 | The plays & poems of Robert Greene
|  |
|
XVI
BRADAMANT'S MADRIGALE.
The Swans whose pens as white as Iuory,
Eclipsing fayre Endymions siluer-loue:
Floting like snowe downe by the banckes of Po.
Nere tund their notes like Leda once forlorne:
With more dispairing sortes of madrigales,
Then I whome wanton loue hath with his gad,
Prickt to the courte of deepe and restlesse thoughts.
The frolike yoongsters Bacchus liquor mads,
Run not about the wood of Thessaly,
With more inchaunted fits of lunacy,
Then I whome loue, whome sweete and bitter loue,
Fiers infects with sundry passions,
Now lorne with liking ouermuch my loue,
Frozen with fearing, if I step to far:
Fired with gazing at such glymmering stars,
As stealing light from Phebus brightest rayes,
Sparkles and sets a flame within my brest,
Rest restlesse Loue, fond baby be content:
Child hold thy darts within thy quiuer close;
And if thou wilt be rouing with thy bowe,
Ayme at those hearts that may attend on loue,
Let countrey swaines, and silly swads be still,
To Court yoong wag, and wanton there thy fill.
| The plays & poems of Robert Greene
| |
|
