 | The Complete Works of George Gascoigne |  |
A Lover often warned, and once againe droven into fantasticall flames by the chase of company, doth thus bewayle his misfortunes.
I that my race of youthfull yeeres had roon,
Alwayes untyed, and not (but once) in thrall,
Even I which had the fieldes of freedome woon,
And liv'd at large, and playde with pleasurs ball:
Lo nowe at last am tane agayne and taught,
To tast such sorowes, as I never sought.
Alwayes untyed, and not (but once) in thrall,
Even I which had the fieldes of freedome woon,
And liv'd at large, and playde with pleasurs ball:
Lo nowe at last am tane agayne and taught,
To tast such sorowes, as I never sought.
I love, I love, alas I love indeede,
I crie alas but no man pityes me:
My woundes are wide, yet seme they not to bleed,
And hidden woundes are hardly heald we see.
Such is my lucke to catch a sodain clappe,
Of great mischaunce in seeking my good happe.
I crie alas but no man pityes me:
My woundes are wide, yet seme they not to bleed,
And hidden woundes are hardly heald we see.
Such is my lucke to catch a sodain clappe,
Of great mischaunce in seeking my good happe.
My morning minde which dwelt and dyed in dole,
Sought company for solace of the same:
My cares were cold, and craved comforts coale,
To warme my will with flakes of friendly flame.
I sought and found, I crav'd and did obtaine,
I woon my wish, and yet I got no gaine.
Sought company for solace of the same:
My cares were cold, and craved comforts coale,
To warme my will with flakes of friendly flame.
I sought and found, I crav'd and did obtaine,
I woon my wish, and yet I got no gaine.
94
For whiles I sought the cheare of company,
Fayre fellowship did wonted woes revive:
And craving medcine for my maladie,
Dame pleasures plasters prov'd a corosive.
So that by myrth, I reapt no fruite but mone,
Much worse I fere, than when I was alone.
Fayre fellowship did wonted woes revive:
And craving medcine for my maladie,
Dame pleasures plasters prov'd a corosive.
So that by myrth, I reapt no fruite but mone,
Much worse I fere, than when I was alone.
The cause is this, my lot did light to late,
The Byrdes were flowen before I found the nest:
The steede was stollen before I shut the gate,
The cates consumd, before I smelt the feast.
And I fond foole with emptie hand must call,
The gorged Hauke, which likes no lure at all.
The Byrdes were flowen before I found the nest:
The steede was stollen before I shut the gate,
The cates consumd, before I smelt the feast.
And I fond foole with emptie hand must call,
The gorged Hauke, which likes no lure at all.
Thus still I toyle, to till the barraine land,
And grope for grappes among the bramble briers:
I strive to saile and yet I sticke on sand,
I deeme to live, yet drowne in deepe desires.
These lottes of love, are fitte for wanton will,
Which findes too much, yet must be seeking still.
And grope for grappes among the bramble briers:
I strive to saile and yet I sticke on sand,
I deeme to live, yet drowne in deepe desires.
These lottes of love, are fitte for wanton will,
Which findes too much, yet must be seeking still.
Meritum petere grave.
| The Complete Works of George Gascoigne | |