The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
12. [Love Dead.]
Sitting late with sorrow sleepinge,
Where harte bledd and eies were weepinge;
I might see from heavnes descendinge,
Beawtie mourninge for loves endinge;
When with handes most wofull wringinge,
She entombes him with this singinge.
Where harte bledd and eies were weepinge;
I might see from heavnes descendinge,
Beawtie mourninge for loves endinge;
When with handes most wofull wringinge,
She entombes him with this singinge.
Muses now leave of enditinge,
Poettes all giue ouer writinge;
Nymphes come teare your tender heares,
Shepperdes all come shedde your teares;
Cupid now is but a warlinge,
Death hath wounded honors darling.
Poettes all giue ouer writinge;
Nymphes come teare your tender heares,
Shepperdes all come shedde your teares;
Cupid now is but a warlinge,
Death hath wounded honors darling.
Curste death, and all to cruell,
Hast thow stolne mine only Jewell?
Doe the heavnelie fates so spight me
As on earth shall nought delight me?
But of suche a Joye bereave me,
As no loue of life shall leave me!
Hast thow stolne mine only Jewell?
Doe the heavnelie fates so spight me
As on earth shall nought delight me?
But of suche a Joye bereave me,
As no loue of life shall leave me!
Goe then flocke, leave of your feedinge,
All your life lyes now a-bledinge;
When my Shepperde did attend yow,
Wolf nor Tygre colde offend yow;
But nowe he is dead and gone,
I shall loose yow euerie one.
All your life lyes now a-bledinge;
When my Shepperde did attend yow,
Wolf nor Tygre colde offend yow;
But nowe he is dead and gone,
I shall loose yow euerie one.
Sorrowes all come shewe your powres,
Earthe giue ouer bringing flowres;
Neuer trees nowe beare more fruite,
Lett all singinge birdes be mute;
And of loue no more be spoken,
For the harte of loue is broken.
Earthe giue ouer bringing flowres;
Neuer trees nowe beare more fruite,
Lett all singinge birdes be mute;
And of loue no more be spoken,
For the harte of loue is broken.
Therewithall as in a Clowde
She did all her shining shrowde;
When sweete Phillis gaue suche groanes
As did pearce the very stones,
That the Earth with sorrowe shakèd
And poore Choridon awakèd.
She did all her shining shrowde;
When sweete Phillis gaue suche groanes
As did pearce the very stones,
That the Earth with sorrowe shakèd
And poore Choridon awakèd.
Finis.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |