Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts By R. T. Gentleman [i.e. Robert Tofte]. Herevnto is Added a most excellent pathetical and passionate Letter, sent by Duke D'Epernoun, vnto the late French King, Henry the 3. of that name, when he was commanded from the Court, and from his Royall Companie. Translated into English by the foresaid Author |
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The Conclusion of the last Part.
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 | Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts |  |
The Conclusion of the last Part.
If
Vertuous Loue be Honor, and no Shame,
Let no man (causeles) seeke my chaste Desire,
To bridle in with base conceited raine,
Since Virtue kindled in my brest this fire:
The Wise (I hope) will no Exceptions take,
Nor Gainst my Loue, nor gainst these Toyes I make,
Let no man (causeles) seeke my chaste Desire,
To bridle in with base conceited raine,
Since Virtue kindled in my brest this fire:
The Wise (I hope) will no Exceptions take,
Nor Gainst my Loue, nor gainst these Toyes I make,
For by the Diall of Discretion sound,
Mine Actions all and Cariage I direct,
And fearefull am I, least I should be found,
T'haue done amisse, in any due respect.
(Ladie) I hope no line is here set downe,
Sauns awfull looking backe vnto your frowne.
Mine Actions all and Cariage I direct,
And fearefull am I, least I should be found,
T'haue done amisse, in any due respect.
(Ladie) I hope no line is here set downe,
Sauns awfull looking backe vnto your frowne.
No Worthlesse Thought doth lodge within my brest,
Since (as my Guides) I follow thy faire Eyes,
Sparkes of true Vertue in me now doe rest,
Infused by those beames in wondrous wise,
Those with an vncouth Flame set me on fire,
The rightest pathes of Honor to aspire.
Since (as my Guides) I follow thy faire Eyes,
Sparkes of true Vertue in me now doe rest,
Infused by those beames in wondrous wise,
Those with an vncouth Flame set me on fire,
The rightest pathes of Honor to aspire.
By these conducted to Eternall Ioy,
I hope for to be lifted vp to'th Skie,
From all Disgrace, from trouble and annoy,
Where, (of my selfe) I nere did mount so hie.
Be gracious then (Sweete Goddesse) of my Thought,
For thy power tis, doth make me soare aloft.
I hope for to be lifted vp to'th Skie,
From all Disgrace, from trouble and annoy,
Where, (of my selfe) I nere did mount so hie.
Be gracious then (Sweete Goddesse) of my Thought,
For thy power tis, doth make me soare aloft.
Il Disgratiato.
R. T. G.
| Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts | |