University of Virginia Library

7
A Dier at her M:ties desyer

If mourning might amend my harde vnhappie cace
Or if complaining coulde appease Dame Fortunes frowning face
Then shoulde I neuer cease by songs and sonnets still
With my to iust conceaued regraits the earthe and aire to fill
My cairfull cries and grones shoulde make the rockes rebounde
The montains riue and all the earth with Echoes to resounde
No Orpheus charming notes for his departed wife
Nor raging Roland for his loue that ledd so madd a life
No not the worlde in one compared should neuer be
Vnto the mone that I shoulde make, suche passions martyrs me
Bot what can that awaile except for to renewe
My olde and deeplie rooted griefs that els to gladlie grewe
To rankle wp the sore that lurkes into my hart
And as a cancer make it spreade abroade in euerie part.
What wrathe haue all the Gods conceaued at me allace
That makes me loue where hatred dwells, and pittie hath no place
Ô if she were bot faire, or if she were bot false
Bot faire and false torments me thus and holdes me by the halse
If beautie as it ought with bountie coupled ware
Then suirlie she wolde pittie take on my consuming caire
Or if she wear but false and lacking Venus grace
Then woulde I not haue bene abused by her enchanting face
Thus am I tortured still, I mourne without remeade
My languour lackes one graine of houpe to mixe with daylie dreade
My teares getts no regarde, my sighs can haue no eare
And in one houre is quite forgott my seruice manie a yeare
What houpe can rest behinde, what may I looke for then
Bot be a butt to heauenlie plagues, a monstre amongs men
My state can neuer change my griefs are bot begunne
Thus casten is my luckles lott that woefull weirds haue spunne
Awaye with comfort then and wellcome colde dispaire
And since I can haue no delight, lett me delight in caire
My mirth in murning be, my ioye in dolours deepe
I will with sadd and sorie sighs my selfe from languour keepe
And for my cheefest sports to minde then will I bring syne
As in a roll my whole mishaps, then like a swanne them sing
My houpe is whole transformed in blacke and colde dispaire
Except I onlie houpe for deathe to end continuall caire:
No, death he must not haste, my mischiefs woulde he mend
It best becumes my miserie to duine before I end
Yett if the endles smart and sorrowe I sustaine
Were suffered for sume worthie wight, I happie wolde remaine
I wolde me happie thinke if thus I martyred ware
For sume sweete Sainct in sacrifice that both were good and faire
Bot ô allace my paine and restles griefe it growes
For her who neuer once on me a louing thought bestowes
Yett lett not this dishart no happie man in loue that
Who finds a maike that will not change, nor for no chance remoue.
All wemen are in ouers, in vertue sume excell
And sume in vices may ou'rmatche the greatest Diuell in hell
The blessedest creatures made by God the Angells ware
The cursedest creatures in the worlde the fallen Angells are
For me I onlie craue a spectacle to be
Wherin as in á masse confused all miseries men may see
And when my happ shall be to goe to wished graue
Which is the onelie happie chance I euer wishe to haue
That then the passenger may reade in going by
For true and honest constant loue, this patient here does lye.

the sonnett lakkis heere quhiche interprettis all the matter

My Muse hath made a willfull lye I grante,
I sung of sorrows neuer felt by me;
I haue as great occasion for to wante,
My loue begunne my blessing for to be.
How can I then excuse so lowd a lye?
O yes, I did it euen at her desire,
Who made me such successe in loue to see,
How soone her flames hade sett my hart on fire.
Since for her sake I presse for to aspire,
To preache of passions which I neuer prou'd;
What should yee doe who haue for haplesse hire
The lucklesse lott, to loue and not be lou'd.
Your plaints I thinke should pierce the starrie skies
And deaue the Gods with shrill and cairfull cries: