Fruite.
Though I bewaile, as nowe, it bringes no buite.
Sighes, Teares, and Uowes, and all are waird in vaine:
Since nothing can redeeme thy life againe.
Aye mee, alace! Alace, and waile-away!
Deare Heart, poore Heart; what restes for thy behoue?
Since I procur'd thy death, by my delay,
And did mistrust my true and constant Loue:
Now shall my death, thy present death approue.
Though whilst thou liv'd, to loue thee I was loath;
Yet I am thine beyonde the date of death.
Deare Heart, poore Heart; what restes for thy behoue?
Since I procur'd thy death, by my delay,
And did mistrust my true and constant Loue:
Now shall my death, thy present death approue.
Though whilst thou liv'd, to loue thee I was loath;
Yet I am thine beyonde the date of death.
Then let mee die, and bid Delight adue;
Since my delight is with thee dead and gone.
The comming Age shall say, thy Thisbe true,
Was constant still, and lov'd but thee alone.
Wee both shall lye vnder one Marble stone.
One Graue in ende, shall ende our fatall griefe;
Which yeeldes mee nowe, in point of death, reliefe.
Since my delight is with thee dead and gone.
The comming Age shall say, thy Thisbe true,
Was constant still, and lov'd but thee alone.
Wee both shall lye vnder one Marble stone.
One Graue in ende, shall ende our fatall griefe;
Which yeeldes mee nowe, in point of death, reliefe.
Since yesterday may not bee brought againe,
And Wronges may bee repented, not recall'd:
I will no more inveigh on Death in vaine,
But make all Womens cowrage to bee holde:
And in the Tymes to come, it shall bee tolde;
Though thou till death didst serue and honour mee,
I after death haue sought, and followde thee,
And Wronges may bee repented, not recall'd:
I will no more inveigh on Death in vaine,
But make all Womens cowrage to bee holde:
And in the Tymes to come, it shall bee tolde;
Though thou till death didst serue and honour mee,
I after death haue sought, and followde thee,
And, Pilgrims, nowe, I praye, and I protest,
Before I ende this last exequall Act,
Let mee bee bolde to make this small Request;
That for thy vmwhile Friends some paines thou take:
First, In this place, a private Graue gar make;
And let vs lye interd conjunctlie there,
Where nought but Fawnes, and Satyres make repare.
Let mee bee bolde to make this small Request;
That for thy vmwhile Friends some paines thou take:
First, In this place, a private Graue gar make;
And let vs lye interd conjunctlie there,
Where nought but Fawnes, and Satyres make repare.
Next, When thou comst into my natiue Land,
Wherein my Loue, and louelesse I was borne;
If anie of our Tragicke death demand,
With Pittie speake, I praye, and not with Scorne.
This Practicke rare, which seldome was beforne,
Which when my deare and loving Friendes shall heare,
My Tragicke ende will cost them manie a Teare.
Wherein my Loue, and louelesse I was borne;
If anie of our Tragicke death demand,
With Pittie speake, I praye, and not with Scorne.
This Practicke rare, which seldome was beforne,
Which when my deare and loving Friendes shall heare,
My Tragicke ende will cost them manie a Teare.
Thus endeth her Complaynt.
| The pilgrime and heremite | |