The Arbor of Amitie wherin is comprised pleasant Pohems and pretie Poesies, set foorth by Thomas Howell |
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The Louer to his L.
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 | The Arbor of Amitie |  |
The Louer to his L.
When that he sawe of worthie fame,chaste spouse by tried trade:
Who can depaint the passing game,
that then Vlisses made?
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his sportes surpassed then:
Who brought hir home a flowre of price,
vnto his Countrie men.
With ioyes the Nightingale gan rayse,
hir right recorded song:
Wherein she gettes the peerlesse prayse,
The bushie birdes among.
The Marchant made, with windy sailes,
that richely turnes againe:
Doth ioy for gaine of his auailes,
escaping deeper paine.
The warde and heire of noble landes,
when as his yeres are gone:
Is glad he scapes his tutors handes,
for which he gaped long.
Yet I in ioyes surmount them all,
and more it pleaseth mee:
That to my hap thy lotte did fall,
as best it pleased thee.
For thee then is my ioyfull parte,
and eke to doe thee good:
Here thee inclosde I hide my harte,
and brewe my hartie blood.
Wherein such liuely loue beholde,
that pen cannot expresse:
Nor can my tongue the same vnfolde,
my wyts descrie much lesse.
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that blockish braines can frame:
Shall turne my truth from thee awaies,
or spot thy giltlesse name.
Thou art my deare with vertues spred,
God thee in pleasures keepe:
On thee I thinke on wakefull bed,
when others sweetely sleepe.
I dreame of thee in slumbring rest,
and thinke thou present art:
I thinke my selfe then surely blest,
from thee loth to depart.
But when deluding dreame doth vade,
I sigh with groning cheere:
Me seemth I doe perceyue thy shade,
alas thou art not heere.
I grope about the wales for thee,
as to possesse thee faine:
But at the last full wofully,
I see my fanside braine.
Farewell I say my onely care,
God send it true to bee:
That which my phansie did declare,
that lately dreampt of thee.
| The Arbor of Amitie | |