The tears of Fancie | ||
Sonnet. 21.
[Fortune for wearied with my bitter mone]
Fortune for wearied with my bitter mone,Did pittie seldome seene my wretched fate:
And brought to passe that I my loue alone,
Vnwares attacht to plead my hard estate.
Some say that loue makes louers eloquent,
And with diuinest wit doth them inspire:
But beautie my tongues office did preuent,
And quite extinguished my first desire.
As if her eies had power to strike me dead,
So was I dased at her crimson die:
As one that had beheld Medusaes head,
All senses faild their Master but the eie.
Had that sense faild and from me eke beene taken,
Then I had loue and loue had me forsaken.
The tears of Fancie | ||