 | The Works of William Fowler
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XV.
Bellisa keips vnder her calmye grace
a thick tempestowous clud of blak disdayne,
cold snowe in harte, and kendled flams in face,
reuthe in her broues, bot rigour in her brayne;
through her faire eyes and myne my hart is tayne,
and pouring poysoun sprinkleth oh all quhaire,
quhilk harte dois sulk as therbye I lye slayne,
and cruell shee taks of my deathe no caire.
her fretts the brightnes of her browes empaire,
her frosts dothe pittie from her harte remove,
her blushing yet decores her beautye maire,
her hardned harte is rebell vnto love:
yet howe muche more in her doit[h] [?] hardnes growe,
so love in me more high and I more lowe.
| The Works of William Fowler
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