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Sonnets. 13.
[He that wyll be subiect to Cupidos call]
He
that wyll be subiect to Cupidos call,
Is chaungd euerie day, I doo not knoe how.
And of this, I my selfe haue made prooues enowe.
As Metamorphosd, but wot not wherewithall,
Fyrst? I was turned to a wandering Harte,
And sawe my stomacke pierst with a dolefull arrow.
Next? Into a Swan, and with a note of sorrowe.
I foresong my death, in Elegicall arte.
Since that, to a Flowre, and since withred away:
Since that, to a Fountaine, and since, I am drie:
And now that Salamander, liue in my flame.
But ye Gods, if euer I haue my owne choyce,
I wyll be turn'd, into a well singing voyce:
And there in louange, the fayre eyes of Ma-dame.
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