The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton Edited by Charles B. Gullans |
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 | The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton |  |
144
10. [A Declaration]
My temperate style at first
With Comick grones did greete,
And though the Entrie seemed soure,
The latest act was sweete.
Now tragick trumpetts blowes,
And sorrowing sounds out sought
Vnto my Muses mourning mouth
A wailing vayne hath wrought.
With Comick grones did greete,
And though the Entrie seemed soure,
The latest act was sweete.
Now tragick trumpetts blowes,
And sorrowing sounds out sought
Vnto my Muses mourning mouth
A wailing vayne hath wrought.
Before alternant Ioyes
Did promise some releife,
Now care and love conspired in one
Have sworne my Endless greife,
Soe that I see noe soule
Companion to my paines,
Vnless it be those wretched ones
Which Plutos raing retaynes.
Did promise some releife,
Now care and love conspired in one
Have sworne my Endless greife,
Soe that I see noe soule
Companion to my paines,
Vnless it be those wretched ones
Which Plutos raing retaynes.
And yet they must confess
My greefe there greefe exceedes,
I suffer sakelessly, alas,
But they for there missdeedes.
And this much more I adde,
The Rhodopean sounds
Spent at Euridices fairwell
Did mitigate there wounds,
My greefe there greefe exceedes,
I suffer sakelessly, alas,
But they for there missdeedes.
And this much more I adde,
The Rhodopean sounds
Spent at Euridices fairwell
Did mitigate there wounds,
And when Alcmenas sonn
The seidge to hell did lay,
The prisoners of Plutos pitts
Gott leave to take the play.
But I since first I did
This luckless love imbrace,
I never felt, noe, not by dreame,
The smallest glance of grace
The seidge to hell did lay,
The prisoners of Plutos pitts
Gott leave to take the play.
145
This luckless love imbrace,
I never felt, noe, not by dreame,
The smallest glance of grace
But cross came vpon cross,
And cares convoyed with care,
Sighes were companions to my teares,
And danger of dispaire.
I dyed and liv'd againe,
I lived againe to dye,
I dyed I know not what a death,
A life it could not be.
And cares convoyed with care,
Sighes were companions to my teares,
And danger of dispaire.
I dyed and liv'd againe,
I lived againe to dye,
I dyed I know not what a death,
A life it could not be.
It could not be a life,
Since that I had noe heart,
And well I knowe it was noe death,
Since that I felt my smart.
It was then such a mids
As takes part of the two,
Or rather such as both the Extreames
Doth vtterly missknowe.
Since that I had noe heart,
And well I knowe it was noe death,
Since that I felt my smart.
It was then such a mids
As takes part of the two,
Or rather such as both the Extreames
Doth vtterly missknowe.
Noe, was it none of those,
Noe, neither this nor that,
For anything that I can see
It was I knowe not what.
I know not what it was,
This knowledge much me greev'd,
I know I was the vnhappyest hee
That ever lov'd or liv'd.
Noe, neither this nor that,
For anything that I can see
It was I knowe not what.
I know not what it was,
This knowledge much me greev'd,
I know I was the vnhappyest hee
That ever lov'd or liv'd.
And thus remayning yet
I glister and I glance,
A patterne of vnhappyness,
A mirrour of misschance,
A Trophye which the Fates
Erected have on high
To testify the true triumphs
Which they have gain'd ore mee.
I glister and I glance,
A patterne of vnhappyness,
A mirrour of misschance,
146
Erected have on high
To testify the true triumphs
Which they have gain'd ore mee.
Yet blame I not the Fates
For ought I doe sustaine,
My greife is grounded vpon this
That I dare not complaine.
I neither dare nor will,
I neither will nor may,
I might if that I would,
I would if that I durst assay.
For ought I doe sustaine,
My greife is grounded vpon this
That I dare not complaine.
I neither dare nor will,
I neither will nor may,
I might if that I would,
I would if that I durst assay.
But to disclose my greefe
Vnto my fatall foe,
Methinkes it were the ready way
For to aggredge my woe.
Soe thus concealing't close
My greife growes allwayes greate,
The closer that the furnace is
The sharper is the heate,
Vnto my fatall foe,
Methinkes it were the ready way
For to aggredge my woe.
Soe thus concealing't close
My greife growes allwayes greate,
The closer that the furnace is
The sharper is the heate,
And floodes are deepest there
Where highest is the Damme,
And Camamyle doth prosper best
Where men tread downe the same.
But yet I feare, alas,
Or rather puts noe doubt,
My fyerie rage is soe extreame
Of force it must burst out.
Where highest is the Damme,
And Camamyle doth prosper best
Where men tread downe the same.
But yet I feare, alas,
Or rather puts noe doubt,
My fyerie rage is soe extreame
Of force it must burst out.
And soe I shall remaine
A gazeing stock to be
To such as will not creditt tayles
Where Poets seemes to lye,
Like to Typheus Rage
Or girning Gorgons Ire,
Such furious and Incensing spiritts
Out thunders flaughts of fyre.
A gazeing stock to be
To such as will not creditt tayles
Where Poets seemes to lye,
147
Or girning Gorgons Ire,
Such furious and Incensing spiritts
Out thunders flaughts of fyre.
Yet if I could indure
Eternally as they,
My state were more Miraculous
I dare both sweare and say,
But things too violent
Cannot too long indure,
My passions are soe excessive
There owne End they'l procure.
Eternally as they,
My state were more Miraculous
I dare both sweare and say,
But things too violent
Cannot too long indure,
My passions are soe excessive
There owne End they'l procure.
O happy thrice were I,
If soe could mee befall
As chanced to Mausoles Ashe
Whose wife did drinke them all,
But wishes are but vaine,
Things runne soe to the worst
In all my life, that after death
I should be more at Rest.
If soe could mee befall
As chanced to Mausoles Ashe
Whose wife did drinke them all,
But wishes are but vaine,
Things runne soe to the worst
In all my life, that after death
I should be more at Rest.
For who should promise mee
A buriall att her heart
When I am dead, who in my life
Doth play mee Neroes part.
That cruell Tyrant sett
The seaven hill'd towne on fyre,
And neither Eyes nor flinty heart
At such a sight did tyre,
A buriall att her heart
When I am dead, who in my life
Doth play mee Neroes part.
That cruell Tyrant sett
The seaven hill'd towne on fyre,
And neither Eyes nor flinty heart
At such a sight did tyre,
But from his palace high
He looked downe along
And thinking on the seedge of Troy
Hee burst out in a song,
So she faire cruell she
Whose lookes setts mee on fyre,
Perceiving that my Modesty
To speake dare not aspire,
He looked downe along
And thinking on the seedge of Troy
Hee burst out in a song,
148
Whose lookes setts mee on fyre,
Perceiving that my Modesty
To speake dare not aspire,
As it is Heritage
Vnto that sex and sort,
That seeing makes her not to see
And laughs at such a sport.
But since I dare not press
Her cares for to acquainte
With Tragedyes of my disstress
And words of my complainte,
Vnto that sex and sort,
That seeing makes her not to see
And laughs at such a sport.
But since I dare not press
Her cares for to acquainte
With Tragedyes of my disstress
And words of my complainte,
I shall not cease to show
The beale wherein I bide
Vnto my wonted Secretaryes
In whome I doe confide,
The hills and Craigs I meane,
The high and stately trees
The valleyes low, the Mountains high
Whose topps escapes our Eyes.
The beale wherein I bide
Vnto my wonted Secretaryes
In whome I doe confide,
The hills and Craigs I meane,
The high and stately trees
The valleyes low, the Mountains high
Whose topps escapes our Eyes.
And while I show't to them,
The nearest Ayre shall hear't,
The Ayre shall carry't to the fyre,
The fyre to th'heavens shall bear't,
The heavens shall lay't abroad
Before the Gods above,
And if they will not send releife,
Farewell both life and love.
The nearest Ayre shall hear't,
The Ayre shall carry't to the fyre,
The fyre to th'heavens shall bear't,
The heavens shall lay't abroad
Before the Gods above,
And if they will not send releife,
Farewell both life and love.
| The English and Latin Poems of Sir Robert Ayton | |