Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts By R. T. Gentleman [i.e. Robert Tofte]. Herevnto is Added a most excellent pathetical and passionate Letter, sent by Duke D'Epernoun, vnto the late French King, Henry the 3. of that name, when he was commanded from the Court, and from his Royall Companie. Translated into English by the foresaid Author |
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| 1. | THE FIRST PART OF THE MONETHS MIND OF A MELANCHOLY LOVER. |
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 | Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts |  |
1. THE FIRST PART OF THE MONETHS MIND OF A MELANCHOLY LOVER.
Alla Crudelissima.
Loe here the Months Mind of my deare bought Loue
Which (once a Month) I vowd to memorise,
When first I sought the Crvel Faire to moue,
Who alwaies did my sighs and teares despise.
This must my Sabboth be, and Holiday,
On which I (to my Goddesse) vse to pray.
Which (once a Month) I vowd to memorise,
When first I sought the Crvel Faire to moue,
Who alwaies did my sighs and teares despise.
This must my Sabboth be, and Holiday,
On which I (to my Goddesse) vse to pray.
This Feast I solemnise for her sweete sake,
(In absence hers) as if she present were,
For my proud Choice, who pitie none doth take
On me, that liue twixt Hope, despaire and feare.
(Deare Alba) then accept this Sacrifice,
These dutious Teares, the Tribute of mine eyes.
(In absence hers) as if she present were,
For my proud Choice, who pitie none doth take
On me, that liue twixt Hope, despaire and feare.
(Deare Alba) then accept this Sacrifice,
These dutious Teares, the Tribute of mine eyes.
Thinke how perplext fore Pictvre thine I stand;
Thinke of the depth of my sad Passion;
How I haue alwaies bin at thy command;
How none but thee my thoughts still muse vpon.
Thinke how I euer tendred thy Good name,
Conseruing with my dearest Blood the same.
Thinke of the depth of my sad Passion;
How I haue alwaies bin at thy command;
How none but thee my thoughts still muse vpon.
Thinke how I euer tendred thy Good name,
Conseruing with my dearest Blood the same.
[OMITTED]ke how I still of thee had due respect,
[OMITTED]h thou (at all times) nidst me vse too hard;
[OMITTED] withouten cause thou didst reiect,
[OMITTED]ood meaning too too meane reward)
[OMITTED] these wrongs which I endured haue,
[OMITTED] remember me: Nought els I craue.
[OMITTED]h thou (at all times) nidst me vse too hard;
[OMITTED] withouten cause thou didst reiect,
[OMITTED]ood meaning too too meane reward)
[OMITTED] these wrongs which I endured haue,
[OMITTED] remember me: Nought els I craue.
Since spightfull Fortune (sore against my will)
Hath drawne me farre from place where thou dost liue:
And that of force I must obey her still,
(Although to liue so doth me deadly grieue)
Yet though my Bodie is farre off, My Hart
Is still with thee, from whence it nere shall part.
Hath drawne me farre from place where thou dost liue:
And that of force I must obey her still,
(Although to liue so doth me deadly grieue)
Yet though my Bodie is farre off, My Hart
Is still with thee, from whence it nere shall part.
Only of thee (sweete Ladie) this I craue,
That till our thred of life shall be vnspun,
Thou wilt vouchsafe me in thy minde to haue,
And not forget the Loue twixt vs begun.
But in thy Hart the same for to repose,
As I (the like) in inward soule doe close.
That till our thred of life shall be vnspun,
Thou wilt vouchsafe me in thy minde to haue,
And not forget the Loue twixt vs begun.
But in thy Hart the same for to repose,
As I (the like) in inward soule doe close.
This only can (still) me in life conserue,
Thy gracious Fauour and thy Pitie sweete:
This is the pretious Balme, the pure Preserue,
Which I doe hope to finde, and still will seeke:
This makes me liue, although with great vnrest,
Since of thy selfe I haue bin dispossest.
Thy gracious Fauour and thy Pitie sweete:
This is the pretious Balme, the pure Preserue,
Which I doe hope to finde, and still will seeke:
This makes me liue, although with great vnrest,
Since of thy selfe I haue bin dispossest.
Thou art my Hope, my Hauen, my Comfort chiefe,
On thee alone, on none els I relie:
Only to thee I come to begge reliefe;
In thee it is if I shall liue or die.
(Dearest) remember tis a Gift more rare,
Constant to be, then to be counted Faire.
On thee alone, on none els I relie:
Only to thee I come to begge reliefe;
In thee it is if I shall liue or die.
(Dearest) remember tis a Gift more rare,
Constant to be, then to be counted Faire.
Two sparkling stars, fine golde, pure Ebonie,
From whence Loue takes his Brands, his Shafts & Bow,
Two daintie Apples, which though hid from eye,
Through vaile of Lawne, through lawne more faire do show:
A cherrie lip with Iuorie teeth most white,
Where Cupid begs within that Grate so bright.
From whence Loue takes his Brands, his Shafts & Bow,
Two daintie Apples, which though hid from eye,
Through vaile of Lawne, through lawne more faire do show:
A cherrie lip with Iuorie teeth most white,
Where Cupid begs within that Grate so bright.
Vermilion Flowers that grow in Heauen aboue;
Snow, which no wet can marre, nor Sunne can melt,
Right Margarite Pearle which alwaies Orient proue,
A Voyce, that Hart of marble makes to swelt,
A Smile that calmes the raging of the Sea,
And Skie more cleere makes then was wont to bee.
Snow, which no wet can marre, nor Sunne can melt,
Right Margarite Pearle which alwaies Orient proue,
A Voyce, that Hart of marble makes to swelt,
A Smile that calmes the raging of the Sea,
And Skie more cleere makes then was wont to bee.
Graue, staied wisedome in yong and tender yeares,
A stately Gate, and Port maiesticall,
A Carriage (where in vertue (borne) appeares,
Lookes that disdaine, and yet delight withall,
Numbers of Fauours, Beauties infinite,
With Modestie, chaste, pure, and milde Delight.
A stately Gate, and Port maiesticall,
A Carriage (where in vertue (borne) appeares,
Lookes that disdaine, and yet delight withall,
Numbers of Fauours, Beauties infinite,
With Modestie, chaste, pure, and milde Delight.
An humble Soule within a Bodie rich,
A lowly Thought within a conquering Hart:
These are the workes which I commend so mich,
Which Heauens & Love haue framde by curious Art:
All these I once enioyde: but they being gone,
My Note is changde, my Mirth is turnde to Mone.
A lowly Thought within a conquering Hart:
These are the workes which I commend so mich,
Which Heauens & Love haue framde by curious Art:
All these I once enioyde: but they being gone,
My Note is changde, my Mirth is turnde to Mone.
Ah might I once perswaded be at last,
These skalding sighs of mine should haue an end,
That I for Sower, some Sweet (at length) might taste,
And that the Crvel Faire would not contend
Euer gainst me; I then would (gently) take,
And suffer all these wrongs for her sweete sake.
These skalding sighs of mine should haue an end,
That I for Sower, some Sweet (at length) might taste,
And that the Crvel Faire would not contend
Euer gainst me; I then would (gently) take,
And suffer all these wrongs for her sweete sake.
Too well I know (and I confesse the same)
That too too loftie is my proud Desire:
My soaring Thoughts, deseruing mickle blame,
And I, ore bold, presume too high t'aspire:
Yet still (me thinkes) mine Ayme, being not base,
I should deserue some little tynie Grace.
That too too loftie is my proud Desire:
My soaring Thoughts, deseruing mickle blame,
And I, ore bold, presume too high t'aspire:
Yet still (me thinkes) mine Ayme, being not base,
I should deserue some little tynie Grace.
Say then (sweete Love) for thou with Alba mine,
Dost soiorne, wheresoeuer she doth bide)
Say, am I like, that, to obtaine in time,
From which I now am so farre off, and wide?
Ah say the truth, doth she once thinke on me?
Doth she but wish that I with her might be?
Dost soiorne, wheresoeuer she doth bide)
Say, am I like, that, to obtaine in time,
From which I now am so farre off, and wide?
Ah say the truth, doth she once thinke on me?
Doth she but wish that I with her might be?
Ah had not Reason my Desires refrainde,
I had, my Thoughts deare Soueraigne, seene ere this,
Whose Grace I sought (but bootles) to haue gainde,
The only ioy I in this world would wish.
Rather would I see those chaste beautious Eyes,
Then chuse to be in matchlesse Paradise.
I had, my Thoughts deare Soueraigne, seene ere this,
Whose Grace I sought (but bootles) to haue gainde,
The only ioy I in this world would wish.
Rather would I see those chaste beautious Eyes,
Then chuse to be in matchlesse Paradise.
As Christall Glasse in which the Sunne doth shine,
I like mine Albas Angels heauenly feature:
But when she deadly wounds this Corse of mine,
I lothe her more then any murthring Creature:
More then a Theefe that robs and stealeth pelfe,
I hate her, when she steales me from my selfe.
I like mine Albas Angels heauenly feature:
But when she deadly wounds this Corse of mine,
I lothe her more then any murthring Creature:
More then a Theefe that robs and stealeth pelfe,
I hate her, when she steales me from my selfe.
My hart is grieu'd cause it doth disagree:
For whilst my Minde to loue her doth deuise,
And thinks her worthie honored for to bee,
A Sdainfull thought through Hatred doth arise,
Which skornes ye one so Rich, a Theefe shuld proue,
That one so Faire, a Murtheresse is in loue.
For whilst my Minde to loue her doth deuise,
And thinks her worthie honored for to bee,
A Sdainfull thought through Hatred doth arise,
Which skornes ye one so Rich, a Theefe shuld proue,
That one so Faire, a Murtheresse is in loue.
I know not what to seeke, nor what I should,
Yet haue I sought till I haue lost my sense:
Although truth to confesse, faine loue I would,
And yet not die for this too Cruell wench.
Betwixt these two fain would I find a Meane,
Alas, Women haue none, they alwaies keepe Th' extreme.
Yet haue I sought till I haue lost my sense:
Although truth to confesse, faine loue I would,
And yet not die for this too Cruell wench.
Betwixt these two fain would I find a Meane,
Alas, Women haue none, they alwaies keepe Th' extreme.
Then how for me ist possible to loue,
If my best Alba once from me be tooke?
How shall I liue when thousand Deaths I proue?
When not this one (the least) I scarce can brooke.
Ah woe is me, a double mixt Desire,
To haste my Death the sooner doth conspire.
If my best Alba once from me be tooke?
How shall I liue when thousand Deaths I proue?
When not this one (the least) I scarce can brooke.
Ah woe is me, a double mixt Desire,
To haste my Death the sooner doth conspire.
Such is the rare perfection of sweete Beautie
Of my faire Alba, my sole choise Delight:
That if that any Painter doth his dutie,
To shadow forth her Luster passing bright,
He loseth both his labour and his time,
As one ore bold, so high a step to clime.
Of my faire Alba, my sole choise Delight:
That if that any Painter doth his dutie,
To shadow forth her Luster passing bright,
He loseth both his labour and his time,
As one ore bold, so high a step to clime.
For whilst he giues his minde attentiuely,
And studieth to match Nature with his Art,
Marking her Feature with a watchfull eye,
To portray forth most liuely euery part:
Such brightnes comes from her, such glistring rayes,
As he's struck blinde, and darkned goes his wayes.
And studieth to match Nature with his Art,
Marking her Feature with a watchfull eye,
To portray forth most liuely euery part:
Such brightnes comes from her, such glistring rayes,
As he's struck blinde, and darkned goes his wayes.
This is the cause, that who in hand doth take,
In curious wise her pearlesse Counterfate,
Hoping himselfe immortall so to make,
Doth fall into like dangerous estate:
Thinking to shadow her, he shadowed is,
And so his eyes, and purpose he doth misse.
In curious wise her pearlesse Counterfate,
Hoping himselfe immortall so to make,
Doth fall into like dangerous estate:
Thinking to shadow her, he shadowed is,
And so his eyes, and purpose he doth misse.
That, she were drawne in midst of Hart it were
Far better, (and (my selfe) haue plaste her so)
For though in darke she hidden doth appeere,
Yet vnto me she faire and bright doth show,
My Hart's the Boord, where limnde you may her see;
My Teares the Oyle, my Blood the Colours bee.
Far better, (and (my selfe) haue plaste her so)
For though in darke she hidden doth appeere,
Yet vnto me she faire and bright doth show,
My Hart's the Boord, where limnde you may her see;
My Teares the Oyle, my Blood the Colours bee.
Bright were the Heauens, and husht was euery winde,
Cleere was the day, when as mine Alba faire,
Brought forth with ioy (Lucina being kinde)
A daintie Babe, for feature passing rare,
Adorning all the world with this glad welth,
A gift t'enrich the World, Vs, and her self.
Cleere was the day, when as mine Alba faire,
Brought forth with ioy (Lucina being kinde)
A daintie Babe, for feature passing rare,
Adorning all the world with this glad welth,
A gift t'enrich the World, Vs, and her self.
What time she was in trauell of this Childe,
No thunder, lightning, nor no storme was heard:
But all was quiet, peacefull, calme, and milde,
As if the skies t'offend her were afeard,
Whilst th' earth attended on her, and the Sea,
As though they staid at her command to be.
No thunder, lightning, nor no storme was heard:
But all was quiet, peacefull, calme, and milde,
As if the skies t'offend her were afeard,
Whilst th' earth attended on her, and the Sea,
As though they staid at her command to be.
Then did the Windes (not vsing so before)
A gentle gale blow calmely euery where,
And fild the blisfull Aire with sweetes great store:
Each bird and fowle shewing a merry cheere,
Whilst that blest Day a double Beautie found,
One from the Sunne, the other here on ground.
A gentle gale blow calmely euery where,
And fild the blisfull Aire with sweetes great store:
Each bird and fowle shewing a merry cheere,
Whilst that blest Day a double Beautie found,
One from the Sunne, the other here on ground.
This made the haughtie proud Oceanus,
To open all his wealth in outward show:
And finding my faire Mistresse honored thus,
He made his swelling waues in richnes flow,
Whilst that a Margarite brought forth a Perle,
A precious stone, a daintie louely Gerle.
To open all his wealth in outward show:
And finding my faire Mistresse honored thus,
He made his swelling waues in richnes flow,
Whilst that a Margarite brought forth a Perle,
A precious stone, a daintie louely Gerle.
As I haue liu'd, I liue, and liue so will,
With selfe same baite that Love for me did lay,
When he his net (to traine me in by skill)
Did open set, to bring me to his bay:
Only that I might sigh for thee alone,
And sue for Grace, although Grace found I none.
With selfe same baite that Love for me did lay,
When he his net (to traine me in by skill)
Did open set, to bring me to his bay:
Only that I might sigh for thee alone,
And sue for Grace, although Grace found I none.
Then Alba let it not displeasen thee,
Nor make thou shew of anger for the same:
Though my sweete Bonds so strait and inward bee,
Since I (not thou) doe beare thereof the paine:
And that my loue to thee is growne so neere,
As then my life I value it more deere.
Nor make thou shew of anger for the same:
Though my sweete Bonds so strait and inward bee,
Since I (not thou) doe beare thereof the paine:
And that my loue to thee is growne so neere,
As then my life I value it more deere.
Thine was I first, and thine at last I am,
And thine I will be to the world his end:
For thee into this world I willing came,
And leaue this world I will, fore thee offend.
Meane time thy matchles vertues I will blase,
And spend my life, sighing for thee alwaies.
And thine I will be to the world his end:
For thee into this world I willing came,
And leaue this world I will, fore thee offend.
Meane time thy matchles vertues I will blase,
And spend my life, sighing for thee alwaies.
Ah Love twas thou that tookst my libertie,
And of Freeman inforst me be a slaue,
Whilst Hers to be, and thine, most willinglie
I am content this seruile yoke to haue.
Loves prisoner then, begging at Beauties gate,
Some Almes bestow sweete Ladie for Gods sake.
And of Freeman inforst me be a slaue,
Whilst Hers to be, and thine, most willinglie
I am content this seruile yoke to haue.
Loves prisoner then, begging at Beauties gate,
Some Almes bestow sweete Ladie for Gods sake.
My mounting Minde, my neuer staide Conceit,
Hath built a stately Castle in the Aire:
Which loue his lightning Fire, nor his fierce thret,
Nor Fate, nor Fortune, nor ought els doth feare.
Founded it is vpon two running Wheeles,
The Gates of dust and winde (still turning reeles.)
Hath built a stately Castle in the Aire:
Which loue his lightning Fire, nor his fierce thret,
Nor Fate, nor Fortune, nor ought els doth feare.
Founded it is vpon two running Wheeles,
The Gates of dust and winde (still turning reeles.)
Thousands of Motes are digd about the same,
Which are capritious Humors fond and Toyes:
The Skouts and Guards therof, Hopes dead and vaine;
The Food therein preparde, false fleeting Ioyes;
The fencing Walles are framde of fieree Desire,
Which dreads nor Sea, nor earth, nor force, nor fire.
Which are capritious Humors fond and Toyes:
The Skouts and Guards therof, Hopes dead and vaine;
The Food therein preparde, false fleeting Ioyes;
The fencing Walles are framde of fieree Desire,
Which dreads nor Sea, nor earth, nor force, nor fire.
The Armours, framed are in running Head,
Of foolish Boldnes, and of pensiue Feare,
Which None knowes how they should be managed,
Nor how the same gainst others right to beare:
The Shot, Munition, and Artillerie,
Are diuers Thoughts which in the Fancie lie.
Of foolish Boldnes, and of pensiue Feare,
Which None knowes how they should be managed,
Nor how the same gainst others right to beare:
The Shot, Munition, and Artillerie,
Are diuers Thoughts which in the Fancie lie.
The Castellane doth fight against himselfe,
Hauing nought els his souldiers for to pay,
But with Ambition which is all his wealth:
Iudge then my state, and marke my firmest stay.
O Love how long learne shall I in thy Schoole?
The more I learne, I (still) doe proue more Foole.
Hauing nought els his souldiers for to pay,
But with Ambition which is all his wealth:
Iudge then my state, and marke my firmest stay.
O Love how long learne shall I in thy Schoole?
The more I learne, I (still) doe proue more Foole.
Swift roling Spheares, cleere burning Lamps diuine,
That with your beames disgrace the glorious Sunne:
Faire Ladders by which I to Heauen clime,
And by your Influence this rare course doe runne.
Ah, if not quickly hither you returne,
Too late (in vaine) my losse you then shall mourne.
That with your beames disgrace the glorious Sunne:
Faire Ladders by which I to Heauen clime,
And by your Influence this rare course doe runne.
Ah, if not quickly hither you returne,
Too late (in vaine) my losse you then shall mourne.
My Spirits for you did seeke to ope each way,
That you might passage make into my Hart,
And ioyfull were they when you there did stay,
But sorrowfull when you from thence did part.
And now my Soule is summond by Despaire,
For want of you his only Hope and Care.
That you might passage make into my Hart,
And ioyfull were they when you there did stay,
But sorrowfull when you from thence did part.
And now my Soule is summond by Despaire,
For want of you his only Hope and Care.
All comfortles I liue here all alone,
Banisht from Mirth, and Bondslaue vnto Noy:
Feeding my selfe (now you from hence are gone)
With sweete Remembrance of forepassed Ioy,
And with kinde Hope: these twaine together striue
To keepe me, gainst despairing Thoughts aliue.
Banisht from Mirth, and Bondslaue vnto Noy:
Feeding my selfe (now you from hence are gone)
With sweete Remembrance of forepassed Ioy,
And with kinde Hope: these twaine together striue
To keepe me, gainst despairing Thoughts aliue.
The first, doth Albas selfe (for my reliefe)
Present (of which I am now dispossest)
The other doth abate each swelling griefe,
Which els my Hart would ouermuch molest.
Ah pleasing Hope, ah gratious Memorie,
You make me liue, which els of force should die.
Present (of which I am now dispossest)
The other doth abate each swelling griefe,
Which els my Hart would ouermuch molest.
Ah pleasing Hope, ah gratious Memorie,
You make me liue, which els of force should die.
Without my Sunne, I liue in darksome shade,
Whilst I with sighing spend my hatefull daies,
And in Loves Sea without my Pilot wade,
Whilst storme my leaking Barke to sinke assaies:
I languish malcontent, deepe drownde in Care,
Witnes mine Eyes, that running fountaines are.
Whilst I with sighing spend my hatefull daies,
And in Loves Sea without my Pilot wade,
Whilst storme my leaking Barke to sinke assaies:
I languish malcontent, deepe drownde in Care,
Witnes mine Eyes, that running fountaines are.
Thou Northwest Village farre from mine abode,
Which dost enioy my Mistris presence faire:
Ah happie art thou where she makes her rode,
And where she bides whose selfe hath no compare.
Happie art thou, but most vnhappie I,
Thou dost possesse, I want her companie.
Which dost enioy my Mistris presence faire:
Ah happie art thou where she makes her rode,
And where she bides whose selfe hath no compare.
Happie art thou, but most vnhappie I,
Thou dost possesse, I want her companie.
Faine would I (for long since I vow did take)
As painfull Pilgrim in deuoutfull wise,
A voyage in that Holy land to make,
At my sweete Saint her Shrine to sacrifise,
Where (for Oblation) I my Hart would offer,
Not doubting but she would accept the proffer.
As painfull Pilgrim in deuoutfull wise,
A voyage in that Holy land to make,
At my sweete Saint her Shrine to sacrifise,
Where (for Oblation) I my Hart would offer,
Not doubting but she would accept the proffer.
But to no end I wish, it is in vaine,
A lesser Fauour should contenten mee:
It should suffiise me if I might but gaine
A sight of her, Her once more for to see.
A lack, this is not ouermuch I craue,
Only her sight, not her, tis I would haue.
A lesser Fauour should contenten mee:
It should suffiise me if I might but gaine
A sight of her, Her once more for to see.
A lack, this is not ouermuch I craue,
Only her sight, not her, tis I would haue.
Sad Teares, that from my mestfull Hart doe runne,
Thrust forth through watrie Eyes by Sorrow kinde:
If you into Loves paths by chance shall come,
Where he doth walke, and pitie thinke to finde:
In vaine then doe you stirre abrode, in vaine
You lose your trauaile, labour, and your paine.
Thrust forth through watrie Eyes by Sorrow kinde:
If you into Loves paths by chance shall come,
Where he doth walke, and pitie thinke to finde:
In vaine then doe you stirre abrode, in vaine
You lose your trauaile, labour, and your paine.
For whilst the way vnto an Humour new
You open wide, fierce Alba shutteth close
Her breast from mercie, making me to rew,
And for your Friendship, counts you as her foes:
Wherein, she doth a damd Example show,
Forcing her Hart gainst Conscience hers to goe.
You open wide, fierce Alba shutteth close
Her breast from mercie, making me to rew,
And for your Friendship, counts you as her foes:
Wherein, she doth a damd Example show,
Forcing her Hart gainst Conscience hers to goe.
Then wofull teares what will you doe as now?
Love's dead and gone, all pitie is exilde:
Skornd is my Constancie and loyall Vow,
And through Disdaine I daily am reuilde.
My Hopes are blasted, and as withered seeme,
Whilst still Disgraces shew before me greene.
Love's dead and gone, all pitie is exilde:
Skornd is my Constancie and loyall Vow,
And through Disdaine I daily am reuilde.
My Hopes are blasted, and as withered seeme,
Whilst still Disgraces shew before me greene.
Come then, turne backe, and with me secretlie
Bewaile my torment, least my Hart appeere
A senseles stone, through proud Impietie:
And my blinde eyes a fountaine running cleere.
And since not any will our Griefes bemone,
Lets swallow downe our Sorrowes all alone.
Bewaile my torment, least my Hart appeere
A senseles stone, through proud Impietie:
And my blinde eyes a fountaine running cleere.
And since not any will our Griefes bemone,
Lets swallow downe our Sorrowes all alone.
Love hath me bound once more to make the way,
From whence my Hart hath neuer yet declinde:
And doubts least He, from rightest paths should stray,
Because so weake and crased I him finde:
And marueile none, he wants his wonted sight,
How can he iournie then but Sauns delight.
From whence my Hart hath neuer yet declinde:
And doubts least He, from rightest paths should stray,
Because so weake and crased I him finde:
And marueile none, he wants his wonted sight,
How can he iournie then but Sauns delight.
The sillie Wretch lookes vp, yet nought can see;
As who should say, my Helpe comes from Aboue:
Yet grieues his seruice is not tooke boun gree,
Since tis refinde from Thought of purest Loue.
My Minde doth burne in frost, but not in fire,
Through vncouth passion barde from his Desire.
As who should say, my Helpe comes from Aboue:
Yet grieues his seruice is not tooke boun gree,
Since tis refinde from Thought of purest Loue.
My Minde doth burne in frost, but not in fire,
Through vncouth passion barde from his Desire.
My Hart is like a Widower that's disdainde;
My soule a Figure of a Malcontent,
To see that Love thus vildly should be stainde,
Not to requite, where nought but Loue is ment.
But I doe see no pitie is in spite,
Where Malice raignes, Desert is banisht quite.
My soule a Figure of a Malcontent,
To see that Love thus vildly should be stainde,
Not to requite, where nought but Loue is ment.
But I doe see no pitie is in spite,
Where Malice raignes, Desert is banisht quite.
My Soule vpon my Hart for this doth plaine,
My Hart (againe) my Fancie doth accuse:
My Fancie saith, mine Eyes were too too blame,
Their ouer-boldnes wrought this great Abuse.
Alas poore Eyes, too dearly doe you pay,
When for one Fault your Light is tooke away.
My Hart (againe) my Fancie doth accuse:
My Fancie saith, mine Eyes were too too blame,
Their ouer-boldnes wrought this great Abuse.
Alas poore Eyes, too dearly doe you pay,
When for one Fault your Light is tooke away.
Thy whitenes (Alba) I may well compare
To Delia, when no clowde doth her obscure:
Thy haires to Phœbus lightning in the Aire,
When he doth shine with greatest Luster pure.
Thy diamond eyes, like to a frostie Night,
Where sparkling stars doe shooting take their flight.
To Delia, when no clowde doth her obscure:
Thy haires to Phœbus lightning in the Aire,
When he doth shine with greatest Luster pure.
Thy diamond eyes, like to a frostie Night,
Where sparkling stars doe shooting take their flight.
Thy cheekes Aurora like, when with her Dew,
The Rose and Lillie she doth sprinkle sweete:
Resembling drops that seeded Pearle doe shew,
As if that double Beautie did them greete.
Thy Hand, no hand, it is the daintie Gloue,
Which Psyches ware, when she was wed to Love.
The Rose and Lillie she doth sprinkle sweete:
Resembling drops that seeded Pearle doe shew,
As if that double Beautie did them greete.
Thy Hand, no hand, it is the daintie Gloue,
Which Psyches ware, when she was wed to Love.
VVhat art thou, but All faire in outward show,
But inwardly th' art Cruel and vnkinde:
In thy faire Face all Fauours sweet doe grow,
But Thornes and Briars in thy Hart I finde:
With shew of sweet thou lur'st and dost entise,
But bitterly thou makst them pay the price.
But inwardly th' art Cruel and vnkinde:
In thy faire Face all Fauours sweet doe grow,
But Thornes and Briars in thy Hart I finde:
With shew of sweet thou lur'st and dost entise,
But bitterly thou makst them pay the price.
Thou cruell lead'st my life to dismall Death,
My hope from all her Ioyes thou dost confine:
Thou art the corde that stopst my vitall breath,
And Armes with Armes against me dost conioyne.
Thou only art the She that's fenst with hate,
And dost thy selfe of pitie naked make.
My hope from all her Ioyes thou dost confine:
Thou art the corde that stopst my vitall breath,
And Armes with Armes against me dost conioyne.
Thou only art the She that's fenst with hate,
And dost thy selfe of pitie naked make.
Tirde with a Burthen of Extremities,
Which breakes, not bowes, my wofull Hart in twaine,
And checkt with chiefest Mate of Miseries,
I linger out my lothed life in paine.
Then death, not life, I may this liuing call,
Where ceasles Noy, not ioy, doth me befall.
Which breakes, not bowes, my wofull Hart in twaine,
And checkt with chiefest Mate of Miseries,
I linger out my lothed life in paine.
Then death, not life, I may this liuing call,
Where ceasles Noy, not ioy, doth me befall.
Black gloomy Thoughts on me doe tyrannise,
And to my Soule appoynted faithfull Guides,
Doe her deceiue, with her they subtellise,
Nor in this ill to comfort me None bides.
All my best Hopes are at an Ebbing low,
Whilst stealing yeares, with griefes encreasing grow.
And to my Soule appoynted faithfull Guides,
Doe her deceiue, with her they subtellise,
Nor in this ill to comfort me None bides.
All my best Hopes are at an Ebbing low,
Whilst stealing yeares, with griefes encreasing grow.
What shall I doe? shall I to reason turne?
Oh no, for her I too much haue offended.
What, shal I goe to Love, and to him mourne
For aide, and promise all shall be amended?
Alas, it were in vaine, and labour lost,
Where he doth promise, he deceiueth most.
Oh no, for her I too much haue offended.
What, shal I goe to Love, and to him mourne
For aide, and promise all shall be amended?
Alas, it were in vaine, and labour lost,
Where he doth promise, he deceiueth most.
See then ye fond Desires, what you haue done,
By headstrong Will, sage Reason to depraue:
But what shall I, as now resolue vpon?
Whom shall I trust? of whom helpe shall I craue?
Euen her who first betraide me will I trust,
She can but be (as she hath been) vniust.
By headstrong Will, sage Reason to depraue:
But what shall I, as now resolue vpon?
Whom shall I trust? of whom helpe shall I craue?
Euen her who first betraide me will I trust,
She can but be (as she hath been) vniust.
Come gentle sleepe (sweet sleepe) my welcome Frend,
Come comfort me with shadow of my Loue,
And her, in vision quickly to me send,
For whom these griefes and bitter pangs I proue.
Black Night be thou far darker then thou art,
Thy chiefest Beautie is to be most darke.
Come comfort me with shadow of my Loue,
And her, in vision quickly to me send,
For whom these griefes and bitter pangs I proue.
Black Night be thou far darker then thou art,
Thy chiefest Beautie is to be most darke.
By thee my peace and pleasure doth arise,
Whilst I through thy deceit (yet liking me)
Doe seeme to ioy with her in louely wise,
Although from hence (God knowes) far off she be.
Such is the pleasure that herein I take,
As more I could not ioy, were I awake.
Whilst I through thy deceit (yet liking me)
Doe seeme to ioy with her in louely wise,
Although from hence (God knowes) far off she be.
Such is the pleasure that herein I take,
As more I could not ioy, were I awake.
Thou shewst to me the trammels of her Haire,
Clept Scala Coeli, locks of pure Delight:
Her snowy Neck, the cause of my sweete Care;
Her eyes like Saphires sparkling in the night:
With ot'er sights, vnseemly to be knowne:
Al these sweet sleep, through thee to me are showne.
Clept Scala Coeli, locks of pure Delight:
Her snowy Neck, the cause of my sweete Care;
Her eyes like Saphires sparkling in the night:
With ot'er sights, vnseemly to be knowne:
Al these sweet sleep, through thee to me are showne.
Only in this (my thinks) th' art too vnkinde,
That when thou partst from me, all ioy doth part:
Nor any such thing left with me I finde,
Which then afresh renewes mine inward smart.
Then since her selfe (I waking) cannot haue,
Sleeping let me her shadow of thee craue.
That when thou partst from me, all ioy doth part:
Nor any such thing left with me I finde,
Which then afresh renewes mine inward smart.
Then since her selfe (I waking) cannot haue,
Sleeping let me her shadow of thee craue.
Like as the painefull Marchant venterer,
That is to leaue his sweetest natiue soyle,
Being bound vnto some strangy Countrie far,
Whome hope of gaine doth restles make to toyle;
Taking his leaue of his deare Familie,
Through feare & hope, makes them to liue and die.
That is to leaue his sweetest natiue soyle,
Being bound vnto some strangy Countrie far,
Whome hope of gaine doth restles make to toyle;
Taking his leaue of his deare Familie,
Through feare & hope, makes them to liue and die.
But afterward when he hath crost the Seas,
Fraughting his ship with richest marchandise,
He then begins to frolicke, Hearts at ease,
And hoyseth vp his sailes in cheerefull wise,
Searching by skill the shortest cut to take,
Of this his wearie iourney, end to make.
Fraughting his ship with richest marchandise,
He then begins to frolicke, Hearts at ease,
And hoyseth vp his sailes in cheerefull wise,
Searching by skill the shortest cut to take,
Of this his wearie iourney, end to make.
When being almost tired, at the last
He is in kenning of his wished Home,
And when hauing of his Natiue Aire a taste,
Twixt ioy and griefe, his very soule doth grone,
For griefe, his Countrie he so long did in
For ioy, that Home he now returned is,
He is in kenning of his wished Home,
And when hauing of his Natiue Aire a taste,
Twixt ioy and griefe, his very soule doth grone,
For griefe, his Countrie he so long did in
For ioy, that Home he now returned is,
So fare I: for when I doe call to minde
The time in which my Libertie was lost,
I shed salt teares, to thinke how I did binde
My selfe, being free, as slaue vnto my cost:
But when I hope one day I shall be free,
(Through my sweet Saint) my hart doth leap for glee.
The time in which my Libertie was lost,
I shed salt teares, to thinke how I did binde
My selfe, being free, as slaue vnto my cost:
But when I hope one day I shall be free,
(Through my sweet Saint) my hart doth leap for glee.
As many fierie darts as Ioue on high,
Dingde downe on Giants in his angrie mood,
So many whirle about my Bodie nigh.
As longing causeles for my guiltles blood,
The frighted Aire raine Ashes downe apace,
And cheerefull sunne flies hence to hide his face.
Dingde downe on Giants in his angrie mood,
So many whirle about my Bodie nigh.
As longing causeles for my guiltles blood,
The frighted Aire raine Ashes downe apace,
And cheerefull sunne flies hence to hide his face.
Thus stand I in a Maze of Miserie,
My Heart (seeing nought but signes of present death)
Seekes how with clipped wings away to flie,
And faine would scape to saue his vitall breath.
Ah pouer wretch, but how ist possible?
I know not how, nor he himselfe can tell.
My Heart (seeing nought but signes of present death)
Seekes how with clipped wings away to flie,
And faine would scape to saue his vitall breath.
Ah pouer wretch, but how ist possible?
I know not how, nor he himselfe can tell.
The world's his foe, and Love doth him betraie,
Despaire of helpe, his senses doth confound,
His cursed Guide (for nonce) leades him astraie,
Fortune accuseth him on no sure ground.
And which doth gaule him most, & most doth grieue,
His Mistris rash, gainst him doth iudgement giue.
Despaire of helpe, his senses doth confound,
His cursed Guide (for nonce) leades him astraie,
Fortune accuseth him on no sure ground.
And which doth gaule him most, & most doth grieue,
His Mistris rash, gainst him doth iudgement giue.
He Mercie cries, and calleth for his Booke,
But proude Disdaine doth stop the Iudges eares,
So that on him she'le not so much as looke,
And thus from Barre, they quickelie doe him beare,
From Albas presence is he quite debarde,
Exilde from Her, this is his sentence harde.
But proude Disdaine doth stop the Iudges eares,
So that on him she'le not so much as looke,
And thus from Barre, they quickelie doe him beare,
From Albas presence is he quite debarde,
Exilde from Her, this is his sentence harde.
Great state and pomp this princely pallace showes,
And richly euery chamber hanged is:
Mine entertainment daily sweeter growes,
What Hart or thought can gesse, I doe not misse.
Chiefly the Walkes, and Gardens wondrous been,
As they a second Paradise doe seeme.
And richly euery chamber hanged is:
Mine entertainment daily sweeter growes,
What Hart or thought can gesse, I doe not misse.
Chiefly the Walkes, and Gardens wondrous been,
As they a second Paradise doe seeme.
Yet though I finde this kindnes passing great,
VVith hunting, hawking, fowling, and such sport:
For all our feasting and our daintie meate,
Our mirth and Musick in most pleasing sort:
For all these pleasures, yet liue I in paine,
Since Her I want, for whom I wish in vaine.
VVith hunting, hawking, fowling, and such sport:
For all our feasting and our daintie meate,
Our mirth and Musick in most pleasing sort:
For all these pleasures, yet liue I in paine,
Since Her I want, for whom I wish in vaine.
VVhat others loue, I lothe, and quite dislike,
And though I am in worthie companie,
Yet still (my thinks) I am retired quite,
Into a place of matchles miserie,
Into an vncouth wood and wildernes,
VVhere liue such Beasts as pray on Sauagenes.
And though I am in worthie companie,
Yet still (my thinks) I am retired quite,
Into a place of matchles miserie,
Into an vncouth wood and wildernes,
VVhere liue such Beasts as pray on Sauagenes.
And if that long from her I be depriu'd,
My life shall be like flowers that want the Sun:
So shall I yeeld my Ghost as one disliu'd,
VVhilst my threds life shall quickly be vnspun.
Go skalding sighs then, flie vnto her straite,
Say that for life or death on her I waite.
My life shall be like flowers that want the Sun:
So shall I yeeld my Ghost as one disliu'd,
VVhilst my threds life shall quickly be vnspun.
Go skalding sighs then, flie vnto her straite,
Say that for life or death on her I waite.
You stately Hils, you princelike Ruins olde,
Which proudly in your last remainders show,
And who as yet the name of faire Rome holde,
To whom did once the whole world homage owe,
The place where (now) so many Relikes lie,
Of Holy soules honord for Christ to die.
Which proudly in your last remainders show,
And who as yet the name of faire Rome holde,
To whom did once the whole world homage owe,
The place where (now) so many Relikes lie,
Of Holy soules honord for Christ to die.
You Theaters, you Conquerors Arches faire,
Colosses huge, and massie Pillers great,
Triumphant Showes of more then Glory rare,
Where Victorie with pomp did take their seate:
Lo what a wonder strange in you is wrought,
You now are dust, consumde (as twere) to nought.
Colosses huge, and massie Pillers great,
Triumphant Showes of more then Glory rare,
Where Victorie with pomp did take their seate:
Lo what a wonder strange in you is wrought,
You now are dust, consumde (as twere) to nought.
Though conquering War, doth make in time to come,
Many things florish, and with Fame to rise:
Yet in the end when all is past and done,
Time doth All this consume in spitefull wise,
All Monuments, all Monarchs that haue been,
Time in the end destroyes, and weares out cleane.
Many things florish, and with Fame to rise:
Yet in the end when all is past and done,
Time doth All this consume in spitefull wise,
All Monuments, all Monarchs that haue been,
Time in the end destroyes, and weares out cleane.
And since tis so, I will contented liue
In discontent: for if that Time can make
An end of All, and end to each thing giue,
(May be) some order he for me will take,
(May be) in th' end when I shall tried bee
To th' vtmost, I my guerdon iust may see.
In discontent: for if that Time can make
An end of All, and end to each thing giue,
(May be) some order he for me will take,
(May be) in th' end when I shall tried bee
To th' vtmost, I my guerdon iust may see.
Alba thinkst thou, thy Month shall still be May,
And that thy Colour fresh, still faire will be?
That Time and Fortune will not weare away
Beautie, which God and Nature lends to thee?
Yes, yes, that white and red, thy Cheekes now show
Shall quicklie change, and blacke and yellow grow.
And that thy Colour fresh, still faire will be?
That Time and Fortune will not weare away
Beautie, which God and Nature lends to thee?
Yes, yes, that white and red, thy Cheekes now show
Shall quicklie change, and blacke and yellow grow.
The Giniper the longer it doth slower,
The older still it waxeth, bowing still,
And that sweete face of thine, which now hath power
Whole worlds with wondering at the same to fill,
Shall (though it now sauns blemish be) a Staine,
Hereafter with thicke wrinkeled Clifts remaine.
The older still it waxeth, bowing still,
And that sweete face of thine, which now hath power
Whole worlds with wondering at the same to fill,
Shall (though it now sauns blemish be) a Staine,
Hereafter with thicke wrinkeled Clifts remaine.
Great care to keepe this Beautie fraile must be,
Which we (God knowes) a small time doe enioy,
Doe what we can, we lose it suddenle;
Why, then, being courted shouldst thou seeme so coy;
Fortunes wings made of Times feathers neere stay
But care thou them canst measure flit away.
Which we (God knowes) a small time doe enioy,
Doe what we can, we lose it suddenle;
Why, then, being courted shouldst thou seeme so coy;
Fortunes wings made of Times feathers neere stay
But care thou them canst measure flit away.
Then be not ouer hard, like changeles Fate,
But let my Cries force thee (at last) relent,
Doe not oppose thy selfe too obstinate
Gainst him, whose time to honor thee is spent:
Ah let me speake the trueth (though somewhat bold
Though now th' art young, thou one day must be old
But let my Cries force thee (at last) relent,
Doe not oppose thy selfe too obstinate
Gainst him, whose time to honor thee is spent:
Ah let me speake the trueth (though somewhat bold
Though now th' art young, thou one day must be old
Riuers of gorie blood into the Sea,
In sted of Waters shall most swiftlie runne;
The hugie Ocean drie as land shall be,
And darke as pitch shall shew the glistering Sunne:
Love shall of Loue, and kindenes be depriude,
And vastie world (sauns people) shall abide.
In sted of Waters shall most swiftlie runne;
The hugie Ocean drie as land shall be,
And darke as pitch shall shew the glistering Sunne:
Love shall of Loue, and kindenes be depriude,
And vastie world (sauns people) shall abide.
The Night shall lightsome be as Day most plaine,
The Heauens with their coloured cloudes shall fall,
Fore Love in me, a new Idea frame,
Or my firme Heart, from Alba alter shall,
Ah fore I change, let horror stop my breth,
Vnworthie Her, vnworthie of this earth.
The Heauens with their coloured cloudes shall fall,
Fore Love in me, a new Idea frame,
Or my firme Heart, from Alba alter shall,
Ah fore I change, let horror stop my breth,
Vnworthie Her, vnworthie of this earth.
As heretofore, so still I will her loue,
Nere shall my constant Heart lie languishing,
In hope another Beautie for to proue,
Which flitting fancie to mine eyes might bring:
My faith Acanthus like shall flourish greene;
Which th' older tis, the fresher still is seene.
Nere shall my constant Heart lie languishing,
In hope another Beautie for to proue,
Which flitting fancie to mine eyes might bring:
My faith Acanthus like shall flourish greene;
Which th' older tis, the fresher still is seene.
I am no glasse, but perfect Diamound,
My constant minde holdes still where first it tooke,
Though not my selfe, my soule's in English ground,
Italians lookes, but not there Loves I brooke.
The Globelike World is round, and hath no end,
Such is my Faith to her, my Fairest frend.
My constant minde holdes still where first it tooke,
Though not my selfe, my soule's in English ground,
Italians lookes, but not there Loves I brooke.
The Globelike World is round, and hath no end,
Such is my Faith to her, my Fairest frend.
Gold's changde to Lead, and Emmeralds into Glasse;
Lillies proue Weedes, and Roses Nettles bee:
No harmles Beasts now through the fields doe passe,
To feede on Hill or Valleys shade we see:
Wilde Tigers fierce, and rauenous Lions fell,
In open Plaine, and cooly Groues doe dwell.
Lillies proue Weedes, and Roses Nettles bee:
No harmles Beasts now through the fields doe passe,
To feede on Hill or Valleys shade we see:
Wilde Tigers fierce, and rauenous Lions fell,
In open Plaine, and cooly Groues doe dwell.
In stead of milde and pleasing Accents sweete,
From hollow Places fearfull Voices sound:
Eccho amongst the craggie rocks doth weepe,
And (heauie) makes her noyse with sighs rebound.
Riuers against their wonted course do runne,
The Moone lookes black, eclipsed is the Sunne.
From hollow Places fearfull Voices sound:
Eccho amongst the craggie rocks doth weepe,
And (heauie) makes her noyse with sighs rebound.
Riuers against their wonted course do runne,
The Moone lookes black, eclipsed is the Sunne.
The Sallow shakes his boughes, and inward grieues,
The Cypresse shew'th as if he sickly were,
And (melancholy) bares his lothed leaues,
A signe presaging some great cause of feare.
Phœbus no more doth combe his tresses faire,
But careles lets them feltred hang in th' aire.
The Cypresse shew'th as if he sickly were,
And (melancholy) bares his lothed leaues,
A signe presaging some great cause of feare.
Phœbus no more doth combe his tresses faire,
But careles lets them feltred hang in th' aire.
Ghosts through the Citie ghastfully appeere,
And hideous shapes the mindes of men afright:
No Day we haue, but darknes euery where,
And turnd the World is topsie turuy quite,
The cause of all this change is my faire Loue,
Since to the countrie (hence) she doth remoue.
And hideous shapes the mindes of men afright:
No Day we haue, but darknes euery where,
And turnd the World is topsie turuy quite,
The cause of all this change is my faire Loue,
Since to the countrie (hence) she doth remoue.
On bended knees low groueling on the ground,
Before the Crvel Faire I prostrate lay:
But what I sought of Her could not be found,
My kinde request was dasht with ruffe Denay.
With me she sharply gan expostulate,
Nor would she once pitie my hard Estate.
Before the Crvel Faire I prostrate lay:
But what I sought of Her could not be found,
My kinde request was dasht with ruffe Denay.
With me she sharply gan expostulate,
Nor would she once pitie my hard Estate.
Teares I did shed, but teares I shed in vaine;
Vowes I did make, my Vowes she did reiect;
Prayers I offred, Prayers she did disdaine;
Presents I sent, but them sh'would not accept.
If teares, vowes, prayers, nor presents can doe good,
What then remaines, but for to offer blood?
Vowes I did make, my Vowes she did reiect;
Prayers I offred, Prayers she did disdaine;
Presents I sent, but them sh'would not accept.
If teares, vowes, prayers, nor presents can doe good,
What then remaines, but for to offer blood?
Then Cruell take this Blood, Oblations Fee,
Which at thy shrine from Hart I sacrifise:
I know twill doe thee good and liketh thee,
And I bestow it in most hartie wise.
Neuer so much I of my life did make,
But that I could dispend it for thy sake.
Which at thy shrine from Hart I sacrifise:
I know twill doe thee good and liketh thee,
And I bestow it in most hartie wise.
Neuer so much I of my life did make,
But that I could dispend it for thy sake.
What needst thou then ad water to the Seas,
Beames to the Sunne, or light vnto the Day,
When I more readie am, if so thou please,
My selfe to kill, then thou my life to slay?
Ah let me know thy minde, thus vex not still,
A kinde of Pitie tis, quickly to kill.
Beames to the Sunne, or light vnto the Day,
When I more readie am, if so thou please,
My selfe to kill, then thou my life to slay?
Ah let me know thy minde, thus vex not still,
A kinde of Pitie tis, quickly to kill.
In stately Bed twixt sheetes more white then snow,
Where late my Pearle mine Alba faire did lie,
I restlesse vp and downe tosse to and fro,
Whilst trickling teares distill from blubbred eye.
Ah gentle sleepe do thou deuise some Meane,
For comfort mine, whilst I of her shall dreame.
Where late my Pearle mine Alba faire did lie,
I restlesse vp and downe tosse to and fro,
Whilst trickling teares distill from blubbred eye.
Ah gentle sleepe do thou deuise some Meane,
For comfort mine, whilst I of her shall dreame.
You downy Pillowes, you which but of late,
Her daintie selfe did kindly entertaine,
(Once) of two louing Bodies charge do take,
By your soft yeelding, call her back againe:
For she is gone, and Troynouant hath left,
And being gone, my hart with her hath reft.
Her daintie selfe did kindly entertaine,
(Once) of two louing Bodies charge do take,
By your soft yeelding, call her back againe:
For she is gone, and Troynouant hath left,
And being gone, my hart with her hath reft.
For both of vs here's roume enough to see,
We both in rest with ease may here remaine,
And here two soules (vnited) one, shall bee,
Two bodies (ioynd together) One, not twaine.
But tis in vaine, for were she here I know,
Though you agreede, agree she would not so.
We both in rest with ease may here remaine,
And here two soules (vnited) one, shall bee,
Two bodies (ioynd together) One, not twaine.
But tis in vaine, for were she here I know,
Though you agreede, agree she would not so.
Yet call her back, and pray to her for me,
For I am hoarse with praying ouer long
Ah to no purpose tis to call, I see,
She cannot heare, she too too farre is gon.
Yet will I still her praises haroldise,
And mongst the beautious Saints her canonise.
For I am hoarse with praying ouer long
Ah to no purpose tis to call, I see,
She cannot heare, she too too farre is gon.
Yet will I still her praises haroldise,
And mongst the beautious Saints her canonise.
Heare me, a Martyr for religious Loue,
Thou Faire Tormentor, (Motiue of my paine)
All Racks and Tortors gainst my patience proue,
And when th' hast done, begin afresh againe.
Wearie shalt thou be of tormenting me,
Before I grieued at these plagues will be.
Thou Faire Tormentor, (Motiue of my paine)
All Racks and Tortors gainst my patience proue,
And when th' hast done, begin afresh againe.
Wearie shalt thou be of tormenting me,
Before I grieued at these plagues will be.
Too deare I prise thy beautie to repent,
Or wish I had not such sower stormes endur'd:
Though I thy hard hart finde nere to relent,
Custome and time, to woes haue me inur'd.
What ill so great but I would willing take,
And beare the brunt assur'd of thy sweet sake.
Or wish I had not such sower stormes endur'd:
Though I thy hard hart finde nere to relent,
Custome and time, to woes haue me inur'd.
What ill so great but I would willing take,
And beare the brunt assur'd of thy sweet sake.
The sweet remembrance of thy fight of yore,
Th' only companion is of my deare life,
Thy presence was, which absent I adore,
My paradise and place of ioy most rife.
So I alone am not, though None's with mee,
And was in Heauen, when I thy face did see.
Th' only companion is of my deare life,
Thy presence was, which absent I adore,
My paradise and place of ioy most rife.
So I alone am not, though None's with mee,
And was in Heauen, when I thy face did see.
But this thou thinkst not of, this is least part
Now of thy minde, nor hast thou hereof care:
This neuer comes God knowes into thy hart,
But as heat's ioynd with fire, and breath with aire:
So crueltie in Womens stomacks dwels,
Which with Disdaine (as Furie) alwaies swels.
Now of thy minde, nor hast thou hereof care:
This neuer comes God knowes into thy hart,
But as heat's ioynd with fire, and breath with aire:
So crueltie in Womens stomacks dwels,
Which with Disdaine (as Furie) alwaies swels.
Ye Valleys deep withouten bottome found;
Ye Hils that match with height the azure skie;
Ye Caues by Nature hollow vnder ground,
Where quiet rest and silence alwaies lie,
Thou gloomy Aire which euer to the sight
Bringst darknes still, but neuer cheerfull light.
Ye Hils that match with height the azure skie;
Ye Caues by Nature hollow vnder ground,
Where quiet rest and silence alwaies lie,
Thou gloomy Aire which euer to the sight
Bringst darknes still, but neuer cheerfull light.
Ye vncouth Paths, ye solitarie walks,
Ye breakneck Rocks, most ghastly for to see,
Ye dreadfull Dens where neuer any stalks,
And where scarce hissing Serpents dare to bee:
Ye fatall Vaults where murdred Corses lie,
Haunted with hatefull sprites continuallie.
Ye breakneck Rocks, most ghastly for to see,
Ye dreadfull Dens where neuer any stalks,
And where scarce hissing Serpents dare to bee:
Ye fatall Vaults where murdred Corses lie,
Haunted with hatefull sprites continuallie.
Ye Wildernesses and ye Deserts wilde,
Ye strangie Shores nere yet inhabited,
Ye Places from all pleasures quite exilde,
Where sad Melancholy and Griefe is fled,
Heare me, who am a shadow and a Ghost,
Damnd with eternall sorrow to be crost.
Ye strangie Shores nere yet inhabited,
Ye Places from all pleasures quite exilde,
Where sad Melancholy and Griefe is fled,
Heare me, who am a shadow and a Ghost,
Damnd with eternall sorrow to be crost.
Heare me, since I am come for to bewaile,
Mongst you, my Faith, my Constancie, and Loue,
I hope with my lowd Cries and drerie Tale,
Though not the Heauens, yet Hell at least to moue:
Since more the Griefes are which within me grow,
Then Heauen hath Pleasures, or Hel, Plagues below.
Mongst you, my Faith, my Constancie, and Loue,
I hope with my lowd Cries and drerie Tale,
Though not the Heauens, yet Hell at least to moue:
Since more the Griefes are which within me grow,
Then Heauen hath Pleasures, or Hel, Plagues below.
How can the ship be guided without Helme,
The storme arising in a troubled Sea?
Needs must the churlish Waues it ouerwhelme,
Needs must it drowne, and cast away must bee.
How should I liue, and not my life enioy?
Feeding on Griefe, what should I taste but Noy?
The storme arising in a troubled Sea?
Needs must the churlish Waues it ouerwhelme,
Needs must it drowne, and cast away must bee.
How should I liue, and not my life enioy?
Feeding on Griefe, what should I taste but Noy?
Ah Cupid thinke vpon thy Seruant true,
I craue for my Deserts but some reward!
I seeke mine Owne, not more then is my due,
Hate for Goodwill to reape is too too hard.
If I for Well with Ill am payd againe,
Had I done ill, what then had bin my paine?
I craue for my Deserts but some reward!
I seeke mine Owne, not more then is my due,
Hate for Goodwill to reape is too too hard.
If I for Well with Ill am payd againe,
Had I done ill, what then had bin my paine?
Loue with Remembrance lieth in my breast,
All other Thoughts he cancels out of minde:
To thinke whats past I cannot quiet rest,
Yet I in those Conceits strange Ioy doe finde,
Whilst now for her I think All I forsooke,
And wholly to her Grace my selfe betooke.
All other Thoughts he cancels out of minde:
To thinke whats past I cannot quiet rest,
Yet I in those Conceits strange Ioy doe finde,
Whilst now for her I think All I forsooke,
And wholly to her Grace my selfe betooke.
My wonted Mirth is turned into Mone,
Because my state is changde and altred quite:
In company I am as One alone,
Whilst what doth Others please, doth me dispite.
Ah when shall I once from these Plagues be free?
Neuer, lesse Alba Mercie shew to mee.
Because my state is changde and altred quite:
In company I am as One alone,
Whilst what doth Others please, doth me dispite.
Ah when shall I once from these Plagues be free?
Neuer, lesse Alba Mercie shew to mee.
My ioyles Hart a troubled Spring is like,
Which from the tops of matchles Alpes most hie,
Falls with a mightie noise downe headlong right,
By vncouth stony wayes most dreadfully,
Where all his Hopes he in the Deepe doth drowne,
A fatall signe of fortunes heauie frowne.
Which from the tops of matchles Alpes most hie,
Falls with a mightie noise downe headlong right,
By vncouth stony wayes most dreadfully,
Where all his Hopes he in the Deepe doth drowne,
A fatall signe of fortunes heauie frowne.
Darke pitchie clowdes of hugie Mountaines steepe,
The loftiest part do hide from Sunny heate:
Seeld any winde of Pitie there doth fleete,
Them to dissolue, their thicknes is so great.
For no calme Aire of gentle Loue doth blow,
Where swelling Anger frets in furious show.
The loftiest part do hide from Sunny heate:
Seeld any winde of Pitie there doth fleete,
Them to dissolue, their thicknes is so great.
For no calme Aire of gentle Loue doth blow,
Where swelling Anger frets in furious show.
Thence doth my Tributarie Hart forth send,
Through peable stones, now here, now there along,
A little Brooke into the Sea to wend,
As signe that I my dutie would not wrong:
For Alba mine (Degree aboue Compare)
A large Sea is of sundrie Beauties rare.
Through peable stones, now here, now there along,
A little Brooke into the Sea to wend,
As signe that I my dutie would not wrong:
For Alba mine (Degree aboue Compare)
A large Sea is of sundrie Beauties rare.
A bitter cause, me bitter teares makes shed,
Whose enuious Stepdame is a Froward Will,
Which is by Selfe conceit too wanton fed,
Th' efficient cause that I these drops distill:
Which though in outward shew you white them see,
Yet pure Red blood they in my Bodie bee.
Whose enuious Stepdame is a Froward Will,
Which is by Selfe conceit too wanton fed,
Th' efficient cause that I these drops distill:
Which though in outward shew you white them see,
Yet pure Red blood they in my Bodie bee.
Let baseborne Mindes of basest matters create,
My selfe (with them) to trouble I not list:
The vulgar sort (they know not what) do speake,
VVhilst gainst the Truth and Vertue they persist.
Honor's the marke whereat I seeke to aime,
Shame light on them that think on beastly shame.
My selfe (with them) to trouble I not list:
The vulgar sort (they know not what) do speake,
VVhilst gainst the Truth and Vertue they persist.
Honor's the marke whereat I seeke to aime,
Shame light on them that think on beastly shame.
So many men, so many Mindes (they say)
Yet at the last Truth alwaies shall preuaile,
Bringing her vowed Foe vnto her bay,
Falshood (I meane) for all her masked Vaile.
No Woman blame I, only I do seeke,
Swanlike to sing, of my faire Sunne I leeke.
Yet at the last Truth alwaies shall preuaile,
Bringing her vowed Foe vnto her bay,
Falshood (I meane) for all her masked Vaile.
No Woman blame I, only I do seeke,
Swanlike to sing, of my faire Sunne I leeke.
The Beauties which in other Ladies be,
I neuer had once thought for to disgrace
Mine Alba hath enough in store for me,
Thousand of Amours finde I in her face:
Her world I praise, whose looks haue pleasde me euer,
From whom in hart disioynd I will be neuer.
I neuer had once thought for to disgrace
Mine Alba hath enough in store for me,
Thousand of Amours finde I in her face:
Her world I praise, whose looks haue pleasde me euer,
From whom in hart disioynd I will be neuer.
Faine would I make mine infant Pen to swell,
Through feruent zeale to blaze her Deitie,
That he her praise as Oracle might tell,
Raising the same t'the skies bright Canopie:
That she (since she deserues) might famous bee,
Beyond the Bounds of Albions vtmost Sea.
Through feruent zeale to blaze her Deitie,
That he her praise as Oracle might tell,
Raising the same t'the skies bright Canopie:
That she (since she deserues) might famous bee,
Beyond the Bounds of Albions vtmost Sea.
The Conclusion of the first Part.
Who
so acquainted is not with my minde,
Nor knowes the Subiect faire of whom I write,
Nor how mine Alba me, to her doth binde,
Of whom I still discourse, talke, and endite.
How I doe hope, how I doe feare and grieue,
How I doe die, and how (againe) I liue.
Nor knowes the Subiect faire of whom I write,
Nor how mine Alba me, to her doth binde,
Of whom I still discourse, talke, and endite.
How I doe hope, how I doe feare and grieue,
How I doe die, and how (againe) I liue.
Let him but Love seeke out, and him demaund;
And he shall wonders strange to him declare,
Such as at Beauties gaze shall make him stand,
So exquisite, so strange, they be and rare,
Heele tell him of so rich a Precious stone,
As like before hath been enioyde of none.
And he shall wonders strange to him declare,
Such as at Beauties gaze shall make him stand,
So exquisite, so strange, they be and rare,
Heele tell him of so rich a Precious stone,
As like before hath been enioyde of none.
And if he be desirous for to know,
The Heauen where my faire Angell doth abide,
Northwest from Troynouant he will him shew,
Alongst which place, faire Mersie cleere doth glide.
War in that tovvne, Love (Lordlike keepeth stil,
Yet she (ore him) triumphs with chastest will.
The Heauen where my faire Angell doth abide,
Northwest from Troynouant he will him shew,
Alongst which place, faire Mersie cleere doth glide.
War in that tovvne, Love (Lordlike keepeth stil,
Yet she (ore him) triumphs with chastest will.
Some say she's Louely Browne; but I dare say
She is Faire, Beavv? Se, so Faire as Faire may be,
Fairer then is the breake of beautious Day,
When sweete Aurora smileth in her glee.
But why doe I praise her selfe praising Face?
I praise her not, tis she, (her selfe) doth grace.
She is Faire, Beavv? Se, so Faire as Faire may be,
Fairer then is the breake of beautious Day,
When sweete Aurora smileth in her glee.
But why doe I praise her selfe praising Face?
I praise her not, tis she, (her selfe) doth grace.
R. T.
| Alba. The Months Minde of a Melancholy Lover, diuided into three parts | |