 | The Complete Works of George Gascoigne |  |
A loving Lady being wounded in the spring time, and now galded eftsones with the remembrance of the spring, doth therfore thus bewayle.
This tenth of March when Aries receyvd,
Dame Phœbus rayes, into his horned head:
And I my selfe, by learned lore perceyv'd,
That Ver approcht, and frostie winter fled:
I crost the Thames, to take the cherefull ayre,
In open feeldes, the weather was so fayre.
Dame Phœbus rayes, into his horned head:
And I my selfe, by learned lore perceyv'd,
That Ver approcht, and frostie winter fled:
I crost the Thames, to take the cherefull ayre,
In open feeldes, the weather was so fayre.
334
And as I rowed, fast by the further shore,
I heard a voyce, which seemed to lament:
Whereat I stay'd, and by a stately dore,
I left my Boate, and up on land I went:
Till at the last by lasting paine I found,
The wofull wight, which made this dolefull sound.
I heard a voyce, which seemed to lament:
Whereat I stay'd, and by a stately dore,
I left my Boate, and up on land I went:
Till at the last by lasting paine I found,
The wofull wight, which made this dolefull sound.
In pleasant garden (placed all alone)
I sawe a Dame, who sat in weary wise,
With scalding sighes, she uttred all hir mone,
The ruefull teares, downe rayned from hir eyes:
Hir lowring head, full lowe on hand she layde,
On knee hir arme: and thus this Lady sayde.
I sawe a Dame, who sat in weary wise,
With scalding sighes, she uttred all hir mone,
The ruefull teares, downe rayned from hir eyes:
Hir lowring head, full lowe on hand she layde,
On knee hir arme: and thus this Lady sayde.
Alas (quod she) behold eche pleasaunt greene,
Will now renew his sommers livery,
The fragrant flowers, which have not long bene seene,
Will florish now, (ere long) in bravery:
The tender buddes, whom colde hath long kept in,
Will spring and sproute, as they do now begin.
Will now renew his sommers livery,
The fragrant flowers, which have not long bene seene,
Will florish now, (ere long) in bravery:
The tender buddes, whom colde hath long kept in,
Will spring and sproute, as they do now begin.
But I (alas) within whose mourning minde,
The graffes of grief, are onely given to growe,
Cannot enjoy the spring which others finde,
But still my will, must wither all in woe:
The cold of care, so nippes my joyes at roote,
No sunne doth shine, that well can do them boote.
The graffes of grief, are onely given to growe,
Cannot enjoy the spring which others finde,
But still my will, must wither all in woe:
The cold of care, so nippes my joyes at roote,
No sunne doth shine, that well can do them boote.
The lustie Ver, which whilome might exchange
My griefe to joy, and then my joyes encrease,
Springs now elsewhere, and showes to me but strange,
My winters woe, therefore can never cease:
In other coasts, his sunne full cleare doth shine,
And comforts lends to ev'ry mould but mine.
My griefe to joy, and then my joyes encrease,
Springs now elsewhere, and showes to me but strange,
My winters woe, therefore can never cease:
In other coasts, his sunne full cleare doth shine,
And comforts lends to ev'ry mould but mine.
What plant can spring, that feeles no force of Ver?
What floure can florish, where no sunne doth shine?
These Bales (quod she) within my breast I beare,
To breake my barke, and make my pith to pine:
Needes must I fall, I fade both roote and rinde,
My braunches bowe at blast of ev'ry winde.
What floure can florish, where no sunne doth shine?
These Bales (quod she) within my breast I beare,
To breake my barke, and make my pith to pine:
Needes must I fall, I fade both roote and rinde,
My braunches bowe at blast of ev'ry winde.
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This sayde: shee cast a glance and spied my face,
By sight whereof, Lord how she chaunged hew?
So that for shame, I turned backe apace
And to my home, my selfe in hast I drew:
And as I could hir wofull wordes reherse,
I set them downe in this waymenting verse.
By sight whereof, Lord how she chaunged hew?
So that for shame, I turned backe apace
And to my home, my selfe in hast I drew:
And as I could hir wofull wordes reherse,
I set them downe in this waymenting verse.
Now Ladies you, that know by whom I sing,
And feele the winter, of such frozen wills:
Of curtesie, yet cause this noble spring,
To send his sunne, above the highest hilles:
And so to shyne, uppon hir fading sprayes,
Which now in woe, do wyther thus alwayes.
And feele the winter, of such frozen wills:
Of curtesie, yet cause this noble spring,
To send his sunne, above the highest hilles:
And so to shyne, uppon hir fading sprayes,
Which now in woe, do wyther thus alwayes.
Spræta tamen vivunt.
| The Complete Works of George Gascoigne | |