The Arbor of Amitie wherin is comprised pleasant Pohems and pretie Poesies, set foorth by Thomas Howell |
The Louer describeth his trustie loue.
|
The Arbor of Amitie | ||
The Louer describeth his trustie loue.
Though
horse so wylde in thousand partes,
Should teare my corps most dolorous:
Though fryde I were wt piersing smarts
And boylde in lead most piteous.
Should teare my corps most dolorous:
Though fryde I were wt piersing smarts
And boylde in lead most piteous.
Though sworde should pierse my hart so colde,
In bloudy woundes my death to frame,
Though paine of hell to me were folde,
Most retchlesse wretch and yll by name.
In bloudy woundes my death to frame,
Though paine of hell to me were folde,
Most retchlesse wretch and yll by name.
Though thousand miles on foote I fare,
With naked legge in frozen stormes:
Though bloud of hart I spend in care,
Through countries farre in thousand harmes.
With naked legge in frozen stormes:
Though bloud of hart I spend in care,
Through countries farre in thousand harmes.
Though dread in feares doth worke dispaire,
And hope alone doth cherishe mee:
Yet rack that rendes eche lim so faire.
Shall not by smart take heart from thee.
And hope alone doth cherishe mee:
Yet rack that rendes eche lim so faire.
Shall not by smart take heart from thee.
The Arbor of Amitie | ||