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Parthenophil and Parthenophe

Sonnettes, Madrigals, Elegies and Odes [by Barnabe Barnes]

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ODE 18.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ODE 18.

[Oh that I could make her whom I loue best]

Oh that I could make her whom I loue best,
Finde in a face with miserie wrinckled,
Finde in an hart, with sighes ouer-ill-pynde,
Her cruell hatred!
Oh that I could make her whom I loue best,
Finde by my teares, what maladie vexeth,
Finde by my throbbes, how forceably loues darte
Woundes my decayde hart!
Oh that I could make her, whom I loue best
Tell with a sweet smile, that she respecteth
All my lamentinges, and that in her hart
Mournefully she rues!
For my desartes, were worthy the fauours
Of such a fayre Nymphe, might she be fairer
Oh then a firme faith, what may be richer!
Then to my loue yeeld.

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Then will I leaue these teares to the wast rockes,
Then will I leaue these sighes to the rough windes,
Oh that I could make her, whom I loue best
Pittie my long smart!