The tears of Fancie | ||
Sonnet. XVIII.
[Tho with a showre of teares I entertained]
Tho with a showre of teares I entertained,My wounded hart into my brest accloied:
VVith thousand sundrie cares and griefes vnfained,
Vnfained griefes and cares my hart annoied.
Annoying sorrowes at my harts returning,
Assaild my thoughts with neuer ceasing horror:
That euen my hart hart like to Ætna burning,
Did often times conspire for to abhorre her.
But enuious loue still bent to eke my mourning,
A grieuous pennance for my fault inflicted:
That eies should weepe and hart be euer groaning;
So loue to worke my sorrowes was addicted.
But earths sole wonder whose eies my sense appalled,
The fault was loues, then pardon me, for loue is franticke called.
The tears of Fancie | ||