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 |  |
The lamentable complaint of a Louer.
Accord your notes vnto my wofull songs,
You chirping birds which hant the cloudy skie,
Cease off your flight, and come to heare my wrongs
Compeld by loue, mixed with crueltie:
Leave off I say, and help me to lament
My wofull dayes, vntill my time be spent.
You chirping birds which hant the cloudy skie,
Cease off your flight, and come to heare my wrongs
Compeld by loue, mixed with crueltie:
Leave off I say, and help me to lament
My wofull dayes, vntill my time be spent.
With sorrow great I passe away the time,
The which too long I feele vnto my paine,
Too childish is this fond conceit of mine,
That voyde of hope doth helpelesse still remaine:
Yet wil I rest til time doth further serue,
That Atropos doth me of life bereaue.
The which too long I feele vnto my paine,
Too childish is this fond conceit of mine,
That voyde of hope doth helpelesse still remaine:
Yet wil I rest til time doth further serue,
That Atropos doth me of life bereaue.
But fie fond foole, I complaine of disease,
And faultlesse Fortune I begin to blame,
Venus her selfe doth seeke me for to please,
In causing me to loue so rare a dame:
But if (faire Nimph) I might enioy thy sight,
Thy fauour faire would force in me delight.
And faultlesse Fortune I begin to blame,
Venus her selfe doth seeke me for to please,
In causing me to loue so rare a dame:
But if (faire Nimph) I might enioy thy sight,
Thy fauour faire would force in me delight.
But I am bannisht from thy comely hew,
Oh thy sweet loue, but yet I wil remaine
For euer thine as perfect louer true,
Without all guile, although thou me disdaine:
And thus I end, although not rest content,
Vntil such time my wretched dayes are spent.
Oh thy sweet loue, but yet I wil remaine
For euer thine as perfect louer true,
Without all guile, although thou me disdaine:
And thus I end, although not rest content,
Vntil such time my wretched dayes are spent.
Finis.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |