The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
47
Silvia revolted.
When I, vnto the fameles Devia, now
Vtter my song, the emptie winds disperse
My Laboured Numbers, and let noe man know
Their Soūd: ah! there have I, in mightie verse,
Had better Audience, of my fellow peeres;
The proud Amintas did not scorne, to bow
And give Attention; nor disdaine to ioyne
His verses, with the notes which then were mine.
Vtter my song, the emptie winds disperse
My Laboured Numbers, and let noe man know
Their Soūd: ah! there have I, in mightie verse,
Had better Audience, of my fellow peeres;
The proud Amintas did not scorne, to bow
And give Attention; nor disdaine to ioyne
His verses, with the notes which then were mine.
When hee, the bright Vrbana magnified;
And I my Silvia sung, in Equall Sound;
Silvia, the fairest, mortall ever Eyed;
But ah! my griefe! there is my heart's great wound.
Sylvia, whom once I almost Deified,
Revolted is; and newer Loves hath found.
Ah faithles Silvia; whether shall I flye,
ffor Passion, to enrage my Poesie.
And I my Silvia sung, in Equall Sound;
Silvia, the fairest, mortall ever Eyed;
But ah! my griefe! there is my heart's great wound.
Sylvia, whom once I almost Deified,
Revolted is; and newer Loves hath found.
Ah faithles Silvia; whether shall I flye,
ffor Passion, to enrage my Poesie.
Whither! but to the Eyes of Silvia false?
And dash my bitter Inke against their shine;
Defame that glorious feature; which exalts
Her name, to wonder, in some verse of mine;
Crie recreant, and recant what ever calls
Her faire, or worthy; Draw another Line
And what I said, vnsay; or shall I keepe
In modest limits; and let Passion Sleepe.
And dash my bitter Inke against their shine;
48
Her name, to wonder, in some verse of mine;
Crie recreant, and recant what ever calls
Her faire, or worthy; Draw another Line
And what I said, vnsay; or shall I keepe
In modest limits; and let Passion Sleepe.
I will not wrong her Name, which gave mine Life
In a Cleare Mention; She to whom I sung
A Thousand Sonnets, and brought Numbers rife,
To Celebrate her Glories; She who hung
My browes with virgin Chaplets; never greife
Shall blind my Iudgment, with soe foule a wrong;
But Silvia, in my verse, shall keepe a Seat,
Though me she Scorne, and happilie forget.
In a Cleare Mention; She to whom I sung
A Thousand Sonnets, and brought Numbers rife,
To Celebrate her Glories; She who hung
My browes with virgin Chaplets; never greife
Shall blind my Iudgment, with soe foule a wrong;
But Silvia, in my verse, shall keepe a Seat,
Though me she Scorne, and happilie forget.
Though me She Scorne; and give her love away
To proud Penandro; and the guiltie Crue
Rivall her favours; I may see a Day,
She will be glad to grace my love anew;
Meanwhile, in Libertie, I will Assay
My fancie (taught by her) and re-accrue
My Thoughts into their Station; and then Scorne
Her faith retracted, old, and overworne.
To proud Penandro; and the guiltie Crue
Rivall her favours; I may see a Day,
She will be glad to grace my love anew;
Meanwhile, in Libertie, I will Assay
My fancie (taught by her) and re-accrue
My Thoughts into their Station; and then Scorne
Her faith retracted, old, and overworne.
| The poems of George Daniel | |