| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | ||
SONNET XXX.
[So this continuall fountaine of my teares]
So this continuall fountaine of my tearesFrom that hard rocke of her sweet bewtie trickling,
So shall my tong on her loues musicke tickling,
So shall my passions fed with hopes and feares,
So shall mine hart which wearing neuer weares,
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On which dispaire my vulture seas'd standes pickling
Yet neuer thence his maw full-gorged beares.
Right so, my teares, tong, passions, hart, dispaire
VVith flouds, complaints, sighes, throbbes, and endlesse sorrow,
In seas, in volumes, windes, earth-quakes, and hell,
Shall floate chaunte, breath, breake, and darke mansion borrow.
And in them I be blessed for my faire:
That in these torments for her sake I dwell.
| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | ||