A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions Garnished and decked with diuers dayntie deuises, right delicate and delightfull, to recreate eche modest minde withall. First framed and fashioned in sundrie formes, by diuers worthy workemen of late dayes: and now, ioyned together and builded up: By T. P. [i.e. Thomas Procter] |
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 | A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions |  |
O great
Goddesse, of whose immortal fire,
Uertue in Erbe, might neuer quench the flame:
Ne mortall sence, yet to such skill aspire,
As for loues hurt a medecine once to name:
With what deare price, my carefull pyned ghost,
Hath tried this true, and ouer true alas:
My greefeful eyes, that sight hath almost lost,
And brest through darted, with thy golden Mace.
Full well declare, though all that mee beholde,
Are iudges, and wonders of my deadly wo:
But thou alone, mayst helpe therfore vnfolde,
Els helples (Lady) streight will knap in two
The feeble thread, yet stayes my lingering life.
Wherfore, if loue, thy sacred Goddes brest?
Did euer presse, or if most dreadly griefe,
And causeles not thy inward soule opprest:
When crooked Vulcane, to your common shame,
Bewrayed of stolen ioyes, thy sweet delight:
If then I say the feare of further blame,
Caus'd you refrayne your Louers wished sight:
And forst restraynt did equall then impart,
And cause you taste, what payne in loue may bee:
When absence driues, assured hartes to part.
Thy pitty then (O Queene) now not denye
To mee poore wretch, who feeles no lesse a payne:
If humayne brests, so much as heauenly may:
Haue ruthe on him, who doth to thee complayne,
And onely helpe of thee, doth lowly pray:
Graunt Goddesse mine, thou mayst it vndertake,
At least wise (Lady) ere this life decay:
Graunt I beseeche so happy mee to make,
That yet by worde, I may to her bewray
My wonderous woes: and then if yee so please,
Looke when you lust, let death my body ease.
Uertue in Erbe, might neuer quench the flame:
Ne mortall sence, yet to such skill aspire,
As for loues hurt a medecine once to name:
With what deare price, my carefull pyned ghost,
Hath tried this true, and ouer true alas:
My greefeful eyes, that sight hath almost lost,
And brest through darted, with thy golden Mace.
Full well declare, though all that mee beholde,
Are iudges, and wonders of my deadly wo:
But thou alone, mayst helpe therfore vnfolde,
Els helples (Lady) streight will knap in two
The feeble thread, yet stayes my lingering life.
Wherfore, if loue, thy sacred Goddes brest?
Did euer presse, or if most dreadly griefe,
And causeles not thy inward soule opprest:
When crooked Vulcane, to your common shame,
Bewrayed of stolen ioyes, thy sweet delight:
Caus'd you refrayne your Louers wished sight:
And forst restraynt did equall then impart,
And cause you taste, what payne in loue may bee:
When absence driues, assured hartes to part.
Thy pitty then (O Queene) now not denye
To mee poore wretch, who feeles no lesse a payne:
If humayne brests, so much as heauenly may:
Haue ruthe on him, who doth to thee complayne,
And onely helpe of thee, doth lowly pray:
Graunt Goddesse mine, thou mayst it vndertake,
At least wise (Lady) ere this life decay:
Graunt I beseeche so happy mee to make,
That yet by worde, I may to her bewray
My wonderous woes: and then if yee so please,
Looke when you lust, let death my body ease.
| A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions | |