Effusions of Love from Chatelar to Mary, Queen of Scotland Translated from a Gallic Manuscript, in the Scotch College at Paris. Interspersed with songs, sonnets, and notes explanatory, by the translator [i.e. S. W. H. Ireland]. To which is added, historical fragments, poetry, and remains of the amours, of that unfortunate Princess |
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[What fury has provokt thy wit to dare] |
 | Effusions of Love from Chatelar to Mary, Queen of Scotland |  |
[What fury has provokt thy wit to dare]
What fury has provokt thy wit to dareWith Diomede, to wound the queen of love,
Thy mistress's envy, or thy own despair?
So blind a rage, with such a different fate;
He honour won, where thou hast purchast hate.
She gave assistance to his Trojan foe;
Thou that without a rival thou mayest love,
Dost to the beauty of this lady owe,
While after her the gazing world does move.
Canst thou not be content to love alone,
Or is thy mistress not content with one?
Hast thou not read of fairy Arthur's shield,
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Of proudest foes, and won the doubtful field?
So shall thy rebel wit become her prize.
Should thy Iambicks swell into a book,
All were confuted with one radiant look.
Heav'n he oblig'd that plac'd her in the skies,
Rewarding Phœbus, for inspiring so
His noble brain, by likening to those eyes
His joyful beams: but Phœbus is thy foe,
And neither aids thy fancy nor thy sight;
So ill thou run'st against so fair a light.
| Effusions of Love from Chatelar to Mary, Queen of Scotland | |